#and im constantly insecure

[katstratfordfanclub]

december 17, 2023

dear tumbr,

finals are over and i have an abundant amount of time to just get lost in my own mind. i spent the whole day cleaning my bathroom for fuck's sake.

life since the last update has been full of complete ups and downs but i kinda want to focus on my emotional shit right now because thats the thing im struggling the most with.

so ive always been a huge mess emotionally. change is something i struggle with really bad too. my mom stayed home with me until pre-school where it was decided that I needed to go so that my separation anxiety could have a chance to get better. it was hard. going to school continued to be hard for me until the third or fourth grade, long past when it was normal. i would cry when i would get dropped off for the first week or two but the older i got the more ashamed i became of crying. it wasn't normal but i couldn't help it, i would try to stop it but i couldn't. i could only try to hide it to the best of my ability. my emotions were to sensitive according to those around me. being sensitive shouldn't be a bad thing but the word 'sensitive' is frequently used as an insult. i internalized it. i didn't let myself show anything that could be construed as weakness past the fifth grade. it helped. once people stopped seeing a reaction they were less likely to pick on me. this has lasted to nineteen. i have become uncomfortable showing any emotion that is unguarded to others, even those who i desperately want to be able to show how much i love them and that i know want to know when i'm not doing well.

i've taken to experiencing my emotions in private. the dull ache of yearning for connection and the pressing weight of the worlds standards and wanting to be better. i want to be better. better in both in terms to my health, mental and physical, and for those around me. i fear i don't do enough. i don't want to be clingy or rather i don't want to be seen as clingy. i know i'm clingy, i alway have been. but my clingy nature has made me scared that i'm annoying. i don't want to be annoying. i don't want to give anyone a reason to leave.

i'm scared to show sides of myself that are unsavory. especially with clar. the more of myself i show him, the more reasons i give him to leave. at the same time, i want him to know me, in my entirety. its almost like i want him to have all the information before he makes a decision. i truly don't know what keeps him with me. he has done nothing but support me and i've been a complete mess for the past month. i try to pull it together but i don't want to lie. i don't lie to him. that's one vow i've told myself is that i wont lie to him. i don't know why he's with me though, its the one thing i can't wrap my head around. i don't know why he reached out in february about valentines day. i don't know why he reached out in march. i just don't know what is appealing. don't get me wrong, i'm glad he did. i love him. but he could do so much better than me. he could have someone who isn't like this.

anyway, it's christmas time i shouldn't be sad.

i've been crying for two hours now, i cant think straight about what i want to write about.

tldr; i'm insecure and mentally unwell. i hate who i have become.

kat out <3

[capsofcotton]

james fitzjames is a man obsessed with appearances.

I think he's a man who believes that to look like something is to be something. If he looks like the loyal Commander, accomplished soldier and proud britishman then he is (create a big enough facade and there's no way to see behind it). If he does a great job-runs a tidy ship, keeps to his Captain Sir John's wishes and maintains camaraderie with and amongst the men, then he deserves his post (but there are always cracks in even the greatest masks). If he keeps his act together, they'll never know the lies he's built himself on (and there are always people who will see through them).

I think in the beginning James is so afraid of Francis because really the line that separates them is thinner than a razors edge. Because he looks at Crozier and sees a past he was lucky to dodge and a future he must avoid at all costs.

[strawglicks]

suddenly figured out how to lock in and made this as a result

[violet-moonstone]

This exchange about Nessarose between Elphaba and Fiyero:

"If she ever comes down off that plinth – the one that has words written on it along the edges in gold, reading MOST SUPERIOR IN MORAL RECTITUDE – if she ever allows herself to be the bitch she really is, she’ll be the Bitch of the East. Nanny and the devoted staff at Colwen Grounds will prop her up.”

“I thought you were fond of her!”

“Don’t you know affection when you see it?” scoffed Elphaba. “I love Nessie. She’s a pain in the neck, she’s intolerably righteous, she’s a nasty piece of work. I’m devoted to her.”

...

I LOVE THIS

[sieglinde-freud]

one thing i never realized bc i always either pair chrom with olivia or make him gay is that not every sibling calls lucina “luce” and its making me crazy. inigo and brady call her “luce” for short. cynthia calls her “lucy” (MY FAV), and kjelle and morgan just call her “lucina.” why did they make this change across supports. “to add personality” you say and to that i say YES obviously but also. potential of telling us more about how close lucina was with each potential sibling? maybe. what im getting at here is chrom!kjelle and lucina maybe suffering the most in terms of feelings of inadequacy and having that slight strain that keeps them from being close. this does not apply to morgan bc i chalk his up to memory loss BUT. you could also say that lucina never let him get close because she’s wary of him. hows that. and if you read closely what im actually saying is that i need an au where all six of them are siblings and not all of them have the brand of the exalt

[raviollies]

i watched a playthrough of needy girl overdose

[scummy-writes]

I really don't know how people tag all their thoughts with the games tags.

Not in a "ugh!" way, but in the sense that the animal I am closest to is a trembling, fearful chihuahua that wants to be seen but is terrified of being seen. Sharing my thoughts and tagging? When I am prone to getting minor facts wrong or jumbling up my words? When I play in modern aus more than anything else? When I regularly make typos?

Terrifying.

[velvetjune]

occasionally get hit by how much I love saga and casey’s relationship. casey being a part of the family, saga investigating on her own to find casey, them supporting each other even in the questionable reality around them, telling each other jokes the entire time, being in sync with their little coffee drinks. love them

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Cracked Armor (Short) (Extended War Timeline)

(A/N: This devolved into Saphira and Glen quietly squeeing to each other while Eragon and Arya have a camaraderie moment completely oblivious to the possible deeper meaning of Eragon being so understanding of Arya's connection to Fäolin and Arya being so touched by it. It started out as a touching piece where Arya feels vulnerable about Fäolin and Eragon is, as said before, very understanding of it, but I had to run an errand in the middle and we ended up with this badly toned, no one is consistent with previous characterization slop. So take it with a grain of salt.

Also, if you ask Arya if she's superstitious, she'll say no. However, she finds many things the Varden soldiers do to honor their fallen friends a good way to respect the memory of the dead, so she follows some of their traditions. She also wears Fäolin's dogtags on her belt, muffled by magic ofc so they don't jangle around.)

CRACKED ARMOR

Glen looked over when Arya let out a soft curse. “Ah, damn it all.” The familiar sound of an armor release clip clicked into the still dust laden air as the younger elf undid the fastenings at her right forearm. “Fucking Wardbreakers. I can’t fix this out here.” 

The dismay in her tone was enough that Glen leaned over his battlemate’s shoulder to take a look at the damage. The bracer was dented in significantly, enough that a dark bruise was already blossoming up on Arya’s forearm as she lifted the sleeve of her combat suit to check for any bleeding. Cracks shot out from the divot in the mix of spidersilk and aramid weave, all the way down to the interior layers. The thin sheaf of spongy aerated gel peeked through in places, a shimmering, foamy white among blued steel and matte black.

Mentally mapping out the angle of impact, Glenwing racked his brain. He was sure at some point he had–

“Ah!” The medic looked down. A blob of malformed metal was embedded in the abdominal region of his own armor plates. “Was wondering where that ricochet came from.” 

“Are you alright?” That she had asked him was telling, at least in their odd little language. The round must have stung on impact, enough that she was worried it had not slowed enough to prevent him from being harmed. He would have to look at her arm, but for now he was pleased she was moving it without any wincing or restricted range of motion. 

Having made his own assessment, Glen waved away Arya’s increasingly troubled frown. “Barely felt it. Looks like your armor’s the most damaged of all of us.”

Frown eased, the disappointed air returned to Arya’s face. “Yeah. Better the armor than any of us, but…” She trailed off, fingers tracing the damage. 

“You two okay?” Eragon was tugging off his helmet as he approached. He had caught the concern in the voices of his companions and, leaving Saphira in Blödhgarm’s capable hands to finish up the final nicks and scrapes, went to investigate. “Sounds a bit depressed over here.”

Arya held up the damaged bracer. “We took a casualty.” Eragon took the armor piece and let out a low whistle. “Don’t know who the hell fired it, but it was definitely a Wardbreaker.” Her expression soured further, eyes oddly soft despite the obvious annoyance. “I can’t repair it out here. Rhunön’s the only one who can fix something this broken, and who knows when we’ll go back.” 

Eragon passed the bracer back. “You have spares, don’t you?”

The elf shrugged. “For this one in particular, yeah. I guess it’s lucky in that regard.” 

“Oh.” Glen’s voice was muffled as he slid his chestpiece over his head. Once free he gave his currently wild silver mane a good shake to clear his eyes and tilted his head in condolences. “It’s that one.” 

At Eragon’s raised eyebrow, Arya rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s…a good luck charm. It’s not my original bracer.” Glen rolled his eyes and not-too-subtly kicked the side of his battlemate’s foot. “Fine! Fine. It’s Fäolin’s.” An unexpected blush met Eragon’s gaze when he flicked his eyes from the damaged armor back to Arya’s face. “Some…old tradition a buddy of mine taught me. Even if our dead stay dead, they can protect us in a way. I might have taken that literally.” 

To the elf’s surprise, Eragon was smiling at her when she finally looked up. A genuine, gentle smile that lit his face. Shit, why did he suddenly look so much like Fäolin in that moment? Not really, not his appearance, but the feeling he was giving off, that warmth? 

“That’s a wonderful idea.” The Rider touched Arya’s shoulder. “I know I’m not much on the whole repair side of things, but if Rhunön made it, then perhaps her spells from forging Bris–my sword. From forging it could help?” 

Glen didn’t move. This was a moment. Don’t breathe, don’t move, let them have it. He could feel Saphira’s mind hovering at the edge of his, questioning, and he let her in to explain and show what exactly was going on. The pleased amusement that radiated into his thoughts echoed his own, though far less tense in anticipation. 

…These two dorks were fast becoming a fascination for the dragon and medic alike.

“Thank you.” Arya’s hand covered Eragon’s at her shoulder, genuine appreciation thickening her words with emotion. “That…that you offered means a lot. But Rhunön’s armor spells are different from her weapon spells.” 

Ah! Glen could see another hint of blush on both of them now. He shared his internal excitement with Saphira. The equivalent of a draconic high five buffeted his mental form in equal elation.  

“I see. Well, if you do want some help with it, just let me or Saphira know.” Eragon shifted his grip and gave Arya’s hand a quick squeeze before pulling back. “I think Rhunön did pack me some aramid repair tape when she was going through Saphira’s saddlebags. Would that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you!” The gentle squeeze was returned and just like that, the two separated. 

Glen hastily busied himself with unlatching the hidden clasps at his left bicep, a grunt of dismissal all Eragon got for a goodbye. The difficulty wasn’t entirely false, the armor never having been altered to fit over his prosthetic properly, and it provided the perfect cover to hide his smile.

A bit too tight still. Damn it. Okay, now he actually couldn’t–

“Oh, come here.” Arya reached up and seized a handful of his combat suit, giving the stretchy material a firm yank. Glen hit his knees with a whuff of surprise, eye to eye with his friend and giving her a sheepish grin. “If I get you out of this without taking your arm off, then will you tell me what the hell that weird look you were giving me and Eragon was?”

“What look?” He may have sounded the picture of innocence, but the open handed cuff to the side of his head made clear that his face was betraying him yet again. “It was nothing! I just hadn’t realized that you and Eragon had talked so much about Fäolin.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and, with practiced ease, teased the stubborn clip open with a satisfying clatter. “Uh huh. You looked like you had eaten some fermented mango again.” 

“I did not!” A teasing smile had started at the edge of Arya’s lips, her fingers finding the next clasp in the system out of pure habit. At the positive sign Glen lowered his voice. “Okay. I really didn’t know how you two were getting along. Neither of you mention it, but the Bloodoath is almost two years past now. You both seem…better. Even better than before.” 

A softness flitted across his battlemate’s eyes as she lifted away the medic’s bracer. “He’s really grown up. Saphira too. They’ve both matured a lot.”

“Yeah.” 

The silence between them grew until Arya had finally shimmied the armored glove off Glen’s prosthetic. She regarded the final piece with a thoughtful look before turning back to her bestest of friends and, as gently as gently got with Arya, whapped him on the side of the head with it. 

“Stop being so weird about me and Eragon, weirdo! We’re friends! Stop making it weird!”

[thesilliestofstrings]

hi hello please enjoy this omori meme i made like a year ago that i never posted anywhere until now :3

[windupaidoneus]

yeah sorry its hildemet again do you forgive me

[horsegirlhob]

I'm not an Angel hater by any means however I do think Spike should get to be as big of a dick to him as he wants to be and people shouldn't get to say shit about it.

[cthoniian]

sometimes i wish i learned chill. other times i recognise that i am never going to be chill & i will always react like a rescue dog when my friends come back around. like yes i did pee the floor in excitement when i saw u on my dash. no we don’t need to talk about it.

[jils-things]

sorry viddy game posting lalalal

[oplishin]

I enjoy the way Seth sells his history with the cage. All the angry bravado of the rest of the edge feud is replaced with this almost reverent anxiety. Visionary Seth only exists because of hell in a cell, and he knows it.

[i-mode]

my crittersona. he has 200 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces