#MY BRAIN NEEDS STIMULUS

[excusemyobsessions]

So huh...

Ya girl went from kpop to Love and Deepspace and those boys have me on a chokehold

Ya know, because my flavor of gay is women and fictional men.

[ex0rin]

Rip cegan

happens to the best of them.

i assume this ask is because i'm posting mcu/ danny ramirez stuff right now (thanks Cap4 and incoming Thunderbolts* trailer) and not because one half of the ship died in S08 😅

i'll probably circle back around it's just a casualty of no continuous media tbh - i'll trip right back into TWD as a whole whenever Book of Carol comes my way (and then 100x as hard when Dead City S02 shows up knocking next year) it's just up to you if you wanna hang out and watch me spiral on other things 'till then

[groupwest]

i will practice being a good friend one little message at a time

[kitkatpurrpurr]

Let me also add: understimulation-caused drowsiness. It's worse off my meds but possible on them. If I am sufficiently understimulated, I will get super drowsy. Like, can't keep my eyes open type of drowsiness. As soon as I lay down to try and nap, my mind starts overacting and I wind up being unable to sleep despite having been on the cusp of passing out. Being tired worsens it.

But yeah, if you've ever been so bored that you were genuinely nodding off, be it during important conversations, at school, while driving (I've been there and for the love of god put on something you can sing over or listen to that gets you to think), and you have ADHD, it was probably a result of understimulation.

bro im gonna CRY i didnt know this 🥺

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[cryptosexologist]

brain. please.

[x--sinner--x]

I kinda want to be a "mad scientist" kind of rapist. When my eyes lock-on to my potential next victim, my mind races with so many ideas on how to get my filthy hands on them and keep them all to myself.

Once I have secured my victim, I'll do all sorts of experiments on them to see what makes them tick. How their pussy curls around my fingers, which kinds of stimulus elicits which kind of emotions/reactions, what's their pain tolerance, what triggers an instant squirt, how deep can my cock fit into their cervix to breed them, how much milk they can produce from their udders, how brain dead and cock hungry they can get for me, and how will they worship me.

You might ask what's the purpose of these experiments when I can already do whatever I want to them as they are mine now and I don't need to test anything. Well that's because, with one singular action, I want to bend them to my will and make them do my bidding.

A single snap, even from a closed door next room, should lead these sluts to break away from the shackles that restrain them and break through the door, on their knees to taste my cock. I want to see them cling on to my leg and lick the cloth of the pant I'm wearing as if my cock is like their drug and nothing can stop them from getting it, because they heard the snap and they know it's "cock time"..

All those experiments are to mold these milky sluts into a brain dead hole.

[lil-vibes]

to all my comic making people out there, im giving you a hug. shits so hard i got frustrated and downloaded Duolingo and started learning high valyrian bc im the biggest fucking nerd

[himblebo]

I shouldn’t be able to drink an entire energy drink at 7:30 pm and be ready to pass out by 9:30pm

[rotthepoet]

Need theo and lorenzo head cannons 😔

Good morning sweet pookie, i gotchu!! I needed a little break after that threesome so I did some random, some silly, some fluffy, and some smutty, kay? It’s really just a big brain dump on how I characterize the boys <3 Hope you enjoy, love ;)

P.s. if I have any reoccurring anon’s, if you want me to differentiate you, please feel free to assign yourself an emoji <3 unspoken rule i thought i’d say out loud

Theodore Nott

I agree with literally everyone on this app, he is a smarty pants, but i refuse to believe he sits down and studies

It’s not that he doesn’t care about his grades, he just doesn’t have to try to get good marks. Queen absorbs information like a sponge and retains that shit forever. Doesnt have to waste time with a boring textbook because he commits everything to memory.

That being said, he will remember everything about you. Your favorite movie you mentioned in passing, he saw you eat something particular multiple times he can infer its your favorite and will buy it for you often, he knows your habits, your aspirations, your desires. All of it. Does it for his close friends and lovers <3

Huge smoker. Like. Oral fixation final boss. Needs to have something to smoke or at least chew on at all times

I mentioned before how I think Mattheo and him laugh at people who vape, but Theodore Nott is a two faced LIAR and actually keeps a menthol alto with him at all times. For convenience sake. If you ask him, it’s different because its not a fun lil fruity flavor.

Speaking of Mattheo, those two are best friends. Like ride or die. Like. These two are bread and butter, inseparable and delicious.

Will internalize everything. This is why he gets so worked up and fights people. It may seem like him getting pissy over nothing, but this boy has some unresolved trauma and unmedicated issues.

Theo has ADHD prove me wrong and fuck you for trying(jk love you, but i will die on this hill.) severe anxiety issues, def some depression going on, hes working through some shit.

Theo can process a lot of stimulus at the same time. Watching him hold 3 steady conversations while reading a novel at the same time is a sight to behold.

Smokes weed a lot too. Mostly bud, but he’s smart and keeps a cart on him too for quick bathroom breaks when he needs to chill tf out. It slows down all the thoughts racing around his head. Lets him relax. Lets him feel peace. Let him feel comfortable. He’s been searching for that feeling his whole life.

Mommy and daddy issues check?

Anyways!

Theo is a player, and its not even because he tries to be.

Girls flock towards him, and he needs an outlet.

Sex is a good outlet.

Sex and drugs? Now we’re cooking

He doesn’t care much for the dating scene, didn’t think he was cut out for it. Bad home life. No mom. Depressed and emotionally distant evil dad. Friends and his family are all death eaters? Causes some bad views on relationships as a whole.

Omg but when he falls in love it takes forever but its so hard. Its so devastatingly hard.

It goes from “wow they really make me happy” to “omfg i need to marry them they make me feel complete and comfortable and it feels like i can finally be myself around someone this is the feeling i have been searching for my whole life” really fast when he falls

He’d never love at first sight. Refuse it. He might think someone is pretty or handsome, but he won’t ever describe it as love at first sight.

100% friends to lovers

He’s a quality time kinda guy i think

Just likes co-existing really

Stay in the room with him in silence as he reads and hes so golden

But that will bump up several notches and enjoy every other love language too

He wants to make you love him. He’ll do anything for you. Buy anything for you. Tell you everyday how wonderful you are

He’s being so genuine too

His friends would know

He never shuts up about you

If you had never spoken to his friends, never met them, they’d be able to come up to you in a grocery store and say “oh. You’re <you>, right?”

And dear god he genuinely cries a little in relief when you finally say yes

He’s buried his face in your hair and hugging you so tightly and he tries not to cry because he finally has everything he needs in his arms

He’s such a good boyfriend

Will never question you(at least not at first or without good reason)

Literally worships the ground you walk on

Will apologize first immediately after every meaningless petty fight

Thats different about real fighting though. Stubborn ass bitch

Anyways

Dotes on you everyday

Calls you so many sweet names in Italian

Has an Italian accent but sometimes tries a British accent to throw everyone off.

Argues in italian

Lowkey hates snow

Runs super cold so loves lovvesss hot weather

Will take you to Italy over the summer

Demands you go

Fucks you on the balcony of his family home

Fucks you stupid on the beach

Sorry where was I going with this

Ah yes anyways

Runs super cold so like is a big fan of cuddles. Lots of sweaters for you to steal

He likes turning cuddles into more slow and intimate things

Slowly fingering you as you spoon

Cockwarming in the morning or late at night<3

So much worship.

So much

Just adores you.

Loves fast rough sex but honestly could go on about slow love making for hours

Literally cant stand American reality tv

The biggest kardashian hater

Knows all the gossip because he’s quiet and listens

Doesnt care to share it though

Lorenzo Berkshire

Bitchboy extraordinaire

If I met Lorenzo Berkshire he would become #1 on my shitlist so fast

I called theo a two faced liar as a joke

But Enzo actually is one

Literally puts on the nicest mask for pretty girls, but every ex, and every guy in hogwarts knows he’s a conniving bitch behind closed doors

One of the richest in the group and it shows

Flaunts his money everywhere he goes

His ears are pieced

Also he likes having his ears bitten it can make him hard as a rock in seconds

Dates, but it usually only lasts a month and Hes the worst boyfriend ever

Dumps them whenever he gets bored

But omg when a person gives him his attitude back

Well first he gets even meaner

But also he likes you so much like… that was hot

And if you ignore his existence? On you like a moth to a flame

Craves attention

Such an attention seeker

Still will fight, isn’t very good, but will try

100% a prefect

Showers his pookie with so much love and attention

When he finally gets the person he wants, hes on top of them 24/7

Never a hand straying to far

Literally obsessed

Big fan of exhibitionism

Will fuck uou on the train, the bathrooms, the common room, the classroom

Its all fair game

Would love to see you all tied up in pretty ribbons for his birthday

Ass man 100%

Likes to just get a fistfull while you hug or cuddle

Mattheo and him are the biggest gossipers

Has like 4k followers on instagram because hes so pretty

Father and mother are hirh death eaters. Does anyone know Berkshire lore because i def dont

Like fr can someone explain him to me

Pairs well with anyone in the grouo, really

Gets along especially with Theo or Mattheo

Amazing at card games, and says he’s amazing at chess too. Hes not.

Literally refuses to snack, says it’ll ruin his physique

On the quidditch team much like everyone else he’s friends with

Slays at herbology

Maybe a bit of a smoker? Not often, and def more weed than tobacco

Light weight for reals

Like severely light weight

He’s the laughingstock of the friend group for it

Him and Mattheo have a running bet on who can fuck the most women

Omg omg omg because they so do the alphabet challenge im so sorry but its factual

Lorenzo is currently winning with 15/26 letters in the alphabet but Mattheo isnt too far behind

Its because Lorenzo is so charming and Mattheo…. Is himself.

Anyways back to being his significant other

Will spoil you

Relentlessly

Lowkey expects head in return but that will wear ofd eventually

109% more likely to start a fwb situation than anything else

Treats you like a girlfriend this whole time

Kisses you sweetly, holds uou close when you sleep, mumbles about how special you are

Just being a girlfriend without the title because then it gets too weird

Loses his shit if you get tired of trying and break it off

Genuinely ballistic if he loses you

Will pull as many favors and as many strings as he can to get yiu back

Seriously considers murder for a while

Anyways he gets you back baby<3

Speaking of babies hes super good with kids

Look at that face

Amazing dad face

Scared of marriage lmao

Bad parents. Fucked up views on relationships

Its a thing for all of them tbh

[sirfrogsworth]

The Testosterone Report

I'm going to use this post to help document any changes I notice as I begin TRT.

For those who missed it, I was diagnosed with crucially low levels of testosterone which have been causing serious fatigue and brain fog issues beyond my already present serious fatigue and brain fog issues. I used to only have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Narcolepsy fighting each other to make me tired. But the universe decided I could be even more fatigued than I already was. Going from being in bed about 20 to 22 hours per day to being in bed 24/7 for the last 2 months.

So, here we go...

12/16/24

I had two very intense nightmares. I know sometimes people get nightmares, but these felt very different. And I'm pretty sure they were manifested by my body adjusting to the T.

I also had another very obvious sign of increased testosterone. I struggle to talk about sexual things. I grew up very repressed. But hopefully we are all adults here and I can talk about this maturely without it being a big deal. I'm just tracking my progress and this is relevant information concerning my treatment.

That said, I had 2... incidents.

Yeah, I'm going to need a codeword for this so I don't feel so awkward talking about it.

I had 2... hormone-induced hard-ons.

Which we are going to call HI-HOs from now on.

Because we are adults and very mature.

I haven't had any issues getting a HI-HO with low T. The equipment always worked whenever I tested it out. I just was severely lacking in interest. Which I blamed on stress and anxiety and age.

These 2 HI-HOs were completely spontaneous and occurred without any stimulus. They also felt more... enthusiastic. So I was confident they were actual HI-HOs and not just run-of-the-mill HOs.

Or ROTM-HOs

--End of Report--

If I can be honest about something... I think I ignored my diminished libido for a long time because I preferred it. I am very lonely and I don't have much chance of ever changing that. I will never have the energy required to be in a healthy relationship. I tried several times and could never make it work.

So I liked not having to deal with that aspect of daily living. I liked having my thoughts clear and unmotivated by sex. And I'm not entirely sure I want my libido to return, so I think I ignored it as a possible symptom.

But I can't live with this much fatigue and lack of concentration. I can't finish sentences. Communicating with the people in my life has become very difficult. And the one thing I enjoy the most and find the most relaxing is editing photos. This past week I have struggled to find the concentration to edit anything at all. If I have to put up with a bunch of HI-HOs to keep my most important creative outlet, so be it.

I did hear back from a therapist. I will hopefully be starting in January. Perhaps I can figure out how to deal with this particular matter. It was nice to not have any sexual frustration for a while. But I think finding better coping methods is probably the best way to go.

[mtftm-bustyboy]

CW//: 'hypnosis'/dom text (joi), detransition kink, mtftm, corruption, praising, encouragement

Awwww, has the precious fakegirl come back to detrans kink tumblr?~ You couldn't help yourself, could you. It just feels too good to admit to yourself what you really are. Who you were born to be.

Its okay sweetie, I know exactly how you feel. All that confusion. All that guilt. All that pleasure~ Its so addicting, isn't it? <nod for me>

Good boy~ Such a very good boy.

You've always love being praised, but being called a good boy just sends your mind into fireworks. Such a flustered, good boy~ All worked up, I bet your cock is starting to swell and twitch every time I say that you're a good boy~

Such a needy thing isn't it? How desperate it becomes for your attention, as soon as there's any kind of sensual stimulus. Just swelling nice and rock hard. That's the key sign that you're a guy, if you hadn't already figured that out for yourself...

Why don't you listen to your cock for me, darling~ Give him what he wants. Start stroking your dick, like a good boy.

Up, and down.

Up, and down.

Up, and down~

Nice and slowly for me. Keeping pumping that manly cock as you read my words. Let them fill your inner monologue, and accept each and every one as the truth. So we can work on completely detransitioning that silly little fakegirl brain of yours for good~

Good boy.

Focus on how good your cock feels. As you stroke it. As you indulge it. Working that shaft, worshipping it~ Feel that pleasure begin to burn away the silly fakegirl thoughts. You were never a woman, silly boy~ Women don't get off to the thought of pumping their cocks, and giving up on being a fakegirl just because it feels good. Sounds like something only a perverted male could get off too, doesn't it? <nod for me>

Good boy.

You should start letting out some small whimpers and grunts if you haven't already. I promise you, it'll make you feel so much more manly~ Such a horny boy, stroking his cock and deeply moaning just because he's been told. Because it makes his cock feels so good. And if it makes his cock feel good, then he feels good. And you feel soooo good, don't you? <nod for me>

Good boy.

Such a cute boy. Whimpering and moaning. Pumping every last fakegirl thought and feeling away. Turning them into thoughts and desires to just... give in. Giving into those feelings of being your male self. Your true self. Feel him growing stronger as you work your shaft. Feel that fakegirl self shrinking away into nothing, as this male part of you swells and swells~ It feels so good. Feeling them wither away. You didn't need to be a girl anways. Not when your cock can make you feel this good. You'd give up being a girl in an instant if it meant feeling this good all the time, wouldn't you? <nod for me>

Good boy.

Well, that's what you're going to do for me. You're going to keep delving deeper, and deeper, and deeper into this kink until it completely corrupts you to the core~ You'll stroke your fakegirl self into complete oblivion, until you can't even remember a time when you weren't completely obsessed with your cock~ Doesn't that sound better? <nod for me>

Good boy. Now, go stroke your cock until you never have a thought of being a fakegirl ever again~

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 14

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Trapped in your own subconscious, floating aimlessly on a platform without walls or support. At any moment, you could lose your balance and fall.

Walking with determined steps, wet hair falling over your eyes and obscuring your vision. He was about to catch up with you again when you glanced back over your shoulder. The cold pierced through your torn clothes, and the movement of your flesh sent a burning sensation through your wounds, making your legs falter from the pain. Your internal organs vibrated with a visceral discomfort, as if they were being endlessly torn apart, and your vision was distorted by vertigo.

The sound of intense breathing echoed in your ears as you forced your body to keep running—or rather, dragging itself in quick, stumbling steps. The atmosphere around you was nonexistent, a complete darkness, with only the ground faintly illuminated, following your bloodied, cut feet. An endless trail of crimson blood stretched out behind you.

In the distance, you could hear his whispering voice and the sound of his laughter, mixed with the smell of alcohol that overwhelmed your nostrils. But it wasn’t just booze—your body was completely soaked in the flammable liquid. His hand grabbed your throat from behind, enveloping your body in a crushing tension, and his hot breath was close to your face, making your heart race with fear. Your eyes were wide and fixed on the lighter he held. A simple click of the silver object drew a muffled sound from your lips as you accepted it.

You were about to burn.

3 minutes and 40 seconds.

That was the limit your brain could endure without oxygen, suffocating while your body remained submerged in water that covered you entirely. The sides of the bathtub prevented your return to the surface, and you were so close, feeling your lungs fill up more and more. Your ability to comprehend dissolved, and the forced lack of air made your eyes close, surrendering to the weakness of your body.

When you finally regained control of your delirious mind and pushed away the shadow looming over your shoulders, you surfaced back into this plane with a jolt, breaking through the bathtub’s water in a frantic coughing fit. You gulped air into your aching lungs and bruised ribs, pushing your hair back as you recognized the familiar surroundings. The mixture of pink-tinted water spilled over the porcelain, flowing toward the drain just a few inches away.

It was your bathroom.

This was already the fourth episode of the week. If it weren’t for your ability to shock your mind out of the trance with a near-death jolt, I don’t know where you’d be now.

You looked down at the inside of your thighs, mutilated after yesterday morning. The deep pressure of the cuts made with the dagger revealed just how far you were from escaping the previous crisis.

Each day, the visions grew more intense and less unreal, defying your control without any kind of stimulus. This meant you had to get more creative, pushing yourself harder, because you knew that the deeper the pain or agony you inflicted, the quicker your return to reality.

There were 12 shows, interviews, rehearsals, new stage design meetings, studio sessions to compose and work on the new album, trips, flights, private performances, TV programs, and music video shoots. All this within the span of a single month.

Your body was so exhausted that you could barely think for more than two minutes. You were in such an automatic state that you had the fleeting sensation that everything you did was involuntary, as though your body performed the actions on its own, without even asking your brain for permission, so rehearsed had your movements become.

On the way to yet another rehearsal for the band’s new clothing collection, you saw your phone’s screen light up on the passenger seat, but you ignored it and kept your foot pressed on the accelerator. It wasn’t as if you were in any condition to drive, but you didn’t have another option. Even though your hands trembled against the leather steering wheel, you gripped it tightly while blowing cigarette smoke into the air.

Your body consumed nothing but cigarettes and coffee. You were so weak that you couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to eat anything. You had grown to hate the sound of your own chewing and the sensation of food scratching your throat.

Simple things like that seemed to lose their value as the days went by, and with them, their meaning. You could barely taste flavors, smell scents; even textures felt different. Slowly, you felt as though you were detaching from yourself, watching your regression as a mere spectator.

The photoshoot was outdoors. You arrived to find the guys already dressed and chatting among themselves. Some crew members were adjusting the location’s lighting, while the photographer fine-tuned the camera lens. You felt a bit cold and pulled your hoodie tighter around you before stepping forward. But before you could reach them, you froze in place.

Noah was with a girl, someone you didn’t recognize. She was wearing a hoodie and pants from the band’s collection while a woman finished touching up her makeup. She wouldn’t stop talking. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t enough to bother you, even though you didn’t know what was going on, but you were a good liar.

“Don’t do this.” A hand grabbed your arm and subtly pulled you back. Gerard brought you close enough to him that you couldn’t avoid catching the woody scent of his breath. “Don’t think about ruining another rehearsal.”

“As far as I know, I’m part of this too, and that’s my role today.” With a sharp look, you yanked your arm free from his grip.

“No, you’re not.”

“What?” Your brow furrowed immediately as you followed Gerard’s gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the scene ahead.

Noah and the girl were talking. He was showing her something on the tablet, explaining how she should position herself in front of the camera. It was impossible to ignore the deep unease boiling in your stomach, a sensation as if acidic liquid were burning inside.

“She’s the one who’s going to take the photos in your place. Isn’t that great?”

“What do you mean, in my place?” you asked, watching as his shoulders shrugged dismissively, as though he didn’t have the answer.

“Noah came up with the idea, and I agreed. I called a better model, someone with way more charisma than you—which isn’t hard.”

His eyes wavered, scanning you from head to toe with disdain. The way he always looked at you with disapproval and exhaustion, as if you were nothing but a burden, stirred a nearly nostalgic ache.

Sometimes, Gerard reminded you of your mother. She would act similarly when bound to a commitment with you, though it never made her like you any better or stopped her from seeing your existence as a burden throughout your time together.

He was exactly like that.

“I’ve always said your relationship is destroying the band. The less you two do together, the better,” he stated bluntly. “Look at how they communicate—she does what he says, and he’s happy about it. She’s pretty, polite; I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be a great shoot. Maybe he’ll even ask her out after.”

“You’re lying. This wasn’t his idea,” you contested, crossing your arms as you analyzed the scene before you. They did seem well in sync, and for a moment, you saw him smile.

He smiled at her.

“Why would I lie?” Gerard said, drawing your attention back to his impassive face. “You’re going downhill. Your appearance gets worse every day. Not even all that makeup you use can hide it anymore. He’s tired of you, tired of this rotten version of you and the trail of destruction you’ve left in his life. He’s realized he might be capable of attracting a decent woman, and look…”

He paused briefly, as if ensuring he was hitting his mark.

“Slowly, he’s finally replacing you,” he taunted. “And wouldn’t it be interesting if he suddenly realized there are better voices out there than yours and decided to get rid of you once and for all?”

“Are you sure I’d think that’s a bad thing?” you replied, exhaling a tired tone and shrugging with a laugh.

If that was what you’d always wanted since realizing how much harm you caused him, why couldn’t you feel better about it? Instead, it felt like déjà vu—a cutting sensation dragging you back to not so long ago, when everything truly fell apart for the last time, and you felt him slipping through your fingers.

Your saliva turned acidic. Slowly, you took a few steps back. On the sidewalk, you chose to sit and smoke another cigarette while watching the cars move down the street. There was no doubt it was an excellent choice. She was a pretty, friendly girl, brimming with life and seemingly determined, with a maddening passion for things, healthy skin, a beautiful smile. She was simply everything you had never been.

And you couldn’t help but think that someone like her was exactly who should have crossed his path.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Ruffilo’s voice made you lift your head and squint against the light. After a crooked smile, he got the message and took a seat beside you, close enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the same scene.

“It’s not true, is it?” you surprised him with the question before he could say anything. “It wasn’t his idea, was it?”

He took a deep breath and slowly tilted his head to rest it on yours. From this distance, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry."

“Do you agree?” Your question came out innocently as you raised your head to look at him. He let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course not, silly,” he assured, and your tense shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “None of us agreed because we wanted the band to stay together, but you know how Noah is when he gets an idea in his head, and apparently, this one was pretty solid.”

Nothing new under the sun.

You agreed with him on the notion of keeping some distance, but the difference between you and Noah was that your attempts didn’t involve making him feel like garbage in the process. Noah had never hidden his veiled attempts at revenge, and anything that made you feel inferior seemed to give him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Screw it,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Out of all of us, he’s the only one thrilled to keep designing clothing collections we never see a dime from.”

“My opinion isn’t far from yours. Sure, I get why Noah feels gratitude toward Gerard for believing in us when we were nothing, and I acknowledge his role in the band’s success, but that doesn’t make him a fair guy. Honestly, I feel like being under Gerard’s thumb holds us back,” he confessed, loosening the hug and sitting upright. “In almost ten years, we could’ve toured more countries, reached more audiences, done something different instead of the same old thing. We all feel like we work for a band, but we’re not really part of it.”

“Back when we played in a garage, it seemed so much simpler.”

“Because back then, we were a group. Everyone wrote together, everyone listened, everyone had a say in the creative process for the first album—we were a family. You get what I mean?” he said, turning his face toward you slowly. “I can’t blame you or your relationship with Noah because, deep down, we’re all in the same boat.”

“Are we?”

“You’re starting to feel like this isn’t for you anymore, aren’t you? That you’re not doing it out of passion, but because you have to. Like there’s no love left in any of it.”

Your heart tightened as you realized he wasn’t alone in feeling this way—the others felt it too. Ruffilo was absolutely right, and the conversation became even more painful when you remembered the energy your shows used to have compared to now. You weren’t sure if the fans noticed, if they sensed that you’d rather be anywhere but on stage because every day it felt like another piece was stripped away from you.

“We’ll figure it out,” you tried to reassure him, giving his side a light nudge with your elbow. “We just need to get this damn album out of the way and ditch that guy. Once the band’s back in our hands, things will work again, our way—and that includes putting Noah in his place.”

“You’re tough as hell,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of your head and pulling you into another hug. “I envy that.”

Oh, he didn’t need to worry—if there was one thing you weren’t, it was tough.

After rehearsal, a meeting with the band was called to finalize more details about the new album. You were testing sounds and organizing potential tracks with what you already had. He didn’t even greet you when he arrived and took a seat at the table, and honestly, it made no difference. You just wanted to wrap up the conversation and go home.

“Of the tracks we have so far, Violence Against Nature is the only one we haven’t recorded yet. Noah, you need to carve some time out of your ridiculously packed schedule to check this off the list,” you pointed out while scribbling in the notebook on the table.

Everyone at the table exchanged glances, and the guys lowered their heads. Folio ran a hand down his face and muttered something like, "Oh no." Your eyebrow shot up in confusion, and you turned your gaze to Noah, who seemed to be rehearsing his words as he tapped his fingertips on the table.

“We’re not going to record that song together,” he said all at once, directing his attention to the table as you stopped scribbling and looked at him. “I want it to be a collaboration with someone else.”

“We agreed this album wouldn’t have collaborations.”

“Well, I just changed my mind.”

Setting the pen down on the table, you took a deep breath. You hadn’t left home that morning prepared to argue with anyone, least of all him, no matter how much he tested your patience. If this was a test, you’d come out unscathed.

“Since when do we make decisions alone, Noah?” you asked, tilting your head. “Last I checked, we’re not the producers of your solo career. We’re a band, and everything we do or plan to do needs to be discussed!”

“Okay, then let’s discuss it now!” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Nothing annoyed you more than when he acted immature on purpose.

“I didn’t write a song just to be left out of it because you decided this out of sheer spite!”

“It wasn’t a decision made out of spite.”

“Then what’s the reason?”

“I don’t want to sing with you anymore,” he declared so easily that it left you speechless for a few seconds. Your friends sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling as if being in the middle of all this was pure torture. “We’re stuck in the same band because of the contract, but I can’t stand sharing anything with you anymore—be it on stage, in the studio, on a plane while traveling. I can’t even bear the sound of your voice. Is that what you wanted to hear? It’ll be three collaborations; it won’t be that bad. You haven’t been into all this for a long time anyway…”

Maybe you’d felt annoyed at him before or had been angry after your countless arguments, but you’d never truly felt rage toward Noah—not until now. You were just as tired as everyone else, which was evident in everyone’s faces, but even in a moment like this, he couldn’t think of anything but himself.

It wasn’t as if he were clueless. He knew how important the band was to you. He knew your poor performance was never intentional. You never agreed with the label, never wanted to be in this environment controlled by that man as if you were a puppet. You never wanted to be like Noah.

But that never lessened your love for the band. You just wanted it back and were working tirelessly to make that happen, and he was discarding you.

Placing a firm hand on the table, you rose carefully, a brief vertigo nearly forcing you to sit back down, but you held steady. Every step you took toward him felt like the ground vibrated under your feet, your veins pulsing with heated anger. In response, he made a point of not breaking eye contact. Slowly, you leaned in, bringing yourself level with his height while he sat. Noah took a deep breath, seemingly pushing his limits to keep his eyes locked on yours without assessing the rest of your face now so close.

“Fine, you can have three, four, even ten collaborations if you want, sweetheart,” you assured him with a nod, offering a restrained smile that quickly faded into a serious expression. “But you’ll have to write your own songs for them.”

“What? Everything you’ve written belongs to the band!” he snapped, leaning closer.

“Oh, now you want to talk like a band member? Look at this, guys!” You laughed, never breaking eye contact. “Nothing is officially produced or handed over to the label yet; they all still belong to me. So, if you’re really better than everyone here and ready to work alone, it’s simple: write.”

You had just played a dirty card against him.

Bad Omens didn’t have time to rewrite any songs, especially not Noah, who hadn’t been able to create anything in ages. He was at your mercy, and just for his arrogance, you were going to watch his collaboration idea go down the drain until he crawled back with an apology.

It might not have been the wisest move, and you might have been just as immature as him, but today, you weren’t feeling particularly creative.

You were, however, ready to make him have as long and miserable a night as yours when you turned your back and finally left the studio with your friends.

In your room, the dim light reigned, but you hadn’t bothered to turn it off since you arrived and settled on the bed. Propped up against the satin pillow, you were forcing raw chocolate cake batter down your throat, chasing it with sips of pure gin, as you reflected on life.

Awful.

Maybe you shouldn’t think at all.

Just when you thought you were making progress, something always managed to pull you back.

Not even those pathetic soap opera protagonists are as unlucky as you.

Your irritating thoughts were interrupted by the glare of your phone lighting up the bedspread. From a distance, you noticed two messages had come in. You took another sip of the drink and exhaled with a hint of disgust as you leaned over to grab the device.

When your eyes landed on the message in the notification bar, your entire body froze from head to toe.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

You clutched the phone tightly against your chest as your breathing became erratic. When yet another message arrived, the device vibrating against your body, you hurled it against the wall with a piercing scream that rattled your throat and ended in a dry, agonizing whimper.

This was impossible.

You were losing your mind.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Greetings sex witch. I hope this isn't a repeated question, I tried looking through your job for anything on this.

For context, Im cis male and so is my partner. When we have sex, I have a problem that's that I just don't seem to feel pleasure the way I think I should? Most of my body's sensitivity id fine, when it comes to penis I either don't feel all that much (like I feel there's a touch there but that's it), or it suddenly becomes really really sensitive in in a quite unpleasant way and I just want to cut it short. I've tried to sort of push through it to see if it feels better but it doesn't. I also have never been able unless it's me masturbating, and that mostly takes a looooooong time (it's more a result of prolonged stimulus than outright pleasure). It's frustrating because I don't know if I'm doing something wrong or it just feels that way and I happen to not like it that much.

Thank you a lot!

hi anon,

it's always such a bummer to hear that people feel like something is wrong about the ways that they experience pleasure! granted, I'm not an expert, but what I'm hearing sounds like there's only a problem if you're measuring your experiences against how you're assuming other people are having sex in terms of sensation, duration, etc. don't do that! other people aren't you; there's no reason your sex life needs to look like their sex life.

the penis is but one of many possible erogenous zones. it's a popular one, to be certainly, but just because something is popular doesn't mean it's for everybody. unless you're a disembodied penis sending this ask in (in which case, hi, I have follow up questions!), there are presumably an abundance of other parts of your body for you to explore and enjoy, so why not give those a whirl?

also, I might just have vibrators on the brain because I'm reading Hallie Lieberman's book Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy, but have you ever tried a little vibration on your penis? it can be a great way to increase stimulation and sensation much faster than a human body part could.

either way, I think getting a bit playful and trying out some other things sounds like a great way to go here.

[manic-quinn]

Hey you! Yeah you! With the niche taste in music! Come over here

glad i could get your attention. i need your help. so recently i started having these seizure like episodes. no one knows why im having them, where they came from, when it’ll get better, or honestly if they’re even seizures

“oh im so sorry i hope you get better”

thank you, but that’s not why im here

you see sound is one of my biggest triggers right now. anything sort of sound thats overstimulating increases the likely hood of me having an episode. so if i wanna listen to music, i have to play it an absurdly low volume and i have to do it in a dark room with no other stimulus.

This means I can’t t sing along

I can’t dance

I can’t use music as a coping mechanism

AND I CANT ENJOY MUSIC

so i have a request! once my brain is working again i intend spend all of my time with music. in the mean time, im compiling a playlist of new songs to listen to once that day comes which brings me to my request

I NEED MUSIC RECOMMENDATIONS

https://open.spotify.com/user/pillowdude24?si=D9bnooQcT8yEjUExONMntQ

^this is my spotify if you want a better idea of my music taste.

Please share this post! I want as many recommendations as humanly possible.

[slamdunk-headcanons]

Hanamichi, rukawa, takenori, kogure, Mitsui and Miyagi with a tired o / s, ended up sleeping on their chest?

Please, I love your blog girl, you have talent ༎ ຶ ‿ ༎ ຶ

I write only 3 characters per asks, but this one is so lovely that I want to write for all AND I got TOO CARRIED AWAY AND WROTE TOO MUCH aaaaaa So I'm going to make this one a series. I'll write 3 posts, two characters at a time.

Sakuragi and Rukawa go first yey! Thank you so much for your love and support!

Rukawa Kaede

[So, to write for Rukawa, I always consider him at college, older and more mature because I cannot see him having a relationship during high school. He's too immature and self-centered with all the basketball stuff going on. So maybe 3 ou 4 more years of life happening around him and he'll learn to look to other things (such as a girl)]

So imagine you two went to the same university and start dating in the beggining of the second year. Rukawa enjoys going out with you in calm dates such as the movies or for a ride;

In that day specifically he called you because he thought you and him really needed a break from university because the exams were driving you crazy.

You are going to the movies, a soft comedy. But you're extremely tired because it's friday and you spent the whole week studying and had two super hard tests. So you have like only two brain cells functioning.

So Rukawa notices you start taking little naps during the movie. He's not bothered. He was almost suggesting you to take a real nap 'til the end of the movie, but he notices you were really giving all you had to stay awake.

So he remains silent, feeling happy that, even feeling so tired, you were doing your best to be with him;

You two came to the movies by foot. As you were really tired, Rukawa calls a taxi to take you home. During the ride, you are beaten by your tiredness and falls in a heavy sleep in Rukawa's shoulder.

He opens a small smile and moves to make you lay down on his chest.

He holds you during the entire ride and, when you arrive, he lift you in his arms and carry you to your little apartment. He helps you to get in bed, and then goes to his apartment that it's three floors down.

Sakuragi Hanamichi

You two were studying because you had to save him from being forbidden to play because of his grades;

You tried to hide from Sakuragi when he asked your help, but you were extremely tired. The tests were coming and you had some personal problems with your family, so you were emotional, physical and mentally exausted;

But you just couldn't say 'no' to your favorite basketball idiot;

You two were at your house. You were struggling to foccus on a math problem, but your sight started to blur. You suggested a break for Sakuragi, that immediatly agreed, and walked to the kitchen to make more coffee.

You suggested to watch something on TV during the break to rest the mind (for you, it was to have some bright and colourful stimulus to keep you awake)

Sakuragi is all blushy when he sits on your couch. "Which channel do you prefer, Y/n-chan?" "Show me something you like watch, Sakuragi-kun." He's even more blushy now.

He puts in a action movie channe. In a few seconds you start your eyes feeling really heavy. Your hand it's not holding the coffee cup properly.

Fotunatly, Sakuragi is too conscient of your presence and how close you are. So he notices when you lose conscience. He starts moving his arms to grab you, (so he's turned to you) but freezes when your head hits his chest and you just... stay there.

The cup turns, spilling coffee on the couch and in his uniform but Sakuragi doesn't moves.

It's a supperb moment.

You. Are. Spleeping. On. His. Chest.

His inner self is divided between a loud intern scream and a blue screen.

In your sleep, you cuddle closer to him and mubles "Sakuragi-kun, you... smells... coffee."

Oh. My God. You MUMBLED his name.

"Sakuragi Hanamichi, you tensai...", he thinks. "You are now finally... a MAN."