#I have enough shitty stuff and stress to deal with

[thrpr0phetuseek]

“ . . . what?”

“Wait—! Athena. I—I’m sorry if I’ve troubled you. My memory has been failing me more and more as of late, especially ever since my run-in with the Lethe. Please, if you do so choose, sit down and tell me how we know each other, what bond we had.”

“I’d like to try and remember all that I can.”

Hello?

Father where are you?

-Athena is walking around the underworld. Her spear in hand. Her wings are lowered as well-

- @the-warrior-of-the-mind

[ the prophet at first seemed to be nowhere, at least, nowhere visible, but the further Athena walked, the more signs appeared that they were here ]

[ and that something had happened ]

[ upon finding the prophet, the first noticeable detail was their sitting, shaking form. The second most noticeable—and most terrifying detail—was that their blindfold was off, leaving them with a face unrecognizable and dead. Black, empty sockets seemingly stared back ]

[ they looked weak, vulnerable; no staff, no blindfold, they were defenseless ]

[ feeling an unwelcome presence, the prophet shifted backwards, raising a trembling hand, and speaking one, simple word ]

“Don’t.”

[cimeriansparrow]

My mom got mad at me this morning bc "I never talk to her," but every time we try to really talk, it turns into a massive fight (guess what happened 15 minutes ago)

I can't even ask questions without them eventually leading down a road where she keeps cutting me off and begins to yell at me. Obviously I'm taking a tone with you. Not only am I literally just speaking to you in the way that you speak to me, but being spoken down to for 22 years really teaches you that it doesn't matter How I speak to you, you won't ever Listen. Idk. I'm tired of living in a house where I can't even try to talk to my parents about the smaller stressors that I have.

Tried to bring up what's been going on the past few months bc she accused me of being depressed and lazy and. Yeah. I was depressed for 3 months. Thank you So much for noticing. It really speaks volumes to me that you didn't say anything about it while I was going through it?? I tried explaining that a new medication (that she knew I was taking!!! I told her when I switched to it!) Was causing me immense brain fog and seriously scary suicidal ideations that I did nearly act on.

And she got pissed and started yelling bc I never talk to her, and when I asked her to stop yelling she told me that she's gonna yell because she shouldn't be made to feel like this in her own house. She just went through a massive surgery and she's had to walk on eggshells around us when we should have been taking care of her (which we did. And it fucking tears me apart that she doesn't realize how much of my own life I've given up already to make sure she's been taken care of) and she's done with tiptoeing around all of us and she just kept going and going and going and going and going because she doesn't actually ever know when to fucking stop.

No shit we don't talk. Every single time I try to talk with you it ends up like this. With me trying to calm down after stepping away after you've accused me of some wild shit and when I come back to try to talk normally you're still yelling. In fact, you're more incensed than before.

For some reason she thinks adhd medication will fix everything. Like it's some sort of cure all and I don't have a decent handle on it. And every time I bring up that I've done some research and I feel like I might be on the autism spectrum she tells me that's stupid and people are making a trend of it and that's why I feel that way and I shouldn't think that because none of us (myself and two younger sisters) are autistic.

If none of this makes any sense to anyone reading, know that that's how Every Single conversation with her goes. If she's not in a good mood she's going to bring you down to her level of emotion. She will make it about her through the stupidest methods possible, and after being emotionally manipulated like that my entire life it's hard to see exactly what's going on because she comes at you so fast.

[manicdragondreamgirl]

Work is destroying my sanity and I’ve barely been here 30 minutes

[kyoohyeon]

.

[lucysarah-c]

—

A little sneak peak from the Arranged marriage Omegaverse Alpha! Levi x Omega! Reader fic I've been working on!

Let me know what you think as I had been writing some chapters and so far this is one of my favourite scenes.

—

The pressure that his fingers applied to the bridge of his nose was so strong that the pain of it overcame the migraine. Strong footsteps echoed in the corridors as cadets moved aside to make way. Since the Scouts were almost wiped out, more and more people had been joining their ranks, and Levi was not enjoying the crowded halls.

"The day I decide to call all this shit off, I'd like to see them surviving without me," Levi thought, clenching his teeth. The stress was taking a toll on him lately. The military was expanding so much, particularly the Scouts, and they simply lacked soldiers in higher positions to handle everything from mundane tasks like organizing lines to making highly important decisions regarding the Marley issue.

Swinging the door of his chambers open, his eyes fell on her. She was looking out of the window, book in hand and cat on lap, dying of boredom as if she were either waiting for rescue or for her death. His grimace was a mix of empathy and annoyance. He had insisted at least five times that she could help in the kitchen, sew uniforms, or work in the laundry room. All his proposals had fallen on deaf ears. Yes, he pitied her, closed up in his office all day and night with nothing better to do. But her privileged upbringing, which made her repulse the idea of helping with anything related to housework, rubbed him the wrong way.

And the horrendous day he was having, having to listen to all of Zeke’s demands from the other side of the damn world, was simply not helping. Slamming the door shut made her turn and look at him.

"Pack your stuff, we're moving," he spat out, already moving to his room to gather the few belongings he actually had. He threw the black trousers of his uniform out of the drawers onto the bed to pack them, regretting the decision as soon as he saw his immaculate, perfectly washed trousers covered in cat hair.

"Moving? Moving where?" Y/N jumped from her place at the window and followed him, excited. Her eyes shone brightly, feeling her prayers had been answered.

Eyes shut as tight as his clenched teeth, he took a deep breath in and out. He was fond of animals, and the white Persian cat was lovely, but the fur was something he wasn’t getting used to easily, and it just added to his day.

"Where are we moving?" she insisted, not sensing his lack of patience. "Are we finally moving to the Capital facility?"

Levi, trying to find any remaining good mood inside him, turned to his side and raised an eyebrow. "No," he said, "To the south."

The excitement dropped substantially, and she frowned at him. "We ARE in the south."

That made Levi quickly realize this was not going to be a quick and easy conversation. "No, we are in Wall Rose."

"I'm not moving to Shiganshina," she said, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together, and her voice raising.

Levi sighed as he folded one uniform. "Lucky for you," he said, each word dripping with his remaining patience, "we're not going there."

"Then… where?"

Levi knew he should have delivered the news more gently, but he had no time to spare and no energy left to deal with her lately. "South, we're setting up a camp next to the coast. Construction has already taken place, so we'll have a room. Pack your stuff; we're leaving by horse to arrive sooner and organize everything. The luggage will be taken by carts that will probably take a week to reach."

"What?—NO!" she quickly complained, her voice filled more with tears than anger. "I don't want to go to the end of the shitty world!"

"The soldiers from Marley are already arriving, and we need to be there to make sure everything evolves as planned—"

"Aren't you listening to me?!" She screamed loudly enough for Levi to close his eyes at how it reverberated in his ears, only fueling his headache. "I'm NOT moving there. We will be in the middle of nowhere; there’s no communication with the walls. I want to be closer to my friends and family, not there."

The air began to fill with her scent, demanding she wasn’t submitting. Challenging him, and Levi felt how each breath he took through his nose was tinged with it. He had no good temper left, and her insistence on asserting dominance was the final straw. Her even daring to assert dominance over him. Her, the omega the government had saddled him with.

Turning to his right, his piercing eyes locked onto her. "Don’t," Levi ordered, his own pheromones mixing with hers and warning her. The stare of a high-breed alpha, his own body warning her that fighting with him was a bad idea. Maybe it was because he had been hearing demands from Marley soldiers and allies all day long, people challenging his authority. But Levi wasn’t going to allow an omega to step on his dominance. He had been, in his opinion, more than good and patient with her—probably more than any other alpha would have been. He wasn’t one to use his stare to force omegas to do what he wanted, but he was having none of it.

Lips trembling, fists clenching, deep frown, and her eyes struggling to keep eye contact. Fighting against her own biology, she could feel how each fiber of her body trembled in trying to maintain the resistance. Eventually, she couldn’t keep it up and looked to the side, breaking the stare and lowering her head in submission.

A long sigh left his nose as his demand withdrew once she ceased the claim. “Pack your stuff,” he ordered, lowering his voice sensing that the rebellion was over.

But it hardly was. “I’m not going. I’ll move in with my parents. I’m not going to some rotten, muddy camp in the middle of nowhere.”

Levi shook his head. “You’re coming because that’s the arrangement between your parents and the military board. So pack, and that's the end of the deal.”

“No! I don’t want to go, I’m not going to pack!”

“NO! NO! NO! NO!”

Her complaints echoed in his head as the headache pounded against his skull, his teeth clenching so hard he was even showing them. “ENOUGH!” His hand slammed against the drawer, the loudness of it ceasing all noise. The room fell silent, and the scared cat ran to hide under the bed.

Levi finally turned to fully face her. “We are going to do this whether you like it or not,” his voice harsh and leaving no room for interruptions. “It can be the easy way or the hard way.”

Raising his hand in the air, showing three fingers. “I have a meeting, and in three hours I’ll come back and pick you up. Either you pack and get ready for when I return, or you don’t pack and not only will you be in a shitty, muddy camp at the end of the world stuck with me, but you’ll do it without any of your fancy stuff. And I warn you, there are no stores there.”

As he left the room with the same urgency he came in, he said, “You choose!”

But as the door was slamming shut, a cadet interrupted him. “Ehm… Captain?” The tremble in the kid’s voice indicated he sensed the environment was not conducive to another demand. “Commander Hange needs a signature?”

“Fuck off!”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 41

Part 1 Part 40

Eddie’s twitchier than usual all throughout the school day. He sits through shop and history and band, rocking back and forth in his seat, staring at the door. He wants to bolt out the classroom door and hunt Steve down.

He doesn’t even know Steve’s school schedule.

It’s too soon for him to be back. Medically and maybe emotionally if that showdown with Hagan and Perkins was anything to go by.

Eddie didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He’d been picturing Steve slinking back into the shell of King Steve, curling all that jagged edges tight enough to cut himself.

But, no. King Steve had rather publicly and spectacularly abdicated his throne.

Eddie wants to be happy. That was one of the most public declarations of possession Eddie’s ever seen. Steve Harrington had scorned his friends, and walked away, with Eddie.

But Perkin had looked hurt, and Steve’s eyes had gone dead and cold, and that lifeless gaze had stayed all the way through Eddie dropping him off at his classroom like he was a kindergartener and Eddie was his parent.

So, Eddie is stressed, buzzing with useless adrenaline as he speeds through the cafeteria, grabbing his usual droll lunch, and dropping down at his seat.

Gareth plops down beside him and says, “so, I heard a rumor.”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, eyes flitting around the cafeteria, barely listening.

Steve’s not in his usual seat, center-stage at the jock table. What if he doesn’t show up for lunch at all? Will Eddie have to search the entire school to find him and make sure the asshole is alive and eating?

“I heard Harrington showed up to school in your van.”

Eddie snaps his gaze up, only just noticing that Jeff is sitting across from him, staring him down with furrowed brows. “So?” Eddie asks, like it’s not a big deal at all.

“So?!” Gareth replies, leaning toward Eddie, bringing their faces alarmingly close together so he can glare right into Eddie’s eyes. “So, you’re sick for a week.” He pauses here to emphasize the little finger quotations he puts around the word sick. “And come back to school with the jock of all jocks?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says. He has no rebuttal, can’t say much else without finding himself chained to another chair in that same cold, windowless room. “He’s just going through some stuff.”

“And that’s your problem because?” Jeff asks, biting into his shitty school-lunch lasagna and scrapping his teeth against his fork just because he knows it bugs the shit out of Eddie.

Eddie sighs, running his fingers through his bangs vigorously. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s already frazzled beyond repair.

“Just be nice,” he hisses, glaring between his two friends even as Doug sits down beside Jeff and starts eating his burger like he doesn’t care about anything that’s happening. He’s now Eddie’s favorite.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks. “You’re asking us to be nice to fucking Steve Harrington of all people? When would we even see him?” He throws his hands in the air; palms open like he wants to slap the shit out of Eddie but he’s hanging on by a thread. Eddie echoes the sentiment.

“Look—” Eddie starts.

But then there’s a lunch tray placed beside his own, and the subject of their conversation takes a seat by Eddie’s side without even a by your leave. Jeff and Gareth are both gawping, lunches forgotten. Even Doug stops eating to look between Eddie and Steve with a raised eyebrow before clearly deciding it’s none of his business.

Steve’s opted for the same over-cooked hockey puck hamburger with fries, but he doesn’t seem interested in eating it. Eddie resists the urge to cram it into his mouth. Just like the doctor ordered.

“What is happening?” Jeff asks, but he, too picks up his fork and begins eating.

“Lunch?” Eddie says. Beside him, Steve snorts, and Eddie’s insides flutter alarmingly.

“And you can’t sit with your friends over there because?” Gareth asks snidely, gesturing rudely over to Steve’s usual table.

“Dude,” Steve says. “My only friends are a twelve-year-old and this guy.” He points at Eddie like he’s something he scraped off his shoe, smirking like he knows he’s making everything worse.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, giving him his most devastating kicked-puppy eyes; the ones that always melted Uncle Wayne when he pulled them out of his arsenal. “Barb would cry if she heard you say that.”

“I would cry if Steve said what?” Barb asks, shoving him gently sideways so she can squish herself into the open spot at his side.

“Stevie here said you two aren’t friends,” Eddie tattles gleefully.

Barb looks over at Steve, eyebrow raised as she looks him up and down, smiling at the wardrobe change that was one of Eddie’s worn-out band T-shirts. “You’ll do, I guess,” Barb says, before turning to glare across the cafeteria. “Besides, I’m going to need some new friends at this rate.”

Everyone’s eyes track the movement, following her line of sight to where Nancy and Jonathan are cozied up next to each other. They both look as studious and serious as ever, but Eddie can see their thighs touching beneath the table. He glances over at Steve, feels relieved when Steve’s little face isn’t scrunched up in heartbreak. If anything, he looks confused.

“Ouch,” Eddie says, nudging her shoulder. “Tough break.”

“I don’t get it,” Steve says, still squinting in confusion over at the pair.

Barb sighs, picking at the seams of the peanut butter and jelly she pulls from her backpack. “All Nancy cares about right now is Jonathan.” Her shoulders slump as she nibbles around her sandwich, only eating the crust like a weirdo. “At least with you, I knew it wouldn’t last.” She keeps talking over Steve’s little, offended, “hey!” “Now, when am I going to get my best friend back?”

Steve’s staring at Barb like he wants to burrow into her skull and root around. “She’s right there.” He points at Nancy rudely. Luckily, Nancy doesn’t seem to notice; too wrapped up in her nerdy little version of a honeymoon phase. “Can’t you just go hang out with both of them?”

“Dude,” Jeff says, staring at Steve like he’s an especially weird bug. Even Gareth is too baffled to seem all that hostile anymore. Eddie feels smug. How Steve passed for a suave, cool jock for so long is a mystery.

Barb groans, biting her sandwich in half viciously. “It’s not the same,” she says. “They’re all wrapped up in each other.”

“Didn’t Hagan and Perkins go through a honeymoon phase?” Eddie asks. “What did you used to do when they’d go on their romantic dates?”

If anything, Steve looks more confused. “Go with them?”

“You’re shitting me,” Gareth says aggressively, like this is some weird hazing ritual.

“Wait, no. Let’s let this play out,” Eddie says, turning his back on Gareth so he can watch Steve. “So, let’s set the stage. It’s valentine’s day, 1982. Tommy Hagan has set up a candlelit dinner with Miss Perkins to celebrate their eternal love. Where are you in this scenario?”

Steve’s still got his brows furrowed like he doesn’t understand the assignment. “Have you been like, stalking me?” The little freak sounds almost flattered at the accusation.

“Are you serious, Stevie?” Eddie asks, unsurprised when Steve nods.

“So, you, Steve Harrington, showed up at your best friend’s valentine’s date last year and that was just fine?” Barb asks, deadpan.

“Usually, I help Carol do her make-up before,” Steve replies, blessedly finally picking up his burger and taking a bite. He looks over at the jock table, something small and forlorn twisting his mouth even as he bites savagely into his burger like he’s trying to kill it. “She’s not good at doing her own eye shadow without looking like a hooker.”

Everyone’s just staring at Steve while he eats his burger, oblivious.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asks.

Eddie looks over to the jock table. Tommy and Carol are both seated, glaring at the back of Steve’s head with poorly concealed jealousy. “You know,” Eddie says, looking away quickly before he accidentally meets either of the wonder twin’s eyes, “this actually explains so much.”

Barb sweeps her empty sandwich baggy into the trash like the middle-class girl she is and says, almost like she’s thinking about it, “I don’t think I can go on Nancy and Jonathan’s dates.”

Jeff, having finished his lasagna in silence, says, “Okay, they’re both freaks.”

“Here that Stevie?” Eddie asks, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder and shaking him as he tries to swallow his bite of hamburger without choking. “You can stay!”

Steve takes another bite and talk around the mouthful like the heathen he is. “I was never going anywhere.”

Eddie smiles down at Steve, not dropping him as he takes a bite of his own lasagna. He lets the warmth in.

Part 42

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[calamaroo]

KWAZII RACKHAM REDESIGN 🐈

& IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT‼️

(please read, I'd appreciate it)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 🧡

Here lately, as you can tell if you've been around for my blog, I've been struggling to post. Part of the reason is I've just not been happy with my art style and designs. SO, in hopes to remedy this, I wanted to redesign my little meow meow man!!

I feel like I struggle really badly with same face syndrome, so I want my new style to focus more on different face and body structures/types!

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

Design Elements :

The green eyes stuck out too much to me (sensory overload kinda deal), so I made them yellow! I feel it flows better with the oranges everywhere else!

Sharper angles that point inwards!

Actually looks like a human that can turn into a cat! --- I want my "human" designs to have more animal features because that's what I like about them the most! (My human designs are meant to be shifters/can turn back into the original animal species, but I forget to say that a lot)

I haven't liked the way the uniforms look, so that may also change, too. I just haven't gotten to it yet.

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

IMPORTANT‼️ (at least to me)

Now, on a more serious note. Since I started tumblr, I got decently popular way quicker than I expected, and the little bit of stardom and fame got to my head. I loved (and still do) seeing people interacting with my art, especially the bigger name people of the Octo-fandom. Not to get too personal, but I've struggled with my self-esteem for as long as I can remember (sucks ass, but it is what it is). On top of that, seasonal depression is kicking my ass, and it started to seriously stress me out seeing the notifications decline. It's silly, and I'm super embarrassed about it, but it's better to let it out than bottle it in, and I've already done damn well enough of that, and I'm sick of pretending.

I love all the support and praise I get about my art. It feels like that's the only thing I'm good at, so it's very personal to me. It's my way of coping with a shitty world. I've thought a lot about it, and I want to start not caring so much about seeing the notes and stuff. I still LOVE and appreciate them. It's nice beyond words to see people actually like my stuff.

IM NOT LEAVING TUMBLR, btw. I love it WAY too much to do that 😅 I just felt like finally saying something. I shouldn't feel the need to explain myself to randoms on the internet, but eh, it is what it is. Can't win them all.

If you read all that, thank you so much!!! Please do not feel responsible for my mental health, it's mine, and I need to fix it my own way.

I hope you liked my Kwazii redesign! I want to redo everyone eventually, but I'm not sure how soon I'll get to it. Tryna focus on mental sanity rn

Byeeee, and thanks for reading my goofy little half silly cat man half vent post !

[drdemonprince]

I deal with impermanence by practicing radical acceptance and other DBT skills. I do have a really hard time with change and with things changing unexpectedly and outside of my control. And I used to get really mad and upset about it and try to get control back by manipulating other people or just generally being a bitch about it.

But now, I use my really great DBT skills, mostly radical acceptance but a few other distress tolerance skills like TIPP. For me, radical acceptance let's me have my anger and other emotions without trying to control what I cannot. I'm still mad about it and I still get really dysregulated, but I just tell myself that it's happened, there's nothing I can do about it, and I need to figure out how I will react to it.

As an example, I was flying from Texas to Chicago in December to spend the holiday with my best friend and their family. I purposefully bought a ticket (it was United) so that I could have my personal item and my checked bag. I paid extra for that. But once they started boarding, the gate agent said they were overbooked and they needed some people to volunteer to check their bags otherwise at a certain point, it wouldn't be voluntary. I was pretty pissed about this and dysregulated anyway (traveling is so stressful for me) and I was just really hoping I could get through before they needed to start checking bags because I already had a hell of a time packing, I didn't have my hard shell suitcase, and none of my bags had locks on them. But literally the person in front of me in line was the last person to be able to take both their bags and the gate agent asked me if I could check a bag that didn't have anything important in it (like electronics or medical equipment). I barely fit my things into my bags as is and I did have important stuff in both bags, so I told her as much. And she basically told me that either I figure it out, or I'm not getting on the plane. I was pissed and about to cry. I was so full of rage. And I was embarrassed. But I took a breath, stepped to the side, and tried to figure it out. I knew arguing would not get me what I wanted and I needed to get on that plane. So I got everything sorted, had them check my bag, and got on the plane. The kicker was that once I did get on the plane and everyone was boarded, THERE WAS TONS OF ROOM LEFT IN THE OVERHEAD BINS SO I DIDNT NEED TO CHECK MY BAG ANYWAY. (Yes I'm still really mad about this). But I practiced my breathing, told myself I had no control over the situation, controlled what I could (my own behavior) and said to myself that I'll figure it out when I get to Chicago. It was fine. I didn't lose my bag or any of my stuff. I didn't have a meltdown but my rage lasted til about half way through the flight. And the next day I went to go get bag locks at target. So radical acceptance, TIPP, and controlling what I can control is usually how I deal with it.

Speaking of DBT! Thank you so much for sharing this story with us, Anon. Traveling is ROUGH and a huge part of that is because our disability is manufactured by shitty corporations like United -- the disruption would be bad enough on its own! but then they go and reduce seat sizes, cut storage bin access, overbook flights, and just straight up lie to customers, creating all kinds of stress for those of us who just want to know what to fucking expect. Glad you were able to find a way to cope with all that bullshit! Sometimes being pissed for an hour or two but doing what you needed to do is a huge W.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: a lunch that was supposed to take your mind off of work brings about even more stress because it turns out you're the only solution to the one problem you wish you didn't have to handle

PROLOGUE | ❝𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏❞

There were certain moments in your life that felt like defining moments. Moments that you’d later look back on and fully understand just how impactful they were in the grand scheme of things. 

Those instances were a rarity, but when they would happen, they were painstakingly obvious. It was almost as if you could feel some sort of shift happening. Your life beginning to turn in a specific direction that, as it’s happening, you could never tell if it’s good or bad, but you knew that you’d probably find out sooner rather than later. It was always a weird feeling, a little jarring.

You experienced that exact feeling at lunch with Jessie— your longtime friend and current Director of the movie you were working on as the Production Coordinator. The lunch was supposed to be simple, and it started out as such; the weather in Los Angeles was nice and surprisingly not unbearably hot for mid-April, which made you both sit outside of a cafe that was almost always busy, but they served the best sandwiches so it made sense.

It felt good to have at least a small break from all of the pre-production tasks that had been consuming pretty much every single moment of your last few days. The closer actual filming got, the more hectic everything else seemed to get. 

And it seemed as if that sentiment was proven to be even more true when Jessie told you something that turned the simple lunch into anything but simple. 

“You’re joking, right?” Was your immediate reaction. 

Everything she had said to you had to be a joke because there was no way that she was asking you, or more so telling you, that you’d be Steve Harrington’s assistant for the next three months. 

But, you also fully knew that it couldn’t be a joke because it sounded both insanely unbelievable and way too real to just be some joking story that Jessie cooked up in her mind. 

Steve’s assistant, who was six months pregnant, would be on bed rest for the entirety of her final trimester due to stress. And because of the untimeliness of that situation, she had no time to hire a replacement for the time being; which, of course, included the three months of filming that was set to begin in a week. And that was sadly where you came in because, like most Hollywood actors, Steve could not function without an assistant, and that sent Jessie and the producers that had invested so much in the film into a frenzy because he was now close to pulling out of doing the movie if he didn’t have a good assistant for the duration of filming. 

All of that sounded the perfect amount of insane to be true. 

“You’re the only person that I trust doing this,” Jessie told you, further confirming that all of this was not some sort of sick and twisted joke.

You simply looked at her for a few moments before responding. “He’s notoriously known as an asshole, Jessie.” 

You had already been mentally preparing for having to deal with him in passing while on set, and now apparently you were going to have to deal with him even more than you anticipated. The thought made you want to scream. 

“You’re the only person that I believe will be able to fully handle him,” She said. “And most of the stuff he asks you to do, like getting lunch or coffee or whatever, can be pawned off to some production assistant. But I know that if I just assigned a random PA to him, they’d fold under the pressure because, yes, he’s an asshole, and they’d probably cry at the first shitty thing he says to them. And I know you won’t because you’ve been in this industry long enough and have probably dealt with people worse than him.” 

You hated how much sense that made. But still, you couldn’t accept it all just yet. Your job consisted of you solving problems or trying to stop them before they’d arise, so of course you’d attempt to solve this. 

However, you quickly failed to think of any solution because every potential solution you thought of only led to another problem. 

If you let him quit the movie that would be horrific because production would be pushed back a handful of months and a shit ton of money would be lost. And it also sucked that he was actually an insanely good actor and was probably the perfect person for the role.  

Or if you waited until he found a replacement assistant that met his “perfect standards” or whatever else— which with the way he seemed, sounded like it would take weeks upon weeks— the same issue would happen of filming being stalled and money going right down the drain. 

There really was only one solution to the problem, and it truly sucked that you were it. 

“You can say no,” Jessie told you, putting a pause on your thoughts, and before you could tell her that there was actually no way you could say no, she continued. “But, if you do this, I promise I will make you the Assistant Director on my next movie, which is going to be filming in Europe for six months right after this shoot ends.” 

“No way.”

Jessie nodded at your surprised words. “Yes, I found out about it a couple days ago. The original director they had backed out, so they asked me and I actually really love the script so I said yes. And before they started looking for a new AD too, I told them that I already had the perfect person in mind.” She smiled at you, and hearing how much she believed in you never failed to make you want to cry at least a little bit. From years ago at your first real paid job in the film industry where you were a PA on a movie that she had been the Assistant Director on, she completely saw your potential and never failed to tell you that. “And I know you’ll absolutely kill that job just like you’ll kill this whole being his assistant thing while also doing your actual job.”

That was where you felt it. The shift. That weird feeling hitting you like a ton of bricks as you considered Jessie’s words and let them fully sink in. 

You pushed around some of the last bits of food left on your plate before looking up at your friend. “He knows that being his assistant won’t be my only job, right? That I’ll have a shit ton of other things on my plate during filming.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that,” Jessie said with a nod. “The assistant part of this doesn’t take precedence over you being the production coordinator. That’s much more important.” 

“Okay… Okay, good,” You responded and then after a breath of silence you let out a sigh. “I’ll do it. Of course, I know I have to; there’s really no other options. But, I won’t like it one bit, and I reserve the right to be mad at you for making me do this for, at least, the next twelve hours.”

She laughed at that. “Yes, I fully deserve that.” 

“But, before I allow myself to be mad at you I first have to say that I love you and I can’t believe you think I’m good enough to be AD, and thank you so much.” You said and then took a long sip from your refilled drink that had yet to be touched in the past ten minutes. “I’m experiencing so much emotional whiplash right now I feel like my mind is gonna explode.” 

“You deserve it,” She said and then let out a small laugh. “Not the emotional whiplash. I meant the job. And even if you said no to being Steve's assistant for filming, I obviously would still want you to do this. You’re the only person I could imagine doing this.”

You let her words sit with you as the two of you finished the rest of your lunch, the conversation happily shifting to something that was not work related. And you continued to let them sit with you once you both parted ways and you were in your car. 

You thought about how you knew this would be a moment you’d think back to years down the road because of how much was about to change. 

Once you made it through these three months you’d move onto doing something that you never even imagined yourself doing, but you felt completely ready to take the leap. 

That felt pretty defining. 

Still, though, you first had to survive three months of being Steve Harrington’s assistant, and that sounded like it would be hell.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

[frozenjokes]

CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (1/3)

I absolutely refuse to go through an add italics to the tumblr versions of my fics but grian is so angry all of the time it was necessary in this case

next

“So let me get this straight.” Grian, well, CuteGuy stood over HotGuy, the hero’s head pinned under his own boot. It was times like these that Grian considered ditching the boots altogether; wrapping his talons around any hero’s face like this would be an absolute sight, but alas, he wasn’t trying to get painful calluses all over his feet. Grian was sure HotGuy could escape this if he wanted to; he’d just have to roll to knock Grian off, but he stayed still, staring up at Grian with those big, pathetic eyes. “You want my help with your romantic endeavors. You want to pretend fight so you can pretend win, yeah? Impress that special someone?”

Grian knew who it was, of course. Not because HotGuy announced it or because it was on the news, no, but because this certified idiot had set his sights on Cub. Cub! His roommate Cub. What could HotGuy even want from a guy like Cub- just a guy! A human, not even a conventionally attractive human, who hardly knew anything about heroes and villains other than their names! Cub, who worked a shitty job with a shitty manager, who basically did nothing but go on little walks and hang out at home- there was nothing about Cub that stood out, so why in the fuck was HotGuy so- Grian hissed, pressing a little harder on HotGuy’s head, who grunted. HotGuy didn’t get to have Cub. Cub wasn’t- HotGuy didn’t even know him! He didn’t get to take Cub- his Cub- and turn him into some kind of hero worshiper!

“Stop looking at me like that!” Grian’s anger reached its boiling point, though HotGuy didn’t flinch, looking more disappointed than anything.

To his credit, he did look away, pursing his lips, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the idea.” The infuriating amicable lilt to his voice stayed even despite his face being crushed against the pavement, and Grian wanted nothing more than to choke it out of him.

“What gave you that idea?” Grian snarled, and HotGuy shrugged.

“When you’re really pissed off you start drooling, and honestly, it’s quite gross. Are you stressed? Have you considered Xanax? Does wonders for me on bad days.”

“My insurance won’t renew my prescription and my doctor fucking sucks.”

“Ah, I feel you buddy. I mean, I basically live in a hospital, but sometimes I need some more benign stuff and it just feels like the whole system is out to get you! Don’t even get me started on before I got into the hero business, gosh. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you were far from my first choice. I asked The Goat, but he told me that would be a monumental waste of his time, Mumbo told me he wouldn’t be convincing enough and also to stop calling him he’s retired, I haven’t seen Worm Man for years but I’m still looking-“

“How many people did you ask before me?” Grian tried not to be offended, but honestly, he was very offended- HotGuy has the gall to ask favors then admit Grian wasn’t his first choice? Why not? He knew why. But why not???

“Anyone I could find, really. I mean, heroes are easy enough to track down, but a lot of them are busy and also don’t give a fuck, but villains kinda just wander around and cause problems wherever. Though, I figured if I stood here long enough you’d jump me like you did last time. Hey, by the way, if you see Poultry Man, will you tell him I’d like to talk?”

Grian seethed; he had seen HotGuy up on the apartment complex where they had fought last and assumed he was looking for Cub- was Grian really that predictable?

“The last thing Poultry Man would want to do is help you impress some guy you don’t even know- what’s the deal anyway? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”

“Hey! I know Cub plenty! We had such a nice walk the night you broke my visor and then a lovely lunch date the next day! Well- maybe not a date. I don’t know, I never asked what he thought. I kind of don’t want to know, though. And I wasn’t going to ask Poultry Man to help me do anything, I just wanted to talk to him about all the chickens he released into the poor woman’s home- it’s not important-“

“Poor woman? She’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not important,” Scar strained, and Grian felt the tiniest bit vindicated, “All I meant to say is that I would feel bad beating the shit out of Poultry Man, even if it was just pretend. He’s just a misguided guy in a chicken costume.

“Misguided?” Grian’s hiss cracked into a higher pitch, “Poultry Man is EVIL. Poultry Man could CRUSH YOU. What makes you think you’re any match against him, huh? Really.”

“I mean, his costume looks a bit bulky, not great for maneuvering. I doubt he can see very well out of the mask, too. I don’t know, maybe he’s like, secretly ripped or something, but I still don’t think he could do much damage.”

“You’ll regret underestimating him when you’re taking your last breaths under his claws.”

“Oh, I hope not! I just wanted to chat about where he got those chickens, but you’re nice for standing up for him! You’re a good friend, CuteGuy.”

“I-“ Grian felt his body short circuit for a moment, everything replaced with the type of fury that can only be released by picking someone up and violently shaking them. HotGuy was perfectly polite about it, enduring Grian’s fit of rage before hanging somewhat limply in his arms, not even using his own legs to stand after Grian was done. HotGuy stared. Grian stared back.

“You’re strong.”

“Fuck you.” Grian dropped HotGuy, who just collapsed, wholly unready to support his own weight. Fine. Good. With a few strong beats of his wings, Grian took off, leaving HotGuy firmly in the dust. Flying was good and the evening breeze was good and if shaking someone annoying wasn’t enough to make them stop being annoying, then it was time to let it go. Something Grian was famously bad at.

When he looked back HotGuy was still just laying there, INFURIATINGLY, just staring at the sky! He wasn’t even looking at Grian, he was just completely zoned out-! What was his damn problem?

Grian’s boots cracked against the cement on either side of HotGuy’s waist, and HotGuy screamed, so genuinely frightened, Grian was pretty sure the noise would color his memory for the rest of his life. “Where are you meeting him?”

“What?” HotGuy squeaked, and the sound was just as beautiful.

“Where do you want me to be for your stunt?”

“I-I was going to meet Cub at the City Park-“

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me arrested? You’ll meet here, in the parking lot across the street at 9:00. And I don’t do play fights, but if you shoot me I’ll rip you a new one. And I want $500.”

“That’s- a lot of money-“

“You won’t miss it. You and your piece of shit rich friends spend that kind of change like it’s nothing on designer clothes and cocaine. And I want to see your sorry face when you’re forced to cough it up after I flatten your ass then steal your man.”

“You- why are you so mean to me? Hey- you are not allowed to-“ Grian didn’t let him finish, beating his wings hard enough to batter HotGuy’s face before taking off, definitively this time.

Perfect. This was going to be fun.

[tempest-teacup]

okay now I'm curious because I've just read through all your ship review stuff what's your OTP/Favourite ship (Any quadrant) for Sollux? I like seeing what people do with him shipwise because I ship him with like,,,, most of the cast (Multishipper moment)

I like the term “ship review” because it makes it sound like I’m writing a newspaper article. “Hello readers, this weekend I investigated Davekat and LET ME TELL YOU…”

Now, okay, you’re about to be sorry you asked because I could write a fricken novel about this one.

I like Erisol a lot and I’m mad at myself for it. Like it feels too obvious of a ship to be good but I’m obsessed. And even after I eventually accepted that I liked them black, I was then angry to learn that I like them flushed too. UGH!!!

Anyway here’s why.

First of all you have to get on board with being an Eridan sympathizer. Yes he is an asshole and a dipshit but that’s kind of the whole deal with Trolls. He just happened to be an asshole dipshit who was born into the equivalent of like, the Tr*mp family or something. Also he had to constantly hunt and murder to keep his species alive. And his best friend and crush kinda maybe used him/lead him on for said hunting and murdering and then literally *dumped him to go smooch another boy the second she didn’t need him anymore.* And they’re THIRTEEN when starting the game, I can’t stress this enough.

Gang, I dunno about y’all but when I was in middle school I had some REAL SHITTY OPINIONS.

Ahem. Moving on.

Sollux also has a similar relationship with Being Responsible For the Fate of His Species. He is also An Asshole Dipshit Teenager. Bro just got born into the opposite end of the spectrum. And I know that all of the Trolls obviously have a relationship to the apocalypse but these two have have been dealing with theirs forever(?) and they are just unescapable parts of how each kid has to exist day to day.

IT’S REALLY SAD!

The more you look at these two, the more they appear as opposites, or if you prefer, the concept of yin and yang. I mean, ugh. Hope and Doom. HOPE AND DOOM, Y’ALL.

They’re both so deep in their own social niches, they look at the other and think “I would NEVER!!” Eridan has so much Hope in the caste system that he blindly believes it will save him in the end. Sollux feels so Doomed by it that he has resigned himself to being a lazy burnout even though we know damn well how much potential has has both as an intellectual and a psionic. In the end both of them reject the destiny that’s expected of them.

Ok, you still with me? Because what I’m doing here is setting up why these two are star-crossed lovers in either/both quadrants.

It’s a little sad that they never get the chance to become kismesis in canon, because not only do they get under eachother’s skin but they are so cat-and-mouse about it. Like, granted I have my issues with Pesterquest but their duel in that is so good. Eridan just casually calling him up, knowing he’s being an ass. Sollux *answering and humoring him.* Eridan’s utter glee at their proposed battle. The way he gets to showboat (heh, boat) about it. The boy gets to VAMP! And Sollux purposely choosing not to to go hard enough to kill him. Come on. These guys are dancing, they’re honing their claws.

Oh and what’s that?? Eridan learning a valuable lesson? Sollux getting off his ass and doing something (that’s not self-destructive)? Oh my, could it be that their rivalry mutually benefits them?! Just look at what a stinky lump Sollux is in HS^2 *without* Eridan.

And then we get into the vacillating/flipping to flushed.

I won’t bore you too much, I can already hear the awards show music playing me off, but I think if there’s a universe where Eridan and Sollux exist post-Erisolsprite then it’s all over for these two losers, they can’t NOT date. Whether they like it or not, they’ve reached a level of intimacy beyond anything they’ve ever experienced. They know eachother’s truest selves, they’ve seen the very best and worst of each other. And hey, guess what they found? Someone who’s just like them and balances the other perfectly.

Mic drop. Book slam. THEY’RE IN LOVE, YOUR HONOR.

[meow-ali3nz]

|NICO| #25|

- He has some type of skin condition such as eczema or smt and or has dermatiliomania (skin picking) and is why he wears several bandages around his body

- He’s Brazilian, I simply headcanon this because energetic+tan character with no canon nationality is Brazil like me :D

- He has absolutely no concept of romance besides what rock/uno tell him

- He likely had the shortest sentencing of the three (uno rock him) since he is the youngest (and if we were to say the crime of killing jyugo and such happened three years ago Nico would be 12-13 and actively being experimented on and uno would have been 15-16 basically old enough to drive [in America] rock would’ve been 16-17 also Nico could’ve maybe gotten a sentencing like guilty with reason of insanity or smt of the sorts)

- I think this is canon to some extent but he literally can’t survive outside of nanbaka due to all the medication he’s on and the fact he’s likely (I think he is) illiterate and probably the highest education he got was 2nd grade, and meds are not cheap in America.

- scoliosis, again I have it therefore so does he.

- if he were to ever leave nanba he’d wear the tackiest anime merchandise and think he was the coolest guy on the block

- he probably cussed like a sailor/has very foul language but toned it down for jyugos sake

-I think he was raised in New York, just because I wanted to think of a real location and again I lived there and didn’t like it much therefore it’s the exact same with him.

- I think he does have parents who are still alive (even if it’s just one or a really shitty one) and the only reason they’re not mentioned is cause they either thought Nico was dead/forever lost and due to the deal Nico had with hiro they never contacted the parents or they’re under some kind of NDA thing or had Nico taken by CPS in some kind of way. (An interesting idea I have is that after the whole jyugo fiasco nicos dad or mom finds him in nanba and tried to get him released)

|JYUGO| #15|

- His convicted crimes were probably pick pocketing and breaking and entering, only due to his escaping and connections with hiro did he get sent to nanba

- definitely a kleptomaniac, like who learns to pick locks like that if not to steal shiny shit from chests and vaults.

-tan+gets light vitiligo when extremely stressed (on his hands specifically)

-not illiterate for the most part can read better than Nico can

- definitely had dyslexia to some extent

-was a full (or mostly full) ginger at some point then dyed his hair black because uno and Nico kept bullying him.

- He enjoys a good otome game or slice of life anime

- Emo

-scoliosis, same reason as Nico but I also think this because of the fact of how he was raised as small wee child and also just do to how many times he was attempted to be born

- constantly forgets to eat or drink water, the only reason he hasn’t died yet due to this is because he eats whenever the other three do and drinks whenever they do

[SPOILERSSSSS]

-I think he misses Nico rock and uno despite remembering he was murdered by them, even though they killed him he still believes they care for him

- He probably has reoccurring nightmares about his mother or elf killing Nico uno or rock (even after the events of the story)

- he has a hard time eating, sleeping or really just existing without the other three

|UNO| #11|

- genuinely hates tea and every time someone mentions it he gets made fun of by jyugo

- he’s totally a rich kid

- passed college and such then started gambling and stuff.

[idk ;(]

|ROCK| #69|

Genuinely everything I headcanoned him as came true.

- his gang buddies visit him sometimes

- one gang friend in particular actually changed his ways and became a guard/lawyer or smt

[again idk shō futama didn’t give me much to work with]

What’re y’all’s headcanons? I have some for characters like kojirou and ido/mei rokudo Jin and manji etc etc :3 I’m just curious if people in the

fandom would enjoy my rantings.

[wholesome-cryptid]

I would absolutely love to read that if you posted it ^^

OKAY BIG GRIMSLEY HEADCANON POST

IM NORMAL ABOUT GRIMSLEY I SWEAR I SWEAR

-Okay so a lot of this directly ties to my boyfriend @plushegutzz's oc Blaine and their lore so be prepared to see their name a lot. Also I'm not gonna include Bug in this because as much as I love her she's mostly just a silly little fankid i have for fun domestic fluff stuff so she doesn't really have a concrete timeline. Anyway i'll try my best to go through this chronologically.-

TWs for: gambling and gambling addiction, trauma, vague references to childhood abuse, Grimsley just generally being severely mentally ill

Grimsley Gore (birth name Gabriel Gore) was born into a wealthy Unovian family alongside his twin brother Garry. Being born into a rich family the two brothers had a lot of really strong expectations placed onto them from a very young age, with the two basically expected to be perfect all the time. Because of this stress growing up the two brothers developed a very strong bond as they really only felt like they had each other.

The mother of the Gore household was a very controlling and manipulative figure putting a lot of pressure onto the twins to be perfectly behaved golden children. Their father meanwhile was very emotionally distant towards his family and the rare times he did interact with his two sons he was generally pretty abusive. Growing up Grimsley/Gabriel tries his best to keep the uglier side of his home life away from public eyes, instead bragging to his friends about how cool and spoiled he is instead.

Grimsley's first pokémon was his Liepard (nicknamed Violet) who he met at around 8 years old, he spotted a wild Purrlion with an injured foot wandering his family's estate and immediately dropped everything to go check on the kitty. He got in a lot of trouble with his mother for doing so as his outfit ended up covered in dirt during his rescue of the pokémon but he was mostly just excited over having a pokemon of his own. He ended up nursing Violet back to help and it caused the two to develop a very close bond. Even as an adult Grimsley is super attached to his Liepard and basically treats her like his baby.

It's shortly after catching Violet that Grimsley meets Blaine A. Platinum the child of another wealthy Unova family with the twos parents pairing the two together in hopes of them getting married in adulthood. Both children absolutely hate this idea and don't initially get along with each other, but after a while of being forced to spend time together they start to realize that they're stuck in similar situations of shitty home lives and form a friendship over their shared struggle.

During his teen years Grimsley views his life as “going pretty good” in his eyes, he's still dealing with an actively abusive home life but he's kind of repressing all of his emotions about that. Instead he's clinging onto the bonds he formed with Blaine and his brother Garry. His dynamic with his brother is very “we've only got eachother” meanwhile he and Blaine are in this mess of “kinda dating but also kinda not dating we're 16 years old and it's complicated.” and both relationships are kinda overly dependent on Grimsley's end. Overall during this point of his life Grimsley just kinda acts like a spoiled brat rich kid who's better than everybody else because it's easier for him to accept than look inwards and try and process the trauma he very clearly is struggling with. (Grimsley spends a large chunk of his life running away from his trauma.)

Grimsley putting all his emotional stability on two people unsurprisingly ends up shooting him in the foot as his life kinda ends up falling apart at 19 years old. It starts with Blaine, They've personally had enough of the stress of their home life and now that they're an adult they're planning to run away and had been hoping that Grimsley would join them. Unfortunately Grimsley can't bring himself to abandon the only life he's ever known, a part of him knows deep down that he's not happy in his current situation but he can't bring himself to admit that. His life with his rich family being the only sense of stability he knows and he turns Blaine down. This turns into a huge fight between the two with Blaine basically accusing him of choosing his spoiled rich kid life over them and storms off.

Unsurprisingly, Grimsley takes Blaine leaving very badly with his emotions about the situation eventually starting to turn bitter with him viewing it as though Blaine abandoned him.

Things only get worse for poor Grims as not too long after he loses his brother too. Unlike Grimsley, Garry has been processing his emotions about their home life and also has decided he doesn't want to put up with it anymore. He informs Grimsley that he's intending to move away to Paldea to be with his fiancé, and much like Blaine offers his brother resources to get out himself but Grimsley isn't in the headspace to hear it and denies all of it feeling like his brother is abandoning him too.

Needless to say, Grimsley is in a pretty bad headspace at this point due to losing the two people he put all of his emotional stability into. (Even if it was a large part his own fault and refusal to process his emotional issues that caused him to lose them.) And things only get worse when his family falls into debt.

Grimsley's father was a gambler, it was a well known fact even if everyone in the family pretended it wasn't, and the kinds of casinos he was associating himself with weren't exactly the most legal ones. His father found himself owing quite a lot of money to Team Rocket causing the family to go bankrupt.

This all just sent Grimsley into a mental spiral with him basically having a full on episode. Not being able to let go of the spoiled rich life he was living because it was his only sense of stability was the reason he had lost his connections with Blaine and Garry in the first place and now he didn't even have that. Gambling was the reason he had lost everything, and in his state of mental instability he rationalized that gambling would be the thing to get his life back. It was during this episode that he decided to abandon his birth name is Gabriel and start going by Grimsley feeling as though he needed to abandon the “pathetic” person he used to be and reinvent himself.

Thrusting himself into casinos run by Team Rocket didn't exactly go well for Grimsley, with him getting roughed up for lacking proper funds on more than one occasion. But it was enough to get Grimsley addicted to the thrill of gambling. The rush of adrenaline it gave him distracted him from all the bad things going around in his he was already trying so hard to repress, it was something to make him feel ALIVE in his depressive state.

Still though hanging around these shady casinos and just getting pushed deeper into debt wasn't doing much good for him, and the only reason he was able to escape falling deeper into the organization was him meeting Nanu. Nanu was still working for the international police at this point and had been working undercover on a job related to Team Rocket and pretty quickly noticed that Grimsley was out of place. He gave him an out noticing that he actually had some really impressive pokémon battling skills and put him down the route of becoming a professional dark type pokémon trainer.

It didn't take Grimsley too long to rise up as an up and coming pokémon trainer and he definitely loved the attention and success that came with being a big name trainer. Eventually he ended up grabbing the attention of the champion of the region Alder, who saw potential in him to be successful as an Elite Four trainer and wanted to train him for the job.

His dynamic with Alder was, complicated, with Alder being a very mentorly almost father-like figure which made Grimsley and his repressed daddy issues panic. This only being furthered by Grimsley being close in age to Alder’s actual children and Alder being very aware of the fact that Grimsley was a very troubled young man who needed guidance. Grimsley did still accept the offer of the Elite Four job from Alder and did let him help out when it came to improving his pokémon battling, he did end up telling Alder to “watch it old timer” more than a couple times when it came to his personal life.

Despite his current success Grimsley still kept his gambling habits from before though and the thrill seeking that came from it although he was spending his time at more legal casinos this time. It was spending his time going out gambling that he found himself bumping into Blaine of all people again.

The two reuniting was fully by chance, Blaine finding a very hungover Grimsley passed out next to a casino with his Liepard Violet protectively coiled around him. Blaine was still fairly upset about their fight from a couple years ago at this point but could also tell that Grimsley wasn't exactly in a great state at the moment and decided to make sure he got home safe because a part of them still cared a lot for him. The two ended up catching up and while things were still very awkward between the two they decided to try and be friends to some degree again.

It was through Blaine that Grimsley ended up befriending Burgh as well, with Blaine having befriended the man through their shared passion for art. Grimsley being deathly afraid of bugs from a very young age wasn't the biggest fan of Burgh’s choice in type speciality he thought the man was fun to hang around with and so he had no choice but to put up with it, especially since Burgh was determined to help Grimsley get over his fears.

Burgh found Grimsley rather endearing in general, in fact he found himself kind of crushing on the man. Blaine, rather heavily protested this crush, pointing out that Grimsley was rather obviously very emotionally unavailable. But Burgh couldn't really help it, he could tell that underneath all the facade he put on all the time he had a softer side underneath it all and he just needed help getting it all out.

For once in his life Grimsley found himself genuinely doing pretty good, he was successful in his job in the Elite Four, he had friends in his life that genuinely cared about him, he was even starting to reconnect with his brother and get to know his nephew Giacomo (the young Giacomo really looking up to his uncle.) Unfortunately for Grimsley having people that genuinely loved and cared about him in his adulthood meant that he couldn't keep getting away with an unchecked gambling addiction and repressing all his negative emotions and pretending they didn't exist anymore. He had people that wanted him to get better and he basically got dragged kicking and screaming into therapy and working through his issues by Blaine, Garry, Alder and Burgh.

Grimsley hated working through his big pile of traumas and mental issues at first, it made him feel vulnerable and exposed and he didn't like that. But slowly over time he started to make progress and allow himself to be emotionally open with other people and starts dating Burgh during this time with the man encouraging him to be more open to being his genuine self. He also is a bit more willing to accept Alder as a father figure at this point. (Also diversity win! Grimsley realizes he's nonbinary at this point! yay! This is why you'll occasionally see me talk about headcanoning Grimsley as Bigender and using He/She/Any pronouns.) He even starts allowing people to call him Gabriel again on rare occasions, although this permission is really only given to Burgh, Blaine and Garry it's a huge sign of progress for him.

He eventually fully talks his emotions out with Blaine as hard as that is for him to do, and the two of them finally get over the fight they had all those years ago and start dating as well because I think Grimsley deserves two partners actually.

Aloan Grimsley is him taking a much needed mental health vacation after everything he's been through and allowing himself some rest and relaxation. Besides what's better than surfing on a Sharpedo in order to cope with your repressed emotional issues? He chose to hang out in Alola due to his previous connection with Nanu.

My version of Grimsley is just generally very special to me and is something that is very very dear to me so hopefully y'all enjoyed this big wall of text as well haha! i do have some vague additional headcanons but those aren't as heavily fleshed out and i wanted to just include the fully concrete stuff!!!

[ganondoodle]

I just wanna say firstly that i adore your artwork and takes6on Zelda in general! Secondly, much as I wish you never had to deal with the frustrations of creating (especially when you tack on the stress of being on any kind of social platform), I'm glad you talk about your struggle. I've heard people talk about art block every day since I learned what Art was, but nobody ever mentioned "painting oneself into a corner". It's such an apt description that is so infuriatingly relatable that I had to stop eating to thank you for putting it into words. I really appreciate that you're willing to talk about your setbacks in a place like Tumblr, and still share your arts and thoughts. All the best from US of hellscape A, i hope you're doing well.

Thank you!

i used to call it artblock as well, its the most normalized term i guess; i randomly started calling it painting myself into a corner when i got stuck or frustrated on a painting bc welll, it sure feels like it, you painted the walls all around you and dont know how to get out now

it usually happens when i stop having fun and just draw what i want and instead keep subconsciously forcing myself into arbitrary rules; in my case its usually trying to be too perfect, i try to adhere to the sketch, i try to make every block of color have a perfectly clean edge, separate the drawing into way too many layers and am afraid to delete or erase anything, i tense up my whole body as frustration builds bc of impatience as this method of painting does not work for me at all and in the end lose motivation on it all and my nerves are stretched thin (i work best when i think as little as possible, just kinda loosely letting my hand do what it wants on few layers and no specific plan, after losing that its hard to get it back)

having those low moments with your art is normal as your skill grows, but even knowing so, and having gone through it countless times, it never stops making you feel like shit, and its especially frustrating when it happens when you just got enough time to work on stuff or have alot of ideas but you cant get it to work

(and funnily enough it also tends to happen after another work of mine got more attention than i thought .. even worse when it was just a sketch bc now i got the pressure on me to actually finish it and the fear of it doing worse once done looms over the whole thing- which doesnt mean i dont want people to interact with my wips, bc that also has an extremely demotivating factor to it bc it makes me think no one cares or it sucks and doesnt deserve the time i would need to spend on finishing it; also .. alot of my wips stay wips forever, which is fine, but like .. you cant always expect a finished tm version to happen)

i do find it a little funny you praise me for talking openly about it bc i am notoriously unable to shut up ever and only recently got better at NOT talking as much about it when i feel as shitty as this bc it doesnt really help anyone and gets annoying really fast xD (im also notoriously unable to not post absolutely everything bc i got no one to show it to and otherwise it will just collect dust on my harddrive so i might as well throw it out there no matter how much i might hate it, someone else might still enjoy it anyway)

and greetings back from the -not really much less of a hellscape- that is germany o/

[littleplasticrat]

Writer Interview Tag

I'm grateful to have been tagged by @tellmeallaboutit, @my-favourite-zhent and @beesht. Sorry it took so long for me to get around to. Honestly I am blown away that anyone would put me in a 'writer' bucket with the other word crabs

Tellmeallaboutit's interview

My-favourite-zhent's interview

Beesht's interview

My answers below the cut for some NSFW discussion

When did you start writing?

The most recent bout of writing started in December 2023 and was prompted by being insatiably horny for Gortash. This is the first time I've written fanfiction.

I wrote a short novel from 2012-2013 and would put that in the fantasy YA category about a magician who falls in love with a phoenix.

As a kid, I wrote a lot, up until around the age of 16 or so when I realised that I didn't want to live the life of a struggling artist and so set my sights on getting work with more consistent pay than writing books.

I actually do quite a lot of writing for my current job. It's industry-specific instructional writing but I feel that some of the meta-skills are applicable between the two genres.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really only read horror short fiction recreationally, and I've only written one horror story - which I found super challenging and wouldn't really want to tackle again. Luckily, I'm able to excise the horrors by running TTRPG games and thus don't have to deal with the difficult challenge of making something sound scary.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I haven't been compared to any writers - I simply haven't written enough stuff that isn't solid filth XD

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Up until I moved house last week, I had a dedicated home office with a large drawing tablet and my mother's boarding school desk from the 1960s. Until I can get an office set up in the guest bedroom of the new house (I'm in no rush), I'm on my laptop at the dining table downstairs or a local cafe.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I try to preach that a hobby should be treated like self-care and so not be a source of stress, but I have the heart of a procrastinator and the bones of a perfectionist; if I waited for the muse to strike me with creative stuff, I wouldn't get anything done.

So, if I'm feeling wigged out about life, I'm not going to force anything, but otherwise I have a 'smash it out' approach of breaking down the work as much as possible and going from there. Any writing I do therefore starts life as a series of bullet points of what exactly I want to happen and in what order, and I build out methodically from there.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

The thrill of fancying someone a lot? Horniness? Butt stuff? LOL

What is your reason for writing?

I want to be the freak I want to see in the world.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any comment I get is like JAZZ HANDS. Seriously! It's so flattering to have someone slow down and look at my stuff, let alone acknowledge it.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I once read a shitty horror novel where the villain was able to destroy the protagonist's life, because she'd read all his books and so knew him. That rattled me so hard! There's no way I'm skillful enough to develop an authorial voice that isn't my own. So, like, don't think about what my disgusting fanfics say about who I am as a person please [jk]

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I'd say the action is pretty clear, and I can crack a joke at the right time. What more could a reader ask for?

How do you feel about your own writing?

I would like there to be more of it but my art will take priority for now <3

I think most people I know write on here have already been tagged several times, so I shall not tag further.