#and i fucking HATE MYSELF and existing as a person in my physical body is horrific and awful

[finalgirlgretchen]

REALLY awful few days for me.

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[adolfusraptor1985]

Therian Vs. Trans (part 2)

"Transspecies is nothing like transgender!"

"Stop comparing being nonhuman to being trans!"

"It's wrong to equate your experience with transphobia!"

SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.

If you agree with any of these statements, I'm begging you, please do not interact with this post or my blog in general.

Seriously, I'm so tired of people telling me how to compare MY OWN experiences. I want to make it extremely clear to everyone that I myself am transgender. When I speak about my experiences I am not speaking for all trans people or all alterhuman people. I am only speaking for myself and what I personally go through. When I hear statements like the ones above, I feel as though I'm being told I am wrong or invalid for feeling what I feel.

I have bad dysphoria over being born both human and female. I believe with every bone in my body that I am neither human nor female. I don't identify at all with being human nor female, even though I was born that way, because deep down it feels wrong. I am outcast, hated on, and told I'm mentally ill by people for being both transgender and transspecies.

Don't tell me I can't fucking compare those two.

Every single aspect of my experiences with gender and species identity are near identical to one another. That's just how it is for me. Live with it. I'm not going to lie about my identity and how it feels just because it's different for other people. Again, I'm only speaking for myself here.

Just because I can't physically transition to become an animal doesn't mean that my transspecies experience is somehow radically different than being transgender. Besides, last time I checked, you don't have to transition to be trans. Don't get me wrong, "species affirming care" would be great for my dysphoria, but it's not something that needs to exist.

The point here is, just let me talk about my life how I live it. I can't change the fact that this is how things are for me. And I have the right to talk about what I go through just as much as the next person. My experience is my own, so quit telling me it's wrong.

Thank you.

-Mal

[wheezyseeker99]

So it goes, gorgeous

Warnings: teasing (and a little bit of angsty Cam), swearing, alcohol consumption ((I need to stop writing in drinking, I know)), thigh riding, oral (male receiving and slight female receiving), penetration (fm), and multiple orgasms

18+, MDNI

Summary: There’s a party at Cam’s place and fmc hates him, but she definitely loves him by the end of the night. Frenemies to lovers, but conflicting feelings win 🫶🏻 also thank Taylor again for making reputation album.

And happy girlfriends day to him

This party is getting far too out of hand. My friend Joel is dancing on top of a table shirtless, Tyson did a body shot off of Katie just now, and Jamie is trying to hide awkwardly in the corner. My head is spinning as I look around the nearly dark room.

Being friends with hockey players is weird. In the off season it’s even weirder. I spot Cam across the room, finishing up a round of beer pong with Ryan.

Cam’s place is nice, but everyone is drunk and making the main rooms of the house outrageously messy. Being over there with him seems like the safest place to be in this room honestly. Even though I barely tolerate his presence sober, Cam is the least drunk person in this room besides Jamie.

I make my way over to Cam and lean my back against the wall. He looks good like this. His hat is off, his shirt is partially unbuttoned where I can see the chain against his chest, and his shorts are showing off his muscular thighs. The thigh tattoos peaking out set my thoughts on fire. It makes me so frustrated how hot he is. How cocky he is. Most of the time his ego is double the size of Texas. Looking at his face this close, I’m furious that he makes me feel this way.

“Look who it is,” Cam sneers. “The queen has arrived in our presence.”

I roll my eyes and motion towards the table, “I want to play you next. Bet I can win, mister California.”

I cringe at the way I mildly slurred my speech. I probably shouldn’t do beer pong, especially because I dislike beer to the highest extent, but I want to prove to him that he can’t win everything. His ocean blue eyes bore a hole into me.

“Yeah, baby? Think you can ruin me?”

I walk over to Ryan and take the ping pong ball cup from him. Ryan walks over to Joel to try to get him off the table and I look back to Cam.

“I know I can ruin you.”

“Sweetheart, you only ruin my life by not being mine.”

I hate how my body shuddered at the thought. I hate how cool he thinks he is, but he’s also so damn gorgeous that it physically hurts. There’s going to be consequences of being in his strong magnetic field, but I’m not really caring about it now. The alcohol racing through my body is giving me a load of confidence.

“Sad existence for you then,” I smirk and toss the first ball into one of his cups.

His smirk falters but doesn’t disappear. He eyes me for a second, taking in my form. It’s like I distracted him. He tosses a ball and misses.

“Aw poor baby Cammy missed on his first try,” I mocked. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

I walked to his side of the table and grabbed a ball, placing it in his hand. I put my hand over his and tossed it at one of my cups, sinking it into one on the left side. I tossed back the cup and chugged the beer even though it tasted disgusting. I sat the cup down and smirked at him again.

“That’s how it’s done, pretty boy.”

I could feel eyes on us, but nobody interrupted the scene that was playing out. Cam definitely didn’t like the way I’m trying to embarrass him in front of his teammates.

“Fuck the chirping,” Cam grits out. “You and I are going to go have a chat.”

He stalks over to me and takes me by the arm. I barely knew what was going on as he dragged me up the stairs to his room. The door slams behind me and he looks at me with a fiery expression. I think I might drown and die, or even burst into flames, by how Cam is looking at me. I back myself against the door to put space between us. I’m a hostage to not only him, but to my feelings now. He runs his fingers through his hair, making it look sexily messy.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

I could feel my insides clench at his low tone. I try to hide the fact that my confidence died out. I kept my head up instead of giving into my natural urge to look down.

“It’s funny that you don’t know how to lose. Beer pong of all things makes you snap? That’s what’s funny.”

“Bullshit. You wanted to rile me up,” he states and steps forward. I press my back further against the door. I feel the heat radiating off his body. His expression changes. Instead of looking angry he looks like a hurt puppy.

“Tell me why you hate me so much.”

I feel the urge to lift a hand to his face, and before I realize it, I am. I cup his face and look into his eyes. I dropped my hand after a second when I caught onto what my body was doing. He got me alone, and now everything feels like it’s so simple when it shouldn’t be. Like the pieces all fell into place.

I should hate him, but I’m starting to understand that I don’t. I’m just too attracted to him, and I hated that I didn’t think I could have him. I’m caught up in him now. Completely consumed by his presence.

“I don’t hate you,” I breathe. “I really feel the opposite of hate. I promise.”

I’m waiting for him to reply when I feel his hands come to cup my cheeks. The connection of our eyes makes me want more.

”I’ll be honest, baby. You did a number on me.” I gave him a questionable look and he continues, “I thought I could stop it. I’m usually chill, but you make me jealous. Furious. Turned on. All the fucking feelings.”

He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest. I can feel his heart beating fast under my palm.

“You’ve got my heart if you want it, or we can forget this happened. It’s up to you.”

I’m shocked to say the least. He wants me? I’m getting caught up in the moment, and then I snap out of it.

I stand on my toes and connect my lips to his. The kiss is demanding and warm. My arms wrap around his neck, my chest pressed against his. I can’t ignore how the little scar on his upper lip feels against me. He doesn’t pull his mouth away from mine. He keeps going, tangling his hand into my hair to keep my mouth against his. I can taste the alcohol on his lips and it only makes me feel more intoxicated. When I pull my mouth away I whisper, “I’m yours to keep.”

Cam smiles down at me, taking in the moment. I take in his face. The little freckles that are placed everywhere on his skin. The way his lips are redder now that my lipstick transferred to them. His eyes are brighter now even though this room is darker than downstairs, and they crinkle in the corners when he smiles. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, matching his.

“Yeah?”

I nod and push my back off the door, taking Cam with me to the edge of his bed. He sits and pulls me to straddle his lap as I connect our lips together again. I moan into his mouth when I feel his bulge against my core.

I move so I’m straddling one of his thighs, grinding down against it as I start to unbutton his shirt. My hands press against his bare chest once I have it exposed to me. I disconnect our lips to pull the shirt off of him completely and kiss his jaw down his neck, biting at his collarbone.

“Baby,” Cam moans. “Yeah ride my thigh like that.”

I rut faster against him, scratching my nails down his back in the process. My clit is pulsing against my panties and I feel the wetness pooling inside them. I’ll probably have to throw them out after this. I bring my lips back to his and whimper at the contact. His hand tugs my head back, biting at my throat. Cam groans against my skin and he bucks his hips up to feel more friction. His hand comes down on my ass twice and I moan at the contact.

“So greedy. Making a mess on my thigh,” he bites out against my skin. His hand comes to my face, squeezing my cheeks together when I tried to turn my head away. “Look at me when you cum.”

My eyes meet his. I feel the pressure rising inside me. I rake a hand through his hair, holding on as a I reach my orgasm. I breath hard and I stare into his eyes until mine fall closed.

Gaining my composure, I slide to the floor on my knees in front of him. Cam’s hands stop mine from reaching the waistband of his shorts.

“You don’t have to, baby girl.”

I stay silent for a split second and quirk an eyebrow before continuing the path I set with my hands. I rub my palms against his muscular thighs, kissing each one of them as I gaze up at him. I can see the places my lips have been, all over his skin. My eyes reach the bulge in his shorts and tilt my head.

“You don’t think I want to take it?”

“When you look at me like that, I don’t know what to think,” he breathes.

“Then let me have the lead until you find your brain again,” I say and hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and underwear. Cam lifts his hips and I remove the clothing from his body. His length stands against his toned stomach. I took his shaft into my hand and smirked to myself when I hear a gasp leave his lips. I spread the precum from his tip all along his thick shaft and I look up at him expectantly as I pump him. He bites his bottom lip harshly to hold back his moans.

“Take off your dress. Don’t want it to be ruined by the time I’m done with you.”

I obeyed and took off my dress, tossing it to the floor, leaving me in just my panties. Cam eyed my breasts, but let me take his cock back into my hands without hesitating.

Cam’s hands clawed at the bedsheets when I took him into my mouth. I dragged my tongue up the side of his length before licking the tip. I suck him slow and he makes husky noises of approval from above me.

Cam lets out a strangled moan when he grabbed the back of my head to take more of him. I let him guide my mouth on him. I wanted him to use me like this. He fucked into my mouth, taking what he needed.

“Just like that. Taking me so good,” Cam groans out. “Not such a bratty bad girl when you have your mouth full.”

I have spit running down my chin as I take him deeper. I nearly gag but I force myself not to.

“Fuck, I can’t cum like this. Not the first time. Get up here baby.”

Cam takes his cock out of my mouth before grabbing my hands. He brings me to my feet just to force me down on his bed. My panties are ripped from my body while he’s looking me in the eye. He rubs my pussy, feeling the wetness and I laid my head back against the pillows.

“So gorgeous. Ready for me baby?”

I nod and whine, “yes.”

Cam rolls on a condom and spreads my legs. His cock prodded my entrance, and he slides his tip against my wet folds teasingly. He takes my legs and places them over his shoulders, kissing my knees in the process.

“Gonna take my time with you later. Right now I need to fucking feel you.”

He thrusts into me, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I toss my head back and moan as his speed increases. His lips come to my chest. He places kisses around my breasts before taking my nipple into his mouth. His hips snap into me. The only sounds in the room are our bodies meeting in every thrust and our moans.

“Please,” I cry out. “Use me Cam, please.”

“You want to be used?”

I hum in response. I need him to wreck me inside and out, but I won’t boost his ego more just yet. He thrusts into me harder. The expression on his face is determined, like he knows what I want without speaking it into existence.

“You want me to get off inside this gorgeous pussy?”

I nod and I feel the climax rise inside of me. Pleasure explodes through me. He nuzzles his face into my neck as his thrusts stutter. I scream out his name while my hips move up into him, taking what I can through my orgasm.

“Keep saying my name. Want everyone downstairs to know who’s making you feel like this.”

I moan his name again as I ride out my orgasm. I see stars, but he keeps moving into me. My legs are shaking and I’m gasping for air, feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Gonna cum baby,” he murmurs against my skin. He erupts while claiming my lips and I savor the taste of him. His hips falter when he cums, and he pulls out not long after to discard the condom. He kneels down in between my spread legs, placing a kiss on my clit. I moaned and squirmed as he licked me slowly.

“I can’t. Too sensitive Cam,” I grab onto his head and pull his face to mine. I kissed him like my life depended on it. My mind and body are so overwhelmed, but when I look at him, when I taste him, just want more. He pulled away and moved the hair away from my face.

“There’s nothing I hated more than what I couldn’t have,” he says before pecking my lips softly, “but now I have it. I have you.”

[babymorocco]

blood all over my supras

When I got cut and my hand was bleeding out all over the stage in New York, and my set was cut short, I realized I was just this character I had invented. When I started bleeding, it reminded me of who I am inside. Like, I could see my insides physically bleeding out. Someone gave me a dirty flannel. Another person said I should use body glue. I don’t think anyone really gave a shit, to be honest.

When we got to the hospital and I was waiting for stitches, the nurse told me if it had been two inches deeper, the cut would have hit an artery, and I could have possibly died. I laughed it off and, in that instant, thought it was funny. When I was released from the hospital, I had no money in my bank account, blood all over my Supra shoes and jeans, wandering around Brooklyn soaked in blood. I hated myself. I hated how this stupid fucking Babymorocco character had ruined my life, and that if I had died because I was being him—performing on a sad little table that barely held me up—it would have really ruined my life.

I don’t really care if anyone reads this. I don’t even know if I’m okay anymore. I don’t feel like myself, but then I really don’t know what myself feels like anyway, so I don’t even know.

I’m so far away from who I was, or am.

In music, you’re so absolutely there, especially as a solo act. I am the sole version of Babymorocco; I can’t change him out and replace him while still keeping an original member. Even writing this post is so full of "I, I, I. Me, me, me." I can’t stand it anymore.

And it seems like a lot of people—or maybe most people, I don’t know how many—can’t take it either. They always tell you it’s a good thing, that even negative attention is good. I get that if I’d said or done anything that warranted it, but I seem to make people angry just by existing, without even doing anything vaguely offensive. I’ve been generally inoffensive all my life. But maybe that’s the problem.

In my life, I’ve tried to chase happiness, to choose what would make me happiest, but those choices have somehow led me to this dire consequence, where I am right now.

I feel so deeply unhappy—not to make it some cliché 14-year-old gay boy reading Sylvia Plath, but I feel like there’s a bell jar over me, or something holding me down. It’s like the imposter syndrome is proven right. I feel like such an imposter everywhere I go. I’m always reminded to stay humble while people walk all over me. People who are supposed to be my peers openly disrespect me, and it does hurt. All I’ve ever wanted was to create a space where people can have fun, be fun, do fun shit.

When I can, I’ll give this all up. I don’t want it anymore.

This is such a long post. Me, me, me.

It helps me to write, but I don’t know if I want this anymore. Truly. My head is in two places.

I’m happy to do my next record because I love it. I’ve spent so much time on it, and I want it out. But I don’t know about after that.

[ultfreakme]

Nothing has ever embodied the utter disbelief and self-hatred I feel more than the Arcane S2E9 scene where Viktor pushes Jayce away after he gets to see how Jayce views him and loves him.

Personal story moment: About a month ago, I had sunk deep into self-loathing because of a diet/exercise program thing I was kind of forced to attend. I had many moments where I looked at my face and thought it pretty, or saw my hair & thought of my own intellect and told myself “I’m a catch”. But all of it felt like a paper-thin farce when I started hating myself for eating wrong, for feeling horribly achy and terrible for not doing the exercises right. For failing to do them well. Me in my tiny room, alone, with a dumbbell I couldn’t quite lift up without feeling like I was setting off some nerve-endings all along my arm. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. I hated myself for failing. All that faux confidence and momentary glimpses of ‘self-love’ fled from me and I was left sitting in the fact that staring at a fucking meal plan and counting calories was all it took to burn down any iota of like I had for myself. Not even love.

It went deep. I hated my existence. By that I mean I hated the fact that money and resources had to be spent so I can buy sustenance. I hated that I needed clothes. I hated that I needed to eat, to sleep, breathe. Everyday, I felt like a waste of space and dreamed of being folded up and put away on a shelf or storage somewhere until some use could be found for me.

Any time I felt interest in someone, my first reaction was never “Maybe I should try to get to know them”. It was always “you are not allowed to like someone, because look at you”. And my mind would flash a long list of all the ways in which I will never be attractive to anyone. Dating meant physical intimacy meant bodies—and my body could never be desired. It was a meat suit, an ugly, horrible, flawed, disgusting meat suit. It did not help that my mother kept telling me ways of fixing my atrocious meat suit into something more desirable. Shave, wax, lasers in your eyes the glasses are ugly, fix your teeth, fix your hair, wear this, don’t wear that, no more black, wear color be beautiful, smell like flowers and lotion.

If someone saw the thoughts I had in my head about myself, saw me for all my horrible traits and all my ugliness in all its truth and decided to love me? Thought it all a part of everything they loved about me??? I would be like Viktor too. Horrified. Because how COULD you??? It feels like an insult, a joke, a mockery, a farce. That can’t be possible. To be hated is my natural state of being, how could any say they LOVE this???

To see Viktor reckon with that, that he had someone who loves him so unconditionally and earnestly and sees all the ways in which he is beautiful broke my heart and made me feel seen.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 32

word count: 544

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

April 7, 1990

Dear Will,

I hate everything about my life right now. I especially hate that you still have a fucking chokehold on me after you literally ruined my life two weeks ago. That phone call between us destroyed every single cell of hope I had left in my body… or so I thought. Because here I am, alone on my birthday, getting drunk in my dorm room and writing a letter to you. And I’m a hundred percent certain this time around that you’ll never read it, because in your words, I’ve done enough. Whatever the fuck that even means. What exactly have I done enough of, for you to cut me off forever? Did I love you too much? Have I cried too often for your personal preference? Have I groveled for longer than acceptable? Did I wait too long to call you? Just tell me what I did wrong, Will!

I’m listing all these things out, and all I’m seeing is myself trying to restore our friendship and you just… not giving a shit. I hate you. That’s a lie. I love you. And yet, even though you’re already highly aware of this fact, you still don’t care whether I live or die. If I were a cat, I’d spend all nine of my lives waiting for you. Alas, I am not a cat. I am a mere mortal, with only one life to live. And I don’t even have the will or the Will to live anymore.

My life wasn’t supposed to go like this. I’m just going through the motions, hoping that every tomorrow will be the day that I’ll look up from my crouched position within the caves beneath the Misty Mountains and see My Precious gleaming in a minuscule sliver of sunlight. I just realized I compared myself to Gollum. I mean… it’s kind of hilarious. If I’m Gollum, then you’re the One Ring.

The way I look currently makes Gollum appear to be the picture of health. I don’t sleep much anymore (unless I drink or smoke weed beforehand), so my under-eye bags are more like under-eye duffels. I don’t really eat much either, on account of being sick and hungover all the time, so I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. And somehow, despite all of my physical flaws, Elvis still likes to fuck me. Yeah… so that wasn’t a one-time thing. He and I have been having sex for months. I still try to picture you whenever I hook up with him, but it just ends up making me feel even more depressed.

I think the universe is out to end my life before it’s even begun. Whooo, this tequila is strong. Why is it that people under the influence always somehow end up thinking about the universe? It’s like drugs and alcohol serve as the wrecking ball that breaks the barrier between the material plane and the rest of existence. I’d love to see what you could paint with that concept in mind. I bet it would be absolutely beautiful. But if the universe is gonna end up being the one responsible for ending my life, then what the fuck does that make you and I? Hell if I know.

Love,

Mike

previous letter | next letter

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[emma-dennehy-presents]

Subjected myself to the Netflix Death Note movie for the first time, while I'm hyperfixating on the series again. Willem Dafoe voicing Ryuk is one of the only things I think I particularly care for. That doesn't mean I like DN'17 Ryuk (the Faustian bargain feels so weak when it feels like he's forcing it), just Dafoe voicing him. Similar feeling about L. I stan Lawliet, love LaKeith Stanfeild, doesn't mean i like the movie character. As for the rest:

-why is Sachiko fridged?

-where is Sayu?

-WTF is Soichiro's deal?

-what was wrong with heart attacks?

-why do they get rid of ppl touching the notebook seeing the shinigami?

-why is supposedly 4d level chess Light dumb enough to show Psuedo-Misa the notebook just because he's a lil thirsty?

-WTF is Psuedo-Misa's deal?

-Kira means literally none of the things Light says. Celtic is also not a language.

-the jingoism behind Light's international kills

-totally not surprised US LEO were big Kira fans from the jump

-what did the sex workers in the club slaughter scene do wrong, other than be sex workers?

-wtf is up with ninja L asking Watari to sing Wizard of Oz karaoke to him?

-the Raye Penber incident carries so much less weight

-fuck yea Phantasm

-I appreciate Light retaining some humanity, with the concern for his dad

-L's case feels so much weaker in this

-The OG rules were fun and compelling, the movie ones aren't

-emotional L crushes so much of my personal relation to the character

-i don't like ghost town Whammy's House. Assuming The Rochester in Rochester House means Rochester NY (judging from L reaching the NY field office), nothing even close exists. I grew up in the area and went in a lot of vacants. We would have found that.

-whats with the Bladerunner guns?

- L did NOT need to shove diner guy's face into his plate to parkour around

- L using a page? No.

-i hate it. I Hate It. I HATE IT.

About as seething as I expected, so can't exactly say disappointed. I'd rather rewatch DB Evolution, though. I assume all of these are very cold takes, but my body physically recoiled in reaction to exposure to this souless monstrosity. I know a lot of ppl hate on the '06 live action movies, but I'm so happy to be moving on to them.

[biconicfinn]

i think thin people and to some extent even midsize people will never understand the agony that living as a fat person is sometimes like. all my horrendous experiences in childhood and up to now from other people and society in general to now aside i just suddenly thought of the way i myself treat myself.

without even discussing long term things and the way i treat my body or perceive it day to day; i just want to focus on one specific thing that just suddenly came back to me.

last year i went to ballroom dancing classes for the first half of the year and during that time i started catching feelings for my dance partner whom i met at this class (shit didn’t work out because of reasons but that’s not relevant) and even when we were in ballroom hold, and part of me thrilled to feel his left hand holding my right, my left on his arm, and his right on my shoulder blade, loved being twirled around and swept across a room together and the laughter and banter we shared, not to mention the chemistry we had with each other on and off the dance floor. but my fucking god every week for two hours i would be wrecked inside praying that my belly wouldn’t brush up against him, when we pressed close together what should have been the fun of a crush and physical contact with someone i liked i feared he would feel revolted every time my disgusting fat body had the audacity to brush up against his leaner stronger body. the shame i would feel every time and i would immediately apologise and he would always be like don’t worry about it it’s not a problem and looking back he probably didn’t give a shit at all but fuck if it didn’t eat me up inside every week for months.

and the worst part is?? i would never entertain having these thoughts about anyone else but when it’s my ass in the line of fire??? anything fucking goes let’s hate this fat body you have lived in most of your life it’s fine!!!

and this is just one incident in one period of my life. imagine how much more i am not telling you. you have no idea what it feels like to be me in my head in my body existing in this space. so don’t fucking dare tell me fatphobia isn’t real. it is and fuck it hurts me every single day.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

13, 14, 15. Logico Reads Books

Nothing is more fun than writing about someone reading a book :) So I crammed all these into the same episode

Welpeppslpepl

This is Philosopher Bone, the complete menace who has a design now and I regret drawing him :') Without his shades his eyes are always on fire and his lower jaw detaches when he speaks - I need to get myself together

For these episodes I mean... a couple of these characters have designs (well, Pine does) but I kinda wanna wait until she makes her physical debut cuz she's not really in this episode?? Maroon and Eminence don't have designs yet but again I feel like they should be introduced when they actually exist. And also I don't think Obsidian's pirate OCs actually need designs so I'mma just leave them out rip.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

13 The Killing of a Cowboy

Logico reads an Obsidian book, ‘The Killing of a Cowboy’. It has caricature versions of Raspberry and Coffee. And also Judge Pine, which is kind of weird, since she IS a real person, but hasn’t debuted yet. The book is about stabbin’ knives and stuff. Someone had scribbled spoilers furiously on the pages.

LOGICO: OH COME ON! VANDALISM? SPOILERING? YOU INCESSANT FREAK, I’LL GET YOU! 

Logi reads five more pages of the book and immediately knows the ending.

LOGICO: Incredibly stupid. Why did I ever admire this author?

14 A Very Proper Murder

Logico is very excited about the next book because it’s British. Again, the characters are real people, there’s Grey there, and also Baron Maroon and Viscount Eminence, who again, exist, but haven’t debuted. Also in this AU, Lavender was murdered. Obsidian must hate him, lol. Logi finds more spoilers written in permanent ink on the pages.

LOGICO: You fucking bastard.

Logico can’t solve the mystery and yells to himself in anger in the bookshop, attracting the attention of many. He only figures out whodunit after it’s already revealed.

LOGICO: Damn you, you beautiful Obsidian!! THIS is why I loved your works so!!!

15 The Perplexing Problem of the Parrot

Logico finds that the next book is about pirates, which is pretty stupid in his opinion. But Obsidian finally made some OCs, called Blackbeard, Bluebeard, and Nobeard. In this one, a parrot was murdered.

LOGICO: Oh man, whoever crossed Blackbeard is in trouble!

People are not fond of his loud commentary in the bookshop. Of course, there’s more vandalism in the book that he tries to ignore, but he reaches the end and figures out that Blackbeard shot his own parrot, and was unconscious of it. Logico falls to his knees and cries, because what an insanely emotional ending. But then he sees at the back of the book it says ‘If my body ever disappears, contact my agent!’

That probably wasn't the same vandalism person!!!!!!!!

Especially since it's literally signed "D.O."

The end!

Phew got that over with! Now the next one can still be an actual episode. I need more Short King and less of Obsidian's AU

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[pots-plus-pans]

sometimes it just sinks in that i will never feel normal

not physically

not mentally

i’ve never felt normal mentally and i didn’t appreciate the normal of my body when i had it

so this is your reminder that it’s okay to grieve a “normal you” even if you’ve never experienced “normal”

i am grieving my old self and a version of myself that never existed tonight.

i’ve been diagnosed with my illnesses since i was 16 and my mental illnesses since i was 7, i wouldn’t be the person i am today without them but it fucking sucks and it’s okay to say that it sucks

grieving does not mean hating your current self/body, it’s all a part of living

[multitrackdrifting]

As a formerly very majorly suicidal fella who went through an extensive (and long-winded) recovery process, all I can really say is that the dumbest thought you can internalize is that somenoe's kindness or good wishes is a platitude. Most people try to show support in any way that they can and realistically most people just have no fucking clue how to do anything but their best to be there, our lives are all fundamentally complicated in ways that we have finite control over but at least people try.

Yeah it's a platitude because you have to wish on a star to keep the flame burning long enough to see the improbable manifest into reality and that doesn't come about by bulldozing out any sense of community or kindness towards oneself. "This person is trying to be there for me, I hate them for doing that. It's so fake lol" - guy who is definitely thinking clearly. You know what part of you wants that bitter feeling to be true? The part that is self-destructively burning every good part of your life that does exist, it wants you to be alone, to wallow in that feeling and to be awful enough that you can explain why you're alone, your ability to transform that dread and bitter feeling into a just reason to isolate yourself but no that couldn't possibly be the case, I'm very self-aware and critical of things, there's no way my ability to process information has been majorly hijacked by very legitimate, life-threatening mental illness that is slowly chipping away at the structure holding everything together. Healing is not a matter of willpower but it's an excruciating process. It takes an extensive amount of actually uprooting the extremely toxic thinking patterns that can be controlled, even if there's so much that can't. I'm just lucky I was stubborn enough to put myself through the gruelling process, of rebuilding relationships, and even leaving the house, going to therapy, when my body used to be in a lot of physical pain from how dreadful I felt all the time. These days I do not remember that feeling all that well, because it's really far removed from my reality even though I lived longer with being massively depressed than without it. Finding even the tiniest sense of community can go a long way to helping you heal, but you can only really maintain that kind of dynamic if you aren't actively sabotaging yourself at every turn yk

[peachsayshi]

Can we just agree that’s absolutely never okay to comment about somebody’s weight ever?

And with such a fucked distorted view on how bodies are? According to society I have an “ideal” shape. I have a small waist. Flat tummy. But I am an hourglass. Do people expect me to look pre-pubescent? Like I am not supposed to have tits or an ass?

Like wtf?! Are women just never good enough for you all?

Can’t we just fucking exist ??

I am going to start responding with. “when you last saw me I would starve myself and work out twice a day - and now you’re seeing me with a little post-depression weight gain but I am doing much better mentally, thank you for asking!”

I gained 5 kgs/11 lbs. Thats it. My hips are a bit rounder, my boobs a bit bigger, my tummy isn’t shredded like it used to be - but at least I am not thinking about how much how I hate myself or my life anymore. At least I am finding my joy again.

I’ve been thinking about losing some of it for my own comfort - but not at the expense of my physical or mental health. I’m a bit older now too, so it doesn’t just come off as fast - but for the first time in my life, my body doesn’t control me. I am literally just existing and that’s really big for me.

Note: I don’t think there is anything wrong with fat bodies. Bodies are beautiful regardless. I’m a big supporter of all body types, shapes, sizes - because if it carries you through this big & scary world - it’s quite marvelous tbh. But it’s the connotation of how that person pointed it out, like they wanted me to sweat over the word “fat” when really I am more offended by their audacity. They didn’t even greet me with a hello first! Like damn -.-

[babyspacebatclone]

To people who say “Autism isn’t a disability”:

I experience both Panic Attacks and Meltdowns.

The Meltdowns hurt me more.

(cut because descriptions of my experiences involves the trigger warning of “self-harm”)

You can enter one innocent input into my mental computer - one simple statement, usually - and depending on eldritch chemistry completely devoid of societal influence, my brain can freeze up because it has decided this fact or sensation is wrong, error, evil, destroy, flay my own body because the gears of my brain have fused solid and apparently opening myself up through my skin is the only recourse.

Yes, it’s worse when I’m stressed, when the environment I live in doesn’t accommodate me.

But I’m 43 years old. I work full time, live by myself, and few neurotypicals peg me as “broken” when seeing me in a professional setting.

And still, still, existing on probably the lowest support needs required….

The way my brain interprets and processes information forces me into mental situations I hate at the least, and harm me at the medium.

It’s taken me multiple years to separate out the Meltdowns and Autistic fixations from the Depression, Anxiety, and yes Trauma.

And I’ve learned how to navigate all of those, outside the Panic Attacks (in progress).

And the Meltdowns scare me more.

My brain hurts me, because sometimes it refuses to accept information my mind logically recognizes is no where near that devastating.

And that’s the worst thing Autism does to me, personally.

(Edit: I meant to say “This horrible thing for me is all I’m experiencing - I know other people experience that and more because of Autism. My experiences is the minimum of the disability, and it’s a disability; other people definitely deserve to be supported and acknowledged for dealing with worse, and dismissing that for your own ego is disgusting.”)

Autism is a disability because what my own physical brain and thought processes does is debilitating when triggered, like an allergy attack.

Yes, I love 80% of what my Autism gives me, and I would not sacrifice that 80% to take away the 20%, because unlike my Depression or Anxiety taking both groups away would mean I’m no longer me.

But don’t fuck around and say Autism is “only an impairment because society can’t handle us.”

Living alone in a light house with books and drop shipments of safe food, and I’d still want to gouge out my skin on occasion because my brain is Red Ring of Deathing me because someone somewhere is thinking bad thoughts about my blorbo.

[isakvaltersnake]

first watch was for me, now second watch for THOUGHTS

Act 1:

obsessed with the way they turn into each other when the cake is coming down slash how Henry slips into Alex when getting up

zahra is so hot my goD I want her to top me

Henry showing off in his fuck boy raybans and fancy vintage car YOU WANT HIM TO WANT YOU SO BAD ITS EMBARRASSING

Henry’s soul leaving his body at “Vicky 👊”

Henry being turnt by the way alex smells

Henry’s “I need to get out of here” upon first meeting alex and deeply understanding that this beautiful boy could ruin the charred remains of his heart if he let him

Henry IMPOSSIBLY AND HOPELESSLY CHARMED

straight up FUCK miguel

Henry using bitmojis is how you really textually understand he has like 1 friend

Henry is so bad at dancing oh baby you would’ve been laughed out of a middle school gym with those moves

why am I mad that everyone got low at the wrong part of the song

ALEX WANTS TO LOOK COOL IN THE RED ROOM SO BAD ITS EMBARASSING

THE LOOK WHEN HENRY LEAVES ALEXS ROOM FUUUUUUUUCKING HELL

Act 2:

the fucking polo scene. Alex so horned up, Henry so sweaty. chefs kiss

henry infinitely smoother than alex wow

only momentarily AND ALEX TOOK THAT AS A CHALLENGE

Henry playing with that fucking ring like it’s a noose around his neck

ALEX FFS ACT LIKE YOU'VE BEEN SOMEWHERE BEFORE

this sex scene actually just being a clean demonstration of two people who fill each other with so much comfort and peace engaging in a physical act of love wowwww they invented romance wtf

I do love this alex in texas side quest seeing as there wasn’t time for the book storyline

SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT WHEN WE’RE APART YOUR BODY COMES BACK TO ME IN MY DREAMS

giggling during sex is peak romance these nerds are IN LOVE

HE SAID NO SO FAST THESE NERDS ARE IN LOOOOOVE

“look at us now” and the way I yelled DIVORCED OSCAR?!

“it won’t even matter if anyone sees us” the way you could see henrys heart shatter in real time jesus

i felt myself getting too close and i didn't want to break his heart. henry, my love, baby girl, boo boo the fool.

Act 3:

BECAUSE IT COSTS YOU NOTHING. No Henry in fact this is costing me everything. Kwjakasnsnkanskamskkaksjmsbwkkss

I will not trade one prison for another SORRY THE ANGST GIRLIES ARE EATINGGGG

sorry but if the love of my life ever danced with me in a low lit museum and told me he would try to be brave for us I would simply cease to exist

low key lmao and well done @ Alex’s grip on Henry in bed cause the last time they slept together Henry snuck out in the middle of the night and ghosted him for a week straight

ngl I hate that they didn’t even get a phone call before the speech

ok so i didn't get america he is my choice but i did get i fell in love with a person who happens to be a man and that man happens to be a prince

baby he says like I haven’t been waiting like an hour and a half to hear it

Alex watching Henry play piano oh honey he is never beating the competency kink allegations

stephen fry Alex already admitted it what’s your endgame my dude

Henry leaning back to talk back to his gramps like he was going into sport mode was v sexy actually

THE FINGER TOUCHES

straight up Rachel Maddow with more lines that pez, she should’ve had her own promo

Henry with the hand hold/hand in the crook of alex’s arm combo was so baby girl of him I couldn’t be prouder

they traded the key and the ring back cause it was only til they could have all of each other again and now they can pls kill me this is the end

do you think anyone noticed? I hate him so much omfg

[found-wings]

"is this what you wanted" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*ahem*

yes

anyway-

it is okay I do the exact same thing of reading something that makes the brainrot go crazy and have to do a walk around my room just to compose myself before continuing to read 😭😭

BUT OH MY GOD DUDE THE ACTUAL PHYSICAL RECOIL I HAD THE VISCERAL REACTION I GAVE WHEN REALIZING YOU ADDED HIM GETTING TAKEN MULTILPLE TIMES TO THE POINT WHERE HE CAN BARELY REMEMBER???? ADDING IN THAT THE FEDERATIOND TESTS AND EXPERIMENTS KEEP GARNERING WORSE AND WORSE RESULTS IN THEIR EYES TO THE POINT WHERE HE NEEDS THAT MUCH 'FIXING' OW THE FUCKING PAIN ESPECIALLY FOR AN ANARCHIST CHARACTER TO BE STRIPPED OF THAT SPIRIT and the memory manipulation mwah in character for the federation

also the specific feeling of fighting feeling wrong to his very core is so special to me bc it feeling wrong to him is so different then if he had been forced to dislike fighting which is VERYYYYY SEPERATE HERE ‼️‼️ they def fucked him up with various torture methods within their experiments and made sure to wipe it from his mind so he can't remember what specific events occurred in the buildings- but can still feel the lingering effects of their training to give him a negative association with combat. especiallyyyyyy with the detail of his hands shaking when he thinks about using a weapon, I wouldn't be surprised if at his return, his hands would be more crooked and seem a bit out of place at a closer glance from the federations training tactics.

and the way I could genuinely feel my heart Drop when he refused a sparring session- not just bc of phils side of the angst hammer here, but from the idea of etoiles witnessing firsthand how no matter how strong the spirit is, the federation will break past it and leave hollow souls in its wake. how he tried so hard to make sure his friend could stay positive and resilient despite the world being out to hurt him and it still wasn't enough. phil is home safe and sound but a part of him had died in those horrific white buildings at the hands of that damn bear. but etoiles will be dammed if he doesn't find that spirit and shove one of his dozens of death totems towards it and makes sure they get given a second chance because letting the federation win like this will never be an option in his eyes. honorable battles is such a big part of his character in canon so to rip that from someone so close to him would be absolutely disgusting to him and he'd keep fighting not only for himself but for phil too, because he needs to leave this island knowing that his enemies will have been rightfully punished for everything they've done to hurt people. good people.

and also MY NON-EXISTENT THERAPIST WILL KNOW YOUR NAME FROM THAT LAST LINE YOU ADDED HOLY FUCK I WAS LOOKING FOR ANGST NOT A BULLET TRAIN SENT DIRECTLY TO MY HOUSE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ - 💿

ME WHEN, I AM SO RAAAAAH, I HAD TO STOP MULTIPLE TIMES WHILE WRITING THAT AND JUST, HEAD IN HANDS

I absolutely love the specific feeling of fighting feeling wrong. Because Phil doesn‘t dislike it even if someone tried to make him hate it - he adores fighting and sparring, being able to move almost like water because he‘s decently lightweighted considering he‘s an Avian and it makes his movements feel so free. He finds fun and enjoyment in it, it helps him clear his mind and relax even, but after the consistent ‘fixing‘ he had to endure it just feels wrong.

And Phil doesn‘t even know why.

It doesn‘t make sense to him because he can‘t fully remember anything bad happening anymore, but his body remembers. It remembers everything, each and every ‘fixing‘ he had to go through, even if his mind doesn‘t.

Gods, just imagine witnessing the Person, your friend that you looked up to and admired and respected in the same way they did you, just.. break. Be broken into someone you can‘t recognise anymore.

ALSO THE WAY YOU TALK ABOUT ETOILES REFUSING TO GIVE UP PHIL AND INSTEAD KEEP FIGHTING FOR HIM TOO AND AND-, AAAA, WHAT‘S YOUR NON-EXISTENT THERAPISTS NUMBER, BECAUSE I‘LL NEED ONE IF I GO BACK TO ANGST, WHEEZE

Anyways— IQVD

All of this just makes me think about possibilities of actually finding that fighting spirit again, with Etoiles taking slow and little steps with Phil. He can‘t push Phil even further behind, he knows that he has to take it slow and careful because of the messed up shit the Federation has done to him. And sure it won‘t be the same, it never will be, not with the damage the Feds have caused at this point, but it can still come back in new ways.

Maybe the first steps start with Phil watching Etoiles fight again. Friendly fighting and cheering, making sure the island is safe by getting rid of mobs around. Phil flinches more than he likes at first, but it‘ll be fine. It always ends up fine, it has to be.

Eventually Phil maybe starts trying to cook again, smiling gently as he makes something to snack on for himself and maybe Etoiles. It takes some time, but eventually Phil can hold a knife without recoiling into himself too much.

Eventually they start with sticks, watching Phils expression twist into some mix of being offended and yet uncertain at the same time. If a mere stick was going to make him this nervous, they had a long road ahead.

Just imagine Phils hands still shaking more than he wants to, it frustrates him because he doesn‘t understand, he doesn‘t! And yet Etoiles does, guiding him through that frustration as they eventually and finally start their sparring sessions again.

The first attempt lasts barely a few seconds before Phil panics, each attempt slowly but surely increasing in time the more they try.

Maybe it‘ll take a while for Phil to return back to his used to be spirit & confidence in himself and until they get there, Etoiles doesn‘t mind being Phils shield again.

Etoiles has seen Phil break like he’s nothing but an egg and he‘ll be damned if he doesn’t help him heal those cracks again.