#all it takes is one physical health issue taking me out for near two weeks and suddenly my mental health takes a nose dive

[phantoids]

ough

[aylacavebear]

Retribution Chapter 8

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Talk of DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Angst, some Fluff, Healing (yes, this is a warning).

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8 - Picking Up the Pieces Pt. 2

You spent the rest of that day in your old room, writing out the thoughts that hadn’t stopped moving through your mind. You needed just to get them out, find any way to get them to stop or at least slow down. Dean had even brought you dinner in your room.

The following week was a battle. You’d compelled yourself to venture out and mingle in the bunker. When you spotted Sam engrossed in research one of those days, you attempted to extend your assistance. He’d barely acknowledged you, and now, he didn’t even cast a glance your way when he said he had it under control.

Cas, on the other hand, found moments to converse with you. He was like an older brother, a comforting presence in your storm. He kept assuring you that the other personalities were truly gone. Yet, there was still that lingering fear in the depths of your mind, a fear that they might return. Cas urged you to follow the lessons you had learned before you integrated, to confront what emerged, and not to push it aside. 

Then there was Dean, still walking on eggshells around you, waiting for you to snap. That probably hurt the most, as did the fact that you understood. You were still surprised when he would get close to you and let you be close to him.

You hadn’t shared a bed with him during that week, though. He heard you crying yourself to sleep at night and had just wanted to hold you close but was respecting the aloneness you had asked for. What you truly wanted was to be wrapped in Dean’s arms and feel loved.

He sees them, not me, you’d told yourself. That was usually your main reason for crying.

It was partially true. He did see them when he looked at you, but he also saw the differences that regular people couldn’t. It hadn’t stopped him from his own fear that your other personalities would come out, and it would start all over again.

Week two wasn’t much better. Sam was giving you the silent treatment with harsh looks from a distance. You found it hard to be in the same room with him for any amount of time. He always gave you harsh looks when his brother either wasn’t around or wasn’t looking. Cas even tried reassuring the brothers, but fear is a monster that lives in the mind and thrives on the unknown.

You did what you could around the bunker, mostly just cleaning, trying to keep yourself busy so your thoughts would slow down. Writing hadn’t been much help during this second week. You felt as though you kept writing out the same thing, just in different ways.

Near the end of the week, Dean approached you cautiously while you were sitting in the library, lost in your thoughts. He told you that they had a case and would have to go take care of it. There was an awkwardness between the two of you that hadn’t been there before, and it hurt.

“I can stay here, if it would be easier,” you replied quietly, fighting with the pain in your heart.

“Will you be here when we get back?” he asked, and you sighed silently.

He had that front up, the mask that kept his emotions and thoughts out of his expression. That always gave him away that he was feeling something he didn’t want you to see. You knew what he was really asking you. 

“I promise, I will be here when you get back,” you answered, and he at least heard the sincerity in your words. “When are you heading out?”

“In about an hour, why?” he asked, cautious but also curious.

“I was just hoping that a hug wouldn’t be too much to want before you leave,” you practically mumbled.

You wanted to be close to him, but you wanted him to see you, not them, when he looked into your eyes. You just figured you were wanting too much, something unreachable or unattainable. Things between the two of you felt strained over the last week and a half, so much so that you found yourself hiding in your room more often than not.

“Is that your way of asking me for a hug before I head out?” he asked in that masked tone, and all you could do was nod. “I don’t see why not.”

Everything felt like it only caused more pain, more depression, and you wanted to hide away in some dark corner of a far-off place. He turned and went to pack his things, leaving you alone in the library. That was when Sam showed up, and you had a feeling that whatever happened would only make you feel worse.

“I hope you know that you aren’t going with us,” Sam told you flatly, with a coldness that made you want to shrink away.

“I know,” you replied, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“I wouldn’t even be upset if you weren’t here when we got back. I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I swear, if you hurt my brother one more time,” he paused as you looked up at him, “I’ll kill you.”

“If I hurt him again, I’ll hand you the gun,” you told him without emotion, but the sadness in your eyes gave away how badly you hurt.

“You won’t even see me before you hit the floor,” he snapped before he walked away.

You pulled your feet up onto the chair and hugged your knees as close to your chest as possible. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes when Cas appeared in front of you.

He sighed before he squatted down and looked up at you, “Y/N, while we’re gone, work on the kind of person you want to be. Then, just be you. Keep parts of the personalities that are gone, the parts that you want to keep. Get rid of the rest and fill that space with what makes you, you.” Cas set his hand on your ankle, “It will take time for the two of them to truly see you, but they will. Just like bad things that happen make wounds, healing them takes longer.”

With that, Cas stood up and disappeared. You knew he’d flown himself to the Impala to wait for the brothers. His words tickled their way through your mind, and you got the sudden urge to write again. The feeling of needing to cry vanished. You stood up and headed to your room, which was across from Dean’s.

You closed your door, grabbed your notebook and pen, and then got comfortable on your bed before you began writing. At first, your thoughts were jumbled, coming out in pieces and partial paragraphs.

A knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts, “Come in,” you told whoever it was as you set your stuff down.

“Thought you had wanted a hug before I left?” Dean asked as he cautiously opened your door.

I can do this.

Your mantra repeated as you stood and slowly walked over to him, “Only if you want to.” It was hard to ask for anything from any of them due to what your personalities had put them through, and it came out in your tone.

He gave you that slight smile again as he hugged you. It felt different, like he was holding himself back, and your mind raced with thoughts. 

“Please come back to me,” you asked quietly, fighting back the tears that again were burning the corners of your eyes.

You felt him stiffen slightly and then kiss the top of your head before he pulled away, grabbed his bag, and left. You then climbed back onto your bed where you’d been, wiping away the tears that had slipped out, and continued writing.

Cas’s words stayed with you as you wrote, giving you the push you needed to stay strong. You still felt like a monster for the things in the past, but now, you wanted to be a better person. You never wanted to hurt anyone like that ever again.

The three of them were gone for three weeks on this case. You hadn’t asked for details about it, so you had no idea what they were even hunting or how dangerous it could be. 

During those three weeks, you wrote a lot, managing to organize your thoughts comprehensively in your journal. You had decided to keep all the best parts of the personalities, the parts that you found yourself liking. Things like coloring, painting, being goofy, a love of cars, the softness they had, and their love for Dean. It gave you something to build on.

You got rid of the other stuff. The stuff the mean ones would do, like the need for other men, finding women attractive as you didn’t feel that way toward them, the manipulation that they seemed to thrive on, and all the other abusive traits they held.

With that done, you could dig a little deeper, and those things made you cry, a lot. You realized that due to the shaming you saw during your childhood, you needed other personalities to deal with it, as you couldn’t. 

Something your kinder personalities wanted, needed, was to be physically close to Dean. It was something you didn’t see a lot of growing up between your parents. So, your meaner personalities never allowed the other personalities to do those sorts of things. You also realized that the abuse they inflicted was only to perpetuate the abuse and trauma so the DID system could stay the way it was.

At night, you’d reach over to the other side of your bed and sob, missing him just being there and holding you close. You cried for how they missed him, even though they were gone. It was like you felt everything they had, and it was hard to face it all. Again, Cas’s words helped push you on, though, when facing these things.

You grieved for the loss of the personalities. It was something you needed to do: acknowledge that they truly were gone, and it hurt more than you realized it would. Even keeping the parts you had, it hurt when you would do those things, like coloring, which you had only attempted twice. 

Near the end of the third week, you had a new mantra: I am allowed. You had finally realized that due to what had caused your DID had to do with you not being allowed to feel things like a ‘normal’ person. That had traversed to other things, like being physically close to anyone you cared about in a healthy way. 

You finally knew what you wanted. You wanted Dean to see you and want you for who you were now. You wanted to be close to him in all the ways your personalities always wanted to be. You also realized that you loved him. It was the kind of person he was. Throughout his relationship with your personalities, he’d never raised a hand to them, he’d never left or kicked them out, and he’d never cheated on them. Hell, he’d tried to help more times than you even knew, due to what Cas had done to slow down your memories.

Cas had popped in a couple of times to check on you and keep you updated on how the case was going. It was how you knew the day they’d be back. 

The morning of the day they were due to be back, you woke with a new sort of determination. You’d decided that you were just going to be yourself, and hopefully, the rest would fall into place. As you drank coffee, you pulled out the ingredients you needed for what you had planned.

One of your personalities had been amazing at baking, and that had been something else you’d chosen to keep. While you continued with your task, you felt a sense of calm, peace, and joy. That brought a small smile to your lips. You knew you’d have to test some things to see if you still wanted to keep them, and this was definitely a keeper in your mind.

Two hours later, you were finishing the pot of coffee you’d made and letting what you’d baked cool on the countertop while you sat at the kitchen table, lost in your thoughts. You were smiling a little, though, finally feeling a sense of contentment.

One of the biggest things, other than Cas’s words, was learning that the only thing you had control over was yourself. It was a simple concept that took you those three weeks to fully comprehend. All you could do was choose how you’d respond to things. You could control anything about other people. 

I’ll just be me. They’ll either like me or hate me. I have no control over that.

Glancing down at your phone, seeing the time, you smiled softly and headed out to the war room, knowing they’d pull into the garage within minutes. You leaned against the staircase, your hands in your pockets, waiting patiently as you heard the Impala pull into the garage, then went silent.

The three of them came through the garage door, Dean leading the way with Cas bringing up the rear. At first, none of them saw you as they set their bags down on the map table. You made your way over to them, standing near Dean. He jumped when he noticed you.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he said as he held his chest, attempting to calm his racing heart.

“I’m sorry,” you told him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” You leaned against the map table and looked up at him.

Sam eyed you from the other side of the table but said nothing as Cas came around to face you, “Back in one piece,” he said as you reached out and hugged him.

Cas gave you a soft smile and hugged you back, “Thanks for looking out for them, and bringing them home in one piece,” you told him softly.

After pulling away from the hug, you looked over at Dean, tilting your head just a bit with a soft smile that was all for him. “I missed you.”

For a moment, you saw that glimmer of hope in his eyes before the mask came back up, but this time, you didn’t let it affect you like it had. Instead, you just wrapped your arms around him and held him close.

He was momentarily stunned but finally embraced you, returning the hug. You knew it would take him time to see you, but you would give him all the time he needed.

“I made you something,” you told him, pulling away only enough so you could look up into his comforting green eyes.

Dean raised an eyebrow, and the curiosity that played across his expression made you smirk playfully. “Come on, I’ll show you,” you giggled, pulling away and taking his hand, leading him into the kitchen.

Cas smiled as he followed. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t amused or intrigued. He figured it was just part of some elaborate trick to get his brother to let his guard down so you could hurt him again.

You felt like a giddy teenager as you brought Dean into the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear, showing him the pies that were sitting on the counter. 

“They’re apple. Hungry?” you asked, now looking up at him, but then your smile faded, seeing his expression. You looked away and released his hand, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to do something nice.”

You’d seen the tears he wasn’t letting fall, even through the mask he’d put on. The moment you began walking away, he reached out and gently grabbed your arm, pulling you into him and holding you close.

“I should be the one apologizing. I’m just… I’m not used to…” he attempted but couldn’t finish his sentence. You could hear that he was fighting tears. 

I’ll have to go slow with him. I don’t want to make things worse.

“I can go at your pace,” you told him quietly but softly, holding him just as close.

He gave you a gentle squeeze before he pulled away, taking a deep breath and looking down at the pies on the counter. He couldn’t even hide the smile that began tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Mom’s recipe, he’d know that aroma anywhere, please let my Y/N still be in there, somewhere.

You went over and pulled a fork out of the drawer, handing it to him with a playful smirk, “You don’t even have to share, if you don’t want to.”

Dean chuckled as he took the fork, grabbed the pie, and sat himself at the kitchen table. Sam went back out to the war room at this point, pissed. Cas set his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Cas, for everything,” you told him softly, setting your hand on his.

“Sit with him. Even with his guard up, he’s hoping for exactly what and who you are. He needs you, even if he won’t say it,” Cas told you quietly.

Your heart beat a little faster, and your breath hitched in your chest for a moment before you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Your new mantra repeated in your mind as you made your way over to the other side of the table and sat down quietly.

He looked happy as he took another bite of pie, but he didn’t look up at you. You watched him, letting your emotions flow through you instead of locking them away. A smile played along your lips, seeing him at least slightly relaxed as he ate. You didn’t even notice that Cas had left the two of you alone.

You slowly slid your foot across the floor, finding his. You were in socks, so he didn’t notice at first. It wasn’t until you let your toes play along his lower leg that he practically froze where he was sitting. You internally cringed at his reaction and sighed quietly, pulling your foot away and resting it next to your other one on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you told him again, looking down at the table, allowing yourself to feel the sadness instead of pushing it away as you had done in the past.

Dean looked up at you for the first time since he’d pulled away from you earlier. “It’s just…” he began, then looked down at his pie and sighed, “I’m worried that they aren’t gone, that’s all.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, “It’s why I had been sleeping alone.”

He looked back up at you, somewhat surprised. You hadn’t remembered the times it had happened. In the past, he’d had to tell you about it the following day. Dean knew you had at least some of the memories, but he wondered just how many you had gotten.

“I don’t know what you remember and what you don’t, but,” he paused and searched your expression before he continued, “...sleeping somewhere else wouldn’t stop those things.”

You began fidgeting with your fingers, “I also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, sleeping next to me.”

Dean took a deep breath, set down his fork, then reached out and put his hands over yours, causing you to look up at him. “Do you want me to sleep next to you?” There was a softness in his tone, along with what you could only describe as a yearning that both broke your heart and made it beat faster.

“Only if you want to,” you answered, mostly breathless.

He sighed, slightly frustratedly, “That’s not what I asked you.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at his hand that was still over yours, “I know. While you were gone on this last case, I did a lot of soul-searching. I figured out what I wanted and the kind of person I am. Even if I wasn’t your abuser, my appearance hasn’t changed. I still look the same.” Your emotions came out with your words, far too many, even with your voice quiet. 

After taking a few calming breaths, you continued, “I want you to see me, not them. I want you to do things with me, not hope that I’m them and do those things. If there’s something you want to do with me, then do it. That’s what I want. If you’re thinking about them, please don’t treat me like I’m them. That’s all I ask.”

You brought his hand to your lips and kissed the back of it, then headed out of the kitchen, not giving him time to respond. Cas was sitting in the library with Sam. The only bag left on the map table was Dean’s. A smile crossed your lips as you picked it up and headed to his room.

Carefully, you put his things away and tossed the dirty clothes in the laundry pile, which you realized was rather large. 

I have those memories.

With that thought, you picked up his laundry, walked through the war room, and then down the opposite hall to the laundry room. Sam had just watched you with an annoyed expression. You hummed quietly to yourself as you put his clothes into two piles and loaded up the first load.

It was nice things like this that your other personalities had always wanted to do, doting on the man that they loved and would have given their life for. These were things you had decided you would do, things you truly wanted to do.

As you headed out of the laundry room, Sam’s presence startled you when you saw him in the doorway. He had that look on his face again—cold, angry, almost cruel.

“What are you playing at?” he practically demanded as he took a few steps forward, making you back up and away from him.

“I’m not playing at anything, Sam. I’m not them,” you snapped back. It was different than how your personalities would have snapped. You were standing your ground, not letting him bully you. You weren’t being manipulative to make problems.

Your reaction startled him more than he let on, but his expression didn’t change as he pointed a finger at you, “You’re not fooling me. They’ve done this before. Things would go good between you and Dean for a week or two, and then it would all go to shit again. I’m keeping my eye on you. I don’t trust you, never have.”

With that, he turned to walk away, “I’m not them. I’m glad you’re watching me. I’m not going to hope though, that you see the differences. I’m just going to be me. That’s all I can do.” There was a calm in your tone that surprised Sam, but when he turned back around, his expression hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked pissed now.

Sam got close to you, closer than you were comfortable with, but you had decided you were going to stand your ground. He pointed at you again, his expression strained, his fist practically white with how hard he clenched his hand. You just stood there, looking up at him. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t touch you. Sam just glared at you for a few moments before he turned and left the room. A heavy breath left your lips that you knew you’d been holding. Your body shook slightly at the confrontation. Sam was a whole foot taller than you, and he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be.

You slowly sat down on the stairs in the laundry room near the foot of them, holding your arms, attempting to calm your entire body. Cas’s words played through your mind again, give them time. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you would get through things if that type of confrontation happened too often.

Something you noticed was that Sam never did anything like that when his brother or Cas was around. It was always when you were alone. You sat there with your thoughts untill that first load finished, so you put it in the dryer and the other load into the washer before making your way back out to the library. You’d had an idea.

Sam and Cas were still in the library, but you didn’t see Dean around, so you headed to the kitchen. He wasn’t there either, but you smiled, seeing the empty pie container in the sink. You put the other pie in the fridge before heading to the garage, but he wasn’t there either, and you sighed.

Duh, he’s probably showering.

You rolled your eyes with the realization. He’d just gotten back from a hunt, of course he’d be showering. Thinking back to the confrontation between you and Sam, you realized he had already showered.

You took a deep breath, heading to the library and sitting across from Cas, “So, I was thinking, maybe Eileen and perhaps Charlie could come over. It’d be nice to at least talk to them about what’s happened,” you mentioned.

Sam gave you a fake smile, and you knew it, “Yeah, we can do that. Did you ask Dean how he felt about it?”

You eyed him for a moment before you spoke, “Not yet. I figured since she was your girlfriend, I’d ask you first. I would have asked all three of you together, but I’m guessing Dean’s showering.”

Even Cas could feel the tension between you and Sam, “It might be a good thing for them to visit,” Cas piped in. “They deserve to see for themselves.”

“I already told them about what happened. So they’re at least aware of it,” Sam added, looking up at you, and you saw the hatred in his eyes.

Keeping yourself calm and your tone even, “It’s one thing to hear about it. I’d like to let them see so they can decide if they want to be friends with me.”

“What’d I miss?” Dean asked as he sat down next to Cas.

“Y/N was asking about Eileen and Charlie coming over and hanging out for a bit,” Sam answered, his expression now hiding how he really felt toward you.

Damn Hunter’s mask.

Dean considered that before he glanced over at you, then back at Sam, “I don’t see why not. I’ll message Charlie, you message Eileen.”

“Sounds good,” Sam chuckled, picking up his phone.

Neither of them noticed that Cas had been looking at his lap while they’d been speaking. You had, though, but you weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, until you saw how his shoulders barely moved. 

He’s texting someone.

You didn’t say anything, though. You decided to keep that observation to yourself and looked back up at Dean. It was hard for you to sit across from him and not be close to him like you wanted to. 

I wonder if this was how he felt when I had DID? More alone than being alone when the person you love is literally right there, sitting across from you.

The thought brought the sadness again. You’d put him through so much in the past. At least you’d told him what you wanted. The ball was in his court now, and you wouldn’t push anything with him. He’d have to make the next move.

You partly felt like it was something you deserved, feeling at least a fraction of what he might have gone through. Slowly, you stood and headed to your room. It was easier to be alone than end up in tears sitting there with the three of them. You didn’t want to give Sam any sort of pleasure at seeing you in pain. Although, he’d probably think it was just some sort of act.

Then there was Dean. You hadn’t wanted him to feel guilted into being any way with you. That would have hurt you even more. You flopped down on your bed, face first, buried in your pillow, then curled into a ball as the tears fell, and you let them.

Cas slowly opened your door sometime later and sighed, seeing you in this state, again. “The girls said they’d come over. They’ll be here in a couple of hours,” he told you from the foot of your bed.

“Who were you texting?” you asked Cas, then sniffled.

He sat down on the foot of your bed, “I was texting Eileen and Charlie, telling them the truth. I know Sam is angry, and he probably sent jaded messages to both of them. I want them, and you to be able to figure things out without the bias.”

“Thank you, Cas. That means a lot to me,” you sniffled, turning so you could look over at him.

“You deserve a real chance at this. They’re all just as afraid as you are that the DID isn’t gone. I know it’s gone, and I wish all of you would trust me on that,” he told you softly, but you saw the hurt in his blue eyes.

“It’s hard not to be scared that it will come back, that it's really gone. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m just worried,” you explained, sitting up. “While you guys were gone, I decided I wasn’t going to let my fears keep me from being the kind of person I want to be. Life is too short for that.”

Cas gave you a soft smile, “I’m happy to hear that. Did you have something specific planned for dinner tonight?” 

“I was thinking burgers and fries. They’re easy, and Dean really likes them,” you answered.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Try not to get upset with how he reacts. This is harder on him than he’s letting on,” Cas explained.

You looked down at the bed, “I know. I gave him some food for thought earlier, in the kitchen. We’ll see how it goes. That’s all I can do.”

Cas set his hand on yours, “I have enough faith for both of us.”

That made you smile a little, and you looked up at him, “Thanks, Cas. It’s been really helpful that at least you believe the DID is gone. Shit! I need to go take care of Dean’s laundry I started earlier.”

You quickly jumped off the bed and practically ran to the laundry room, not even glancing at the brothers in the library. You pulled the clothes out of the dryer, then tossed the other load in there, getting it started.

Damnit. I can’t believe I got so wrapped up in my emotions I forgot I had started this.

As you sat on the floor, you folded his dry clothes, making neat stacks of the items. There weren’t many things that Dean hung up, but you laid those neatly to your side. When the basket was empty, you placed the folded clothes inside it, laying his hanging things over top of it all. You smiled, proud for allowing yourself to do something that you had wanted to do.

You stayed in the laundry room until the last load was done, then folded those items as well before grabbing the basket and heading back to Dean’s room. This time, the brothers noticed you walk through the war room. Their gaze followed you until you disappeared down the hallway. 

You didn’t hear Dean ask his brother if that was his laundry you’d had in your hands, as you were already too far away. After setting the basket on his bed, you began putting his clothes away, starting with the hanging items. Dean had crept his way down the hall, watching you from his doorway, silently.

Humming quietly to yourself, you carefully placed his items in his dresser where they belonged, a sense of happiness spread through you that you hadn’t felt before. 

This is nice, even if he might not want me.

Grabbing the laundry basket and turning toward the door, you squeeked, started at seeing him standing there and watching you.

“Now you’re doing my laundry?” he asked, hiding most of his emotions behind that mask of his again.

You took a deep breath, determined to just be yourself around him, “I’m allowed to do nice things for you. Unless… you don’t want me to.”

Dean blinked blankly at you for a bit, even after you tilted your head and just looked at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he didn’t. He just stood there and looked at you, hiding everything he was thinking and feeling from you. 

A silent sigh left your lips, and you walked toward his doorway, “Excuse me, please,” you asked quietly, looking down so you didn’t have to focus on his lack of expression.

He moved to the side, letting you pass, but as you walked away, he watched you still. You walked normally back down the hall, through the war room, even with the tears slipping down your cheeks. Then, down the next hallway and into the laundry room, where you placed the basket on the floor, where it typically waited till someone needed it.

That was when you sat on the floor and sobbed again. Your emotions were different now. You’d allowed yourself to feel them and what they truly stood for. You wanted to let yourself be angry, but you knew the anger wasn’t the truth. It was, in fact, a mask for the deeper meaning of it. You were sad, upset, and feeling alone, and it hurt, deeper than anything you’d ever felt before. 

You didn’t bottle it up, but you did sit there and let it all out. You refused to cry in front of the brothers, for different reasons. Cas at least understood, and he wasn’t judging you because of your past.

At least I have one friend.

When the tears subsided, you dried your face and headed into the kitchen, pulling out the burger patties so they could defrost in time for you to cook later, along with a package of bacon. You then double-checked the beer count in the fridge. Seeing it low, you grabbed two more six-packs, pulled out the bottles, and put them behind the cold beers.

Neither Eileen nor Charlie drank whiskey often. They typically preferred beer when they hung out at the bunker. This way, there would be plenty of cold ones, even if Sam had some. You figured Dean would have whiskey as he typically drank it.

You pulled out your phone and glanced down at the time, feeling slightly anxious again.

They’ll be here, really soon.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were forcing yourself to take slow, deep breaths. 

A panic attack? Seriously?

These were things you weren’t used to, as they’d never happened when you had DID. You did your best to search your mind for the skills you’d learned on how to cope with things like this, but a fog had begun in your head as your hand came up to your chest, gripping your shirt. Then, you sank to your knees as the world felt like it was spinning while a loud ringing began drowning out all sound.

You didn’t see Cas crouching next to you, nor heard him trying to talk to you. Then, everything went black.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 9 - Picking Up the Pieces Pt. 3

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[scoundrels-in-love]

We'll brave out this storm together (Touch one another, Do what lovers do)

It's a beautiful morning, Wolfwood would call it perfect even, if not for the way his lungs constrict and the desperation tinging Meryl's kisses.

In honor of Trigun Bookclub reading vol. 10 this week, here's a little window into an alternate path, inspired by this fantastic art by @carnivalfair

| Stryfewood | Mashwood | Explicit | On AO3 | Stampede infused Post-Trimax | Oral sex (Male receiving) | Porn with Feelings | Health issue flare ups | Nightmares | Emotional Hurt/Comfort |

Wolfwood pauses on the stair curve of the seventh floor, leaning against the windowsill of the tiny, dusty window that gives a view of the narrow alley between two apartment buildings. The early morning light etches across the walls and windows, turns the colors warm and where it doesn't reach yet sinks into forgiving shadows. 

But it is not the gentler wash of urban view that has him stopping. He breathes slowly and deeply, counts to four with every inhale through his nose and to eight with exhales through his mouth. When the steel bars around his chest do not loosen, he bends over and continues the rhythmic breathing until it feels like his lungs can expand in earnest. There is a lingering ache still, but that's nothing he's likely to pay attention to.

Maybe Meryl is right and he ought to cut back on smoking if climbing to the eleventh floor gets him so winded. 

But he knows it's hardly the only thing that has felt off-kilter and too much lately. The casual dizziness that accompanies him through the day and the heaviness that weighs his limbs down, makes him sluggish, is hardly smoker lung related. Neither is the headache that seems to be a near constant pressure for the past week, trickling behind his eyes and down the back of his neck. Hell, even his fingers feel stiff and ache at times.

He's trying very hard not to think too much about it and trying even harder to show any of this as little as possible to his partners so they'd not start to fret and dump everything just to haul him to Ship Three for another series of extensive tests. The thought of the bright lights and white, non-descriptive walls crowding him all over again makes his stomach churn.

Determined to put all this aside, Wolfwood gives one last long exhale, stretches and rolls his neck, before picking up the grocery bag he had left on the floor and beginning the rest of his climb up to the apartment. The apartment he shares with Meryl and Vash, that he has his own key to. (On the keychain hang two little charms he's carved - a red feather and vivid blue photo camera, as a reminder who he is always coming home to.) Six months and the novelty of it all has not worn off even slightly. He's not sure it ever will, even when they find a bigger place that will more easily fit the three of them and become their new home. 

He unlocks the door quietly, his mind already on the breakfast he's going to cook, hopefully before Meryl wakes up and Vash returns from his morning run. It's a weekend that they've got Meryl to actually take off and she deserves to sleep in for once and wake to breakfast in bed. The thought of her surprised, delighted face alone makes most of his physical discomfort fade into background noise.

The bubble pops softly at Meryl's voice calling "Vash?" from the living room as he closes the door behind him and toes off his shoes. There is something in her voice, an echo of a crack, that slips tiny hooks of unease into his skin. 

"It's me," he calls back, not bothering to put his loafers on the shoe rack or leaving the shopping bag somewhere it'd not be a tripping hazard, and takes a few large strides toward the living room, slowing when he's through the doorway to assess the situation. 

Meryl is standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide and suspiciously red rimmed as they bore into him. He barely has time to register that she has pulled on his shirt over her sleepwear, fingers clutching at the fabric across her chest before she's dashing across the small distance remaining, which is a feat considering that noticing things is drilled into his bones with the sharp edge of a knife that's been the difference between dying and surviving.

She practically crashes into him, pressing her face into his chest for a second as his arms come to wrap around her, and then she's reaching up, hands on his jaw, stroking across his stubble and pulling him down, toward her. Wolfwood goes willingly, eagerly, and sinks into her kiss. Her lips are dry and raw in spots where she's chewed them and Meryl wastes no time biting his, too. He groans and her tongue sweeps into his mouth immediately as if she's trying to catch an aftertaste of the sound. 

Her hands sink into his hair, tangling in there and tugging in a way that has heat flaring through his veins. She is relentless in her kisses, too, and it is melting his brain into a happy little puddle, rapidly. It takes considerable self-restraint to pull away (or self inflicted torture, which would explain the success as he's always been good at that), especially with the desperate little whine Meryl makes as she tiptoes, trying to chase his mouth.

"Amor, not that I don't appreciate the warm welcome, but everythin' okay?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear, a softer kind of warmth filling his chest when she leans into the touch as it turns into cupping her cheek, eyes fluttering half shut, but her gaze is still so very focused on his face. 

"Woke up and you were gone. Missed you. Can't we talk later? I want you, Nico." She takes his hand away from her face, presses a fleeting kiss to his palm, before splaying it across her chest as if her message wasn't clear enough. 

He regards Meryl for a moment, weighing the seriousness of the shadows still lingering in her eyes. But he knows her, knows that she is stubborn and unlikely to change her mind about the order she wants things in, unless he applies an equal measure of dogged determination. And he doesn't think he's got that in him right now, especially when he really would love to expend that energy differently.

So he cups her breast, thumbs across her nipple and grins as she arches into his touch, already reaching for him. They meet in another hungry kiss, Meryl clinging to his shoulders briefly before fisting her right hand into his hair again while the left runs across his chest in unfocused caresses, before starting to work away at his buttons. Wolfwood brushes open his shirt she's wearing, so there's one less layer between them, pinches her pebbling nipple and swallows her moan greedily. 

But then he moves his hands to circle her waist, steadying them both, as he slows his mouth, focused on meeting her strange, frenzied energy with something more intentional. Wolfwood doesn't know what's got her in such a hurry, but he thinks he'd rather they both take their time, even if it takes some willpower as she makes a frustrated noise and bites at his lip, trying to press closer still and scrapes her nails across his chest, catching on his nipple, making him shiver.

Instead of picking up the pace of undressing, he carefully walks them towards the sofa because he is ready to gladly lose hours just enjoying her mouth and body pressed close to his, but the way the room gently spins around them is hardly desire induced and he'd rather not scare Meryl by showing it on accident by tripping or something.

His mouth remains almost languid on hers and Wolfwood feels some of the excessive, tense energy slowly melt out of Meryl as they sink onto the couch. Still, she wastes no time climbing in his lap, pushing him against the backrest so she can press onto him from above, licking into his mouth. He lets one of his hands slide lower in a heavy caress over her ass, before settling there. It earns him a pleased little sound from her and her hand returning to his chest, fondling and kneading his pec slowly.

Time melts away as they trade kisses and touches, Meryl seemingly determined to meticulously map every inch of him she can reach. Her mouth eventually leaves his to trail kisses over his cheek and jaw, down his throat where she stays, sucking on his pulse point. With a groan, he tilts his head back to give her better access and she hums approvingly, scrapes her teeth across his skin.

She continues lavishing his throat with bites and kisses as he slips a hand beneath her sleep shirt, enjoying the way she shivers as he caresses his way slowly across her stomach before cupping her breast. It fills his palm perfectly and he squeezes lightly.

Suddenly, Meryl pulls away, a furrow between her brows as she assesses him. He is briefly taken by the view, how red and well kissed her pretty mouth is, the vivid blue of her eyes all but swallowed by her pupils. How focused she is. On him, of all the people. Sometimes it still takes him by surprise - that he wants and is so very wanted in return.

"Lay down," she tells him, apparently having come to a decision about what she wants next.

"So bossy and ya haven't even had coffee yet," he chuckles, but shifts his grip on her and moves to do as told, bringing Meryl with him. Instead of responding to his teasing verbally as Wolfwood expects, she leans in for another kiss, grinding down onto him in the process. He moans against her mouth, thrusts up into her. Maybe taking it slow isn't necessary. Maybe he'll spontaneously combust if they do.

She straightens back up, continuing to roll her hips against his in a rhythm that has him groaning and digging fingers into her waist. "Fuck, gatinha, gonna ride me like this?" He pants, voice hoarse. There's too many clothes on them still, but maybe she could keep his shirt on-

"Would you like that?" Meryl asks, accentuating the last word with another grinding motion that has her gasping, too, as she throws her head back. She must be so wet already, he wants to feel her so badly. 

"Jesus. Yes." Wolfwood moves to tug at her sleep shorts, because these layers need to go, but she pushes his hands away. 

"Not yet," she tells him and yeah, he definitely has regrets about setting the slower pace now. "Want to feel you."

He smirks, knowingly flashing his sharp teeth that she is quite fond of as he arches his hips off the sofa. "Got a few ideas for that."

But she only shakes her head: "Let me have this."

There is something determined and simmering beneath her surface that he can't quite pinpoint that makes it hard for him to tease her or even try to say no. And in truth, Wolfwood wants to give her anything and everything, relishing in the fact that he can, that he has something to give, even if it's only him and his obedience that doesn't come from fear. 

"Anythin' ya want, gatinha," he promises.

She smiles and then shifts forward for better reach to the few remaining buttons of his shirt, undoing them swiftly. She pushes the garment open, but not off his shoulders entirely, splaying fingers on his chest and just staring down at him with hooded eyes. There is something in the curl of her mouth, the way she is looking at him that ties another knot of vague worry in his stomach. Needing to bring her back to this moment, to him, from whatever shadowy place her thoughts have taken her, he sits up and kisses Meryl, cupping her face.

She melts into him immediately with a whimper and he takes his time drawing out more delightful sounds from her as he shifts to kissing her jaw, biting just beneath her ear and sucking new bruises onto the pale column of her throat.

He pushes his shirt off of her, tosses it to the side, pausing only for a split second to take in the debauched view before him. Meryl's hair is a mess, one of the tank top straps slipping off her shoulders and her nipples are pressing through the worn fabric. He leans down and sucks one into his mouth, scrapes his teeth across it for a ghost of pressure. She moans and presses closer to his mouth, hands gripping his hair. 

Wolfwood ignores her protest when he pulls away just so, dragging his mouth to her other breast to suck and bite at it as well. He didn't think himself a sappy man before he met Vash and Meryl, but every little noise she makes is music to his ears and he can never have enough. And oh, she's eager to play symphonies for him.

He worries a bruise into the tender skin atop her breast, right on the edge of her shirt's cleavage, but now that he's used it for the strategic placement reference, he wants it gone. Wolfwood's fingers grip the edge of the tank top but she pushes at his chest with increasing insistence and with a sigh, he lays back down.

He doesn't have time to remain put out at not getting it off her as Meryl latches onto his chest with enthusiasm equal to his. Her mouth, her fingers have him squirming and moaning her name. At one point she tugs on his cross necklace, wraps it around her finger and pulls him in for a kiss while she twists his nipple and the combination of it all goes to his groin like lightning, making his whole body jump. The way her eyes crinkle with satisfaction as she slams him back down is something for his personal history books.

She kisses her way across his chest, lingering over his heart for a moment, and then lower still, as her fingers work on getting his jeans open and pushed down his thighs. He helps her to the best of his ability, lifting his hips and wiggling a little because he's taken to wearing tight pants lately, if only for the way his partners unabashedly stare at his ass when he's leaving the room.

Finally, her mouth is at his navel just above the edge of his boxers, and he's burning with anticipation. Meryl shifts to settle more comfortably between his legs, hands on his hips and then presses kiss to his still clothed member. Wolfwood hisses, trying not to buck into the contact as she repeats it, mouthing at the wet spot from his pre-cum. It'd be embarrassing to come like this, but he wouldn't put it on the list of impossible things at this rate.

Thankfully, Meryl takes mercy on him and pulls his underwear down, too. He sighs with relief, but it quickly transforms into a drawn out moan as she presses a kiss to the slit of his cock before applying a feather light lick to it. She moves to lick up at the underside of it, following the vein, as her hand comes to circle him lightly at the base. 

When she reaches the tip again, she shoots him a quick smile, before taking it in her mouth. With a groan, he closes his eyes shut and throws arm behind him, seeking some kind of purchase as she begins to slowly stroke up and down, taking him deeper into the wonderful, wet heat of her mouth at the same time.

Meryl takes her time with all the patience that had been missing previously. Her movements are meticulous - enough pressure and speed to melt his bones, but not enough to bring him all the way to the crest of pleasure. Her tongue swirls around the tip every couple strokes, just as her grip tightens a little.

He cracks his eyes open briefly, lifting his head a little to have a better view of her. She isn't trying for a sultry look right now, he knows, but her eyes are half lidded, fanned shadows of eyelashes across her cheeks in the morning light, and the feeling in them alone could steal the air out of his lungs. Her cheeks hollow as she moves on his length, stroking what she can't take in her mouth. 

It's too much, the way she is looking at him like she is trying to unravel not just his pleasure, but him as a whole, and savor, memorize every thread that makes him him, and Wolfwood slams his head back down. He shuts his eyes and gives in to the sensations, the steady pleasure she's drawing out of him, gives his moans and gasps and whimpers of her name in return. 

Time and space melts into something hot, unidentifiable and unmeasurable, and is poured into his veins, beating like the pulse of his heart where they're touching. Meryl's left hand comes to hold his and he's thankful for the anchor, while her mouth is trying to unspool his reality.

Gradually, she begins to increase the tempo and build a bridge across the last gap to his release. "Meryl, I'm- I'm so close," he has half a mind to warn, but she only hums encouragingly and presses down even further, her lips meeting her fingers at the base of his cock. His hand grips hers tightly as he reroutes all his energy there, to not fuck into her throat further, to hold on for a second more, but then he's coming with a shout of God or maybe her name. Not much of a difference, really.

She strokes him through his orgasm, an all consuming sensation that seems to last infinite drops of the white-hot time in his blood, eagerly swallowing all he gives her. When he is fully spent, breathless and still trembling, Meryl releases him and crawls up his body, presses close to his chest and kisses him. It's sweet and tender despite his own taste on her tongue as it tangled with his.

Wolfwood eventually breaks away to draw a few deep gulps of air because his chest feels tight again and his breath refuses to even out, but he hopes Meryl will attribute it to their activities. Besides, he definitely doesn't plan to let it stop him from turning her into a whimpering mess, sprawled beneath him. 

With that enticing image in mind, he brings his hands down from where they're wrapped over her shoulder blades, to tug at her shorts again. Instead of helping him, Meryl's hand grips his wrist gently: "You don't have to."

He immediately stops, drawing eyebrows together in concern. Her gaze skids to the side, away from him, and then she ducks her face into the crook of his neck.

Her breath is hot across his skin as she quietly says: "I'm okay. I just wanted to feel you."

There's that phrase again. 

"Coulda felt me a lot more if ya weren't so determined to suck my brain out through my dick, meu amor. But give me five and a few pretty noises and we can fix that," he says, nuzzling into her hair as he brings his arms around her to hold her properly. 

It's a line that in most circumstances would have her slapping his chest, calling his name in her most admonishing tone, at the very least. This time, he only gets silence. And that's when he knows for sure that whatever had her so uneasy earlier hasn't receded even after she got her pretty little way.

"Meryl?" He says softly, the lingering desire that he had intended to stoke back to a full pyre as he sunk between her legs quickly fading and in its place blooms worry and a need to make sure she's okay.

She still says nothing, only burrows into him deeper, nails digging into his shoulder. 

"Yer always reminding me 'n Vash we gotta speak, say what's wrong. C'mon, practice what ya preach, amor. Ya promised me we’d talk later."

He feels her deep inhale, pause and the shuddering exhale with his whole body. Gives her a gentle squeeze, let's her take her time without urging her more.

"I've been trying to not pay attention to the calendar lately," she finally says after a quiet minute, and he thinks that's a futile thing for someone in her line of work, "but I keep thinking how it'll be a year to that day next week."

Wolfwood's body stiffens and goes still as he makes the connection. That day. With a different couch far from here, with blood in his mouth as the last taste of life he thought he'd have, overpowering even the sting of Bride. He hopes Meryl can't feel the way his heart is suddenly hammering against his ribcage, as if the memories alone have brought the ghost of death to his neck again. 

"And I know you haven't been feeling well and I just had this horrible nightmare of that day, that Vash couldn't pause the damage spreading till he got you to help." Her voice is trembling and soft and he wills his limbs to move, run comforting touches up and down her back.

He doesn't remember it, has only heard stories from mostly third parties of the frenzied way Vash had poured his energy and blood into him, how they had rushed to Ship Three after, and those weeks, months that had followed when he'd made home on the threshold between alive and dead. How Vash had left to fight his brother not knowing if there was even a sliver of genuine chance that there'd be a true reunion after. It's something that is still too raw to be discussed between the three of them. And why should they, he'd thought, when there were much better things to talk about?

Maybe he had been right or maybe their silence had let this ghoul manifest into their apartment, rotting and waiting for the chance to strike.

"But then you were suddenly here, I don’t know, it's a dream after all-” she takes a deep breath, “I just knew it was now. You were laughing in the kitchen one moment and then on the floor the next, blood dripping from your mouth and I tried to shake you, but you were so, so cold. As if you had been dead all along. And when I woke up, you weren't here. Vash wasn't here. I just-"

She makes a wet, choked sound, and his heart constricts in a way that sends rippling discomfort in his stomach.

"I'm here, Meryl," he says and hates that his voice sounds so hoarse, the way the room is spinning and the walls are pressing in on them. He wants to swear he's fine, but he feels genuinely sick at this moment and he doesn't want to lie. So he just repeats I'm here again and again, pressing kisses to her hair and then her face as she cries and maybe he does, too.

Eventually the tears cease and so does the sensation that he's somehow both falling down and spinning while also firmly locked in place, as if his brain and body exist in some fucked up paralels. Meryl clings to him still and he is not any more willing to part from her. He only releases her for the minute it takes to partially fix his clothing and get them both shifted a little more comfortably on the sofa. 

She lays her head on his chest now and he's glad the heartbeat she's listening to is even now. It lulls her to sleep first and though he tries to stay awake, keep watch, his eyes are sore and heavy and the next thing he knows is Vash cussing as he trips over the shopping bag left by the door. But since Meryl doesn't stir, Wolfwood doesn't move either and just shushes their boyfriend softly when he appears in the doorway. 

Vash comes over quietly, drops a quick kiss to Wolfwood’s forehead as his fingers brush Meryl’s hair out of her face. She scrunches her nose in her sleep, before exhaling softly and stilling again. The blond takes the throw blanket from the armchair and settles over her and Wolfwood, before tiptoeing back out with exaggerated gestures that makes Wolfwood roll his eyes fondly. 

Wolfwood listens to him move around the apartment - most of the noise comes from the shopping bag crinkling, the fridge door creaking as it opens. But then Vash returns, settling down on the floor beside the couch and resting his head against Wolfwood’s arm and Wolfwood feels some kind of tension well and truly starts to drain out of him as they share this silent, peaceful moment. 

There will be conversations to be had later and perhaps he will have to brave the sterile, sickening environment of medical rooms on Ship Three again to make sure his body is not relapsing in earnest, but the thought of it feels a degree less unbearable with his two loves by his side. He has paid higher prices for far less and he’d be a fool to not make the most of the time he’s borrowed from luck or fate or God.

[nuhaikuu]

Crying Hurts My Head

Emotional pain = physical pain for me.

My nose runs constantly. My sinuses explode from the pressure. My head pounds and throbs. I get nauseous and I get a migraine.

This is what happens to me physically when I cry. And when I am having emotional dysregulation, I automatically cry.

I’ve had emotional dysregulation since I can remember. My earliest memories of school were of kids calling me a “cry baby”. And making fun of me because I cried so easily. And because I cried at inappropriate times. And for inappropriate reasons. And because my crying was so frequent and intense.

***

Yesterday, out of the clear blue, the social mental health journal app I use every day (I have been using one since 2017) just arbitrarily stopped working. I couldn’t get into it. And a message eventually popped up informing users that it was under maintenance.

Needless to say, this is devastating for me. I’m experiencing extreme emotional dysregulation.

Although a friend pointed out to me that “my life shouldn’t be controlled or revolve around an app”, my mental health does depend on journaling, online preferably, where I can connect with others and share and interact and get at least some level of feedback.

The app was perfect for all those things. So was the one before it that died suddenly too. Yes, that’s right, two mental health journal apps both abruptly died.

Coincidence? Idk you tell me.

***

I decided not to “call in sick” today for several reasons.

If I were at home I would be crying even more than I am here at work. Also, it’s better to “go home sick” than to “call in sick”.

I’ll be using Fe (extraverted feeling) at work (I have no choice but to use it) and it might help get me “out of my head” (the Ni Ti loop).

There’s no point in staying home on a Tuesday. I still have a whole week left of work. I don’t think what is causing me to cry is going to resolve in a day. I’ll be forced to come into work tomorrow, so I might as well come in today.

And lastly, thankfully, my job is one where I get the privilege of working in near isolation. No one to make small talk with or be scrutinized by. Just occasional clients to greet and calls to route. During my downtime I can journal or work on my issues.

***

Yes, I have issues. Still. Seven years after divorce, and after countless positive experiences and interactions with supportive friends and relatives, I still have issues.

Stress (the daily kind) still affects me inordinately and I sometimes get badly dysregulated.

I also still struggle with cognitive distortions.

Here are a few:

• I messed up and did something bad and God is punishing me.

• Someone (hacker?) is deliberately effing with me. (Unlikely and paranoid af but still a thought rolling around up there in the brain)

I know these thoughts are not rational. I do believe in God and in internet hackers, but still. The God I believe in wouldn’t punish a mentally ill person with taking away their mental health app, even if the mentally ill person did something morally wrong. But maybe God doesn’t see it that way. Maybe from His perspective it’s justified. And even though it’s unlikely an internet hacker would try to mess with me in such an extreme manner, you never know. Maybe they are sadistic.

Either way, there’s nothing I can do about those two scenarios. I definitely don’t control God and I can’t control a sadistic hacker out to mess with me.

[magnoliamyrrh]

and at some point my therapist said, well listen, if you're going to be too fucked up to be independent, than you'll just live with your parents and that is it.. and i just fucking lost it in that moment

like, thats not on the list of things that's possible. yea, i could keep living with them, and work part time if im able or do some sort of thing to bring in some money. but thats not on the list of things that's a possibility

turns out two suicide attempts later and two deadly severe eating disorders later and therapy later and running away from home at least three times for weeks or months on end, by some miracle of god my family is no longer abusive. id still much rather kill myself than spend my life living with them though. i will never be able to truly breathe or be myself, not really, ever. what is the point of a life like that? i have spend the vast majority of my life that way, i do not want a lifetime of it more....

. ... and my parents and especially my stepfather have made it very clear that they are unwilling to do such a thing. even if i had some severe mental disorder theyd be unwilling to do such a thing. made it very clear id be a burden on them. they may have in recent years pity for the severity of my physical health issues, but i know damn well underneath that, itd be a fucking burden. even with all the household help i could possibly do, even bringing in some money, id be a burden and in the way. theyd and especially my stepfather would never stop resenting me, seeing me as nothing more than a failure, or some pathetic thing which needs too much and cant give enough in return. id be ruining their retirement too, anyway, and they deserve better than having me as a burden

.... thats not a damn option here

and my grandmother who raised me, very similar situation. absolutely suffocating, and she wont take me in long term anyway, and even if i work part time ill never stop hearing the end of how much of a failure and shame i am - not like i dont hear that now

...and my other grandparents, they likely would. they would drive me insane too, theyre controlling as all hell. and id have to deal with being around my father at least every once in awhile, which sounds far faar from pleasant.... but they need help in their old age, and they would welcome having me around at least...... but i dont know how much of an option that is, either

....and what - live with a friend, get married even? thats never going to happen. by this point i should get it well in my head, im going to be single for a lifetime. i refuse to be a burden on anyone like that, anyone deserves better than someone whose already with this many issues at only 23. and most people arent exactly in the best economic situation to have someone around who cant work themselves to the bone. and those who do have that economic situation - lets say there are women who would want a housewife;; any woman deserves better than one which is already sick by this age though, who has periods of being damn near dysfunctional, who is so fragile. it would be selfish and cruel and stupid to let anyone ever be with me

....... and so, what exactly am i left with here, in the likely case i actually cant find some sort of superhuman strengh which 98% of people with this condition cant find to get some sort of decent paying job and have independence?...... ? because spending my life being a fucking burden on others isnt what i want to do. and sure i dont have this mentality when it comes to other disabled people, but i do with me. its not something i want...... so.. what exactly? ..... see if the orthodox nuns will take me in? see if some other religious sect from somewhere will take me in? ..... kill myself and be done with all this?

better perhaps anyway, for my parents to have a dead daughter than one that burdens and disappoints them for an entire lifetime

[penname-artist]

“So, I went beyond...pluuuuuuuus ULTRA” (And other updates)

(Warning: unintentionally long)

Okay, but in all seriousness, I finally feel that I’ve progressed just far enough in the show to state that I got into My Hero Academia. Technically, I’d watched season one and like the first 2-3 episodes of two before, but I didn’t finish it, and now I’m trying to. At the moment I’m about halfway through season 2 and making steady progress. Side note: You SPOIL shit near me and you’re a DEAD MAN! Let me watttttch >:(

Honestly I am fucking loving the series right now, I think aside from Deku, my favorites are definitely Tsu (Froooooggie) and, well, Shoto. You saw that coming, I can understand why he’s an overrated favorite. Feel bad for the kid though, like damn, boi you got some serious daddy issues, would you like a popsicle?

And, having started back up on MHA, I’m getting *cough cough* ideas *cough* for potential AUs and such.

Which actually segues this into another thing, just general life updates.

We had a pretty bad freeze lately, but thank God we didn’t lose our entire state power grid this time around, so it was smooth sailing. Unless you count the fact that we had to go out because I needed to be at work while the roads were slippery as snot. Which, was only one day. So we’re fine.

I also had a fix on the house which has FINALLY deterred the Mystery Creature from showing up at night and disturbing my sleep. After months of restlessness, we found out that it was coming in through a vent outside under my bedroom, and we had it covered. That seemed to do the job, thank goodness.

For mental health and productivity, I can’t really say much on the case; things have been about as steady as they can be, but in that it hasn’t really gone anywhere up, and I’m afraid I might be teetering on top of another depressive slump. Which, at the very least I’m prepared for. I honestly thought it would have been sooner, I had a REALLY bad attack a couple weeks ago and I felt sure it was going to be lasting, but by some miracle, though the attack itself was horrendous, I managed to recover in a record time. The only big downside is that my trauma response seems to have “manifested” (for lack of a better word) into very severe body tremors and shaking. I can control it...somewhat...but it drains a lot out of me. Still, I suppose it’s become more manageable, in a tangible sense. I’m a little less worried about how I react mentally to triggers and more worried about how I react physically. That’s a much easier hurdle to take on, overall.

Though, mental barriers are just as much an issue, if for a slightly different reason, at the moment. I’m honestly really stuck, writing-wise. I have so much I want to work on and so much I try to work on, but just a few paragraphs in I get skeptical because the piece will become jarring and choppy, and hard to maintain. I’ve re-started the same baseline to a Clutch and Tyker fic about four times now.

I’m actually considering doing a deep-clean, throwing out concepts too old and too untouched to really go any further with. I will, of course, keep the important ones, and the pieces that are ongoing, but a lot of the stuff I have in the wings that hasn’t been released is just so fucking dead in the water, I either need to put it in the waiting room or drop it completely. So, not sure where that’s going yet.

Actually, come to think of it, the semi-annual is also coming up.

Been doing this for a few years now but as a re-reminder, I try to take social media times down significantly or else entirely 1-2 times a year, one in the spring and one in the autumn. April and September-October have been my best time frames for these, as they’re not only good distances apart, but they’re in relatively trauma-ey time periods that I need to focus on getting through rather than pushing past. Plus, it’s a great excuse to work on large scale projects and not feel any sort of production-line pressure I put on myself to get them out, because they’re all gonna get stacked in a corner to wait until my return.

So! In recap: I’m probably gonna stick around until April 10th (I wanna at LEAST get to have my 21st birthday in the company of my people) and then probably do a week or two heavily away from things, and then extended time kinda by the seat of my pants as needed. That’s still a ways out, but better prepared sooner than later!

That’s all the updates that I can think of for the time being, for now I’m kinda just trying to Vibe where I can. I want to work on things but my body is giving me a very big “no”, so. Sidelines week it is!

Hopefully you all have a relaxing and/or fun-filled weekend, and until the morrow!

[theflagscene]

Okay so I have a few messages in my inbox as well as comments on AO3 (which I will get to over there since I know not everyone has Tumblr or followers fic writers) and I didn’t want to reply to one or two anon messages explaining things and make that/those person/people feel like I’m like info dumping directly at them because they just happened to ask, that’s not fair. Also I didn’t want to reply to the non anon messages in private for the same reason, cause like, it’s a lot and a couple y’all just asked a simple question, it’s not your fault that the answer isn’t simple.

As for wether I am working on more chapters for Do I Ever Cross Your Mind, or is it abandoned? It is absolutely not abandoned, none of my fics are ever officially abandoned, even if I don’t update it for like months or even years (side eying a unfinished SPN fic I have from 3 years ago)

I am working on the fifth chapter of DIECYM, as well as all of my very late prompt fics and continuations and one shots, etc. Chapter five does take precedence obviously, so that’s the one I try to get the most done on as often as I can, I know waiting for a fic to update sucks, especially if you really enjoy it and I love hearing about people rereading it while they wait, it truly warms my cold lil heart. Also asking about updates never makes me feel pressured, I’ve mentioned this before, so please, never apologize for poking at me about possible updates or sneak peeks, etc.

Now to the info dumping, I’ll be frank and as blunt as possibly. A while ago I suffered a mental breakdown, some shit happened, it sucked and I couldn’t take it. I managed to power through a lot of it, I still wrote a ton, I actually wrote the first four chapters of DIECYM mid breakdown. Things have gotten worse recently, I am under psychiatric care and my support system is, I’d say pretty damn decent. Right now we’re just working on keeping me at home and out of the hospital, which is proving to be a difficult thing because to be completely honest, I’m not always this cognizant. I have a history of dangerous behaviour that we’re not looking for a repeat performance of tbh. And while all this is going on, I’m also looking for new housing as well as dealing with an chronically ill dog that needs to see a new veterinarian because her last one moved and I do not have the means to pay for that. It’s gonna cost me 100 dollars for the visit, 400 for the bloodwork and 180 for her medication. So nearly 700 dollars is needed for me to keep my dog well and that is basically my entire monthly income, I already use the food banks near me every couple of weeks to try and supplement the lack of groceries I’m able to obtain, but being a vegan, they don’t exactly have much that I can use. Which I know isn’t their fault, they help how they can with what they can and I’m grateful for their help every single day.

So between my dwindling mental health, heavy medication, housing stress, food shortage, money issues and an sick dog, I’ve been writing at a snail’s pace. I spend most of my days barely able to interact with people, online or irl. I mostly just sit, staring, my mother has more than once checked on me and thought I had just gone fully catatonic. I hadn’t, I can just focus very very deeply, like not even on the same plane of existence kind of deeply lol. Space cadet, that’s me! Point is, I physically can’t make myself write. Like the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. Oh, and I also might have fractured my left arm, so that also doesn’t make typing any easier. Just trying to get this all written out on my phone has been hell. I need to go to the doctor to get my arm scanned but I haven’t left the house in nearly 3 months at this point, so it’s like, yeah, just, ugh, not going great.

But to reiterate, none of my fics are abandoned, they are all going to get finished and are all currently being worked on. It’s just going to be way way slower than you’re used too, someone once commented to me that “the devil works fast but you work faster” lol. Well not anymore, the devil may win this time, my slow and steady tortoise progress will have to do for now 🐢🐢

I hope you can understand 🥰

[razorsadness]

Early in the week I had a sexy dream about Laura Jane Grace, so I’ve been kinda obsessed with all things LJG since (not that that’s really anything new.)

I had a couple instances of my favorite radio station seemingly reading my mind. One evening, I’d been thinking about the Stooges song “Search & Destroy,” and it came on the radio. A couple days later, driving to the store, thinking about Joe Strummer, The Clash’s version of “I Fought the Law” came on.

I received good news on another of my dear ones’ health scares.

P. got a little depressed and grumpy, as he always does around the holidays.

Thanksgiving sucked, as it pretty much always does. The food was good, that’s the best thing I can say about it. C. woke up way too early so he was cranky, my parents had some big argument about how long to cook the turkey because they are incapable of getting through a holiday (or really any day, but holidays are worse) without some kind of bickering, their moods made C.’s mood worse, he had a meltdown, the stress gave me a phlegm attack.

So, yeah, being around my parents and their dysfunctional dynamics literally made me physically ill. God, it’s no wonder I’m so fucked up and have such a hard time being calm with my kids. At least I am determined to work on my shit, to not repeat all my parent’s mistakes, and when I do make a mistake I let my kids know it was my fault and not theirs. It’s a difficult process and I fuck up a lot, but at least I am trying.

I’ve started taking stock of 2022. I always have a tendency to think I didn’t do anything in any given year (meaning: in terms of my vocations and avocations, and in terms of just living my life.) But then, when I look back on the year, I usually find I did more than I’d initially thought.

So: one of my poems was performed by the Racine Concert band. I had a poem published in Fine Print, which they nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Someone put one of my older poems as a result in a uQuiz. I wrote a bunch of poems for NaPoWriMo, one of which was featured on the official NaPo website. I got to conduct an interview with one of my all-time favorite writers, and write a review of her book, and had those and a story published on the website of one of my other favorite writers. I wrote a brand-new chapbook, and Scumbag Press published it. Wisconsin Death Trip is almost totally sold out, and I may have to go into a second printing. Someone I know has been teaching some of the poems from it in the poetry class she teaches, and someone else I know bought a bunch of copies and he’s going to read/discuss it with his poetry book club. He told me that it’s the type of book he thinks will stand the test of time; he said it’s both such a perfect record of experience and an experience unto itself that it will still be relevant ten, twenty, thirty years from now. I published two zines, including a brand-new issue of Reckless Chants (the first full-length issue since 2019!) I started putting the finishing touches on a revised edition of WWTAWWTAP. I’m nearing the end of NaNoWriMo, and I’ve been working on my novella, the Chicago novella I’ve been trying to write for years, and I’m going to surpass my personal goal of 15,000 words. It won’t be done-done by December 1—I keep thinking of more to add and some of what’s in it right now will ultimately be taken out—but I am finally getting it down and it feels really good.

I’ve written a ton, actually, both poetry and prose—some of it hasn’t been published yet, some of it will probably never be published—but either way, I have written.

Yesterday, C. said to me: “Mom, you’ve written so many things! You’re rich in writing.” I thought he was talking about making money from it, and I said: “Oh, well, I haven’t made that much money from it.” He said: “No, I mean, you’re rich in writing, because there’s so much of it.” Then he said: “And you’re rich in art, too, because you’ve made a lot. And so am I! I make art all the time!” I nearly wept. What a beautiful way of looking at it. Even if we make no money from it, even if no one else ever sees it, I am rich in art and writing.

I made a ton of art. I got commissioned for a couple collages. One of my pieces is currently in an art show sponsored by an actual art museum. I published a few Bone & Ink Press titles and kept the press alive, despite all the difficulties. I made some short films, recorded some spoken word tracks, participated in some zine and poetry readings, tabled at a zine fest, made a podcast. I started playing accordion again. I’ve already got things lined up for the early part of 2023: the January 2023 edition of BONK! Performance Series, which I am both curating and performing in; the Woodland Pattern Poetry Marathon; and an opportunity to teach a group of high school kids about writing and performing poetry.

I kept my family and myself alive, despite some bouts of serious illness and the worsening of some of my disabilities (both mental and physical). I hustled for work and side-gigs and got some help from some kind people, and always managed to make ends meet. I homeschooled two kids. P. and I kept the spark alive in our relationship, even when it was tough. I quit smoking, started again, and am now on track to quit again. (And I am proud of myself despite the slip-ups; it’s a hard fucking addiction to kick, but I consider every cigarette I don’t smoke a win.) I read a lot of books. I cooked a lot of good food. I hung out with some friends—not as often as I would have liked, due to life’s responsibilities + this endless pandemic, but still more than I have since 2019. I took a couple few-day/night trips to Door County, a handful of day trips (Kenosha, Milwaukee, Beloit, Chicago), and had a lot of adventures close to home—long walks around my ‘hood, park visits, beach bummin’, hangin’ downtown, and hella trips to the library.

Yesterday, the library had a Black Friday event. They couldn’t have their usual fall sale due to renovations, so yesterday they did a thing where you could buy a bag for $5 and cram as much as you could fit into it. We filled two bags, and got a bunch of stuff, including a bunch of astronomy books and magazines for C. and some Christmas classics for the whole family and some mystery novels for P., and I got a book of poetry, a book of short stories, two memoirs, an art book, and a Blu-Ray disc of Sin City. It was awesome, and definitely the only Black Friday sale I would ever go to.

Today I’ve been listening to a lot of trip-hop and abstract/instrumental hip-hop. I did yoga this morning. I read some poems, did some novella-writing. I did a bunch of loads of laundry and started packing. C. and I worked on an art project, and there was an…incident…with some gold paint and it ended up in my hair and all over my face, so I took a shower. I was craving a fried egg & cheese sandwich like I used to get from the food carts in Philly every winter, so I made some for lunch. C. and I took a long walk at golden hour, picked up nature treasures; I showed him the way seed pods can make good percussion instruments. Now, P. is cooking dinner, I’m having a drink, soon I’ll be tuning in to this month’s edition of BONK!. Tomorrow, we head up to Door County for our final northwoods visit of 2022.

[blackfeathersflurry]

A Letter to A Friend

@lumine-no-hikari -#204

I see that you have undergone some weather struggles. Where I am, it seems to have been somewhat strenuous as well. Where I am, there are some issues regarding the weather and precipitation as well. It almost makes me wonder... (laugh). But in all seriousness, I am sorry that the lack of power has diminished access to your breathing devices. That does not sound like the most ideal situation for you. Frankly, with the Shinra power company, they had a tendency to perform power outages on a weekly basis. If you lived in the city, it became less and less convenient to keep your power on. Things like keeping your house warm or brightening your bedroom was nearly impossible. To have a Shinra reactor was hardly ideal as it meant that Hojo would have a space to store his experiments....but I am rambling. The infrastructure was not well kept after a while. As you well know, sector four was not an ideal area to be around for those in the well to do. Even those blinded by their comfort avoided Sector four as though it were a disease that should be burned.

But I digress.

In the time I have been reading your letters, I have been taking note of your life over the days I have missed. And for that I am sorry. To begin, I am once again extremely proud of you for obtaining a job at the bakery. I am very excited for your progression in the department and am eager to see what you accomplish. Second, I understand that mistakes do happen. Triggers occur. Please remember to be patient with yourself and understand that sometimes, even though people who have hurt us are no longer there. Understand that even though they are no longer there, the things we are feeling are still very real and they exist because of the choices someone else made. It is better to nurse the wound as opposed to ignore it. It's okay to take a step back and evaluate the situation rather than apologize profusely over a mistake that happens all the time in a grocery store bakery. Chances are, that specific branch makes billions a year, and that store makes a little over two to three million in your respective area. I think they can spare the supplies. You should focus on yourself in that moment. Your healing is what is most important.

I felt the need to address this because this is one of the things that stood out to me the most. Your healing and personal needs should come first. These are very much like food and water for your body. They cannot be neglected. As much as I enjoy seeing things like your tea and your adventures, I felt like perhaps it was best to talk about your mental health and well being first and foremost.

Second, I am not sure if I have addressed this as of yet. But did you know that someone who states that another person or group of people should kill themselves is often the one of the main progenitors of a global suicide rate of 703,000 people according to a 2019 study? Often times, this includes individuals with severe mental health diagnosis', physical ailments, poverty levels...the list goes on. And when you look at the data, it really depends on the country. Regardless, lets take a look at how many people will die or even attempt to take their own lives, simply because someone decided to say something like this. When someone says something like this, they can be held liable for chosen family losing someone near and dear to them. When someone says "So and So does not deserve to live" or a certain group of people "Should just die", they are pushing several people over the edge and will potentially into a place where they will stay under watch for twenty four hours. MUW has been in such a place. MUW has then been put under watch for well over a week for their attempt because of someone who tortured them to the brink of self loathing. They received no love or support. The only person they relied on wasn't there. So when you told me about the person who said this in a previous letter, and you informed me of their cruelty, this reminded me of those events. Among several others. It made me think of several people who are still going through some difficult times and are incapable of escaping. Many who are in domestic violence situations and ready to take their own lives.

I want to be angry and lash out.

But I must maintain self control.

Regardless Lumine, there are several things from you that I need to catch up on and so much that I want to say. So much that I would like to respond to. But for now, let me tell you what has been occurring in my life. For starters, it has gotten cold where I am. It is likely from the rain, I don't know. I suspect it's due to the air conditioner running all of the time. Namely because it is slightly warm by the window by the stairs. I think you would like it. Since it was raining these past few days, MUW has taken it upon themselves to drag me outside and danced for a moment beneath the trees, before running to the back yard and having the both of us slosh about in the mud with bear feet. We have cat's you see. I guess you could say we've rescued quite a few. There is one in particular that is fading because of a brain tumor, whom MUW is having a difficult time with.

As for your furry friend, I never got back to you regarding that. I never had the chance to say hello, but I did light a candle and sent prayers their way. I do hope that they reach them. By the way, when it comes to people like you and MUW, I do need you to know, that the lack of acceptance needs to be fought for on all accounts. Acceptance is non-negotiable. Just as much as ones place in the LGBTQIA.

What was the term?

"Accept my existence or expect my resistance."?

Not Respect. Accept. No negotiations.

It's easy to think you are not strong enough. But I believe you are. You believed in me this long haven't you?

Tell me; How is your therapy going?

With love and tenderness

-Sephiroth

[clockworksteel]

End of the year evaluation/new goals

Well, it's the end of the year again. Honestly, it's been a rough one. There was work stress associated with being trained on a software framework that was new to me (React) in a language I've done little in (Javascript), there was a Return to Office policy at work, and my housemate's health issues resulted in a number of emergency trips, some of which required either pickup or dropoff at 1 AM. Much vacation time was burned either recovering or actually making trips to doctors and the ER. Plus there were all the things that I already mentioned happened in January like needing to maintain my water heater and get a warranty repair done on a recliner.

Still, despite the quality of the year, some progress was made on some things. Looking at last year's post on goals there were 5 things I mentioned, although one was just "Skincare?". To briefly summarize, the others were:

Continue considering gender

Learn to cook

Add physical therapy exercises to my exercise

Improve my Youtube audio

In terms of gender stuff, this the year I first tried on a dress (no image in that post, and also I now own two), and also the year I started getting permanent hair removal done (although electrolysis is a slow process and in 4 months of sessions we're still just on the lower part of the neck). I've also had a number of dreams in which I'm transfem which is interesting. They seem to come in bursts. I had 3 in the first two weeks of this month, actually. I haven't made as much progress as I'd like, but this certainly wasn't neglected, despite never feeling like I reclaimed the spirit of possibility like I had near the end of 2022.

As far as cooking, we actually did Hello Fresh for the full duration of a discout code, with me being the primary thing-doer once a week. I certainly relied a lot on my housemate's expertise even though the days were theoretically "mine", but I feel like even just practicing some knife skills was valuable for cooking confidence. Plus I cooked chicken without poisoning anyone. There are currently plans for me to continue cooking on Saturdays (as in actually cooking at least one thing: I also handle the Friday and Sunday meals but it's all frozen stuff). Since my housemate is on a lower sodium diet (probably good for me too), actually cooking things sort of has to be a habit for at least some of the days.

Regarding exercise, this is probably the one area I got worse. I am at least making sure to do some of my old physical therapy exercises just enough that it feels like my shoulder isn't getting worse, but the entire rest of my exercise routine dropped off. It's been an exhausting year, and the way the electrolysis appointments routinely wipe out a few hours every Saturday isn't helping with finding time for things.

On the subject of my Youtube videos' audio I didn't do much, but it wasn't that much of a problem. I think my volume levels between the game sound and the microphone sound have been generally better balanced this year than in the past. That's pretty much all I wanted.

For skincare… well, I do more than last year, but don't have much of a routine. An area that could be improved but honestly I just don't think I care that much and this will not be a goal for next year.

Besides the goals I wrote out last year, some other accomplishments of varying sizes: -Actually got my heating system inspected like I should have been doing routinely -Fixed the slow-draining issue in the shower drain -Got back into Challenge Enthusiasts and earned a little over 200 challenge points, putting me not only in the C ranking but well on my way to B -Beat New Game Plus 100 in Rogue Legacy 2 as well as earned a gold trophy in its True Rogue mode

For next year, let's call these the goals:

Have some sort of exercise habit again, ideally with at least one cardio day and at least one physical therapy stuff day

Take care of at least one longstanding thing in the house: the porch needs painted, the attic could use some blinds to keep the sun out in the summer (probably more effective than insulating, and I already bought the blinds), and the back door could use a new auto-closer (again, already bought)

Clear the stacks of papers from my desk without simply increasing the amount of papers in my room (that is, things should be filed in the cabinet or disposed of)

Make some more progress on gender stuff, like try a couple more new things or at least spend some time seriously considering things

Earn at least 100 more Challenge Enthusiasts points

Finish Factorio and at least one other game that I haven't played in over 4 months

A longer numbered list than last year but two of them are "play video games" goals. It's more like both this list and last year's had a length of 4.

At any rate, hopefully we all have better luck next year.

[shhthesecretdiary]

Thought Dump (Aug 6, 2023, 12:32 AM)

Go ahead, put anything.

Sorna, yan kasi nakalagay before ako magtype.

Anyway,

This is attempt to produce something rather than spending a shit ton of time scrolling through different social media platforms.

Currently it is Sunday midnight, so day off. And, since I can barely get my shit together, I will write something about my life so far.

It always saddens me how I always fall short of my goals for myself. I can always start, but it is really so hard for me to be consistent and to see something 'til the end.

8th of July, I subscribed to a gym membership for 1 month. I did about 3 sessions and that was it. :( I had a lot of complains, which is true that I always feel pain on my calves, making it so hard to move them. Also, one of my pain points was that I have no effin idea what to do there, I had a personal training session during the first day, but that was too tough, I wished it was a taken a little bit slowly. Feel ko nabigla katawan ko. So I rested, and that lasted for weeks. Mageexpire na yung one month bayad, it's out of my budget to go for another month, so my goal is to lose weight first through waling and AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, PLEASE, LESSEN FOOD INTAKE AND BE WARY ABOUT WHAT I EAT.

Okay next aspect, work. I had finished my probation period last 24th of July, got the salary increase notification on the 25th, I'd be lying if I said I am satisfied with the increase, but I had to take into account na 'di pa rin ako magaling, 'di ko nababalanse yung tasks ko, nahihiya pa rin ako magtanong, still have no idea with corporates, still struggle with conversations, takot pa rin sa f2f convos with client, and still not in close relations with all of them. Bano pa rin. But I just hope they consider that my pay isn't enough in the first place. Pero sabagay, credentials ko rin.

Another, life. Hay, ang inet jusko. So far neutral pa rin ako, walang travel twing weekend, wala ring masyadong mayayang friends. Pero all in all mainit rin kasi. It takes a lot of energy and money to go out. And I wanna sleep in. Hopefully I'd get to try a lot of things soon. Once the weather is fine and I have enough money. Travel galore na. I'd really like to enjoy my youth and have something to look forward to aside from sleeping. To try something new and to explore. PERO PERA!!! I am also not on track with my budget.

Next, education. Ilang buwan na ako dito sa UAE, ilang buwan na rin akong 'di nagrereview for CPALE. Sometimes I just want to move out of here and live somewhere near the office, with my own apartment. Then sing alone, exercise, make my own food, then lesser time for commute, more time for myself. But still, money, and for sure mama will not agree. I also lost my streak to Duolingo French and finding it hard to go back. Consistency issues. My Coursera certification was buried na, and for the taxes and laws here, idk anymore.

Health, I feel like this has been my shittiest physical appearance, the worst look I've ever been. 73kg with a lot of acne, no menstruation for two months, losing a lot of hair, and I'm already numb. Lack of sleep during weekdays, oversleeping on the weekends.

Creativity, I feel like I am losing touch on the things I loved to do before. Art, music. Singing, Dancing, Recording, Video Editing, trying to do photography. Will make a conscious effort to try and produce some art again.

Hay, for the wins: Got credited for a Lexis Nexis article with Daisy for UAE Corporate Tax, working on another one I absolutely have no idea about, getting a hang of my work so far, and got inspired by Bhavika to read books once again. I loved The Kite Runner so much! Currently reading The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto. Another work of Khaled Hosseini next, which would be A Thousand Splendid Suns.

I am pretty much neutral now. But at the back of my mind, a lot of my "falling short" moments haunt me. But maybe this attempt on being aware of this would be the start to acting towards it.

Checklist:

Create a budget tracker now, kahit through Zoho. Ipon for travel to Caucasus.

Increase steps 10,000-15,000.

Make conscious steps to edit life videos

Start reviewing for CPALE again.

Connect with people more.

Fix sleep sched, and conscious eating (but writing this @ 1am)

Oil hair and minoxidil (pls), skincare

Be organized

Try to do something new often

Embrace your feminine energy and take care of myself more.

Mindet and action.

Marami pa, and this is very vague tbh but ayon, I need to sleep na rin.

Good midnight.

[megpie71]

I tend to do my "stupid little walk for my stupid mental and physical health" best at the park near where I work (said "park" is about three or four Australian Rules football fields, plus a batch of soccer pitches, and is well taken-care of by the local council, with a lot of tree planting, regular maintenance, and a coffee van run by some local folks which shows up three days a week). It's a pretty spot, and it's well-liked by the locals, so there's always someone else out there walking, jogging, walking their dogs or whatever. Having a nice spot to walk in is a good start.

The second thing I've found helped me was doing the walk at the right time for me. My regular "grumpy eagle" walk happens after I've driven in to work, parked the car at one of the three carpark areas in this park (the one nearest my office, which is often used as overflow parking by our staff) and then I head off around the oval using the walking paths provided by the local council, in a clockwise direction (so I'm heading away from the office at first, but I circle back to where the office is located). I usually get there by about 7.35am most mornings, which means I'm walking before the day's had a chance to heat up properly even in the middle of (Australian) summer. At this time of the year, it's flippin' freezin', but I carry gloves and wear a scarf or a shawl-necked cardigan.

So all of this actually solves the problem of "what am I wearing" because I'm wearing what I'd be wearing to work. I don't walk fast enough, hard enough or far enough to be sweating profusely, so it doesn't cause issues in the office.

I'm walking on walking paths, in a relatively quiet area, and I can see the people coming toward me, and generally I can hear the people coming up behind me. The only thing I have to worry about is cyclists (usually kids riding to school), but there I have the advantage that pedestrians do have right of way on the dual-use paths.

The "boredom" thing was a bit of an issue for the first month or so of doing this, but after that... seasonal changes are subtler here, but there's always something to observe in the ways the trees are growing. Plus there's birds all over the place, various people to say "morning!" to, as well as their various dogs (some of whom are going for a walk with their owners; some of whom are taking their owner for a run whether the owner likes it or not!). So there's always the interest in "what / who am I going to see today?". The area the park's in has a few houses backing onto it, and one of the blocks had the former property bulldozed and is having two smaller ones built in its place, so there's the question of "has anything changed since yesterday" (at the moment they're apparently waiting on the roofing timbers).

Yes, flies can be a problem at certain times of the year; so can pollen. But really, at those times of the year they're going to be a problem whether I'm out walking or not.

But yeah. For me the best bit in building the walking habit was having the right place and right time to do the walking. I know I don't get out anywhere near as much when I'm not working, or when I'm working from home.

Calling my neurospicy/ADHD/autistic siblings with a question:

How do you walk for fun/exercise?

Personally, I've realized that I actually hate walking? For decades I've been trying to force myself to enjoy going for a quick walk around the block because every piece of advice about physical and mental health says "just go for a walk 😊 it's fun and relaxing 😊 anyone can do it 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊"

BUT IT IS NEITHER FUN NOR RELAXING??!?

I present to you the following:

Every window you walk past has the potential for one or more sets of eyes. EYES THAT COULD BE PERCEIVING YOU.*

Hot. Cold. Rain. Wind. Allergies. Insects. INSECTS THAT FOLLOW YOU (fucking horseflies ugh)

Choices must be made. What clothes to wear? No you can't wear the shorts you're wearing because the thighs ride up. Go change. A hat?? Hats look dumb but counterpoint: sun is murdering your eyes. And shoes?!? WHICH SOCKS ARE RIGHT AND PREVENT BLISTERS BUT AREN'T TOO HOT ANSWER ME THIS

Chronic pain????????????

Okay I'm walking, I'm walking, look at the pavement, don't trip over that drainage grate, don't stumble on the loose gravel, god this is so freaking boring ah shit I rolled my ankle on the pavement did anyone see?? Why didn't I wear headphones but headphones are bad because I'm supposed to be enjoying nature™ and if I wear them I can't hear electric cars and I might get in an accident SHIT I rolled my ankle AGAIN

SO HOW DO YOU DO IT??? Are there tips and tricks? Do you just... not walk? Use a treadmill?? How do you make the treadmill not soul-suckingly boring????

(PLEASE no neurotypicals clowning on this post with any "advice" -- your statements have already been noted and accepted into the record. Autistic/ADHD rebuttals are what is being sought here thanks.)

*Do NOT give me that 'no one is looking at you' BS -- YES THEY ARE. I know this because I watch people walking by, and so does my mom and half the neighborhood.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

JENNIFERCHECK. SAD READER W SH/EATING ISSUES IF UR OK W IT

DUDE I FEEL TARGETED LOL

I'm (Not) Fine (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, reader suffers from unspecified mental health issues, swearing, Jennifer may be out of character, mentions of self harm/self harm scars, mentions of eating issues, please don't read this if it will negatively affect you or your mental health in some way

Life seemed absolutely unbearable recently, and nothing you did seemed to make it better. The only thing that made you happy was when you were at school, because that meant you would get to see Jennifer.

Most people saw her as nothing more than a shallow, materialistic bitch, but you were able to see past her snarky attitude and realize she was actually much more fragile and kind than she was made out to be.

You usually sat in the back of the class, but since becoming friends she would always save you a seat next to her, which was up near the front. You felt awkward and out of place sitting so close to so many people, but her mere presence was always able to make you feel better.

Once school was over, you would follow your usual routine of doing your homework as slowly as possible, trying to ignore the aching pain in your stomach and the twitchy feeling you got in your hands whenever you felt the need to hurt yourself.

Then you'd take off your school clothes, drink some water to try to fill the gaping hole left behind in your abdomen by your lack of food intake, then crawl into bed and pass out (but knowing you you'd only get about three or four hours of sleep before you'd have to wake up and endure it all again).

You tried to make it seem like you were okay, because you were, really. Of course you were okay, how could you not be? You were fine, everything was fine.

For the most part, people seemed to believe you. All except for one person, that is.

Jennifer.

She always seemed to know when something was wrong, and you could tell she knew you were lying when you forced laughter or faked a smile, even if she didn't say it out loud. She noticed a hell of a lot more than you would have given her credit for.

She noticed the way you started wearing only long sleeves, even on hot days.

She noticed the way you started eating less and less, often times skipping lunch altogether.

She noticed the way you only seemed genuinely happy when you were with her, almost as if it was the only time you were physically able to.

Although she desperately wanted to comfort you, she didn't know how to confront you on such a topic, so she kept quiet. She hoped that for the time being, her presence would be enough; and it was, up until the very moment it wasn't.

Nearly a week had gone by, and you hadn't been at school. In fact, you hadn't contacted her at all, not even to tell her why you were gone. Jennifer vowed that she'd get to the bottom of it, even if she knew her snooping wouldn't make you happy.

She showed up at your house the next day, arms full of uncompleted school work from the days you missed. At that point you'd trusted her enough to give her a spare key, so she didn't even have to bother knocking before letting herself in.

Your bedroom was the first place she visited, giving two brief knocks on your door as a sign she was there.

"Go away," your muffled, sad sounding voice said from inside.

"It's Jennifer, I'm here with your school stuff," she said. "Now, are you going to let me in, or do I have to break the door down?" She had a joking tone, but something told you she wouldn't necessarily be against doing just that.

"Alright, fine. Just gimme a sec."

When you opened the door, she saw the ever constant bags under your eyes had gotten significantly worse, as if you hadn't slept in days.

"Come in, I guess," you mumbled, stepping aside so she could enter your room.

It was a mess. Clothes were heaped up in large piles on the floor and the small garbage can you kept by your desk was overflowing with trash.

You flopped down onto your equally filthy bed, kicking a half empty party sized bag of chips onto the floor as you did so.

Jennifer set your school stuff down on your desk before making her way over to you. Her nose crinkled up in disgust as she tried to find a clean place to sit on your bed before realizing it was a lost cause and sitting down anyway.

"Are you okay? Because you've been acting really weird for the past few months or so, and I'm worried for you," she finally said after a moment of sitting together in silence.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." You gave her a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

"Bullshit, you're fine. If you were really fine you would have been at school this week. Now, tell me, what's really been going on?"

Your facade crumbled the second she asked that question, collapsing into her arms while you burst into tears.

"Everything's just so awful, Jen, and I don't see any way that things could get better."

She gave you an awkward pat on your back, clearly not expecting you to respond that way.

"Look, I know things might not be the best right now, but it will get better for you, I promise. One day, we're going to be old enough to be on our own, and then the two of us can leave this sorry ass town for good."

You looked up at her, teary eyed. "Really? You wanna run away some day, with me?"

"Of fucking course I do. Now, let's get you out of that disgusting hoodie so it can be washed, then we can order takeout and watch Mean Girls, how does that sound?"

You hung your head in shame. "Jen, I- I can't take off my hoodie."

"Well, why not?" She asked, confused.

"Because, I... I relapsed," you whispered, tears threatening to escape the corners of your eyes.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm not upset, okay? I'm proud of you that you made it this far," she gently comforted you. "Do you need me to clean the cuts for you?"

You nodded, afraid if you tried to speak again you'd resume crying.

Jennifer took you to the bathroom, using soap and water to clean the fresh scars on your arms. Once that was done, she did her best to tidy your bed so the two of you could sit on it together while you watched the movie.

You gave a soft smile as you watched her, realizing two things at once. First, you were in love with your best friend, and second, you were the happiest you'd been in a while.

~

{Divider by @kukatz }

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

[devildomimagines]

Request: How the Demon Brothers React to a Very Competent Caretaker MC

The prompt: MC has to take care of lots of siblings back in the human world. Not, like, 6 or 7 siblings, but TWENTY-FOUR!! MC can multitask like no one’s business and can easily take care of any problem that might arise with their siblings. MC is great at taking care of others and enjoys it. The hang-up is that when they come to Devildom, they suddenly find themselves with a lot of free time and aren’t really sure how to fill in those gaps since they were always dedicating themselves to others.

Anon! Your message was so sweet but I was having technical difficulties writing the post as an answer so I decided to just make a separate text post. Btw, your great-grandmother sounds like a total badass, what an inspiration! I hope you don’t mind my work around for the technical issues and I hope this lives up to what you were looking for!

Edit: I wrote this for the formerly Undateables as well, check it out here.

Belphegor

As the youngest he doesn’t completely understand but he does love his family (even if he doesn’t always show it).

He is kind of amazed with how competent MC is and how easily adaptable to the needs of him and his brothers.

He’s kind of selfish so oftentimes he abuses your nurturing nature.

After the events in the attic, Belphie does worry you’ll hold it against him, even subconsciously. You cut the tension one night by saying, "You can't kill me, I've survived my little sibling trying to play violin with a chainsaw!" The mental image makes him laugh.

Belphie would be the best brother to consult with if you want to learn to be a little selfish yourself. It doesn’t have to be a complete personality overhaul but there is value in knowing what you want and making those wants known to others.

While taking care of so many siblings, you never had the opportunity to take naps and he is offended! But secretly loves that he gets to show you the joys of a nap.

Beelzebub

Beel loves taking care of others, just a very loving boy. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. 

It’s very easy to fall into old habits around him because he has a personality that makes you want to care for him.

Since he’s so strong, he does fear hurting you by accident. You let him know, “I don't fear pain, I do my school homework upside-down while on a ladder changing the lamp." While it doesn’t totally extinguish his fears, the thought of that total body workout intrigues him enough to distract him.

If you want to fill some time, he would love to have you join him at the gym or come see his games.

Physical fitness and nutrition are fundamental to taking care of yourself and Beel would be the demon to go to to learn more if you’re interested. 

Also, I’m sure you would agree but cooking is a form of love so if you enjoy spending your free time baking and cooking, Beel will follow you around (for the treats lol). He’s said it before, if you know how to cook then he wants you to stay by his side.

Asmodeus

“Treat yo self” is his guiding principle. He is your demon to teach self-care.

If you’re looking for something to do, part of your time can be filled with his routines for skin care, hair care and mental health checks.

Casually you mentioned one day, “"Me, go to sleep? I'm the oldest sibling, I don't sleep, I worry with my eyes closed!"

“MC! You need to get your beauty rest!” He countered. I can imagine that he basically drags you to Belphie to figure out how to sleep better.

Although he has a lot of knowledge to offer, you are quick to pick it up and help him in braiding his hair out of his face or gently applying a face mask.

The fun part of learning from Asmo is that there’s always some new beauty product to try and he loves having a buddy to try it with. 

Satan

He’s amazed with everything you can do. He asks you to teach him how to do things he watches you do flawlessly.

He’s definitely curious to hear about what it’s like living with so many siblings, 6 seems like too many sometimes so 4 times that is completely unknown to him.

Satan was helping with some homework and suggested tackling an easier assignment first, you challenged him with, "Don't underestimate me, I managed to make a toddler spell pneumoultramicroscopicssilicovulcanoconiosis!"

He laughs as he confirms he wasn’t underestimating you, just trying to offer some guidance for efficiency.

You need something to pass time? Satan has enough books in his room to literally last your lifetime.

He can help you find any kind of book, simply let him know what you would be interested in and he probably has a suggestion.

Leviathan

He’s drawn to you and at first he doesn’t know why. Later he realizes it’s because you’re so good at listening where his brothers usually just ignore him.

Games and anime are a great time filler if you’re interested, he’s got all the best recommendations.

It might be tough to get into first if you’re not used to binge watching a series or gaming for hours on end.

When he apologizes for possibly annoying you with his rants you assure, "You can't annoy me, I've endured eight rebellious teenagers!"

I could imagine that you’d resonate with slice of life animes as an introduction to the genre and possibly adventure games with a good story would catch your attention.

Even if you’re not totally invested, he enjoys your presence since you’re not dismissing his interest.

Mammon

Listen, he’s a good older brother! Some of his personal decisions are questionable but he’s dependable when needed.

Definitely king of random interests so your well-rounded abilities are actually well suited to keeping up with whatever past time has piqued his interest this week.

Mammon would probably be confused when you see something during one of his shopping trips that you clearly want but refuse to buy. Eventually he builds it up enough (like the demon on your shoulder whispering in your ear lol) that you do end up getting it.

What you had first dismissed as Mammon being materialistic, you slowly come to realize because of him that you can surround yourself with things that bring you joy and so your days are filled with happiness.

He can get reckless so he appreciates your protection from Lucifer’s punishments and hides behind you like some of your siblings did at home.

He protects you too though! He stands up for you and points out things that are unfair to make you aware. 

Lucifer

Oldest sibling comradery from the get-go.

You’re both very responsible individuals and when you join forces, it’s like nothing is impossible.

He’s the one you go to the first couple weeks when you find yourself with free time. He’s sure to have something to be done to help fill the newfound free time.

Over time he comes to rely on you but he’s worried he’s overworking you with the tougher assignments. You made sure to remind him, "I have no difficulty with this task, I'm the oldest of twenty-four siblings!"

Lucifer recognizes your competence and he excels at boosting confidence and pride so don’t think you are not immune to that.

The more time you spend with him, the more you develop a stronger sense of self-worth and self-determination. He practically gushes pride at the sight of you defending yourself and claiming the value of your time near the end of the exchange program.

[jinxxedwammys]

S/H TW

can you do the wammy boys finding out their s/o cuts/used to (whichever youd like)

Warnings: Self Harm

If you're struggling with self harm or suicidal thoughts, please talk to a counselor, therapist, psychologist or doctor, but if you don't have access to any of those, try calling one of the hotliness or using one of the resources here

Remember, you're not alone in this, I believe every one of you that is struggling can pull through , take care of yourself please, mental health matters as much as physical health!!

I'm not good at helping people with these kinds of things... or talking to people in general, but regardless, if anyone ever wants to talk, I'm here. ❤

BB isn't included because I didn't feel like writing him today.. sorry

DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND THE CUT IF YOU FEEL THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU!!!

L

It had only been a few weeks into your relationship when he figured it out.

L was very observant, he almost always knew what you'd needed before even you knew you needed it.

So it wasn't that surprising when he brought it up.

"Y/N, are you intentionally hurting yourself?" He asked quite bluntly.

"Yes... I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop" he nodded in understanding.

He had read some things on psychology back when he was living at the orphanage.

Though admittedly, he didn't exactly know how to best help you, but he'd make a good effort to learn.

He started by ensuring you were unable to access anything that you'd previously used to hurt yourself with, without supervision.

Then he looked into getting you into therapy

And of course, while all that happened, he'd listen to your issues and try his best to let you know he cared about you.

Mello

Mello only realized what was happening the first summer you spent together.

You had been unwilling to uncover the parts of your body where you were harming yourself.

He initially thought you were just stupid, walking around almost totally covered head to toe in California heat.

But when it finally dawned on him, he felt sort of guilty for not finding out sooner.

He took immediate and admittedly aggressive action.

He demanded you hand over what you were harming yourself with and that you "Get your ass in the car, I'm taking you to the hospital"

After he ensured you were safe and getting the help you needed, he softened up quite a bit

He made a promise to himself to make more time for the two of you and to help as best as he could.

You were going to get through this together, as always!

Near

Being as observant as L, he noticed almost immediately.

He'd even figured out what you'd been using without you needing to tell him.

So when he asked you to give it to him, you were quite shocked actually.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Seriously, Y/N, you know you can't get something like that past me" he said, concern clearly showing in his eyes.

"We're getting you help" he stated.

And as promised, he got you into a therapy program.

He also did whatever he, himself could do to help

Matt

As a former self harmer himself, he'd seen the signs.

He knew before you told him.

But when you did, he remained calm, he didn't make a huge deal out of it.

He simply asked if you were willing to get help.

He knew the road to recovery wasn't exactly easy, but he'd be there for you every step of the way.