#I do need a job I want to work but I need to help myself first

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

This this this

I grew up homeschooled in a family where my parents basically had us fend for ourselves, while also discouraging us from doing any sort of activity or maintain friendships, so the vast majority of my life was spent feeling cut off and inadequate compared to my peers

Shockingly, I ended up having severe depression, (as did my siblings) and developed extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits as a young teenager, as well as other mental issues.

When I finally was able to start the process of getting help(which truly didn't start until the last few years, despite me being in therapy a decade) and started to do things outside of my usual habits, such as going to school and also getting a job(despite my parents trying to discourage me on my bad days), I was now an adult and felt like there was so much I missed out on, especially when looking at my friends experiences at the same ages.

It's so easy to dwell on those thoughts and revert back to old habits, and even harder to try and work through them(like pushing myself to get out of bed, or go to a function with friends). So many people I know who don't have depression just assume it's a little bit of laziness and sadness, and act like everything would be fixed if I just listened only to happy music and refused antidepressants because my generation is 'overmedicated'. And while we definitely are over medicated, without those medicines, so many people (myself included) wouldn't be here.

While my depression is better, and thankfully I've been pretty good with catching up on lost time academic wise, I still struggle with depression and the fallout from everything that has contributed to it. I hang out with friends but almost always end up feeling drained or depressed afterwards, even though I'm around people I care about and like, and I know they feel the same, there is always that voice in my head that one day they're going to change their minds and realize I'm not worth it or that maybe they don't actually like me.

Depression takes a huge toll on my body, I am always tired and overwhelmed, and when I am around friends and peers I feel like I'm an imposter just hoping no one catches on and questions the fact I try to mimic others behavior in hopes I blend in better (even if it's something I know to do, I suddenly feel awkward and panicked and act like I've never dealt with it before, thus watching others and trying to copy movements/actions, even if it's something I'm very knowledgeable about/good at)

I am drained because I feel I have to put on a front that everything is fine, and I feel bubbly and happy all the time, because otherwise people think I'm ungrateful/slighting them, or there out of pity(my sister is someone who thinks all of those reasons unless I'm all happy on the outside). Even though so many times, I was looking forward to doing something or spending time with someone, but for no reason I can think of, I get struck by depression when the time comes, but I still want to take part, because I worry I'll regret missing out, so I go and spend the time trying to act how people want me to, which is exhausting.

It's taken years to get used to these bad days, and I am working to let myself have a breather or just listening to what my body needs when it happens, (I've been better lately and I'm proud of that, but I still struggle occasionally). It's taken years to learn to stop comparing my life with what my younger cousin or old friend is doing/has done by my age, (or if they've done even more), slightly less to learn to ignore the timeframe society(and family) deems is 'normal', and since then, my quality of life has been better.

All this to say, depression has ruled my life and I deal with that everyday, and it is hard to ignore the sadness I feel for my young self and all she never got to do. But, I made it to 23 (something my 13yr old self never thought would happen), and even tho I didn't get to experience things on what is considered a 'normal' timeline for people my age, I have a whole lifetime of experiences to look forward to, and while my depression may be a part of those, it won't be for all of them.

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Platonic Yandere Giorno and Adopted Mother (Bad seed inspired)

Familal Yandere Giorno X adopted mother reader

Warning: mentions of child abuse

They were his teacher when he started attending school. Alway kind to their students. They noticed he had trouble integrating and brought it up with his mother who assured them that he was fine. They believe that maybe he was just shy and needed time to get used to this.

His parents were often late to picking him up so darling watched him, eventually even tutoring him so that he could speak Italian better. Deep down they felt that something wasn't right but that wasn't enough to act on.

Eventually he started coming to school with bruises and welts. At first they asked his parents. He fell over they told them but it cleanly wasn't the case. So they stopped asking and took photos, eventually reporting it. They promised him that things would get better and that he needed to stay hopeful.

So when he was removed from his parents care they offered to foster him and were accepted. He was happy to be with them and so did they. For awhile it was only them, they even officially adopted him.

However around his early teens they met someone. All seemed well until their partner was caught cheating on them. Giorno was there to console them. Offered them everything he possibly could to help them. Mentally he vowed that he would never allow anyone to do this to his mother again.

Once again it was just the two of them and everything was fine until they decided to start dating again. Giorno didn't trust this person after the previous partner they had but stomached it for them. He did keep his eye out, even stalking their partner until he knew they weren't trustworthy. The partner disappears and once again Giorno was there to comfort them in their time of need.

Shortly after his stand fully manifests. Of course they are shocked and give him a light scolding about bleaching his hair, He should have told them first so they could have helped him. He doesn't argue it as how else is he able to explain it. They can't see any issues with the job so no harm, they even admit they like how his hair looks.

With hos newfound power he starts sabotaging any chance of a romantic relationship with them. One time they catch him going through their texts and quickly takes their phone off him.

"I need my privacy Giorno, I know you're worried but I can take care of myself" they tell him

Eventually his petty sabotaging doesn't work and you end up in another relationship. They can tell Giorno isn't happy with it but they assure him that their new partner is a good person.

Perhaps the new partner catches him doing one of his shady side hustles and does him to them. They are disappointed by him and try to deter him from doing it again. It becomes evident that the new partner wants him out of the picture. Constantly finding ways to get him in trouble and suggests they send him to a boarding school to "straighten him out" they do consider sending him for different reasons, wanting him to give him some more freedom and so that he'll have a good secondary education (as highschools in italy are more similar to university / college that you study for particular professions).

He respects their decision. But after he ends up as Don of Passione He kills the partner and uses his power to hide the body. This time she's has a feeling that her partner didn't leave on their own volition and the police get involved however it quickly becomes a cold case.

Eventually Giorno returns to tell them about his accomplishments they're horrified. They had tried so hard to keep him as far away from the mafia but now he's a Don. What ever happened to their sweet boy.

He tries to sway them over. Debts are cleared. He offers them new houses and cars. Gifts them with luxuries beyond their wildest dreams but to them it all Blood money.

He just wants his mother back, he's trying to repay her for everything they've done for him. He wants to know they're safe and he can't trust another to do so.

[illmasc]

mildly vulnerable/ooc post on main oooh watch out!

feeling weirdly like domming people lately. but i need practice, haha. slowly working it into my page—if you want it from me, you’ll have to tell me exactly what you want at first. i still need to build up my dom muscles.

i used to advertise myself as a switch on here but got tired of trying to dom because it felt like a lot of guesswork and i didn’t know if i was doing a good job

i think that’s the case with all doms, at least at first, though. as horny as i am, i’m also someone on the aro/ace spectrum, so i kind of have an interest in getting people off without necessarily getting off myself sometimes. not that domming isn’t hot—i like to be bossy ;) but i have a lot of ideals about not infringing on people’s free will/not being actually demanding that get in the way. i get confused.

lately particularly tboys (not all, there’s some variance, but particularly) have made me literally just want to top them so bad. i know sub and dom are not synonymous with bottom and top, but you all know what i mean. a feral state comes over me and i want to fuck them with my phantom limb dick. so. there’s that.

hope this drabble is helpful. don’t jump at the chance for this—i’ll probably get overwhelmed again lmao. but just a little signal out to everyone that i’m stepping into switchy territory again…

[evita-shelby]

Eternity

Eva Smith x Tommy Shelby

cw: death, ghosts, body possession, ritual, murder, drowning

@thegreatdragonfruta @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @zablife @novashelby @hoodeddreams13 @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings @vivianleighwishesshewasme

She dies in his arms and yet the next morning he awakes to find her beside him.

“Did you think a physical death would kill our story, mi vida?” the witch asks as a cold hand cradled his cheek as she used to do when she was alive.

Same nightgown she wore to sleep, dark hair neatly braided and her chest rising and falling with every breath she took.

It is when Tommy reaches out to her thinking everything had been a terrible dream that he knows the woman in bed with him is merely a ghost of her. Blood trickles out of the slowly forming bullet wound that killed her and before he knows it, he is drenched in it.

He cannot move, he can only ask one thing: How?

“I’m a witch, darling, the veil between this world and the next is too weak to keep us apart.” She pins him like she was so fond of doing, kisses him and the mortal man relishes in the familiar taste of the woman he had been married to for four years.

The blood disappears, the wound as well as they give into their longing even if she’s only been dead for less than a week.

Tommy awakes alone, almost strangled by the nightgown she had left on the bed the night she died and with a hangover from hell.

And yet, the moment the whiskey touches his tongue she appears on his desk, sitting cross-legged in her favorite winter outfit as if she’d never left.

“Are you going to be doing this every time I drink?” he asks the ghost who only smiles.

“Did you say something, Tommy?” Lizzie asks from the other side of the library, having come to help put Eva’s affairs in order. They had been good friends, worked well together and now Elizabeth Stark was here to make sure the transition of Eva’s charities and other shit went as smooth as the dead woman haunting him would have demanded.

“Just talking to myself.” He lies because he doesn’t want to end up leaving poor Charlie without a father too.

“Good boy.” The witch whispers as if Lizzie could hear her.

Before he knows it, Shelby is waiting to be alone so he can see what summons his dead wife to stave off the loneliness she left in her wake.

He drinks with the Russians, and she’s there bored out of her mind in a fine black dress he liked ---because of how her tits looked in it--- telling him every dirty secret those sick fucks have as he pretends to give a shit beyond getting the job done. He hunts down a stag with his brothers to say goodbye to their undeserving father and she’s there right beside him complaining about the weather.

He gets drunk enough to fuck the Duchess and it’s his wife possessing the woman whom he fucks that night. Then it happens again when the dead woman convinces him to try and see if it works with Lizzie too.

Tommy doesn’t know what will happen to him if she ever leaves for good. Already he feels the ache for her when he wakes up to find its some other woman in his bed and not her.

Then Hughes leaves him at death’s door on Good Friday. Those hours or days he was under the heavy drugs had him live out a fantasy with her. In that dream world she was alive, the baby they’d only learned about the week before was a beautiful little girl with his blue eye and her brown one, and then they were on the beach they made love in during their honeymoon when the bubble bursts and he’s taken back to the land of the living.

He wakes up with her telling him his time will not come because she won’t ever let him die without keeping his promise.

“I cannot leave until you join me, mi amor. And I won’t let you leave until Charlie is old enough to make his own way in the world.” She plucks the cigarette from his hand and smokes it herself craving a taste of the world she left behind. “He needs you now more than ever.”

“But I need you, love, I can’t go on without you.” He pleads with the ghost as the laudanum bottle shakes in his hand.

Mary, the housekeeper, had no idea what she was encouraging by telling him to take his medication. She thinks it calms him because he’s too drugged to be reminded he lives in hell with paradise just within reach.

“I will leave if you take your life, Thomas Shelby.” Eva gives him no choice, takes the bottle in his hand and spills the liquid down the sink for him. “I would never forgive you if you left Charlie without a father.”

And because nothing terrifies him more than her leaving, he agrees to keep on living. Even after his family deserts him thinking he was the one who allowed Section D to imprison and sentence him to death, even after John dies on Christmas Day and death feels more inviting than ever.

He reads all Eva has to offer about magic, every book, scroll, and even her journal of what happened to her that night in the desert. He has a witch’s blood, a lineage stretching as far back as Eva’s and eventually he finds it.

If he cannot join Eva in death, then he will make her join him in life.

He killed her and now he resurrects her.

Thomas Shelby never liked magic, but his mother had the gift to bridge the living with the dead and now her cursed blood allowed him to do something even Eva had believed was impossible.

He just needs a body.

“I want to show you something.” Tommy feels guilt gnaw at him as he convinces Lizzie ---whose only crime was to love him and him not loving her back--- to join him on a walk.

He will pay for this and how he used her to be with Eva, but she would understand if she had ever loved someone like he loves his wife. Love like theirs was made to last eternity.

Lizzie only has vague memories of what happens when they fuck. As far as she knows, Tommy is fucking her and not the ghost of his wife possessing her for a fleeting moment. As far as she knows, those sweet nothings and words of love are to her and not the dead woman grasping at those tiny threads keeping her here.

And now she is the sacrificial lamb he is to sacrifice to his eternal love.

Lizzie will die and Eva will live.

The skin must not be broken, no injuries, no blood lost in the ritual or else their will only be a second death.

“Tommy! Please!” those are the last things Elizabeth Stark said before he drowns her in the same canal his mother killed herself in.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I must do this.” Tommy has never killed a woman, and his hands do not stop shaking as he pulled the lifeless body out of the dirty water and into the hex he made exactly as the old scroll he’d paid a fortune for told him to.

The hex was filled with Eva’s most prized possessions, the lock of hair he took for the mourning ring he wore, the photograph of them and Charlie and, most importantly, her wedding ring.

He recites the incantation with shaky hands and tells himself this is for the greater good. Eva needs to live to raise Charlie, to have the three more children in their vision, to keep his family from dying by Luca’s hand.

The gangster and amateur witch isn’t sure it works until the dead woman begins to wake up retching all the canal water she had swallowed as she drowned. Lizzie’s eyes are no longer blue, they are brown, the same shade of brown as Eva’s had been.

After all it is not Elizabeth Stark who inhabits the body, it is Eva Shelby, the Wicked Witch of Warwickshire.

The dead woman is afraid to ask what dark magic he used to transfer her soul into this now empty vessel, but the moment she can gain control of her new limbs she throws herself at him laughing at having a second chance at life.

“You said I was not to join you, but you never said I couldn’t make you join me.” he kissed her forehead, her hands and left her lips for last. “Did you think a physical death would kill our story, my life?”

[ernmark]

When I was in college, a friend of mine got a job at one of the campus help centers where they're supposed to help students who are struggling get their feet under them.

Based on his training there, he insisted that he wanted to have a similar session with me in order to Fix me.

(This speaks volumes about the help the other students were getting, I think.)

See, the entirety of his assistance was sitting with me and creating a nice, tidy little schedule for my life in fifteen-minute increments, with tidy little spots for daily workouts and weekly meal prep. And he kept getting frustrated with me for not being able to put my activities for the day in any order, or assign them specific periods of time, or being willing to commit to following this militant schedule to the letter.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I'm a writer-- I have no control over when the words come. Sometimes I'll be doing something Very Important and I'll have to put it on hold because if I don't write this line of dialogue down Right This Second it's going to make it impossible for me to focus at all. Sometimes I'll be staring at a blank word document for two hours and get a sentence and a half done. Sometimes it'll be three in the morning and I'll have been writing for five hours straight but I won't be able to sleep until I get it written.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I have debilitating depression, and sometimes it takes hours to gather enough energy just to get dressed.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I don't actually know how long something like cooking is going to take, because every recipe calls for completely different cook and prep time, and I can't predict what's going to be utterly unappetizing until I look in the fridge for that meal.

There was no accommodation for the fact that I have a sleep disorder, which between the depression and the rest, makes it damn well impossible to predict when I'll be able to start sleeping, or when I'd need to wake up in order to be rested.

And that's what it comes down to-- there was absolutely no leniency or accommodation for anything outside of that ultra-disciplined, hyper-regimented approach. There was no allowance made for neurodivergence or disability of any kind. Despite knowing me for years at that point, he couldn't understand why I just didn't Try Harder. Clearly I'd succeed if I just did it his way.

A few things that did actually help me, for the record:

When there's something that I Know is going to occupy the entirety of my brain until I do it, I just freakin' stop whatever else I'm doing and do it. In my case, that's usually writing down whatever bit is in my head, but also it can be getting out of bed to make sure I turned the stove off, or making sure I locked the door, or paying my credit card bills in the middle of the night, or whatever.

A lot of my executive dysfunction is exacerbated by sugar/protein levels, so I keep a supply of protein shakes on-hand. It doesn't necessarily fix my depressive episodes, but it gets me out of those loops where I can't do X until I do Y until I eat and I have to eat first because if I don't eat now then I won't be hungry for dinner and then blah blah blah.

On that note: I can't control when/how I sleep, but I can control how many meals I eat during a day and roughly when they happen. Eating regularly helps to make the rest of my natural rhythms a little more predictable.

I have a short list of foods that my household can reliably eat and try to keep the ingredients for that stocked.

I do actually do a little bit of scheduling-- I set aside a few-hour-block on two days of my week to work out. Not because I Must do it, but so that I'm not preoccupied with the constant background radiation of "I should be working out more". If it's not Monday or Friday, it's not going to happen.

Forgiving myself for not being at peak productivity levels at all times. My boss will get what I have it in me to give them, and not more. My writing might not be at its best all the time, but it's a hell of a lot better than a blank page. Pushing myself past my limits to adhere to an impossible standard only exacerbates all those other problems.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @ajpendragon

From @ajpendragon to @cookidoughlilac

I had a lot of fun with this (and maybe made myself cry a little bit). I tried to focus on Jeff’s feelings about his first Christmas back with his boys, which was one of the prompts I received. Hopefully, it turned out okay!

Memory

He had forgotten just how comfortable this couch was in the last eight years. 

Jeff's boys were gathered around the tree, wrapping it in lights and ornaments in a show of teamwork that he could have only dreamed about the last time he had been here. Virgil sat at the piano, Christmas carols filling the room, his skills far better than Jeff remembered. Scott and John were working on the top of the tree, using their superior height to decorate without needing to find a ladder. Gordon and Alan were darting between their legs, hanging the most hideous ornaments they could find with peals of laughter. 

Jeff thought about getting up to help them, but no sooner did the idea cross his mind than his mother's arm tightened around his shoulders. "Don't even think about getting up." She ordered softly, passing him the chipped mug from the table next to her. The ‘World’s bestest dad’ in childish handwriting gleamed in the light. "Let them enjoy this. You enjoy this."

He took a long sip of his hot chocolate, enjoying the rich flavor as he swallowed. He had forgotten what chocolate tasted like. "I am enjoying this." He protested, unable to stop himself from savoring another sip before continuing. "I just want to help. I spent so long dreaming of this, and now that I'm back, I can't even join in."

"I know." She soothed. "But you need to rest. You're not up for it yet. Soon, but not yet. If you tried to help, they would just be worried about you. Just watch-"

The blaring of the emergency alarm interrupted her, all of the boys jumping together to listen as EOS quickly ran them through the situation. They quickly disappeared through their pictures, his mother retreating back to the office to coordinate, leaving him alone in the living room, staring at the half-finished tree.

***********************

It didn't take long after the boys left for him to get bored.  At least in space, there was always something that needed to be done: food to collect, repairs to make, watching for his boys on the ever-decreasing chance that they would come for him. But here, his only job was to rest and recover, relearn how to live on earth after so long. Honestly, it was incredibly boring. Not that he wasn't thankful. Every day he got to spend with his boys, with his mother, in his home, was a blessing he had honestly been so close to giving up hope of ever having again. But he was bored.

Rest and recover, according to his mother and sons, meant doing absolutely nothing. He knew they were right. After so long in space, earth was an environment his body had forgotten how to function in. It was difficult to walk, he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, he ached under the pressure of a gravity he had nearly forgotten the feeling of. But he wanted to do something. He needed to be doing something. His brain wouldn't let him rest while his family was out there, risking their lives for a world that had forgotten how much it owed them.

So, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Pausing a moment to let his heart adjust to his body being upright, he slowly made his way to his bedroom. Once there, he carefully lowered himself to the ground, knees cracking as he settled in a comfortable spot on the plush carpet and reached under the bed.

The box he pulled out was old and dusty, left there for so long that even the cleaning bots had forgotten about it. He settled the cardboard carefully on his lap, blowing the dust off the lid and removing it to set it to the side, hands trembling as he pulled out the first of the box's contents.

**************

Thirty minutes later, one of his feet asleep from the unusual position, he set the box to the side and used the bed to leverage himself up. Taking a few moments to rest on the edge of the bed (and to shake his foot awake), he grabbed the box in his free hand and headed back to the Christmas tree. 

It took some careful maneuvering, and a lot of breaks, but he managed to finish his project before his boys returned. He was resting on the couch again when they came into the room, hair damp from post-mission showers, and clearly tired, although still in good spirits.

It took them a moment to notice the change, but one by one they each stopped in the middle of the floor, staring open-mouthed at the ornaments he had hung. He could see a suspicious sheen of tears in some of the older boys eyes.

On the front of the tree, hanging carefully from the sturdiest branches he had been able to find, were some of his most precious possessions: the ornaments each of the boys had made with their mother on their first Christmas. He had always kept them somewhere safe, refusing to trust such irreplaceable memories to the safety hazard that was their storage closet.

"I had almost forgotten about those. I thought they were lost." Scott breathed softly, his eyes never leaving the precious ornaments. He came over to the couch, curling his long frame up on the cushion next to Jeff, gently resting his head on his father's shoulder. Slowly, the rest of his brothers joined him, each settling themselves into a place where they could touch their father, seeming to need that reassurance. 

Jeff didn't mind. After eight long years, the reminder that he was no longer alone was something he desperately needed too. Eight years of his boys lives, eight Christmases, eight years of memories he had missed. He had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by love like this.

Sitting there, surrounded by the people he loved most in the world, the boys who had kept him going for all those long eight years, he vowed not to miss anything else. He would be there for his boys, no matter what. He could not, would not allow himself to forget this feeling. It was up to him now to make up for all those years, building new memories to move forward on. 

He was already forgetting the pain and struggle, the loneliness, of the last eight years. He could feel it slipping away, wrapped in the warmth of his family's embrace.

Memory was funny like that.

[yanderefarm]

How would Achilles feel if darling got visibly turned on while torturing him but once they were done they would NEVER have sex with him? Like they clean him up (or let him stew in whatever pain he’s in) and then go to the bathroom to masturbate. They never let him help.

Cause I know he’s kind of like okay with no sex and he really just wants to be tortured and have your attention but at the same time if HE’S the reason you’re turned on why won’t you let him help???

thats such a good question...

i feel like he'd just feel really insecure about it? like he'd probably think its because he's not desirable in that way.

i imagine him noticing you leave again and he decides to talk to you about it when you're done so he dresses and takes care of himself and goes to find you making dinner.

".... you can see other people." he says tepidly.

"huh?" you feel your heart drop.

"I've noticed you never have any dates or anything. I don't know if you're limiting yourself because of me so I am informing you that I'm releasing you from any responsibility you feel to me."

"... i repeat... huh?" none of that is helping your heart from sinking.

"You seem in need of companionship."

"i have you, don't i?" you say bitterly with a small smile.

"I'm not your companion."

you blink at him trying to ignore how that hurts before smiling again.

"i know. but y'know between you and my usual work i have a full time job."

"Then I will be less demanding of your time. We can move things down to twice a week."

"ok. if that's what you want." you try to hold your tongue around him like you always do but you can't help yourself. "what uh.. what brought this on?"

"I've noticed your behavior and disgust towards me. I apologize for not mentioning it sooner but I wished to be selfish a bit longer." he lowers his head like a kicked puppy.

why does he look like the one who was kicked? you swallow. "dude you gotta be clearer. if you're talking about in the moment like it's just part of the scene."

"After the scene, you always leave."

"yeah so you can clean up."

"No. I know... I know you leave to relieve yourself. I know you have no real interest in me because I'm disgusting to you. I think finding a partner that can help you relieve those things would be more beneficial for you."

you pause and stand there in silence for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "you would notice huh? I'm sorry. yeah i try to go jack off before you finish getting clean. its not... its not because you're gross or something. i just don't want to take advantage of you or push you too hard or gross you out. sorry. I'll try to stop. problem solved?"

achilles thinks of biting his tongue before he decides to take a step closer to you. "...You always help me relieve myself why would I find you disgusting?"

"because? i was supposed to kill you. its normal for you to- y'know. but im sure to you i must look like a pretty vile person."

he takes another step forward until he's hovering above you. "It would.. it would be my greatest honor to be killed by you. If you wished to take advantage of my body I would be the luckiest man in the world." one of his cold thin hands slipped into yours.

"if i get off on your pain."

"Ecstasy. I hope my pain is for your pleasure only. My blood, my broken bones, my screams. I.. I have always dedicated them to you."

you intertwine your fingers as you look up into his eyes. his steel blue eyes are looking at you like you're the only thing in the world and his cheeks are red.

"you're a big softie.... i don't want to break your heart or hurt you in a way that won't heal."

"If I was hurt in such a way it would only be because I failed to be your most devoted slave."

"chilles im serious. you... you don't want a rel-"

"I want you only. I want to make you happy. If I can't do that then my life is forfeit."

".... you're gonna regret saying stuff like that."

"If I do then you can also kill me then."

"i'm not gonna kill you suddenly dumbass.... just give me some time to think about it... i really don't want you to be hurt and regret everything"

achilles brought his lips to your hair. "I love you."

"... stupid."

[baenxietydad]

@justkeepdancing-nemo

"It's not your job to make sacrifices for me." Mu-yeol said evenly. "I'm your Appa, I'm supposed to give things up and not do things I want to do for you, not the other way around."

He shrugged and looked at his hands, folded in his lap.

"Nam-min you --" can't even handle me dating somebody "-- know that's not true, I include you. I didn't mean not to in this case, I just...looked into it myself and decided I couldn't do it, not until you graduate at least. But even then I'd need to work a lot to help pay for an apartment in the city for you and I had decided against doing it."

Aish, this was so frustrating, and tiring. Shouldn't Nemo be happy that his partner wants to take care of him? He should be relieved he's not worrying about him alone anymore.

"The only reason I told him first is because he could tell I was upset about something. You know I'm a terrible liar. I would've talked to you about it sooner if I even thought I would actually do it."

Faith, Trust, and Our Civic Duties || The Baes

[deoidesign]

Btw just want to be clear that Time and Time Again is set to, and will if I don't pause, conclude in May 2025!

Webtoon didn't want to renew or give me any extra episodes so I'm trying to work with what I have. I'm sorry it's ending sooner than I'd like, it's been difficult to come to terms with and challenging to condense my plans.

You deserve a solid conclusion, and I've spent months writing to try and reach that. If there's anything you'd really like to see before it ends, do let me know in case I can (and want to) fit it in.

I'd rather not work with them again, and I hope I won't have to! But coming off of years being overworked and underpaid does not make that easy, to say the least...

I'm doing my best, and I hope you like what I have coming up.

[kebriones]

"I want art to be my job but I can't make art if I feel like I have to"

My brother in christ you are either gonna have to work on that big time or you won't be able to make a living through art, that's just how it is.

(sometimes i talk to people who dream of making a living as artists and they are like grown adults and they still think it's going to be some ideal job where they just do whatever they feel like and get paid to have fun forever and I'm like, this couldn't be further from the truth. You have to love the making of art enough to be able to do it a LOT. And that's something you can work on if it doesn't happen by itself. If you absolutely can't force yourself, or if it's making you miserable to force yourself to draw, an art job isn't for you.)

[squisheebugdoodles]

Okay Here Is The Problem: everything costs money and yet money is something that i just literally never have. solution? kill the idea of money so that nothing costs anything Please. i'm so tired

[way2gosuperrstarr]

watch my body disintegrate into a pile of ash like a cartoon character who just got struck by a lightning bolt (JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN) (just got off work)

[autisticlee]

can there be a service for autistic people (maybe even other disabilities too) that's kind of like an aide or helper or assistant, but more of a casual friendly type thing? basically people volunteer to be paired with autistic people who don't have friends and struggle to make them and their job is to be our friend as in go places with us, play games, chat, etc. whatever friends do. but they are contractually obligated to stick with it and not hurt or abandon us, but work with us. maybe invite us to hang out with their friends. we can try different people to see who we best fit with. then maybe that person sticks with one of us and not multiple so they dont play favorites and neglect us or get overwhelmed or something.

it's a volunteer job and they don't get paid because all they're doing is being a friend and doing normal things that doesn't deserve pay lol. why should you get paid to pretend to be someone's friend? do it because you want to support someone who needs you, nit because you think it will be an easy job to make money. and friendship isn't a job. that weeds out people only doing it for money and not trying very hard or quitting when they think it's too hard and abandoning the person they were paired with. and that way it's a free service for us since most of us are poor. but they probably need to get some education as well, and we go over our own specific needs and expectations so they know what we need and expect from them, how to work with us, and what they should expect from us. they could work with counselors so if there are any problems they can't handle and are worried about us, we can get a check in or something. but generally, this would be good for very social and friendly people who like to help others and are open minded, accepting, and kindhearted. (which is getting increasingly hard to find in my experience...)

it would be hard to find the right people, but that's why it's good to have meetups and try to find the right match. because sometimes I think that, even if I dont relate to the neurotypical/allistic/abled people, it might be helpful to have someone who can navigate the social situations for me and let me just follow along and be included in things. someone I can ask to go to a convention with me and they can be my voice and keep me company and lead me, while having fun themselves. or someone who invites me to a party with their friends and let's me mostly ait in their room with their cat, but occasionally step out to listen to their conversation and laugh with them. I can absorb their fun energy and have more fun, feel included, but have the space i need, because they are willing to work with me, support me, and acccept me, my needs, and my boundaries.

other autistic or in general ND and disabled people are cool and all, but when they also struggle like I do, we end up not talking to each other becasue we don't know how or cant. we often don't get along because differences that get in the way ("im autistic and I can do that why don't you just do it too" -a real life example that I experienced) or we cant meet each other's needs or struggle with boundary issues. maybe we both need help and can't help each other. or if the other does help it burns them out so fast they are miserable (like my one friend who always has to speak for me and then shes burnt out for months after and cant even talk to me over text....we used to be so close. now we barely talk 🥲). or they don't want to do the things I want to do, like going out somewhere, and rather watch TV all day when I hate doing that.

it would be nice to have someone to consistently rely on to help me out with doing "normal" things no one else will do with me because i'm too autistic for them, or they are too disabled to deal with me. I know people aren't obligated to be my friend or do things with me. so that's why a "job" for this would be great, so someone IS more obligated to do it. because i'm so incredibly lonely and exhausted and losing my mind over having not a single person to turn to or rely on 🥲

does that make sense?????

[autumnhobbit]

would you all think that continually rescheduling even up to the last minute before an appointment, regularly switching from call to texting even when i’ve said i find texting less helpful because it comes off more brusque, no consistent linear topic directing, constantly directing focus to my day to day life/relationship rather than anything else about me even if i express concern about the rest of it is reason to consider breaking up with a therapist

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[monstermoviedean]

at the end of my fucking rope with "conversations" about k12 chronic absenteeism.