#I'll be fine- just still fecking hurts

[zazter-den]

-Strolling up to your dash a week late wearing a singed shirt, espresso powder & protein drink in hand, and blackout shades on- So my prince turned into a toad, and I'm back on tumblr after a week cause Briggs says isolating after a breakup is "bad for your health" or somethin'

Answering my inbox and getting caught up over the weekend, I really hope you all have been having an easier time of things this past week.

Updates Below

◈ I broke up Aymeric, and even though I chose it- it still fecking sucks. I live in a place that enacted a strict abortion law that will put prosecuted doctors in jail. I have a genetic condition that makes birth control and pregnancy Highly Risky (as in organ rupture/ stroke are the major concerns), so I mainly have to rely on condoms. Maybe it's entitled of me, but if I say I don't feel comfortable having PiV/PiA sex from the end of June (when the law will be in effect) to December (when the appeal kicks in)- I expect my partners to support that, not fucking chuckle. Rereading Neon's Ambivalence to soothe the sting, but damn guys I really liked this dude.

◈ I have just been autopilot since, mainly focusing on my part of Luigi's Mansion remodel. It's still creepy, and I'm glad my job is done. Not happy that I won't be on the schedule for the next week while the actual engineers and housing experts finish up though :[ but it'll give me more time to spring clean the apartment and maybe work more on writing.

◈ I've added a Caretaker Katsuki, Caretaker Inumaki, and Expectant-Dad Gojo to the official WIPs list since there's 3k spread between 'em. I've given up on giving ETAs on fics because if I'm being honest- writing with adhd is a gacha pull lmao

[hecatemoon87]

BOB SAGINOWSKI x FEMALE OC

Warnings ⚠️ smut

NO minors!

Part I

Part II

Part III:

Bob was feeling guilty. An emotion he was all too familiar with. He had kissed Jocelyn, and by doing so, he had done two things. First, he had betrayed his vows as a priest. And second, he had hurt Jocelyn by running away. He had no idea how'd he repent for either transgression.

Feeling absolutely miserable, Bob still had to fulfill his priestly duties. This week, he needed to attend his theology studies, help clean the dormitory he shared with other junior priests, and assist with the community's St. Patty's day fair. Part of the proceeds went to St. Mary's, the church Bob served.

It was a chilly Friday afternoon as Bob pounded nails into a wooden structure that would eventually be the ticket booth at the entrance to the fairgrounds. He spent three hours helping with odds and ends with the completion of the fair set up and then went over to his cousin's house for a late lunch.

His cousin, Bridget, was originally from Ireland. Bob's aunt had gone over to the emerald isle in the eighties and had married an Irishmen. Bridget had only recently moved to the states, but had visited her American side of the family often as a child.

Bridget was five foot tall with burning red ember hair. Although she was small she was fairly intimidating. She was a hardcore Catholic, yet she liked to drink and had a mouth of a sailor.

"What the feck are you doin' here so late? I almost gave yer food to the dog," Bridget said, slamming a plate of food in front of Bob.

"Sorry, I got behind with errands," Bob said, picking up his fork and digging into the Sheppard pie before him.

"Well, yer gonna have to eat alone. I'm going out, have meself that weird green beer you strange people drink," she said, grabbing her coat from the coat rack by the door.

Bob nodded and waved goodbye as Bridget left the house. Half way through his meal a light knocking interrupted his lunch. He paused, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the knocking persisted and then her heard a female's voice say, "Bridget! Come on, let me in! It's Jocelyn."

Bob stopped midway between plate and mouth with his fork. He sighed heavily. Bridget and Jocelyn had been close. Even though Bridget would only come for a few weeks during the summer, they were good friends.

Jocelyn continued pounding on the door until Bob opened it.

"She left about fifteen minutes ago," Bob said, as he stood in the doorway.

Jocelyn looked surprised to see him. Then her surprise turned to annoyance. "Well, that's fucking great! I took a cab to get here and she was supposed to give me a ride home after. My phone is dead, can you call her?"

She pushed her way inside as a cold breeze swept by the house. Bob closed the door behind her and tried calling Bridget. The phone rang until it went to voice mail.

"She isn't picking up, I told her to call back," Bob said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. They stood in the kitchen in awkward silence. When they tried to speak, they did so at the same time.

"Sorry, you go," Bob said.

"No, it's fine. Go ahead," she said.

"Okay. The other day...I wanted to tell you..." he started to say, but she cut him off.

"No, let's not do this," she said.

"What? No, I need to explain that I do care for..." he tried to say, but she shook her head.

"Would you just stop? Look, nothing is going to change. You're a priest. I get it. I'll fucking deal with it, okay? So, let's just move on," she said, bitterly.

Again silence hung over them, albeit heavier than before. But Bob couldn't take it. He walked over, closing the gap between them.

"Jocelyn, I need you to know you are important to me. Your friendship is important to me," he said, trying to get her to look him in the eye.

"Oh, shut up, Bob! I want more than just friendship! I know you do too, why else would you kiss me the other day?"

"Fine! I do want more. But I made a vow to God! I can't just break them," he said, helplessly.

"Yes, you fucking can! It's all made up, Bob! How come other holy men in other religions can have a wife? Huh? I don't mean a damn thing to you. Your ridiculous beliefs are more important than me!"

Bob couldn't reply to that. He couldn't really explain why Catholic priests chose celibacy while other holy men could marry and lead lives.

He pulled out the kitchen chair he had been sitting in and sat down heavily. He placed his face in both hands and exhaled sharply. Why was everything so hard? Why was it so confusing and painful? And he was alone, all alone.

He suddenly felt Jocelyn place a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Bob. Just forget it, okay? I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"I'm a bad priest. And I'm not even that great of a person," Bob said, laughing without mirth.

"That's such bullshit and you know it. Well, maybe a shit priest, but I think you're a pretty awesome guy," she said, teasingly smacking his arm.

Bob smiled, feeling strangely better. He always seemed to feel better when he was around Jocelyn.

"Thanks, I guess," he said, standing up. "Do you want me to call Bridget again? Or I can just drive you home?"

"Yeah, just take me home. If I go chasing after Bridget, I'll drink too much and I might bring home some random guy. I have been so horny lately, I can't see straight," she said, walking towards the door. She glanced back and shrugged. "Sorry. I mean, how you stay celibate is beyond me."

"It's beyond me too, let's just go already," Bob mumbled, not happy that Jocelyn was sleeping with other men.

"Are you jealous?" she said, poking him in the ribs as he shrugged on his coat.

"No...well, yeah," he said, fishing his car keys out of his coat pocket.

"Good. If you're suffering, that makes my suffering less miserable." she said, yanking the keys out of his hand. "I'll drive, thanks."

"You're suffering?" Bob said incredulously.

"Believe me, Bob, every day that passes where I don't get to be with you...I'm suffering," she said and opened the door, stepping out into the cold spring evening.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @chadillacboseman and @clicheantagonist​​ (for six sentence sunday) and tagged back by @marivenah

tagging: @poetikat​​ @direwombat​ @roofgeese​ @strangefable​ @confidentandgood​ @clonesupport​ @natesofrellis​ @incognito-insomniac​ @natesofrellis​ @sstewyhosseini​ @schoute​ and anyone else who has anything to share (I wasn’t sure if any of the far cry mutuals would want to read this so...)

In a move no one saw coming I have some Uncharted stuff this time around (none of my Far Cry stuff is worth reading yet). I enjoy writing the fluff when it comes to Sam and Sia so I went with the trope to beat all tropes - “Just One Bed” (somehow in all of my years of writing I have never used it):

The door swung open, a creaky old thing. It was barely able to hold on to its hinges during the winter storm they were caught in. If there was too strong of a draft it would likely be blown away. The train had been cancelled, cell service was next to non-existent, and since neither Siobhan nor Sam had the same cash flow as Rafe this was the best they could do on short notice. A small one room cottage, cramped and musty, fit more for a marooned fisherman than a thief and a researcher. The mattress was lumpy, the curtains dusty, and the shower was built for a hobbit and not a man who was over six feet tall. 

She dropped her luggage in the doorway, staring at the room in dismay as rain dripped down her nose. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph."

From her tone alone he expected cockroaches to be climbing up the walls and  the sink to be on fire. He pushed his way into the room as freezing water ran down the back of his neck from the gutter of the roof. "Oh come on, Sia. It's one night, I'm sure it's not that -"

One bed. It could have been worse, but considering the two of them had barely spent more than a few hours with each other this would certainly force them to get acquainted a little more intimately. 

"Shit.” He rubbed at the wet spot on the back of his neck, rain water drenching the ringlets that sat there. He was fine with the situation but he wasn’t so sure the bookworm would be. “Well I mean, it's still better accommodation than I was staying in for the last decade."

She pulled her luggage into the room, dumping her suitcase on the old table by the door. She tied her hair up into a low bun and pulled off her coat, laying it over the back of the chair. Wiping the fog off of her glasses with her sweater, she chuckled while shaking her head, flicking the wet strands of hair off her face. "Should we leave that on the review, Samuel? Better than a Panamanian prison."

Shrugging his shoulder, he gave her a cheeky grin. "At least I'm allowed to smoke in the room." In the inside pocket of his sheepskin lined jacket he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

"You can feck right off with that.” She snatched the cigarette pack from his hand, shaking the paper packet at him. “You wanna smoke? On yer bike.” She looked up at him with a furrowed brow, barely coming up to his chest.

She was the crankiest little thing on two legs he’d ever met, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ever say that out loud. 

"Yes, dear." He swung the duffel bag off his shoulder and down onto the table. He was relieved to be free of its weight. Hopping on to the bed, sinking down into the old mattress, his chin pressed to his chest as he watched her pace. "So which side do you usually sleep on?"

Her lips pursed, forehead wrinkled like a basset hound. "I'll take the couch. Thank you very much."

"The hell you will.” He sat up, resting on his forearms. “I'm not listening to you complaining for the rest of the trip about how your back hurts."

She moved closer to him, hands pressed to the back of her hips. Nudging at his foot with her knee. "Oh, so the ex-con thinks he can rough it better than I can, eh?"

Sliding forward on the bed, he sat upright on its edge. He’d never been at this angle with her before, having her look down at him with her mossy green eyes.

"You've been around too many toffee-nosed tea drinkers, it's rubbed off on ya.” He pulled off his coat and hung it over the footboard, water dripped off of it, pitter-pattering against the old wooden floor. “I'll take the couch."

Walking over to the old chesterfield in the corner, his face fell at the sight of it. There were stains on it so old he could have sworn it could be used for Rafe’s next archeological dig and that was only after you scraped off the fur coat’s worth of dog hair. 

Staring down at the mess, they both looked at each other, not another word needing to be said.

"Ah, be off with ya. Share the bed."

"You sure? I don't want God smiting me for touching someone so pure." 

She looked up at the ceiling above, holding her own communion with the Lord above, hoping he’d grant her the strength to make it through a night with this man. "Sure sounds like you really wanta be sleeping on that couch, Samuel."

[officeobject]

(This funny meme ended up turning into an info-dump about the teenage ghost I can't see or hear, and stuff.)

Me be like:

Hey,

I know you le mental illness,

But what if like ... we met ... and I'd panic and not wanna hurt you and tell you it's the worst idea for us to speak but that the choice is yours and you choose to interact with me anyway, and I just watch, as I try not to be myself, but fail, and then realize what the fuck my personality is, and wish I was someone else, and while I do have awareness and control of my actions, that doesn't mean I'll stop, as I hope you're soon enough leave - why the f do I mostly remember these people being teenage boys - anyways, so you start out mildly liking me, and thinking I'm fine and stuff, and then we get to the phase where I'm like "lmao, I'll SHOW you my personality if you LIKE IT so much", and then get surprised when you stay,

Buuuuuuuut, you get a cute nickname like "teenage boy I have a fear of and it's not your fault but I cry and shake whenever I even think of talking to you" ;)

This is a call-out post to my teenage boy ghost, you don't need to follow me, but also, fold my laundry.

(I'm not saying he has a mental illness, but like, the people this post is based on, who are just some people in my life, who were actually similar to him, had a mental illness, so Colby is likely to have that, but feck that, we'll never know, because he's too focused platonically simping for me, and making stuff fall.

Like, dude, fecking RUN and get yourself some help, stop progressing our relationship stop making me like you, you're gonna make me clingy or whatever, and I literally made an entire song parody, mocking how I act with people like you - AND little animash video, and I just wonder, what is wrong with you?! Me thinks there's seriously something wrong with you, and it's not even because of your issues, it's because you choose ME - like, sure, desperation can mean bad choices, but it's ME for feck's sake, stop acting like I'm just another choice!

Like, NOW Colby is maybe more visible or something, and you know what?! WHY is he spending energy on that?! WHY is he lying down under me or something, when cuddling?! It's also fecking WEIRD! YOU'RE A TEENAGER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Like, I'm not even judging you for your choices, I'm judging you, because you fecking simp for me like no one else would - IT'S FICTIONAL SCENARIOS AND JOKINGLY CALLING ANONMYOUS PEOPLE MY PLATONIC SIMPS, YET YOU ACTUALLY SIMP! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I DON'T WANNA BE MEAN, I DON'T WANNA HURT YOU, BUT WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?! UNLIKE EVERYONE ELSE, YOU STAY EVEN WHEN I SAY YOU SHOULDN'T ...

And I'm thankful for that. Like, you're hormonal, you're a simp, you stay, I like that - like, FINE, if you're so DESPERATE to stay, you can feel the fecking full effect of my personality, call yourself a Darlen-simp or whatever, and we'll both watch you, get FECKING DESTROYED!

But uhm, yeah, and also, I'm tagging this as a vent, man, and not tagging this as mental illness stuff, because I wouldn't want people to see it and think it has any relevance to THEM, it's just what it is, actually.

And also, no neurodivergence stuff).

[juupajaa]

So I'm considering going into recovery (I even already called my doctor to make an appointment!) but I'm actually really terrified and don't feel like I'll be able. The thought of eating more or putting on any weight gives me a lot of anxiety. Do you have any advice for making the journey into recovery easier? Things that you did or thought to help you through?

Oh my lord dude I'm so proud of you and I grieve for you bc you're about to step into some of the hardest and stinkiest shit of your life 😱

I feared weight gain so much and it was bRUtaL at first but just trust me, it will get easier. The first time you realize your thighs touch and your ass looks bigger is some of the w0RsT sHiT you'll ever experience but honestly you just gotta tell yourself that it's going to happen and that's that. You don't have to like it, you can hate it in fact, but it's just something none of us can't get out of if we ever want to recover.

My nurse tried to convince me to think that my body isn't getting fatter but stronger and honestly that did feck all for me so instead I started looking at other people around me and focusing on them instead of my own body. It helped me a lot to watch other people eat and watch their bodies look just fine bc I could reason that if they can eat that much and still look fine, I can do it too.

The truth is that it'll hurt like hell to see all your hard work be undone, but trust me, if you keep at it, your body image will heal and you'll see yourself normally again. I'm so blown away by how ok I feel now despite having to gain weight in recovery. Try to stop thinking about your body so much. Hide in whatever clothes you can if that helps, just try to stop obsessing about it and focus on other things. Don't look at mirrors or any other reflective surfaces in the beginning. I'm still a little scared to look at my reflection but some days I'm legit dancing in front of the mirror bc I'm so happy about not seeing that monster in it anymore. Just me, being cool and happy.

It's so worth the pain and the pain will ease eventually. You'll have days you want to fecking die but push through them and go lurk on the recovery tags to get a boost. I know I did and it helped most of the time. Good luck babe I have faith in u!!!!