#and i know that feeling like this is easy when i'm not in school and only working part time

[boomstab-papa]

Hi tumblr, middle-aged bitch here, reblogging to confirm the stuff on this post. (TW for discussion of eating disorders and suicidal ideation)

Personally, I've never been tiny or thin. Trim and muscular, maybe, but never tiny. My lowest weight happened during high school, after WEEKS of being SUPER FUCKING SICK.

See, when you're sick, your body needs nutrients that are easy to break down and absorb. But digestion is hard work. So instead of dutifully digesting the food you eat while you're sick, it starts eating ITSELF. Especially your muscles. I lost a significant chunk of weight while I was sick (and couldn't lift as much afterwards) because MY BODY ATE MY MUSCLES.

"Fun" fact: if you severely starve yourself, your body really will start digesting your other organs, not just your muscles. I know somebody who was on a starvation diet due to being a broke college student, and his body straight up ate his tonsils. They're gone. He never had them surgically removed. His body just ATE THEM.

It is NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to starve yourself try to make some of your fat disappear. Your body eats itself, not "just your fat".

It is additionally NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to be regularly, debilitatingly hungry.

Like, I get it, most of us are not the shape we were when we were younger. Maybe you feel like this is a bad trend. But this trend is true of most animals as they age. The teenagers are stringbeans, the mature adults are chonkier. Quit fetishizing youth. Quit fetishizing thinness. Get used to being old and chonky. Get used to telling people to "fuck off" if they think being older and fatter is bad. Furthermore, GET USED TO EATING ENOUGH.

Again, my experience here, I spent almost 20 years trying to stay "trim" like I was in high school and eating the tiniest lunches. I even cut that lunch into two smaller lunch breaks at work, trying to spend less continuous time hungry. But fuck, I was still hungry. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Confused. Tired. Shitty focus. MISERABLE. My work suffered, my mood suffered, and I literally wanted to die.

(Also I was overeating in the evenings, to the point of discomfort. I wasn't eating enough and my body was MAD.)

Somewhere in the last couple years, I decided "FUCK THAT SHIT".

Now I eat a lunch that's big enough to keep me from getting lightheaded until it's time for dinner anyway. I don't make myself uncomfortable with too much food in the evenings. I'm not spending most of my day half-fainting or mondo bloated. I'm also on three different medications that all warn that they might "cause weight gain".

And I'm fat now. I'm fine with that. I feel better than ever.

TL;DR go read the original post again:

"If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat."

Diet companies won’t tell you this but starving yourself is a lot worse for your health than overeating

This post is explicitly about being ok with being fat. If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat.

[osakhee]

rival attorney!wonbin x rival attorney!reader

the trial has been going on for hours. long hours. your formal attorney outfit is starting to feel tight, your skin feeling itchy each time you stood up to object from your shirt brushing against it. you speak with confidence, ignoring the panicked look growing on your client's face. yet each of your arguments meet a wall, the defendant's attorney knowing how to play his cards very well.

on the other side of the courtroom is park wonbin. even though he is young and recently out of law school, his name is often mentioned as one of the best attorney of his generation. wonbin has accepted only a few contracts, but won all of his trials, the admiration around him growing like crazy.

and currently, wonbin is looking right at you from the defendant's desk, his eyes piercing through yours with a cold gaze. yet there is something about the annoying smirk on his face that makes your blood run hot each time you glance at him. you look down at your papers, your notes and proofs while the judge talks to the defendant. you need to focus on getting your client out of the fraud he is accused of.

the wooden hammer hitting the slate makes you jump and put your papers down. since the trial started, earlier in the morning, wonbin and you have been fighting each other and throwing words like knives. yet none of you is ready to let go. and you would never give the chance to wonbin to see a little weakness, a little crack in your confidence that would make his eyes tingle and the smirk on his face grow.

"are you not going to give up?"

you meet wonbin's eyes again. behind his black hair falling in front of his forehead, his dark and playful pupils are fixated on you. for wonbin, everything seems so easy, but he has to admit you're fighting really well. the loud noise of the hammer on the wooden slate breaks the silence.

"mr park, that's enough."

the judge's words only make wonbin chuckles. he watches as you stand up, going through your notes and exposing more facts to the judges.

"your honor, i wanted to point out the fact that my client is a victim, he was manipulated into using that money-"

"you already mentioned that pretty"

you throw a glare at wonbin. he is standing, his arms crossed on his chest, barely listening to the judge asking him to keep quiet. you feel a wave of panic take over, yet you can't give up. you believe deeply that wonbin is only using intimidation -and probably his pretty eyes- to make people lose their composure.

the judge takes a deep breath, and invites you to sit back down to your desk.

"we'll be taking a thirty minutes break. the court needs to discuss the situation. we'll either take our decision today, or we'll have to schedule another trial. thank you."

the first break in hours. you get out of the courtroom to head towards the bathroom, you really need to wash your face and feel cold water slow down the flow of your blood. it would be a shame to meet wonbin on the way, in the silent corridors of the courthouse.

you walk out of the bathroom, adjusting the sleeves of your white shirt when you are met with a tall figure. wonbin stands in front of you, hands in his pockets, his formal black vest opened and his tie loosened. the smile on his face makes the blood rush back into your veins.

"taking a break pretty?"

"i don't want to talk to you unless we are in the courtroom."

he is getting on your nerves. you walk past him, not looking at him and ignoring the burning gaze you can feel on your back. but wonbin is not done with you yet. he catches your shoulder in his hand and squeezes gently, lowering his head to match your height until you meet his eyes.

"why are you trying so hard when you know you don't have a chance, hm?"

you dont reply, and wonbin clicks his tongue. not taking your silence for an answer, his grip on your shoulder tighten until you look at him.

"listen, i'm tired, you're tired, and we have twenty minutes. let's get rid of this trial with a little challenge."

"and what's on your mind?"

wonbin smiles. he walks down the corridor and you follow him. you don't even know why you're following him, you should be with your client, choosing your next arguments, telling him what to say-

"get in."

wonbin's voice stops the track of your thoughts. the door opened in front of you reveals an empty courtroom, the light dimmed by the heavy red curtains covering the windows. once you're inside, the wooden door closes with a muffle thud, woobin safely locking it behind him. the afternoon glow of the sun barely makes it inside, but it's enough for you to see wonbin under a different light. it makes his hair shiny, his eyes glittery and his lips look more glossy than before. you sit down on the defendant desk, the wood creaking under you. wonbin walks up to you, his fingers playing with his tie until he takes the knot off, letting the black tissue rest on his shoulders.

"i was thinking... we could make a little bet together."

"... go on"

"we can fuck for the trial. if i cum first, you can have your way. but if you cum first, you have to tell the judge you're giving up on the trial."

"what if i say no?"

"oh. well. you'll have regrets i guess."

"... okay, bet. but you stand no chance."

it is all wonbin needed to hear. he gets closer, his face in front of yours, his breath hovering your lips. he wastes no time, his hand grabbing your neck to drag you closer to him until his lips crash on yours. he is rough and impatient, moving harshly his mouth against yours to have his tongue make his way inside. his body presses against your chest, finding naturally his place between your legs, his other hand resting on the desk you're sitting on. when you finally opens your mouth to take a breath, wonbin slides his tongue in, asserting dominance enough to make you whine. your fingers find their way into his hair, and you hold onto it to keep yourself in touch with reality, tugging himself closer to you.

wonbin leaves your lips to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, biting your skin on his way. it makes a moan grow into your throat that finally gets out when wonbin grabs your waist and draw your hips closer to his. he lets out a laugh, rocking the bulge in his pants against the burning heat of your core.

"i prefer when you're moaning instead of talking. far more interesting."

time is ticking, and wonbin knows it. not much time for foreplay, to his own despair. he drags you down the desk, switching your position to bend you down on the wooden surface. you rest on your hands, looking back at wonbin opening his pants in a hurry. he lowers it just enough to palm himself through his gray underwear, precum making a spot grow larger at each move of his hand. he leaves the throbbing tent alone, gripping your waist into one of his hand. his palm going over your clothed ass, down your thighs to finally lift the grey formal skirt you are wearing. wonbin licks his lips looking at your panties slowly getting wetter, his fingers easily finding their way to your core to tease you over the soft fabric.

the way his nails graze sensitive points makes you squirm on the desk, each whiny breath sounding a little more like a plea for him go further. your panties are quickly pushed to the side, wonbin's fingers rubbing your folds in a slow pace before pushing them inside of you. he takes your loud moan as a positive response, his hand setting a quick pace into your heat. your voice echoes in the empty room, mixed with wonbin's low groans while he pushes his free hand down his underwear, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with ease.

he abandons his painful cock to grab his tie that was resting on his shoulder, his hand stilling deep inside of you. he presses his chest against your back, stuffing the black fabric into your mouth.

"you wouldn't want the judge song eunseok to know what we're doing, would you pretty?"

you whine into the tissue when wonbin takes his fingers out of you, watching in awe your arousal dripping down his hand. he messily lowers his underwear to free his dick, standing proud and red, precums beading at the tip and begging for attention. your skirt up your ass, wonbin grabs your flesh while giving his cock a few pumps.

"you can't win against me."

your panties are dragged to the side again, and wonbin rubs his tip against your burning folds, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. just the feeling of the heat radiating from you is enough to have him in pure bliss. he doesn't want to waste a second and pushes the head of his cock inside of you, the tightness of your core making him throw his head back, hissing between his teeth at the feeling. he rolls slowly his hips into yours, pushing much deeper inside your folds. wonbin curses in his breath when his eyes stare down at where you're both connected, grabbing the skin of your ass desperately.

his thrusts are needy, messy, yet powerful, enough to make you see stars each time his dick get deeper inside of you. your hands claw weakly at the desk to find stability, the black clothe in your mouth is wet from the drool building up. each of your breaths turn into a cry, a moan that sounds like music to wonbin's ears. he can't barely keep control, the pleasure building too fast inside his stomach, making his hips stutters against yours.

the wood creaks under your body, each of wonbin's precise thrusts makes the desk move. the sound of your muffled moans barely covers his own whines. his eyes are closed, his head thrown back, his hand in his hair. he's keeping himself concentrated on only one thing : making you cum before he does. and his sensitive body is already on the verge of giving up, the way your walls are tight and warm around him, the curve of your back arching with his moves, the break in your voice crying out his name when he hits that spot so deep inside of you... everything is made to have him lose that bet.

the said bet is far lost into your thoughts. your mind feels mushy and foggy, you can only concentrate on the taste of the tissue in your mouth, the wet sound of wonbin's dick easily slipping in and out of you and the burning sensation between your thighs. its growing stronger and fast, too fast. your legs starts shaking, a breathless chuckle coming out of wonbin at the sight. he grabs your thigh in his hands, squeezing the flesh and feeling your walls tighten around him.

"just like that pretty... trying to make me lose so hard hm?"

his voice is almost enough to send you over the edge. wonbin slows his pace, grinding ever so slowly his hips to reach as deep as he can inside of you, pressing his body impossibly closer to yours. he grips your waist to keep you in place, pushing his dick further inside. the feeling of his tip rubbing against the same spot over and over again is so overwhelming. you can't fight the sudden rush of heat that courses your body, your orgasm hitting you like never before. the pleasure makes you breathless, your mouth opening in a silent moan and your eyes closed shut.

seeing the pleasure break your body apart is enough for wonbin to reach his peak, rutting against you until the tension in his lower stomach breaks. his load erupts from his cock, flooding your insides, wonbin weakly moving his hips to make sure he's emptying himself completely. he presses his hand on your back before pulling out, watching as the thick milky liquid drip from your core and hit the wooden floor.

the metal sound of wonbin's belt tickling brings you back to reality. you feel his hand press into your sensitive heat over your fully soaked panties, just to make sure his cum is safely stuffed inside of you. you dizzily stand up, and turn around to look at him, resting against the desk for stability. his black hair is messy and some strands are stuck to his forehead, his skin glows under the dim light. wonbin neatly tucks his shirt back inside his pants, extending his opened hand in front of you. you look away and put down the wet cloth of his tie that he just hides in his pocket with a smile. you arrange your skirt down your thighs and button up your white shirt all the way up. wonbin has a cheeky smile on his face, his eyes shining with the only valid tingle : the tingle of a winner.

"loser."

"shut up."

you start walking away from the desk to reach the door. you have no idea how much time has passed but you probably don't have long before the judges sit back into the courtroom and have the trial start again. you think about the bet, the stupid bet. now you're going to make wonbin even more famous than he already is. you unlock the door and feel an arm around your shoulder and wonbin's lips press against your ear in a whisper.

"i can't wait to see you stand up with my cum dripping down you thighs when you tell the judge that you're giving up on the trial."

🪄

first work yippie :3 forever thanks to @melobin for giving me the strength to write again THIS IS ALL FOR YOU LUV 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hello. I know I've sent in messages before but very very rarely. But recent events have caused us to have a question. Just this week, we got officially diagnosed with D.I.D and recommended the idea of getting a psychologist for the first time in my life, besides a psychiatrist. Two of my alts say they can't be serious but the other three think they are bout the psychologist and we are nervous. I saw you talking about disorganized attachment in your latest posts and was wondering if you could tell me more bout what that is because it sounds like I may have experienced that and I'm trying to understand myself and us more from others with experience with D.I.D and similar disorders. We hope that makes sense! We are still very new to all of this. Thank you so much for your time. - Us

First, congrats!!! Try to come back and tell us what therapy and the interviews are like! I'm certain my followers would love to hear about it. It's scary, I'm so proud of you ❤️

Disorganized attachment is both very complicated, and quite easy to understand. I just reblogged a couple old posts about it, but this will be shorter :)

This is my favorite image to describe it!

Note that disorganized attachment (DA, from here on) is linked to low trust in self AND others. All of these types of attachment have shown strong links to different types of disorders, but DA is most associated with dissociative disorders.

The most important thing I've learned is

Even well-meaning, well-intentioned, loving parents can cause DA

DA can be hidden trauma, its relation to neglect is much stronger than originally thought, and neglect is a lot harder to spot and understand than straight up abuse.

A quick note here: DO NOT play trauma Olympics-- with yourselves, with others, on this post, nothing. Trauma is a personal reaction to events, abuse, or neglect and can occur in response to literally anything. When it comes to CDDs, we're looking at cumulative responses resulting in psychopathology, and you don't get to decide what was enough for other people.

It's their reactions.

Mind your own business.

So, all that said, DA is about the child being both fearful and reliant on caregivers. They want to both flee to and flee from caregivers. When a caregiver is unpredictable, the child has a difficult time establishing a consistent view of the caregiver, and of themselves. In other words, the caregiver is both needed, and someone to be avoided, and the child may not understand what makes them a “good” or “bad” child, as the caregiver’s behavior is often confusing and unpredictable.

I'm going to throw out a couple examples here:

Parent A has yelled at you, and you're scared to go to parent B and talk about it - neither parent feels safe but they're your only source of comfort

You're hungry, but parents scold you for eating too much - you're both scared to ask for your needs and yet reliant on their abilities to meet them

Sometimes parent is attentive and kind, and sometimes very dismissive - you never know what you're going to get, but when they're dismissive, it kills your drive for things you thought you enjoyed - sometimes parent puts your art on the fridge and sometimes they throw it in the trash, and maybe that particular piece was important and you'd expected better reception

Parent gets physical when they drink but at school, parent is a model citizen and teachers and other students always tell you how lucky you are

Parents are openly homophobic and you think you might be a little gay - they're good people otherwise (you think), and maybe if you just keep that part of you down...

Parent struggles with their own mental illness and you never know what kind of reaction they'll have, but you treasure the good memories and hold out hope you'll see that side of them again, despite the many letdowns

Parent doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, it's to the point you want to avoid them as much possible, only seeing them for meals

Parent is... mean. Just flat out mean, and they'll tell you no one will listen to you. There's no point is trying to find help with other caregivers-- teachers, babysitters, friends. It's just you and them, against the world.

The start of DA is typically formed in infancy when a parent doesn't respond properly to their child. Missed feedings, not enough skin time, mixing "cry it out" with giving in, ignoring cries for food or changing. These first attachments in infancy set the tone for all your attachments going forward. Meeting needs and milestones help the brain develop in a healthy way. If some of these milestones are missed or slowed, you tend to see psychopathology of some kind as a result. Various future relationships are likely to be affected, and more often than not, you respond to your own children the same way-- a type of intergenerational trauma.

And this is only the grey areas. We haven't touched full and proper abuse and how that can affect someone.

The result of DA is that a child will try to push memories and feelings about their caregivers down so that they're not bothered-- they can interact with their caregiver, whatever mood they're in or whatever happened yesterday.

If you just kill your feelings, parent's outbursts don't hurt as much. If you just don't think about what they did to you, you can put on a smile and get through dinner.

This is, in and of itself, dissociation. A rejection of feelings or memories. DA on its own isn't very likely to cause a CDD, but with additional trauma, it's... oof.

Children with DA and suffering from abuse “are likely to generate two or more dissociated self states, with contradictory working models of attachment,” in order to handle their confusing relationship with the caregiver. This can go in several directions, not necessarily a CDD, but it becomes much more likely.

So, the child needs to maintain a relationship with the caregiver– they have no one else to turn to, so the child can develop dissociation as a way to make sense of themselves, and to maintain a child-caregiver relationship. They may “forget” the abuse, or deny it. “It is an adaptive and defensive strategy that enables the child to function within the relationship, but it often leads to the development of a fragmented sense of self.” This fragmented sense of self may or may not develop into something worse– namely, BPD and DID based on severity, frequency, and whether there was any sense of reprieve (i.e. a child can avoid the worst of dissociative symptoms if one of their parents was more supportive, because it helps them build some positive attachments).

I really hope this helps!

Good luck, come back soon!

[nothots-headempty]

Hush, My Darling

Paddy × reader

Summary: Paddy knows just the way to keep your sweet mouth under control

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, gunplay, condescension, dirty talk, minors dni, 18+ under the cut

Author's note: trust James McAvoy to get me obsessed enough to start writing again. I have one functioning brain cell right now and it's a slut for Patrick Feld. Kinda sorta not proof read.

Your moans could have brought down the entire house, but with Paddy's cock filling you up so good, just like you'd been dreaming of, the thought of someone listening is not even on the back burner.

Your fingers are grasping at anything they can find, his hair, his back, the sheets, in the hope that you dont combust from the sheer obscenity of the words he's been letting loose against your neck.

"So fucking tight, baby. So wet just for me.", he groans halfway through, hands scooping under your body to fuck you from some ungodly angle your mind can't even process.

He hasn't stopped teasing every part of you he can find, not for a second - toying with your breasts, sucking on your collar bone to leave a hickey you won't hide even if you could, hands tangled in your hair, pulling just a little too hard.

You moan out loud again, his cock stretching you from the inside out until all you can feel is the pressure of him on top, him inside, him below, him everywhere.

"Hush, love. Don't want your mother finding her adorable baby girl being a nice little hole for me to fuck, now, do we?" His palm slides along your body to cover your mouth, but your cunt is already wetter at the idea of being caught like this, wrapped in his arms, his cock sliding in, fucking you into oblivion. Your pussy leaks down onto your thigh, leaving a cool, wet patch on your friction chafed skin.

He notices. Of course, he does.

"Someone likes that.", he murmurs with a smirk. With no warning, he pulls out of you then, your indignant whine trapped in your throat as he pulls open his bedside drawer, the shining metal of a revolver throwing off shadows in the lamp-light.

"I know just the way to shut that dirty little mouth of yours." His smile is almost sweet, almost as if you're discussing Church plans for Sunday. And then there's that glint in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

With one strong hand to push your legs apart, he touches the tip of the revolver to the inside of your knees, a mewl escaping your lips before you can school it.

"Bad girls get punished. You should know that." The revolver traces a line along your thighs, the cool metal contrasting the heat his body had left moments ago. You shiver, straining against his hold on your legs, your eyes falling shut for a second, drowning in the deluge assaulting your senses.

You jolt upright when you feel a nudge against your clit, propping yourself onto your elbows to find him running the gun through your folds, a perverse smile on his lips.

"Watch me, sweetheart. Eyes. On. Me.", he warns, his gaze burning through yours as he pushes the weapon inside you. You bite your lips, embarrassment flooding through you as you feel your cunt clench on the hard metal, your juices running down its sides.

"So fucking greedy for anything that will fill her up." His pupils are blown wide, eyes transfixed on the sight before him, the throb of your pussy, the easy sliding of the gun, in and out, in and out, his hands pumping faster every second.

"Paddy, I'm gonna-", you mumble uselessly. But of course he won't let you. "Not yet, love. We must teach you to be quiet first."

And with that your cunt is left sorely empty again, the man climbing up your body like an animal sizing up his kill for the day. The gun, now wet and even cooler, drags along your stomach, the valley of your breasts, until it rises against your neck.

"Open up, sweetheart.", he smirks, pushing his thumb between your lips to force them apart. You know what's coming, and still your heart speeds up a million times when you feel the metal invading your mouth, the taste of yourself instantly coating your tongue.

You resist the urge to let your eyes fall shut, your gaze held hostage by his, a satisfied smile now playing at his lips. There's a certain pride in his look and you wonder just for a second if it's about you at all or just some twisted victory he feels in this moment.

But that thought, and any other you've had in a while, is washed clean from your mind when his cock enters you again in one swift stroke, seating him deep inside you, your strangled gasp reverberating around the barrel of the gun.

"Now, suck on it.", he commands.

Your tongue rises to the bait before you can even think, licking your fluids off, your cheeks hollowing out to feel the metal intrusion in your mouth.

He groans against your skin, his cock still, pulsing inside you. "Such a good little whore. Would do anything for me, won't you?" You nod as best you can, your mouth more occupied with his order.

He buries his face in your neck, starting to move again, the pace this time leaving no room for talk. The only sounds now were your moans muffled by the threat of destruction on your tongue, his shallow breaths rushing off the walls as he thrust deeper and the slap and sweat of skin on skin as he sped up, erratic, close.

He licks a broad stripe from your shoulder your jaw, waiting there to bite on the skin, almost drawing blood. The tears are on the verge of falling out of your eyes now and when he sees them he just laughs.

"Too much for you, am I, love? Filling you up too good? Hurts, does it?" But even he knows you're too cock-drunk to answer now. Your eyes close this time as you ride that pleasure-pain impasse, feeling the pressure build somewhere deep inside your belly.

His pace staggers as he feels your pussy clench around him, strokes flowing more into a deep grind, his cock throbbing for release.

"Cum for me, baby. Give me what I want.", he rasps. His words set you free, teeth almost biting down too hard on the gun as you let your release wash over you.

You feel his hips falter moments later, that tell tale sign before he spills inside you, slamming into you harder and harder until you've milked him for all hes worth.

Theres silence around you now, a blanket of peace, your bodies spent, your breaths still needing to be caught.

He collapses against you, his smile evident in the curve of his lips against your neck. You welcome the weight of him, legs wrapping around his waist to keep his slowly softening cock still buried inside you for a little while longer.

Back up on his elbows, he takes his time, slowly pulling the revolver out of your mouth, the final inch leaving your lips with a soft *pop*. He presses the barrel against your chin, his forehead resting on yours as he captures your swollen lips in another kiss, fingers massaging your aching jaw.

The smile on his face broadens as he pulls back, the fucked out bliss on your features reflecting in his. He tosses the gun somewhere into the pillows, bracing himself on his elbows on both sides of your head as he peppers kisses on your cheek, your neck, your lips.

"The things you do to me, baby. I'd have to keep you here forever to show you."

He pulls out of you, your cunt now grasping on nothing but disappointment as he pulls you onto his chest. Your arms snake around his neck, kissing his jaw, running your nose through his scruff.

"Keep me as long as you like, Paddy. I'm all yours.", you mumble, innocent to the implications of your words, your face hidden in his neck as you begin to drift off. His fingers soothe your hair, a kiss planted on your forehead before he settles in for the night, the plans in his mind, the filth in his thoughts, all still far from touching your reality.

"You are mine, baby. Always will be."

[mochinomnoms]

i’m curious, how would PTM be if you had chosen to write it as Floyd/Reader instead of Jade/Reader?

i know the basic premise would have stayed the same. the backbone of telepathy drives the plot. however, the allure of the early chapters is that jade acts so differently from how he thinks (and that’s very endearing and humorous).

if you had chosen floyd, would you have done his thoughts much more sweeter than raunchy? or would it had been kept the same formula of lovey-dovey thoughts versus friendly actions?

xoxo mochi

xoxo re-l! it's nice to see you in my inbox! ^^ I like getting questions like these on my fics too I'm such a yapper when I have the time tehehe

So when choosing who to make the love interest for PTM, I was basing it a bit off of the characters from Mousou Telepathy since that was the inspiration. I didn't want it to be an exact retelling with new characters, which is why you can see the beginning is borrowing a lot from the manga while the rest starts taking it's own form. But to make it easier on myself in the beginning, I wanted to pick a character that would be shocking to hear raunchy thoughts from or at the very least funny.

My original list for the "shocking" characters were: Silver, Trey, Azul, Jamil, Vil and Sebek; this was narrowed down to Silver and Azul eventually. The original list for "funny" characters for PTM were: Jade, Floyd, Ace, Rook, and Leona. That got narrowed down to Jade and Leona, actually. Eventually I was stuck between Jade and Silver and I decided to go with Jade because I like my silly eel boy~

I think this worked out for the best, Jade I find is easy to write most of the time and he's a very fun character overall! He's not necessarily super cool or nonchalant like the love interest from the original manga, but he fits the premise beautifully in his own Jade way!

One of the reasons I didn't go with Floyd for PTM was because of the raunchy thoughts. I wanted whoever I set as love interest to be a bit shocking when it came to the dirty thoughts, and I feel that the fandom expects Floyd to be a bit raunchy and blunt. Pair that with the fact that Floyd doesn't really hide his thoughts from others (more so that I think they get misinterpreted at times), I didn't think the story would be as enjoyable with the same premise, and the shockingly erotic thoughts are part of what makes the story so funny!

If I had decided to do Floyd, I would have definitely made his thoughts much softer, more domestic. But from my understanding of Floyd as a character, I think he probably either would've confessed right away (so it would've been more of a oneshot) or the entire story would've been in Floyd's POV wondering why his mate that he totally made obvious that he's in love with and courting (which he hasn't) is being so weird around him and blushing all the time.

I'm quite happy with Jade being the love interest for PTM, it's turned out pretty good and a lot of people really seem to like it! The next chapter probably won't come out for a while since I'm busy with school and smaller stories are a lot easier to finish quick, but I'll try my best!

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[lieutenantselnia]

Yesterday I've been doing some proper physical exercise for the first time since last year and I'm just imagining how proud my f/os would be of me🥹

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

why is everything (showing other people respect. being patient and kind. not flying off the handle about stupid things. emotional regulation and self-control. et cetera.) so easy when I'm not around my parents and so so so so hard when I AM around them?

[aforeffortenjolras]

really trying to find ways to take care of myself that are doable and enjoyable when possible. and i really feel like with meditation i've had a lot of progress in letting go of things and being able to not get bogged down by circumstances, and i'm having so many more good days and just feel so much lighter overall :)

[eats-the-stars]

hate my sister's shitty good for nothing boyfriend. can you imagine being a 30yo man with two kids who won't even scramble an egg. Not for his kids, not for his girlfriend, not for himself. literally if my sister doesn't leave out pre-made meals when he's watching the kids he will rip up bread or pour them dry cereal or open a granola bar and make himself microwave dinners. like, lowest effort possible. but if i mention this to my sis, she'll be like "no he's definitely cooked for the kids! he scrambled an egg for them once! i watched him do it!" but it's like...so he scrambled one egg in the last five years. just to like, prove he can? at your direct insistence? should we all clap? like seriously. hate this guy. had to really hold back recently because he had someone over and he was interacting with the kids more than usual for appearances, and he had to keep asking me and my sis what the 5yo was signing because he barely bothered to learn his own son's primary form of communication. i was so tempted to say "that one means 'go home' but you wouldn't know that because you don't take them anywhere." so hard to hold that in. If I had to describe this man in two words they would be these: Low Effort. Not quite bare minimum, but JUST enough to convince my sister that it would be too much hassle to get rid of him. he's stupid as fuck, but just smart enough to quickly stop shit like screaming obscenities at the kids for doing normal kid things. and he once stomped on my headphones and broke them in a fit of rage, but gave my sister money to replace them so it was "fine." Like, my sister thinks that he's just struggling with his anger issues, because he had a bad childhood, blah, blah, and oh he would never actually hurt her or the kids. and like, good for you, but i don't trust like that. genuinely hoping he gets struck by lightning and dies instantly.

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[inkteresting-art]

Please ignore this it's almost 1am and I can't sleep and am full of vinegar ...laying in bed stuck with my thoughts and man do they suck, for months all I've been doing it feeling guilty and horrible about myself and hoping to talk to people in hopes of apologizing and making burned ends less burnt.. I'm coming to the realization that it's never going to happen and need to just give up, I wont be getting my chance to speak.. I want to be forgiven, but at the same time, thinking about the pass two years and how angry I actually am about how things were stated and also parts left out, the forgiveness I deeply want really means nothing to me. if anything it's acted as a fuckin poison to my brain to constantly hope and think about it on a daily bases. Stuck thinking about how everyone hates me and not having a way out like a mouse stuck in a burning cage.

I miss drawing the things I liked, all my Fav OC's I now kinda hate due to having to throw them in the corner, forcing myself to redo them all when in the end not really having a good purpose to do so.

I don't know how to bounce back anymore but I have no choice but to try and walk away anyways. I'll find something that will click again and meet new people.

[bsaka7]

on my run today decide to go on my favorite running trail across town (which happens to be where i always ran in high school). see some runners who are clearly like. training. doing repeats. there's some coaches hanging around. so i'm sort of looking at them trying to figure out if it's high school but i thought it would be too late for high school nattys...realize it's the university...say hi to the coach cuz i've kind of been staring i'm like hey i ran at [nearby high school]...turns out one of the coaches who was standing there was briefly the assistant coach for my high school team and had a PICTURE of us together and sent it to my high school coach and was like "remind me of their name again" and he did (#win) and so i had a random chat with my 9th grade assistant xc coach. always a bit awkward because i never know what to say (i ran badly in college? i ran a marathon? i learned a lot from you guys?). i swear normally more interesting things happen in my life than going for runs but i'd rather report on this than idk. the gre practice test i flopped on today.

[mishkakagehishka]

i feel like my mom's a bit too good at hearing my emotions, or otherwise i'm too bad at hiding it

[poptartmochi]

unfathomable emotions after showering

also.. i hit tag limit on this, so watch out for a very long post if you hit read more on the tags! 😨