#Yes I'm still depressed but it's way harder to be depressed when you work in the sun all day

[yesplsnothankyou]

I used to smell absolutely ripe even an hour after showering because all I did all day was rot in my bed and be depressed. Now I'm a farmer and I sweat all day, and even if I only wash my bits and not my pits for days, i don't have any BO whatsoever. Life is good.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 1

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activities, language, neglecting husband and father, kinda angst/comfort

Imagine Bruce Wayne with no child, no wife (you), no friends and no more Alfred. He was all alone, making his life even harder, more cruel, more violent.

He didn’t adopt any child - not even Dick - because Alfred died quickly after Bruce became an adult. Thus, Bruce needed to take care of himself, and he didn't feel like he could look after a child. He was too tired and too depressed. He didn't want to bring any child into such a dark life.

His hands were full with Wayne Enterprises and his Batman way of life, so he also didn't make time for the Justice League. He sometimes helped them when it was about Gotham but nothing else.

And he never succeeded in getting you. He knew you. Oh yes, he knew you. He always thought that Batman would be his sole obsession, destroying him and his body. But then he met you, and he grew half insane. He needed you in his life so badly; he didn't care about anyone else. You were such a ray of sunshine in his dark existence. But you didn't want him. He was too desperate for you. You were scared of the darkness surrounding him, and you hated that rich man who wasn't trying hard enough for Gotham's poor people. He would have loved to cover you in affection and gifts, but you always escaped him.

Imagine this same Bruce Wayne being switched from places with another Bruce Wayne from another universe. This other Bruce had children, was married to you, and was friends with the Justice League. Alfred was still around. But this Bruce was neglecting everyone a little bit. This man thought he was entitled to get everything. His relationships were just alright with everyone. You more than once thought about getting a divorce actually, but you loved your life too much to let it go, even if Bruce could be a disappointment.

Imagine the lonely and desperate Bruce Wayne waking up one morning with you in the same bed as him.

At first, he believed it was all a dream, so he happily pulled you against his chest and snuggled up against you. He kissed the top of your head. When his alarm sounded out, he simply turned it off and hugged you tighter. He felt good and warm for the first time since his parents died. He completely melted in pure joy when you gently kissed his chest and neck, stroking his scarred stomach. He leaned into all your touch. He had no idea when he was going to wake up, so he wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. He didn’t want to think of the cold and empty bed that was going to greet him soon enough. He just wanted to stay there forever, cherished by you. Your scent was bringing him such comfort. He was relaxed, feeling safe and at home. This was what heaven must look like, he thought.

"Not running to work already?" You softly asked, a little bit surprised you didn't have to beg your husband for morning cuddles

"I'm good here," Bruce mumbled into your hair, his eyes closed in bliss

"What have you done to my husband?" You laughed as you straddled the man, looking down at him.

Husband? Fuck, it sounded so sweet to his ears. Bruce opened his eyes, drinking into your form. He loved how the sun was softly shining against your skin. He moved his hands on your thighs and stroked your skin. You were a goddess to him

“You’re beautiful” He whispered

You hummed and leaned to hungrily kiss him. He almost moaned against your lips. He had dreamt so many times of the feel of your mouth against his. But it was different than usual, it was better than he expected. He felt so whole. You were his soulmate. He always believed it. And feeling you like that… He promised himself that once he would be back to reality, he would find a way to seduce you. He needed you. You teasingly bit his bottom lip, and he smiled. Bruce's hands greedily moved around your body before settling on your ass. He gently squeezed it.

“Naughty” Ypu giggled, and he smiled even more

“Not my fault. You’re a goddess of love and light” He whispered

You didn’t reply. You weren’t too used to your husband talking to you like that. Your Bruce was good to you, but he never called you such things. He never watched you with such devotion in the eyes.

You sightly moved away to remove your nightgown under his watch. This Bruce had no idea how gorgeous you were naked, on top of him. He realised it was his favourite sight from now on. Gosh, what he wouldn’t do to be allowed to be greeted like that every morning of his life? He had dreamt so many times to be allowed to see you like this, to touch you like a lover and to take care of you. He was happy he was shirtless when you leaned back against him so he could feel your skin against his. He gently switched positions with you so he could get down on you. He kissed your neck, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs before settling in between your legs. He would have taken the time to kiss your legs and feet if he hadn’t been so hungry for you. It was such a vivid and nice dream. And he wanted you so badly. The way your fingers moved into his hair and tightened their hold whenever he was making you moan in pleasure became his favourite sensation. After the second orgasm he gave you this morning, he started to wonder if he truly was dreaming. You felt so real. 

He didn't have time to think more about it as you brought him closer to you. You were softly panting, as he was happily kissing and stroking your skin. You were made to be worshipped, he thought. And he would love to be your most obedient and caring servant.

A soft knock at the door startled the two of you.

"Master Bruce, do I need to cancel all the meetings you had this morning?" Alfred's voice sounded out.

Bruce froze for a few fractions of seconds before regaining his composure. Was it truly Alfred? His dream was getting nicer and nicer. However, it was hard to think when you were affectionately kissing his skin and playing with his hair, looking at him with such tenderness in your beautiful eyes. He needed all his willpower to answer Alfred back.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Enterprises, Alfred," He finally replied, and you laughed because he really didn't look like he was. 

The sound of your laughter made his chest blow with a warm feeling he didn't know. He was so deeply in love with you. He was so happy. And yet, the word “happy” didn’t feel strong enough to describe how he felt in this instant. He leaned to kiss you with pure affection before getting up, even though he would have loved to stay in bed with you.

You decided to be a good wife who cared about your husband’s work and duty, so you didn't follow in the shower, knowing Alfred would indeed need to cancel all of the meetings. You wondered what you did last night for Bruce to treat you with such passion and love this morning. You wished things would be more often like that. 

You were still lying in bed when Bruce came out of the shower. Before looking for some clothes, he went back to you, like a magnet attracted to you. He kissed your naked back before kissing your lips.

"Time for some lunch with me, hon?" you asked, clearly pushing your luck, but Bruce seemed in a very good mood today.

You were ready for him to say no, though, like he always did.

"Of course, anything you want," He whispered, smiling.

He was excited you seemed to want to spend more time with him.

You didn’t add anything, truly wondering what you did last night. He kissed you again before dressing up. You enjoyed the view from the bed. Bruce loved the warm feeling of your eyes on him. He couldn’t get enough of your attention.

He reluctantly left the room after having stolen another kiss from you. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He properly greeted Alfred and thanked him for having checked on him.

Bruce was a little bit surprised to discover so many young adults and teenagers eating breakfast in his living room, but it was giving some life to his old manor. And in a dream, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense, right? So he simply greeted everyone and asked if they all slept well, like his father did when he was a child. They all seemed stunned by the question, but they still answered. What amazed them even more was that Bruce actually listened to their answers. He waved them all goodbye, wished them a good day, and went to work.

It was time for lunch, and Bruce hadn't woken up yet. His meetings were now done, and he could take some time to think. Everything felt so real so far. Usually, in dreams, when you read something, lines are blurry or the words mean nothing or the words change all the time... But it didn't happen. Apart from the people he didn’t know in his living room, everything seemed to make sense?

He typed away his name on his Internet browser and started to read about how he was dealing with Wayne Enterprises, how he was married to you, how he adopted or took under his roof many children. Bruce Wayne seemed quite… popular. He looked for Batman's work as well. It seemed he was often with the Justice League, and he had some vigilantes under his lead. He started to think about what happened last night - before he woke up with you in his arms.

He could now remember a very bright light engulfing him while he was fighting off some criminals.

"Where are we going for lunch?" You texted him, and the notification brought him back to the present

"That Italian restaurant near Wayne Enterprises?" He offered.

He always wished he could invite you there because he quite enjoyed this place. He hoped the place existed here, but with your answer it seemed it did.

"Oh yes, it's been a while!" You quickly replied. "I'll meet you there in a few. Love you <3" You added

"Love you too, wife" Bruce sent back.

Gosh, he never thought he would be allowed to send you such words and it was making his head spin.

But Bruce was a smart man, so he started to understand that he must have taken the place of the Bruce Wayne of this world. It couldn’t be a dream because it was too detailed and realistic. It couldn’t be an illusion, because something would have felt off to him. It wouldn't have been the first time he was trapped in an illusion, he would have been able to feel it. This place... everything felt true, real.

There were only two possibilities: someone brought him to a parallel universe or he died and went to heaven. 

He hurt one of his fingers to draw blood. He couldn’t be dead if he was still bleeding, could he? So if he was going with the parallel universe, it meant… It meant that the other Bruce Wayne had this perfect little life. Fuck, he felt a deep and raw jealousy stabbing his heart: why didn't this Bruce suffer like he did? Why did this version of himself get everything he ever wished for himself? Alfred, children, you? Even Batman seemed to be doing better here. Wayne Enterprises were thriving, the biggest and most powerful firm of Gotham. 

He needed to understand what happened... So he could forever stay here. There was no way he was going back to the Hell that used to be his life. He would kill himself at the instant he would get back. How could he survive being alone again? The other Bruce was a problem because if he was alive, he would want to get back here. But fuck him. Everyone seemed so surprised by how he was acting, so he was certain that the Bruce of this world didn’t deserve their love. And he would do anything to deserve it. It was his chance to finally be happy and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

--

Part 2

[cuubism]

home for the season (2.5k) (E)

some more Hope/Morpheus reverse AU, aka my most self-indulgent special little blorbos

--

Hope's favorite season is spring. Morpheus thinks this is horribly cliche, and has told him so. What's your favorite season, then, you Prince of Night? Hope had of course quipped back. Winter, I assume?

Morpheus had found himself blushing. ...Summer, he had admitted at length. Morpheus struggled to stay hopeful at the best of times, and in winter, in the dark, the cold, the late mornings and early evenings, it was even harder to find his way. Seasonal depression, he supposed. But summer...

It reminds me of you, he had said. How I feel... when I am with you.

Sweaty and overheated? Hope had said, but his expression was... Morpheus almost couldn't look at it directly.

Yes, Morpheus had said, and blinded by light.

Now it is winter, and Hope has been gone for three weeks. He is often gone. The other Endless, Hope has told him, have realms to tend to, actual places in the universe. Hope has no realm in that sense, his realm is the world, and the space among its creatures. Which gives him leave to live with Morpheus, but he cannot just stay in London all the time. He must go elsewhere, to places where he is very much needed.

Sometimes Morpheus goes with him, but he tires of so much travel. He has worked hard to build a tiny space in the world where he feels comfortable and it is difficult to be away from it for long. But more than that... he does not want to burden Hope when he is performing his function. He knows well that when he is there, Hope feels that he needs to... tend to him. To make sure he is okay. And Hope has other things he needs to be doing. Others he must tend to. Morpheus does not want to stifle him. Hope should be free. He was trapped once. Morpheus won't be the one to do it again.

He has not voiced any of that to Hope. Hope would only argue with him, or feel bad for needing to leave to perform his function. It is what it is. Morpheus has chosen to love someone so much grander than human, and that means he cannot always have him.

He misses him, though. He misses him so much, and especially in winter. He does not know how he survived decades between their meetings in the past.

But he persists. Because he loves Hope. And loving Hope is hard. It's so hard. But it's worth it.

It's been another two weeks--five total, now, since Hope left on his most recent voyage--two weeks of cold January wind and Morpheus spending his evenings huddled before the fireplace because he still can't quite get used to central heating, it is not as comforting--when Hope returns.

Morpheus is asleep, and is woken by a crashing sound in his living room, and Hope's quietly uttered fuck as he presumably stumbles back to his feet. Morpheus jumps out of bed and runs into the living room. He does not jump or run, usually, but for Hope, he does.

Hope looks up at him guiltily from where he's straightening an end table he'd knocked over in his rapid arrival. Hope does not need to travel by mortal means, he just appears. But he does not always have the best spatial awareness. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Please, feel free to teleport straight into my bed and wake me as much as you wish," says Morpheus.

Hope grimaces, plucking at his shirt. "I'm all gross, though.”

"I don't care."

Hope is not wrong about being 'gross': his white t-shirt is soaked in sweat, his hair and face covered in dust. Morpheus does not know where he's been. Selfishly, he doesn't want to. If he asks, Hope will doubtless tell him some horrible tale of suffering that may even end with Hope himself murdered in an atrocious manner. Something which cannot kill him, but which Morpheus finds distressing to hear about nevertheless. It's selfish to not want to hear it. But he has never been a very selfless person.

What he does do is hug him. This, too, feels selfish, though he doesn't know why.

"I should really shower," Hope says, but lets Morpheus hold him, and sighs when Morpheus cradles the back of his head. His anxious thoughts never seem to care that Hope cannot be killed. Morpheus worries for him anyway. Hope cannot be killed, but he can suffer. Has suffered.

"I am glad you are safe," Morpheus says.

"I'm always safe," Hope says. This is patently untrue. But Hope does not always like to talk about his past imprisonment.

Morpheus presses his nose into his shoulder. Hope smells like sweat and grime and dry heat. Morpheus just holds him tighter.

"Alright?" Hope asks, and Morpheus nods.

"I have missed you."

"Ah." Hope kisses his temple. "I missed you too, darling."

Morpheus indulges himself in holding him for another few moments. Then says, ��You will want that shower, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Come with me? I did wake you up, though, so if you wanted to go back to sleep—”

“I will come with you,” Morpheus says. He won’t sacrifice his limited time with Hope for mere sleep. He can sleep the rest of his life, when Hope isn’t there.

“Good,” Hope says, with a smile, then takes his hand and draws him to the bathroom.

~

Morpheus is quiet while they bathe. This isn’t necessarily unusual for him, he’s reticent by nature, but still it pings something in Hope’s awareness. Then again, Hope did wake him up in the middle of the night, so maybe Hope is just overthinking. He’s quite good at that.

“Alright?” Hope asks, and Morpheus sighs.

“I miss you when you aren’t here,” he says.

It’s almost funny, the contrast between his always-solemn voice and the shampoo suds stuck in his hair, but Hope doesn’t laugh this time. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

“Especially in winter,” Morpheus continues, and then Hope feels stricken.

Oh. How did he not think of it? Winter is always difficult for Morpheus, the cold and early nights make it harder than ever for him to manage his depression. Hope can’t believe he thought it was a good idea to leave him alone.

“Oh,” he says, voice small, guilt rising. “Oh, I should have stayed with you, love, I’m—”

Morpheus stops him with a finger to his lips.

"You do not belong to me, Hope," he says quietly.

"Kind of do," Hope says.

"You belong with me," Morpheus says. A subtle but important correction. "At least, I should like to think so. I miss you. But I should hate myself were I ever to stifle you. It would be far worse.”

“Being with you isn’t stifling to me,” Hope protests, but Morpheus just keeps giving him that serious look. He sighs. “Fine. I understand what you mean. I can’t stay here all the time. But. I don’t like to think of you just here, hurting.”

It breaks his heart, it does, to think of Morpheus alone. He knows Morpheus survived centuries meeting him only once every hundred years, but still. It doesn’t mean he should have to.

“I am only being dramatic, do not change your behavior on account of my stupidity," Morpheus says, but his eyes look wet. "You have done nothing wrong."

"Can I at least give you a hug?"

Morpheus nods, and Hope pulls him into his arms. Soap smears between them, water slips, but Hope holds him tighter.

“Are you well?” Morpheus asks. “I do not even want to think about what horrible place you may have been.”

“No place is horrible, only its circumstances,” says Hope. “I won’t tell you about it, don’t worry.” The last thing Morpheus needs is more heavy things weighing on his mind. Besides, Hope is used to this. Being with Morpheus is enough of a salve for his wounds.

“Later, perhaps, you can tell me about the not-so-horrible parts of your journey.”

Hope kisses the side of his head, and gets a mouthful of shampoo. “Oof. Let me rinse your hair, you’re more soap than man.”

Morpheus submits to this, bending down so Hope can scrub his hair, and when he’s properly rinsed they both tumble out of the shower, tired, and dry off, and then Morpheus, taking charge of the situation once more, takes Hope to bed. Hope cuddles up to him, relishing in the touch of skin to skin.

“I’m glad I have you to come home to,” Hope tells him, lips pressed to his throat. Once upon a time he would just wander place to place, making friends wherever he went but never staying. He couldn’t have known how good staying might feel.

“Even when you are gone,” says Morpheus, haltingly, “you always give me a reason to stay.”

Hope kisses him, lightly at first and then deeper, sinking into Morpheus’s mouth. Morpheus is a lovely kisser, firm and sure and passionate. Hope curls a hand around his rib cage as they move together, and Morpheus tugs him closer by his hip, presses them up against each other, Hope’s leg slung over his, bodies entangled.

Morpheus’s tongue sweeps into his mouth. Fates, how Hope wants him right now, his surety. He wants Morpheus to command him to stay with his body, tempt him into putting down his sword, at least for the night.

Morpheus parts from his mouth to murmur in his ear. “You are beautiful,” he says, that low rumbling voice that Hope hears soothing him in dark moments. “When I am without you, you live in my every dreaming moment; these are more valuable than waking moments, you understand.”

He reaches a hand between them, wraps his long fingers around Hope’s hardening cock. Hope sucks in a sharp breath.

“Dreaming moments are more valuable?” he echoes.

“They are where... where I feel I am alive. Where I can create, and where I see shadows, but also light. And in every dash of sunlight I see you.”

“My tragic poet,” Hope murmurs, the words shuddering over the steady motion of Morpheus’s hand on him. It’s a soothing, sleepy way of working him, drawing Hope inexorably towards him like the pull of the deep sea. “I believe you are still wooing me.”

“I must.” Morpheus’s hips tilt in, his cock sliding against Hope’s, bellies rubbing. They move languidly together under the covers, warmth building between them. Morpheus takes them both in his hand and works them together; Hope just holds onto him. “I must. I must have you know. And see. You must see it.”

“I do,” Hope says, but he’s not sure he does. It’s hard to truly get inside Morpheus’s head. He does his best, but his understanding of Morpheus’s feelings is always imperfect.

“You must.” He twists his grip, drawing a gasp from Hope, who thrusts into his hand, seeking pleasure. Fates but it feels good to have something good and sweet and nice after the turmoil he’s wandered through these past weeks. He sinks into Morpheus’s touch, closing his eyes as they rock slowly together.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Morpheus teases, as Hope just sighs, leaning into him.

“Your touch could lull me to sleep,” Hope says. But the edge of pleasure is just bright enough that he wants to chase it rather than truly fall into it. He twines his fingers through Morpheus’s hair, brings their lips back together. Kisses him as Morpheus builds the pleasure between them, strokes his thumb over him. Hope tugs on his hair, pulling a moan from Morpheus’s throat, bites it from his mouth, brings him ever closer with his heel hooked around the back of his leg. Being with him is sweet, and warm, and makes Hope shiver, the release of the tension he’s carried in him since he left. He gives himself over to Morpheus’s hands and it’s such a gift. If Morpheus thinks he is the only one gaining hope from being together he is wrong.

“Morpheus,” he breathes, as Morpheus’s lovely hands bring him quietly over the edge. He shudders, hands tightening in Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus strokes him through it, touch light. Moves close to press their bodies together and grinds into the crook of Hope’s hip. Hope tucks his face into his shoulder, breathing hard as Morpheus brings himself off against his skin. He moves so beautifully, he is so beautiful, Hope doesn’t know how he ever manages to leave him.

Morpheus comes with a gasp, and not long after Hope feels tears on his cheek, pulls back to look but Morpheus only shakes his head, eyes wet.

“Ignore me,” he says, when Hope meets his gaze.

“I could never. Your pain is too loud to me for that.”

Morpheus huffs. “I am not in pain.” Hope just holds his gaze, and Morpheus concedes, “I simply do not want you to go.”

“Not going anywhere for a while,” Hope tells him, though the thought pains him as well. He wishes so much, in this moment, that he could just stay with Morpheus. But when he stays too long, when he’s idle, he feels his function itching at him. He’s not meant to be only in one place, no matter how much he loves that place.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he says, not for the first time.

Morpheus presses his forehead to his. “I know. And I will persist, and think of you when you’re gone.”

“Oh, darling.” Hope takes him into his arms, heedless of the mess that’s still between them. Morpheus clings to him, wraps all his limbs around him. The press of his body is soothing. Hope does get lonely while he’s away. He makes friends during his travels, but no one is a substitute for his Morpheus.

“How about this,” he proposes. “I’ll try to come back to you more often in winter, when it’s hard, hm? Fates know I miss you anyway.”

Morpheus nods. “I would be. Amenable to that.” He runs his fingers through Hope’s hair, kisses his lips. “For now, you must sleep. And so long as you are still here in the morning, I will be at peace.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Hope promises, for Morpheus, the nocturnal creature, is never awake in the morning. Hope usually rises with the sun.

“See that you do,” Morpheus says, and settles down heavy against him. Hope does a little subtle magic to clean up so he won’t have to move him again, then draws the blanket over them, banishing the remaining winter chill. In the morning, he’ll light the fire, because he knows they both like it, Morpheus especially. And they’ll cuddle up and pretend for a moment that every day is like this, that their time together doesn’t wax and wane with the turn of the seasons, that Hope doesn’t have to go and Morpheus doesn’t have to struggle. In those fleeting moments, reality, fears, duty and heartache are put aside and all that’s left is their love underpinning it all, all that’s left is them.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Love your work so much. The idea was y/ n is worried about his mental health after his promo last Saturday. So she goes and visits him. Adam finally confesses his feelings for her. But he’s little unhinged

Blood is beautiful

Warnings: Insane murder death cowboy, mentions of violence.

Hangman Adam Page x Fem (member of the BCC) reader

Main Masterlist Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

(Has not been proofread)

Weeks had gone by since Adam's suspension and I was growing concerned if he would ever come back. No one had heard a single thing from him. For all we knew he could be dead. Adam had changed, he had become a mad man. The final straw for me was when I discovered he was back drinking. In a panic I drove 5hrs to Virginia just to make sure he was still alive. When I pulled into the driveway flashbacks of the one and only time I visted him at home. A one night stand that left me feeling things I thought I'd never feel for the cowboy. It was in the middle of the riverally between The Elite ans The BCC. In a attempt to get in his head I ended up in his bed. I never told the BCC what happned that night but a part of me fears they know what happned. I walked up the steps and was greeted with a dark, depressing, eery feeling. The home was dark. I knocked but got no awnser. I placed my hand carefully on the cold metal door knob and twisted. I walked into the dark home and called out for Adam. I carfully investigated the home in serch for some form of life and was starting to wonder if all this was for nothing. Just then I froze. My body was now pressed against the wall. "What are you doing here?" Adam asked, his voice was dark and cold. "I wanted to check up on you, you haven't awnsered any of my calls" I frantically explained. He pushed his body harder against mine. My chest squished against the wall. I felt his cold hands trail up my body, finding my waist. "Tell me why you are really here" I let out a sharp gasp as he flipped me around. Now face to face I could see just the state he was in. He smelt like wisky and tabaco. He held a lifeless expression, his eyes were filled with beauty and rage.

We stayed like that a while. His tall frame towering over mine. I felt pathetic underneath him. He grabbed my face and kissed me with such passion I didn't expect. He was quick to pull away. Yelling as he did so. "This is all your fault! I can't get you out of my head! Ever since that night I felt as something inside me changed. I am a changed man. I have become a mad man." I didn't know what to do or say. Slowly, he began to walk towards me. "I think I'm in love with you" he quietly wispered in my ear. "You showed me a new way of life, one filled with violence. You always say blood is beautuful and god it sure is. I now understand why the Blackpool Combat Club is pure violence. Blood is good for the soul. I feel alive, I feel free. All of this is because of you. You showed me the way, I tried to fight it at first but Swerve forced me into that side. This life of violence is one I find joy in"

I didn't notice tears that fell from my face until Adam wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. "Why are you crying? There are no need for tears doll." "You're scaring me" "I'm sorry doll face. I didn't mean to scare you" He said as he pulled his body against mine, holding me in a tight embrace. "I need you Y/n. I need you so badly. My body yearns for you. There is nothing to be scared of. Let me love you, let me give you the world. Together we can watch it burn."

What have I done

An: I'm sorry I left this on a clifhanger. I too want this to continue but for some odd reason I was like yes clifthanger for a most likley on existant part 2 💀

[letomills]

The "requests are paused until I'm done with the current ones" thing was wishful thinking (a bit like the closing statements in my last yt video 🤓) and I am once again thoroughly overwhelmed with everything.

Requests are firmly closed until further notice. I said yes to the FtM hairs for anon and the Tiggerypum tunics & iamliz13 alpha dresses for children & toddlers for the other anon (I did get the links you sent to the meshes), so I still intend to complete both.

A novel's worth of life updates under the cut (content warning for struggle with bipolar type 2, including questionable choices which should not be taken as advice).

Well over a year ago I shared that my mother was going through a really bad bipolar type 2 depression episode (looking back, mention of it in that post was very euphemistic, I must have been hopeful). The reason why I didn't give any updates after a while is that there is no satisfactory narrative that I could easily spin into words. She's not all better, she hasn't died or lost her mind for good, things have just been evolving at a snail's pace through a whole spectrum of very bleak colors. She's not fully hospitalized anymore, she lives at home with my brother and me, with day hospitalisation activities several times a week. The myriad psychiatrists that she's seen have not been able to find the "right" treatment for her, but hey, after lithium sent her into such a state of confusion that we thought she might stay mentally disabled for the rest of her life, at least now we know that's not an option. A couple days ago her psychiatrist prescribed a new antipsychotic to replace the one she'd been taking. She started the transition, and today confusion started showing its terrifying face again so she's not taking that pill tonight, or to be honest ever again unless her psychiatrist somehow manages to convince us otherwise (she'll report her symptoms and get counsel at the hospital tomorrow). Her cognition is already impaired, her short-term memory and ability to focus especially. She can't live alone, I keep and manage her pillboxes, make sure she's eating right and the stove is off, that sort of stuff. But at least, until the introduction of this new drug, she'd made considerable gains compared to when she was at her worst last winter. No way we're going back to that again.

On a more positive note, about a month and a half ago I started work at a grocery delivery place just up the street (yes that's what I'm doing with my degree in Mandarin and my master's in English-French translation studies). It's intense physically, kinda stressful, and not very well paid, but I think I like it and the people are very nice. What scares me is that my trial period ends in about 2 weeks and I'm not entirely sure that they'll want to keep me, considering I've made several mistakes and they don't seem to think that I work quite fast enough (I know I said the people were very nice, they are, that's just the job). They keep saying the work load is gonna get crazier starting in September. The way they're saying it may suggest that they do envision me as still working there in September, but maybe they're trying to push me to work faster now and if I can't prove that I'm able to they won't keep me? Well I'm already doing my best, even if sometimes I end up finding myself crying over clients' items because my brain isn't able to focus anymore and I'm messing up and wasting time.

Emotional control has been harder because I unilaterally made the decision to taper off my antidepressant. Now before you facepalm, let me flood you with all of my best questionable arguments: • I do have an appointment with my psychiatrist, the earliest date I could get was October 1st (and I may have to postpone, depending on my work hours that day which I don't know yet). • I was already on the lowest dose that you can be on. • I tapered off very slowly. • I recently talked about it with the nurse that I saw for the mandatory medical visit I had to go to because I got the new job (idk if you have that outside of France). Naturally she was alarmed that I'd been weaning myself off on my own and she convinced me to see my GP asap and not change my medication without at least his input (which yes, I know). • the reasons I did it despite knowing that it's inadvisable are: 1) obviously I haven't been feeling depressed for a while or I wouldn't have done it, 2) the amount of endorphin-producing physical exercise I get from the new job felt like it could maybe do the trick so it was worth a try, 3) seeing how much my mom's medication has messed up her cognition over the years is scary. She's been taking way higher doses of antidepressants than me, along with other stuff, over a way longer period of time, but still. I don't want to be on it if it's not strictly necessary, so I wanted to try off. • I'm still taking my antipsychotic religiously and have no intention to stop that (I can't anyway or I won't be able to sleep and I'll definitely lose the job).

My plan with the antidepressant was to space out the doses and eventually get off it entirely for several weeks before reassessing, but after seeing that nurse, I started upping again to one dose every other day. I will admit, I was having suicidal thoughts after several days off, and now it's gone. Maybe I should find having suicidal thoughts more alarming than I do, the nurse's phrasing when she asked if I did - something that could translate to "no suicidals thoughts, riiight?" - was a good reminder that suicidal thoughts are really bad to have oh no. Of course I said no, why would I want her to interfere (leave me to make decisions for my own self thank you). Anyway, the appointment with my GP is in two days. He's gonna be useless on psych stuff but I guess getting his unqualified, predictable input is the responsible thing to do in polite society. More relevantly, the nurse also told me to go see him because my blood pressure is a bit low, or at least it was at 9/6 when she saw me, so I need to have it retaken and see what's up with that if anything.

And so yes, I have a ton of CC plans as always, I am positively drowning. Beside the two requests I mentioned above the cut, one of which I need to do a lot of learning for, I picked up work on Celestialspritz's beta Vincent skins and started converting afbodykimono for the usual roaster of breasted body shapes, like I did with afbodyqipao here and would like to do with more Happy Holiday Stuff outfits in the future. Although I told myself that I would stick to the body shapes that I've already done stuff for, I now also want to make a set of clothes for Lady Apple. I also have an idea about a set of scrawny body shapes for TU-EU inspired by Mrs Crumplebottom's body shape. I know Melodie9's slim family exists but to be honest those shapes creep me out and I want to see if I can do something less uncanny (it may end up looking too similar to the Androgyny body shapes, or to Faerie Gal, or it may not pan out at all, so don't hold your breath). I also want to do a ton of hairs in FakeBlood's palette + Naberius (tbh I'm still not 100% sure if I like Timebomb or Naberius more for my aliens, I need to figure that out once and for all). And of course I want to do more FtM & MtF hair conversions once I know how to do it well enough. There's a billion smaller projects I'd like to insert in between those, outfit conversions for one or a couple body shapes, repurposing of older meshes, a set of nude "outfits" for all the body shapes I do, etc.

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Hi 👋

Since you said it's ok to reach out, please don't mind me dumping my thoughts on the cancellation news :

OFMD and it's fandom, even though I'm very much a lurker, is so important to me. The last few years have been really chaotic and not in a good way. My life has turned out very different from what I've imagined and I've had to give up many of the things that brought me joy.

The doses of serotonin I got from OFMD and its fandom, even by just scrolling tumblr a few mins, made all the difference to keep me going. Now I'm sad and a bit fearful that life is going to be that little bit harder, and that I've lost something to look forwards to.

I'm sad for the cast and crew and the fandom too. And depressed thinking about the future of art. I have a hard time imagining a positive future, both on a global and personal level, and I fear corporate bullshit is ruining human creativity and storytelling.

I am grateful though to cast, crew and fandom. We really got something so special with OFMD. I feel a bit guilty for not having the time and energy to contribute much, and I was hoping that if season 3 had happened, I would by then have had more to give.

Thanks for everything you do for the fandom 💕

Hi friend! Ooo I love your icon btw. Yes please! My dms and asks are always open (sometimes I'm a bit late getting back to them because of time differences and crazy work situations but I do try to get back to you within 24 hrs, especially now!)

Can I just say, I really appreciate you sharing this with me and the crew? I know it's really hard to talk about these kinds of things, especially when you're already feeling upset, and I am so honored you felt safe enough to share it.

First, and foremost, I totally get that guilty feeling, like you didn't have time to do enough. But you know what? You did plenty. You were here lurking, and participating in the background. Not all of us have enough spoons to do crazy things every day to support our show, and that is 100% okay. The fact that you kept yourself going is exactly what needed to happen, and I'm so glad you found some solace in the OFMD fandom. The most important thing is you are here with us, and you're getting something good out of this wonderful community.

The situation seems dire right now, I know. It's so hard because it feels like "Well maybe if we just did x more" it would be enough, but the hard truth of it is, it wouldn't. You are right, the corporate greed out there is ruining human creativity and storytelling. However-- I think this is a wonderful opportunity for us to keep fighting the good fight for exactly those things.

Every piece of art... or fic... or cosplay, or drink or any creation really, inspired by the show has the power to fuel creativity in others. We are creative creatures, and I know I, like you, had given up for a long time many of the things that brought me joy. This community, this fandom, this show, is fueled by creativity, and love and joy and inclusivity, and that is a beautiful thing, and that is certainly not gone. Even if we don't get an s3 now or ever-- that spark, that inspiration is still there in all of us. They can't take away the way that show made us feel.

You feelings on worrying life is going to be a bit worse are absolutely valid hon. I spent all yesterday afternoon crying my damn eyes out because I felt like I finally had something I could continue to support and fight for, and that I may have had some semblance of control over and it was taken away. Your grief and fear are so damn valid. I'm also feeling very strongly about "I have a hard time imagining a positive future, both on a global and personal level". I'm lucky to be a part of a community where when I expressed those same concerns people gave me some great ways to help cope and put my energy into. @celluloidbroomcloset passed on this nugget: "So I've got friends who are, like, Activists with a capital A, and from what they've said a good place to direct efforts when you feel helpless is at local levels. Can be politics, homeless advocacy, queer orgs, environmental, etc. or other orgs within your area, etc. Because a lot of change can happen more easily at the local level and you can engage with people more readily in those spaces and make a difference. It breaks down the bigger issues into something more manageable with real, visible outcomes." Please know friend, you're not alone in these fears, we're all feeling them right now, and I'm really happy you felt like you could reach out and talk about them. If you wanna talk more please feel free to DM me. Thank you for all your kind words to the community and the cast & crew too, I know they need it just as much as we do at the moment. You are a super human <3 Take care and get some rest, and when you feel up for it, please come back to us and keep loving the things in this fandom :) We're all still here.

[lluvllimoo]

It was all worth it

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Hi sadly this isn’t a tickle fic

Words: 1232

Tw: contains depressing stuff

Also this is a story about the past and since we had a 9th member in the past that we do not have right now i did not include him but that doesn’t mean i dislike him. I respect him and i don’t have anything towards him. So please don’t hate. Thank you🩷

@itzsana-kiddingmenow 🩷

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Do you ever feel sad, but you have no reason to be sad? Depressed, not wanting to do anything but cry and be alone. The reason might be your bottled-up emotions. That just wants to be let out. Maybe you pushed yourself too much. Try to be perfect, but in the end, people always find a way to criticize your work. No matter how hard you tried, someone would always make you remember how dumb you were. Well, in the past, when Bangchan was still a student, he always got told that he should try harder. Little did they know he had many sleepless nights because he studied to try to perfect his exam results. Did he succeed? Yes and no at the same time. Bangchan hated this. He despised the fact that, no matter how hard he studied, he was unable to advance. He hated how people talked down on him for being dumb. He hated the way people would talk to him. They would talk to him like he was the dumbest person on earth. It ruined his mental health. When you looked at his eyes closely, you could see how tired he was. He always wished he was never born so he could never have to go through this hell of a world where everything is just so cruel. When Bangchan was studying, his mind was always on music; that was what he wanted to work on. But he was still too small in this large, lonely world. He couldn't go out there all alone. He tried to convince his mom to let him go and let him work on his dreams. His mom told him he would go one day, but not now. His mom promised him she would send him to Korea if he tried harder. 
"Harder? Harder... What do you mean harder?"
"I've tried my best, but I'm still not good enough." 
"I'm still dumb."
"I'm so tired."
"Why can't I be like the other kids?"
"Why can't I just do it?"
"It's not that hard."
He couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much. I mean, at the end of the day, he was still a child, not even an adult yet, and he was already struggling with many mental issues. Every day when he woke up, he wished that someone would come and kill him already. Everything was getting too much to handle. He couldn't handle all these problems.
"When is this school year going to end?"
"Maybe this year is the year I will go to Korea to proceed with my singing career."
"Maybe it will all be worth it."
"Tsk"
"What am I even saying?"
"I will never succeed."
"It hurts."
He couldn't stop the tears. As he watched the sky, he saw seven stars that shone brighter than others. 
"7 younger members would be amazing to have."
The rest of the night went by in a flash. Chan didn't even realize the sun was starting to rise. Another sleepless night passed by. He went back into his room. He looked through his phone. He saw people who made it to the top. It made him sad again. But this time, he couldn't cry. He cried so much that he didn't have tears to cry anymore.

"If my mom won't let me do it, I'll take things into my own hands."

"I can't keep living like this."

So that is what he did. He looked up flights to Korea. He had some money saved from performing on the streets. To be honest, the time he felt alive was when he was singing on the streets. He booked the cheapest flight and went up to his mom.

"Mom."

"Yes honey?"

"I am going to Korea; I can't do this anymore."

"I can't live like this anymore."

"I already booked my flight."

"I'm going to make my dreams come true."

"Mom."

"Say something."

"Please..."

"Look, honey, I won't stop you from doing what you want to do. I'll always support you, no matter what."

"The reason I didn't allow you to go yet is because I just couldn't bear to see you go."

"Seeing you go hurts."

"But if this is what you want..."

"You should go do it."

"Go and make your dreams come true."

"Me and your siblings will support you from far away."

"I'll talk with your uncle to help you out when you arrive in Korea."

"Thank you, mom."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

-Time skip-

And here it was. Korea, with all of its glory. He finally made it to Korea. He went to his uncle's house to stay there until he had some money to buy his own house. His mom sent him money every month, but that was not even close to the prices of an apartment. He barely made it to the end of the month. But that didn't stop him. He went to JYP to join the auditions. He was a talented kid. He almost made it. What held him back? Well, he was told he was still too young to debut, so he had to train until he was ready.

And that's where it all started. If he thought he had a hard time back then, this was way worse than whatever he had back then. He went through very harsh training. The trainers did not go easy on him. He had to learn everything. He had to learn how to play the guitar. He had to learn how to play the piano. He had to improve his vocals and the ability to dance. It was rough. But Chan did not give up. This was what he wanted all along, and he was ready to give up everything.

-Time skip-

It had been seven years since he came here to audition. He had been training for seven whole years. But this day was going to come to an end. Bangchan got called into JYP's office.

"So..."

"I think it's time, Bangchan."

"It's time for you to pick your members and debut."

"I have some trainees for you."

"We will do a survival show called..."

"What should we call it?"

"I want to name it the group name, but we still haven't decided on the name yet."

"How about.."

"How about stray kids?"

"That sounds amazing, actually."

"Great idea, Bangchan."

"See you soon, then."

With that, Bangchan bowed to JYP and got out of the office. The moment he left, he couldn't stop himself. He cried. He cried over everything he had been holding inside. It was finally happening. Every night, he would talk to his mom, telling her he missed her so much. His mom would tell him how brave he was, and he would debut soon.

"Mom wasn't lying after all."

Soon the survival show started; it lasted about a month. It was tragic. They cried a lot. Made memories. But it all came down to the day they would announce the members. They were standing on the stage with JYP in front of them. Their names were called one by one. Bangchan, Han Jisung, I.N., Hyunjin,Changbin,Felix, Seungmin, and Lee Know.

Bangchan had finally made it. He made it... He went through all of that, but it was worth it. It was worth every second of it.

God had blessed him with one member for each year he trained. It was meant to be.

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Omg im so pissed actually. I uploaded this 4 freaking times. But i had to deleted bc i wrote something incorrectly. It annoyed me so much. Anyways hope you’re doing well. Btw the way you can tell how im doing by reading this…

[possessionisamyth]

Let's talk about Jill! I love her. You love her. She has ProblemsTM, and no one talks about her enough.

Jill is the most skilled S.T.A.R.S member, and the most adept at dealing with bioweapons post RE3. Sure, Chris got his ass beat by Wesker and killed Alexia in Code Veronica(a kill Claire should've gotten), but they still don't compare to all the various fucked up forms of Nemesis who Jill had to kill again, and again, and again mostly by herself.

From that point on it's Chris and Jill working together if you want to count the manga segments, but let's touch on her character beats. Like her insomnia. Or her untreated PTSD. Or her depression. Actually, I'm going to tackle the most fun thing about Jill when it comes to handling her various brain problems and that's how she deals with them.

She gets really mad.

Why is this fun? Why is this different? Why is this valuable? Well, the simple answer is a lot of women characters aren't allowed to show ugly, visceral anger when they're given mental illnesses. If they do, it's to the villainize them. The same way goes for men not being allowed to cry more than a single tear down the cheek when they're depicted as sad. If they do more than this, they're considered weak and feminine which is also a way to villainize anything deemed feminine, but we are staying on topic.

Jill gets pissed off when she's challenged, and it's great and refreshing because tools in the narrative justify her anger. She slaps Carlos in the face when he implies they should kill themselves instead of getting eaten by zombies or blown up by the bomb because how dare he suggest giving up after all the effort they put into surviving? It's on sight whenever she so much as sees Nicholai in the novelization. She's snippy, and annoyed, and cussing in RE3 Remake and none of it is framed as cutesy. She's fucking tired, and she's mad about all this shit blowing up in her face all the fucking time! That's why people were calling her mean in the remake, and it's like! Good! I'm glad she's angry and "mean" in one of the worst times of her life!

It's a little sad to see some of that frustration drop in Revelations I, but god Wesker capitalized on her blinding rage when he put her under mind control. Still an extremely stupid arc to give her. Will never forgive them for it. But my girl was so fucking mad, and you know what they didn't do when Chris saved her? She wasn't crying or sobbing or weeping. The anger was still there, but as much as the mind was willing, the body was too weak to employ it. She pushed Chris away to yell at him to save the world. If she was just a modicum stronger it might've been a harder shove or a slap, but that's all she could do.

And we get a mere snippet of this anger in Death Island when she's in the shooting range talking to Chris. The truth is she's not handling being back on the field well at all, but she built her entire life up to S.T.A.R.S and past that proving that she's not weak to other people. It's too hard of a habit to break because it's a defense mechanism. To Jill, being viewed as weak even for a moment will lead to being taken advantage of, and she never wants to be taken advantage of. She needs to have control over her life and herself, doubly so after surviving Wesker. So she's going to keep that control even if it means accidentally biting the hands that reach out to her to help. This kind of depiction is usually only given to men, and Jill gets it. She gets it! And she's not evil for it! And it's so so so soo good when it's employed well! (Unfortunately this is also why in newer iterations they keep trying to tone this down by making her appear sexier, because she's too intimidating otherwise. Yes, it's just as bullshit as it sounds!)

Unlike Claire, Rebecca, and even Ada who can't show more than two emotions, Jill can shoot and kill and stab and tear and destroy with all the anger she wants, and she can still get a nice date if she wanted before the rest of the RE cast! This anger is allowed to be hers without it being framed as masculine with that "one of the boys/i have three brothers" nonsense and without vilifying her womanhood for daring to express her anger as ugly as anger can be! And that's why she's great, and I love her, and someone for the love of god please get her into some decent hands for whatever she's in next.

[techtalksfics]

Beautiful (Wrecker x Plus Size!Reader)

Summary: You're feeling insecure, not good enough and so you implode the good thing. Wrecker's confused and hurt. But his brothers and sister are on hand to help.

Author's Note: I understand this feeling better than most so I've tried to keep it as real to the feeling I know as possible. But at the same time, it took a while as I had to take time not to get wrapped up in thinking about this. It may not match everyone's feeling but I hope you still enjoy this.

Warnings: A couple of swear words, insecurity, inferred depression, heavy drinking as a coping strategy (note to whoever needs it: don't do this - it's not coping, it's masking). Angsty. It's definitely Angsty.

Word Count: 3.2 K

You looked at yourself in this beautiful scarlet dress. The low neckline was designed to show off certain assets. The chifron sleeves flowed down around your arms, opening at the sleeve. The georgette skirt flowed down to your knees. The dress was beautiful.

You, however, were not. This dress wasn't designed for you. You looked in the mirror and sighed. This dress is too pretty for the likes of me, you thought beratingly to yourself. You felt the tears start falling from your eyes.

Your arms looked fat, your thighs were fat and rubbed together, your waist was too wide, your cheeks too plump. Everything was just ugly.

You had spent two hours getting ready for your date with Wrecker. He'd finally worked up the courage to ask you out. You didn't think he was interested in you like that, even though you were definitely interested in him like that.

He'd seen you hanging out at 79's and had instantly fallen for you. He watched you laugh at the stories the clones told you. But she always made time to come and talk to him and his brothers, despite the protests from the other clones. "They're just the Sad Batch, you don't need to waste your time over there," they often told you. But you didn't care. You liked all of them.

All of Wrecker's brothers liked talking with you. Your intelligence, confidence and brawn made the conversation interesting for all of the. Whilst Wrecker didn't always understand the things you talked about, particularly the conversations with Tech, he always watched you with a goofy grin on his face. Every once and while, your eyes would drift to him and his ears would pink up, he'd panic and look away.

So, when he finally plucked up the courage to ask you on a date, you immediately said yes.

You always went to talk to the boys because of Wrecker. You adored him. He was truly a gentle giant, a big kid in the best of ways. He always took the time to ask how you were, how work was and even ask how your family were. He genuinely cared. It helped that you thought he was incredibly handsome.

So, here you were, staring at yourself in the mirror and hating everything you saw. You hated your stomach; your thighs were too fat and your hips had so much extra, bulging weight that the tears fell even harder. Generally, you avoided mirrors because you hated what you saw. You'd hoped that after two hours of work, your reflection would at least be bearable. It still wasn't.

You couldn't do this. You just... couldn't. Why would he want to be with someone like me? I'm a fat, depressed, waste of space, you affirmed sadly to yourself, eyes still focusing on all the flaws in the mirror.

So, you made the decision to simply leave your apartment and go to the bar for a drink. He was supposed to pick you up from home but if you weren't there, then he wouldn't need to waste his evening with you.

--------------------------------

You sat in the bar, perched on a stool and ordered shot after shot. The warmth of the liquid travelling down your throat was the only warm feeling you felt. Your blood felt like ice, your body was numb with shame, resentment and self-loathing. You were deeply intoxicated and in no mood to talk.

You made that clear to anyone who approached you.

You'd settled on the grim bar down the road from your apartment as opposed to your usual, 79's, just in case Wrecker came looking for you. You had planned to simply drink until you hated yourself a little less and then head home, pass out and start again tomorrow. It was a stupid plan, and you knew it. But it seemed like the right decision in your intoxicated mind.

You downed the shot in front of you. The bartender quickly refilled the glass and walked away. He certainly wasn't going to ask any questions.

"I thought we were meeting at yours," a deep, cautious voice came from behind you. It was Wrecker. Oh shit, it was Wrecker. "Did I - uh - get that wrong. I even had Tech write it down and put it on my PADD so I - I went to the right place." When you didn't turn to face him, he frowned heavily. "Are - are you okay?"

"Please Wrecker, just," you sighed, "just leave me alone." You downed the shot and stood up, stumbling slightly as the alcohol coursed through your entire body. Hitting you all at once. Wrecker reached out to steady you, his strong hands holding onto your arms. You felt the tears begin prickling at your eyes once again.

"Did I do somethin'?" He asked, confusion and sadness cloaking his features. His face was normally so happy, so carefree so when you finally looked at him and saw his face distorted, you stomach dropped. How could he possibly think it was him? It was you. It was all you. You and your hideous body, your hideous personality. You began to panic.

You moved past him and headed towards the door. He followed you, lost and confused. He was only a couple of 'wrecker-sized' steps behind you and you could feel his shadow over you. You suddenly stopped. "Please," he begged and your heart ached to hold him, "what did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything," you sniffled, wiping the tears that were now rolling freely down your cheeks. When you faced him, he was so alarmed by the tears on your cheeks that he strode towards you. All you could think of was how weak you were. "Look at me," you said, gesturing wildly to your whole body, "even with this make up and the dress, I'm hideous. Don't waste your time on me, Wrecker."

He stuttered and stumbled over the words speeding through his brain and when nothing really came out. You simply nodded and made a move towards your apartment. It was almost a run, as you tried to stop the tears from flowing.

Wrecker's brow just furrowed at your retreating form until there was nothing more than a shadow, a glimmer of a moment that was now over.

"But..." he mumbled, to no one in particular, "you're beautiful." He whispered your name once to himself as strangers strode on by, some giving him the usual odd looks.

He didn't know what to do. All he knew was... he needed his brothers.

-----------------------------

When Wrecker got back to the Marauder, he plopped himself on the gangplank causing it to creak under the weight. He sighed.

How could tonight have gone so wrong, so quickly? He would've understood if he had done something or said something stupid, but he didn't even get that far. He sat there for a moment and replayed all the happy moments you'd previously shared together. He replayed the moment when he asked you to go on a date. How happy you'd looked even though his nerves had made him stumble over his words.

What had gone so wrong?

Hunter noticed him first sitting there first and frowned. He knew that Wrecker had a big date lined up for that evening. Why was he back so soon? It certainly couldn't be good news. So, Hunter made the decision to sit himself down next to his brother. Sitting in silence, waiting for him to talk. Moments went by and nothing but a sigh left Wrecker's lips. For Wrecker, this was a long time to go without words.

Wrecker was staring out at the workers on the dockyard and Hunter's eyes watched his brother watching others. Worker's were loading cargo onto a neighbouring ship. Their voices echoing through the loading bays, some ship being prepared for departure. When he finally spoke, Hunter kept his eyes trained forward as he listened.

"She said it was over," Wrecker mumbled, "and I dunno what I did. But I musta done something." He smoothed his hand over his head and neck, trying to piece together his mistake. Hunter grimaced slightly as Wrecker's words. He'd always known you to be such a kind and caring soul so he couldn't understand what Wrecker could've done that would have been so bad. Something you couldn't forgive him for but that he wouldn't even recognise.

"What else did she say, Wrecker," Hunter questioned, "she must have said more than just that." Wrecker began giving Hunter the play by play of what had happened in the bar and in the street and when he was finished, Wrecker gave out a deflated sigh. He just didn't understand what was wrong.

At the unexpected sound of voices above the panel he was working on, Tech appeared from under the ship. “I was under the impression you had a date this evening, Wrecker. Why are you have you returned so soon? From the limited reading I have done on that particular subject matter, dates tend to last for a minimum of two hours unless one party is not attracted to the other. Seeing as we all know you find each other attractive; I am unsure as to why you have returned. Did you forget something?”

Omega was sitting on the ship, with her PADD in hand, though she was no longer paying attention to it. This conversation about you was far more interesting than the ships schematics Tech had tasked her to read.

"No, she ended things, Tech," Hunter responded when Wrecker couldn't find the voice to say those words again. Wrecker dramatically plopped his cheek onto his clenched first, resting on his knee.

“Oh.” This was Tech had to say before he adjusted his goggles. “Although, I believe it to be impossible to end something that hasn’t begun. Did she need to be elsewhere?”

"If she simply needed to be elsewhere, she wouldn't have ended it, Tech," Hunter grumbled, shaking his head.

"Perhaps she just did not wish to see you like that." Tech suggested as he began to type away on his tablet.

“Not helpful, Tech,” Hunter said gruffly. Tech looked slightly perturbed and realised this was probably extremely out of his area of expertise. “Look, maybe you just need to give her some space.”

"Space?" Wrecker repeated, confused.

“Um,” Omega interrupted as she appeared on the gangplank, fiddling with her hands in front of her. They all whipped their heads around to look at her. She moved cautiously towards Wrecker placed her tiny hand onto his shoulder, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping but you’re all being very stupid about this. You realise what has happened right?" When they all simply looked around at each other confused, Omega sighed slightly. "It wasn't you, Wrecker and Hunter, she definitely doesn’t need space. Don’t you guys understand women at all?”

The brothers looked around at one another becoming more and more confused, Omega had spoken in such a way that had made it seem like the solution was obvious. “Don’t ya get it? She’s insecure. About her weight?” She let out an exasperated sigh and continued, “she doesn’t think she’s good enough for you, Wrecker. She’s convinced herself that she’s not.”

“But I think she’s perfect.” He spoke so loudly that the workers in the yard all stopped suddenly to stare over at him. Wrecker’s flashed blushed and he scratched at the back of his head. “She is perfect.”

Tech shrugged his shoulders and went back to work on the ship with a frown. Whatever was happening was certainly not something he was going to understand.

“Yes, but she doesn’t think that and sometimes, that negativity is just what wins.”  Omega replied softly. She gaze his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got to make her believe that she is perfect, in your eyes at least.”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to do tha’?” He questioned with a groan, crashing his head onto his bent knees. Omega stood beside Wrecker, placing her hand around his shoulders, a plan formulating in her mind.

---------------------------

You hadn't seen Wrecker since you'd told him it was over. Part of you had hoped. Hoped he would've stopped you from leaving. Hoped he would've followed you. Hoped he'd have shown up at your door. Hoped he would just ask you what was wrong. You couldn't seem to stop that glimmer of hope from filling your heart.

But it had been two days and there was still no sign of the sweet, soft clone known as Wrecker. Both days you woke up with hope and fell asleep late, eyes brimming with tears. You hadn't so much as looked at the mirror since that night.

You were a mess and you knew it. You hadn't showered in two days, had called in sick for your shift the previous day. You couldn't face the outside world and your heart was pounding in your chest and the only thing that stopped in was knocking back high alcohol content beverages. Not a wise coping mechanism...at all.

As you cuddled into your sofa, PADD open with the news playing, you heard your front door chime. You heart skipped a little. Perhaps he hadn't given up on you after all.

As you opened the door, your heart soared. Wrecker stood there, a stuffed bear in his hands, looking awkward and confused and nervous. You could see it all over his features.

"Hi," you murmured, as he thrust the bear towards you.

"Uh - hi," he mumbled, reaching to scratch his neck after handing you the bear. "I... I'm sorry I haven't been here sooner. I - uh - didn't know if you wanted to see me. I still don't exactly understand what happened." He was rambling and he caught himself in the act, so sucked in a breath to stop himself for spiralling further. "Are... Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you sniffled miserably, "yeah I'm fine. I must look a mess."

"You look beautiful."

"I look a mess," you affirmed, running your hands through your hair. "Please," you moved out of the door frame, "come in." When he squeezed himself through your door frame, ducking his head slightly, he took in your messy home. He loved it. He loved that you were messy too. He wasn't good at the whole keeping everything clean thing.

“I… I…” He groaned. He never had the right words. “I was confused.”

“Confused,” you repeatedly softly, you head beginning to crane backwards as he approached you. “I think I was pretty clear in what I said,” you retorted. He flinched and you felt awful. None of this was his fault. It was yours. "But..." you continued on, willing yourself to be brave just this once, "what I said wasn't the whole truth. You shouldn't have to be with someone like me. I'm a whole, fat mess of hang ups."

"Omega was right," he breathed as he took in the sight of you. You'd clearly spiralled since the last time he saw you. "You think you're fat."

You flinched.

Omega was right.

“I was confused but now,” he took his hand and reached out for yours, your little hands were so easily engulfed in his. He lifted your hand gently so that it rested on his chest, “I’m not confused now.” You wondered what had brought on this sincerity. What had brought him to your apartment, three days after that night. “You don’t like the way you look.” He said it again and you flinched. Again. He said it so plainly that the air was knocked out of your lungs. As you tried to pull your hand away, he brought both of his hands over yours and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “But I do.” His voice was so soft, so sincere and his heart was drumming loudly in his chest. “I’m not so good with words like Tech or Hunter. I don’t always understand what is happening, particularly not with girls,” he’d begun rambling and he knew it, but he just carried on, “in fact, I never understand girls. Your emotions are so complicated, and the inside of my head is just…simple. Missions. Mantell Mix. My brothers.”  He squeezed your hand again. “You.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything because you were a blubbering mess. “I understand now,” he repeated.

As his hands still held onto yours on his chest, he gently took it, cradled it, and dragged you towards the mirror you had been stood in front of when you had broken the last time. You hadn’t looked in it since. You raised your eyes to look in the mirror and immediately looked down again. You hated it. Hated it. Hated it.

“No, please,” he begged, “don’t look down.” You felt the warmth of his chest against your back as he stood behind you. “I want you to see what I see.” So you raised your eyes slowly, missing your own reflection and looked at his face. His soft smile, his intense gaze. He was beautiful but you couldn’t look at yourself. Not next to him.

Suddenly, but surely, his hands found their way to your waist and he gave a gentle squeeze. “I asked my brothers for help,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “but Omega came up with this idea. Well, not this. She told me I needed to tell you what I see." He rested his head against yours. "I'm not so good with words. So I figure...well..." he sucked in a breath, "I'm good with actions. So I figure it would be easier, for me...to show you, just how beautiful you are.”

His hand trailed up your stomach, grazed softly over your breast and rested on your jaw. “This face,” he whispered, “those gorgeous blue eyes. Look at them.” You lips parted as you finally faced your own reflection, “I forget everything when you look at me. I can’t remember a thing. Talking to you felt impossible. But I’m glad I did,” he reached up to stroke your cheek, “look at this gorgeous hair, the way it falls around your shoulders. It’s so sexy.” His voice was so quiet; the words were just for you and him. He tried as gently as he could to push your off your shoulder. “Your whole face is beautiful.” You're forced yourself to look in the mirror but you didn't look at yourself, you looked at the sincerity on his face.

He used his hand to push your head back so he could kiss your cheek. “So pretty.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he touched you. Held at the waist and at your throat. The warmth was spooling around you both.

Grazing his fingers over your stomach, down the top of your thighs, over your shoulders and gently down your back. You smiled and sighed at the contact. "I love your soft thighs, your hips, your stomach," his hands continued to trail across your form and after a while you could help but simply watch his hands roam across your body, every once and a while gently squeezing at you.

You couldn’t believe that someone as big and muscly at this man could be so gentle. How was he so perfect. He continued with his gentle but mostly innocent touches for a short while.

“I dunno why you think you’re anything other than beautiful.” His hand on your waist gave you a soft squeeze. “This body,” he started whispering again, “this body is beautiful.”

[wetcatspellcaster]

hello! i have a question about finding time to write because i have an idea for an astarion fic but it's my first year in my ph.d. program and i am DROWNING IN WORK AND READINGS. how did you do this AND work on your dissertation? (also congrats on that!!! that's massive!!!)

hello, anon, congratulations to YOU on your phd programme!! many felicitations on the continuing of your education.

I took a while to reply to this, bc I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask this question. my personal answer is 'hyperfixate on the dopamine source so, so hard until you burnout, and then feel guilty bc you haven't updated in ages (I'm currently one week since an update), and then let that guilt become your new motivator! :D'

...which doesn't seem very healthy. and definitely impacts my ability to answer the question in a way that is actually helpful.

so i don't have an answer, but my honest pieces of advice are below the cut.

idk what kinda PhD you are doing, but if it's a humanities, in my experience, there are dips and lulls. first year is always a bit hectic bc the imposter syndrome is high and you feel like you're treading water to stay afloat. but things will get so much easier, and will in fact go through peaks and troughs! in 2nd and 3rd year, i had months without any work at all. wait for a trough to do some drafting. if you're currently really struggling, then just sketch as detailed an outline as you can in a document when the idea is fresh, and then you can return to it in dribs and drabs when you have a spare moment. [if you're a scientist, apologies in advance, you have a much harder life than me!] .

this one isn't very burnout friendly, but i am introverted and treat writing fic like a hobby for when i have no social battery. then my fic battery runs out, i go be social. yes, this kinda just spreads the burnout around. yes, i also know writing is still work! but it doesn't feel like it, to me. so I guess make your fic idea as much about fun, and as least about work, as possible. make it into the catnip that will make you come back to it. treat it as an escape rather than another magnum opus, or god forbid, a second dissertation. .

this also applies to PhD work - again, if you are a humanities student, you'll inevitably hit a writing block in your thesis. these are normal, and though they feel like the worst thing at the time, they will inevitably shift. thesis writing block when i was often very productive with fic, bc my thesis wasn't taking up my brain power and/or taking time away from my thesis was exactly what i needed. If you're burned out on the thesis, maybe spend some time just playing around in your brain for a bit. my friend told me about how she used fic as a way to build 'mastery' - when she was depressed or feeling down about her thesis, she would do something she knew she was good at (fic), and this would lift her mood. in the self critical world of academia, sometimes a little fic positivity goes a long way (at least for me, but that's bc both my supervisors are very very harsh, the exact opposite of the AO3 comment box). .

find an update schedule that works for you. i used to write a whole fic before i published any of it, but that's become more untenable as my wordcounts get bigger and i need motivation. now, comments fuel me when i'm drafting. so honestly, if you think posting will add pressure, don't post. write it just for you. if you think posting is the only thing that will keep the idea alive, do it and then don't feel guilt if there's a large gap in updates. people will still read it when it eventually goes up! :)

Honestly, I don't really have an answer. I wrote a lot these last few months bc I was feeling very depressed with the endgame of my thesis, and writing distracted me and made me feel better. I try to keep two nights a week free for fic, but that works for me bc I'm an introvert who lives alone. I don't think you can force it, but what I can tell you is that the PhD does get much, much easier (and that first year is also a perfectly legit time to faff around a bit and commit some time theft if you want - at least in the humanities, bc you'll still have so much time in your project).

I'm sorry I don't have a clear answer! Fic is important to me, so I make time for it, sometimes to my own detriment. If your PhD is what is important to you rn, fic can wait! Similarly, if you want to take some time away from that treading water, maybe microdose an hour or so of fic to start building mastery :) xx

[brrrkdslek]

QUADRILATERAL LOVE!

✦ 011 — MOTHER IS MOTHERING😢🫶🏻

you stared at your phone for a second before answering the phone, "hello?" "y/n." the woman said in your foreign language. her voice was low and sultry, it sent shivers down your spine.

what you hated the most was how you immediately recognised who it was, "mom..." you couldn't help the small smile that was starting to form on your face.

you couldn't help but let hope slip out that she would say something nice or ask you how you've been, "hey, i just called to say you did okay during your performance today."

your stomach dropped as tears started brimming in your eyes, "...was i not good?" your voice was cracky as you tried your best not to let your composure crack.

"there could've been improvements, yes. but that's the best you can do so its fine for now." you bit your lip as a tear rolled down your face, you felt like a little girl again. crying because your mother never loved you the way you wanted her to, never even smiled or said i love you. you felt small and hopeless, what were you even doing?

"i gotta go now." before she could reply, you hung up the phone. you sniffled as you sat in your shared bedroom with chaewon, you were in disbelief. more tears streamed down your face at the realisation that she never cared for you, your brother or both of your happiness.

just as you were about to drown yourself in even more depressing thoughts, the door swung open to reveal chaewon. "y/n i was worried sick, why didn't you reply to my messages-"

she closed the door and settled down before coming closer to cup your face in her hands, "...were you crying? are you alright, what happened?" you cried hard as she cradled you in her arms, rocking you back and forth.

you two stayed like that for a few minutes until you sat up, "my mom called just now..." she cringed a bit and rubbed your back, "i'm so scared to ask, but what did she say?" you looked at chaewon,

"do you think i work hard...?" her eyes widen as she put both hands on your shoulders, "yes, of course! you work harder than anyone in our group, are you kidding me? don't you remember how many night you stayed up to write songs?

or when you defended us on live tv? or when you passed out three times during a concert-" "okay! i get it..." you wiped your eyes again as chaewon sighed, "what did she even say to you?" she asked annoyed.

you sobbed into her shoulder once again as she stroked your hair, "i hate it so much... why can't she say something nice at all, like why did you even call at all?" you sobbed hard and loud, thank god the other members were all outside.

"y/n... you don't need recognition from anyone, not even your mother! you did so well today i'm serious. you practiced so hard and even made friends!" you continued to sniffle into her shirt, wetting it in the process.

"this week was a big step for you, it doesn't matter if it's not enough for anyone. no matter how little the difference is, it's still progress!" she removes your face from her shoulder, "i'm so proud of you, okay? you've come a long way!"

you sobbed and nodded your head frantically as she grabbed you a few tissues and continued to comfort you, sometimes you forget chaewon is actually younger than you. her motherly nature made people soft, made people feel loved.

<PREV𖤐NEXT>

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

[ley-med]

Hey Ley,

You don’t know me, but I have been a follower of yours for a long time now. I just graduated with my undergraduate degree as a premed student, but I will be taking a gap year to really punch up my experience. I am in a bit of a pickle, and I was wondering if someone further along in the journey may be able to shed some light. You are more than welcome to pass on this if you do not feel equipped to give advice. In short, what should I do if I am having trouble answering why I want to go into medicine? This is admittedly a silly question, but it is something I have been in a bit of a tailspin about since graduating. Before then, I was SO steadfast about it. My undergrad major is unconventional, but it does back up a lot of anatomy and physiology concepts. Since I was a kid, I’ve yearned for this. I have never felt as satisfied as I have being challenged and pushed to learn when it came to medicine. Doubly so when it came to helping people. But when I look at how much left I have to go, and how overwhelming the system feels, I falter.  

My major exposed me to a lot of great work and folks who do amazing things for others, and as much as I loved doing it, I feel irreconcilably split. For so long I had engaged myself to medicine as my future, and it felt earth shattering to realize I could find that passion somewhere else. I still want to become a physician, but I am having a harder and harder time justifying this.

Regards, Anon

Hi Anon!

First of all, ask yourself if you might need a break. You finished a degree, you are tired, let yourself rest a bit and celebrate your accomplishments! You don't have to figure out everything immediately. Enjoy your year a bit :) And congratulations on your degree!

Now, this is a good question. It's only my personal opinion, but if you do medicine just because you've always wanted to do medicine, and can't imagine yourself being happy any other way, I'm pretty sure it would break you. Because when the inevitable hard times come, during med school, or residency, or later, you would stand feeling miserable, and think if this is my happy then what's the point of it all. And that's how miserable and depressed doctors are made...

When I decided to apply for med school, my wonderful mother asked me the same question, why medicine? Easy, I want to help people. Then she said, "okay, fair, but there are several ways to do that. I am a psychologist, I help people. A hairdresser helps people day after day. Why medicine?"

I didn't always used to, but I have an answer now, and that's because I tried to find happiness in the little things. Reading and trying to memorize a genetics textbook with bleary eyes, exhausted from the previously failed exam, while pinterest randomly shows "remember why you started" quotes in your face, really makes you think if it's worth it at all...

I freaking love the human body, science, and knowing the whys of how the body works. The fact that I also get to "play" with it, see the many ways I can affect the body's functions, makes medicine a heaven for me. And yes, I also love bringing people comfort in their darkest hours and easing their pain, and keeping them alive when their body would give up otherwise.

All that said, medicine is great, but in the end, it's a job just like any other job. I do it because I love my job, for now, but I think I would also love owningworking in a bakery, or becoming a biologist (marine biology my beloved I will never entirely give you up). Life is ever changing and that's the beauty of it, no career is set in stone.

What I'm trying to say is, keep thinking about it, and don't think big, just small aspects you enjoy to do. Then take a step away from it, and let it simmer, then think about it once again. Then take away the part where you help people, what's left? If you can, ask other graduated doctors too, how's their job, what do they like about it, so you can decide more fairly for yourself.

And if you realise you don't have any reason, apart from "this used to be my dream", you don't have to. It's not an obligation, don't push yourself into something you will not enjoy, because honestly, the work hours aren't that great...

Once you have an answer though, don't let the long road ahead of you, or the failures of the system stop you. The system is faulty, severely, but so are other systems (and with meticulous and slow work, we can also work on changing it). Med school and residency are hard and long, but every career has its learning curve, before you become an expert (and if I already admitted using Pinterest in my early medschool days, let me add, "the time will pass anyway") and let me be honest, I love residency and learning the things that matter

[league-of-legends-hcs]

A ray of Life

(I recommend listening to this song while reading)

Viktor blurb

WARNINGS: TW: Depression

The nights in the city of progress have cooled down quite a bit now, the few neatly planted trees losing their leaves, a few shades orange and reds littered the paths of Piltover by now.

Viktor felt it in his bones... in his muscles too, the cold making it ever so slightly harder for him to move them painlessly. He sighed and raised his head, looking out through the window, the winds so strong that even through the thick, tampered glass the Academy had used in construction you could hear them howling.

The scientist pondered for a moment, just losing himself in the flickering lanterns he could see in the distance... he felt like at this moment, he might just be like one of them. Clinging to life desperately, fighting the inevitable..

Just at this very moment he felt his lungs straining, a painful coughing fit rattling his entire body. With a shivering hand he fished for his handkerchief and held it to his mouth. It was so draining.. he could feel his head begin to spin again. His eyes once more threatened to roll back into his head from exhaustion...

When the creaking of the door, the sound of footsteps pulled him back into reality. He was falling apart faster now, he realized. Viktor did not need to look to know that there would be blood on his handkerchief, so he quickly shoved it back into his vest, composing himself.

"Viktor? You're still here, again?", Jayce asked, his voice filled with concern as he stepped over to his partner who seemed to have trouble just sitting up.

The Zaunite nodded and cleared his throat, his voice hoarse from not speaking for so long. "Yes... Yes I know that I can do it, Jayce. I'm so close to solving the problems with the hex cube..." he muttered, looking down at his notes once more. All those runes, those equations, the numbers... there was one missing piece and he just couldn't figure it out... he needed to.

"That can wait until tomorrow, Vik." Viktor could now feel the soft but firm grip of Jayces hand on his shoulder. "Please, get some rest."

Jayce didn't understand. It couldn't wait. Viktor never knew if he would awake after a night of sleep, if his body would carry the strain another day. He never knew when it would be over... he didn't have the luxury of knowing that he could live to see another day.

He couldn't possibly put this knowledge on Jayce though. Knowing him well enough, he would simply end up worrying a lot and that would impact his work negatively...

So, Viktor decided to relent. He sighed heavily and reached for his cane. "I suppose you're right.", he said, sounding exhausted. The other smiled warmly and helped him up, watching while Viktor picked up his notebook and turned off the lamp at his desk, golden eyes lingering on the sparks dying.

"Vik? Need help to your room?", Jayce now asked, even though he knew that Viktor could very well make it by himself usually. Now he looked almost sickly pale... and that worried Jayce. He knew Viktor was working hard, but that he was pushing it this far was unhealthy.

While leaning onto his cane and stepping forward almost shakily, Viktor let his work partner know that it was fine. "My room is not that far away." He began to walk down the hall, staggering the lightest bit. "I will see you tomorrow." He told him now, not looking back at Jayce who was still standing at the desk.

Once he had made it to his room, he collapsed onto his bed. Tonight was one of the nights in which his pain overwhelmed him too much to work well. Instead, he just laid there, his forearm on his forehead while he was looking at the dull ceiling of his room.

Here, he could hear the wind howling once more... whisking his thoughts away... easing his pain a little... what life would be like if he had more time... if he hadn't been like... this. Sick. Falling apart way before his time...

His eyes grew heavy and he could feel himself drifting off to sleep... thinking of this one song he remembered from his childhood. From this friend he had lost when he crossed the bridge to live in Piltover... he had to leave everything behind... including everyone he loved like family.

One day, he had told himself, he would play this song to you again... like you had always done for him. He had to make it until then. He needed to thank you for all the memories. For making him feel like he belonged for the first time in his life.

Until then... he would endure... he had to.

[luesmainblog]

Y'know.... I love fat positivity, I do, but there's one thing that really, really bothers me about it. Y'all need to stop acting like the ONLY reasons to not want to gain weight are social, and that if it weren't for people treating fat folks worse, nobody would ever worry about their weight. That simply isn't true. I've been slowly gaining weight over the last few years, with depression and a lack of nutritional control making it very difficult to get up and work it off. I don't especially care what other people think about it, because I rarely see other people to begin with, and people have never been especially kind to me unless I put in a week's worth of effort to my appearance. You wanna know why i don't want to be fat? Why i wanna lose the weight? 1. Buying new clothes is fucking expensive. Let's imagine, for the sake of argument, that all the cute stuff I like WASN'T religated to skinny people. That still wouldn't change the fact that I have clothes RIGHT NOW, that I love, that I'm not going to find a replacement for, that I cannot fit into anymore. Which means I have less options on what I can wear, especially if I wanna wear it outside. But even cheap clothes cost money. Buying an entire new wardrobe because my body just randomly decided it's gonna get bigger now SUCKS. there is no getting around that; i didn't like doing it when i was a growing lass in school, and i don't like doing it now as an adult who is supposed to be done growing. 2. My Spine. I am pretty much destined to have back problems, something i've already begun to develop at the ripe old age of 25. My natural resting position is a clouch, I curl up like an unborn baby when I sleep, and my tits have the combined weight of a frozen turkey. I do not need even MORE extra weight on my spine. And no, having an unhealthy spine wouldn't make me Less Valuable as a person, it's not some terrible fate that removes my life of happiness, you don't HAVE to be healthy, but it's still an uncomfortable thing i would very much like to AVOID. 3. It's making it harder to sleep. Listen. I have insomnia already as it is. I don't need my slowly developing double-chin to swoop in and make certain positions unbreathable and make it even fucking HARDER to sleep. I can no longer sleep in some of my comfiest poses because fat is getting in the way and making them unworkable. and yes, these are all, ultimately, minor inconveniences. But they're inconveniences that FUCKING matter to me. I'm so tired of "I wanna lose weight" being treated as some slight against all fat people and something that no normal person would ever want all on their own without magazines telling them blah blah FUCKING blah. It is a decision you can come to because becoming fat has an effect on your life. not just a social effect, not just a mental health effect, a Tangible, PHYSICAL change to how you interact with your body and with the world. I don't hate my body, aside from maybe a couple reproductive organs. but i would like it more if it would stop growing out and cooperate with me. i miss the way that it was just a few years back. i am allowed to be upset about these changes.

yes, i could choose to love my body as it is and accept the changes that come with it. but i can ALSO choose to acknowledge the reasons i'm gaining weight and try to make some changes in my life. that is not a slight against you, and it is not a slight against myself. and frankly, i'm not very comfortable with the idea that i shouldn't be making decisions on what my body looks like beyond the decorations. strikes me as a bit transphobic in nature if i'm gonna be fully honest.

[dancing-to-architecture]

I'M BACK? I'M BACK!

40 - Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced?

So happy to have an album that isn't going to be torture to get through. Almost every track on this album is on *at least* one playlist of mine.

Purple Haze-

An absolute monster opening riff leading into one of the better songs of all time.

So, i know i have Unusual Opinions regarding music and musicians, and one of my stronger ones that I have is that Jimi Hendrix was very likely bi.

"Hold on now!" come the cries of the boomers. "prove it! Prove that the always flamboyant, immaculate, WAY ahead of his time, extremely fashion-forward and highly passionate rock star who tragically died young might be bi!".

To which i say: "did you even hear a word of what you just said?" He straight-up says "excuse me while i kiss this guy" and the entire English-speaking world collectively went "no, no, that's not what he said, he said... Kiss... umm... the sky! Yeah, that totally makes sense!".

Except i used to have a live recording of this song where he very clearly said "while i kiss. that. guy." Keeping in mind that this was before Freddie Mercury or David Bowie could sit down for an interview and say something like "I'm openly bisexual, i fancy both men and women, to roughly the same degree." and the interviewer would then immediately say some dumb shit like :"yes, but why are you gay?"

In short: Jimi was bi, most music magazine interviewers are crap, they have been crap for a long time, bisexual erasure happens TODAY, so of course it would have happened 50 years ago, deal with it.

Manic Depression-

I absolutely love this song. Also, and more distressingly, I also absolutely relate to this song.

The solo is insane, the riff work is phenomenal, and the bass and drums are perfectly in the pocket. (Also, for what seems like a fairly simple drum beat, it's MUCH harder to keep that constantly-shifting time signature in your head than one would think.)

Hey Joe-

Is this the best song about "murdering your cheating spouse and then fleeing the country" ever written? I think so.

I mean, I'd put the Dixie Chicks' "Goodbye, Earl" up there, but I don't think she left her hometown after the murder.

At any rate, a psychotic psychedelic R&B classic.

Love or Confusion-

An anthem for all the autistic folks out there like myself who genuinely can't tell if a person is actively flirting with them or just being polite.

May This Be Love-

I will always be in favor of daydreaming like a lazy-minded fool.

Much more mellow than the earlier songs on the album have been, but Jimi still works in some outstanding guitar noodling.

I would bet money this song was an influence on Incubus's "Aqueous Transmission".

I Don't Live Today-

The biggest goddamn mood on the album, and how I feel almost every time I'm made aware of The News.

The Wind Cries Mary-

Another absolute classic song. Sad but beautiful.

Kurt Vonnegut's lament: "So it goes..." in song form.

When I was young, (for some reason) I thought he was referencing the Virgin Mary. Now, I think she might have just been more of "the one who got away".

Fire-

People of a certain generation and a specific level of culture will likely associate this song with Tia Carrera.

Either way, this song melts faces. The drummer is a goddamn maniac on this one.

Third Stone From The Sun-

I've never listened to this album on acid, but this song seems perfect for that exact mindset with the trippy, heavily-distorted vocals.

It kicks ass, though, don't get me wrong.

Foxey Lady-

People of a certain generation and a specific level of culture will likely associate this song with Dana Carvey wearing a flannel shirt tied around his waist.

(Look, if you haven't seen Wayne's World, you owe it to yourself to do so.)

Are You Experienced?-

The last line of this one (not necessarily stoned but beautiful) always made me figure that "being experienced" is a shibboleth for anything from "you smoke trees?" to "DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE MACHINE ELVES?!"

and damn do I love the backwards drumming.

Stone Free-

Okay, Jimi, I'm pretty sure they DID realize they "were the ones who's square". That's why they would stare at your bizarre marching band leader outfits. (I'm absolutely Not knocking his bizarre marching band leader outfits, I honestly wish I had the panache to pull that kinda shit off.)

51st Anniversary-

Man, between Stone Free and this one right after, I'm guessing Jimi didn't think much of marriage, huh?

Idk, as a happily married man, this one just doesn't click with me.

Highway Chile-

This very easily could have been me after the army, if I had had a car that actually worked.

Can You See Me-

This one rings a bit hollow after all the earlier "yeah, baby, I'm out of here, see ya never, no strings on me" songs, just saying.

It rocks, nonetheless. Also maybe the only time "aww, shucks" had been uttered in a song that still goes this hard.

Remember-

See directly above, except the aww shucks part.

Red House-

And this one, right at the end, proves the hollowness of the last two broken hearted songs in my eyes.

"Girl left while I was gone? Welp. Fuck it, her sister was cute."

A monster of a blues track, regardless. One of my favorites, and that solo is INSANE.

Favorite Track: This is a tough one. A close race, but it's Purple Haze by a nose.

Least Favorite Track: Remember. It's barely about the girl in question! It's about the bird that won't sing and the dumped dude who won't eat because he has the sads.

Sorry about the long time since last time, full disclosure I got thoroughly addicted to a podcast called Kill James Bond, wherein three trans people discuss (and frequently skewer) the poster boy for toxic masculinity. It's fantastic.