#and now i have like. severe paranoia about one of my best friends. which is making everything like a nightmare for me

[elytrafemme]

good news: therapy finally scheduled friday morning. bad news: holy shit i am really spiralling aren't i

[anonymous-dentist]

GOD I LOVE YOUR AU ok question time

- who is in the federation of heros? What founded the federation? Are they powered like cellbit?

- how is cellbit one of the first few born? I feel theres a science experiment plot caught in this and he broke containment. I wonder if he found this out due to being able to scare himself, and that fear immediately projecting to others, making THEM just as scared. Id imagine hed be diagnosed with severe paranoia/etc and then like. Oh SHIT its not. That. Oh fuck.

- what was that leadup that made him a supervillain? Something so minuscule yet so big as fear, to be considered one of the high villains of the city is insane. Some people would probably laugh it off an say physical destruction was scarier than mental, until they see what he actually does.

- who did he murder?????? I wonder if it was someone who defied the "everyones fears projected back to them" ability. Someone unaffected by this, like maybe their own ability counteracted it. One of the federations lower ranked heros attacked... as a citizen... i feel theres more than meets the eye here..... but of course it ended with murder. I feel there could be done with something of luzu and his look alike there.

- i still keep thinking about breaking dawn and how forever is also considered richas's dad, and just thinking about it being kinda switched in this scenario. Cellbit walked into forevers life again an now richas has another dad to annoy the piss out of. Though i do feel him an jaiden would be at each others throats in investigation. She would totally be a foh member to me. He tries to take down them through HER.

- why jaiden? Shes probably the most visible with her apparent ability. I imagine her having hummingbird like abilities. Flying at such a fast rate it can change the force of wind itself, etc etc etc (running on coffee an headaches atm sorrie) but she KNOWS something. She knows the foh is fucked up. She knows its dictating the definition of right an wrong, but she doesnt have the power (YET!!!!!!) to kill them from the inside out.

- heros who are seen as the light amongst the city, vigilantes who are the underbelly of a growing problem/an antibiotic refusing to kill the infection, and singular villain who wants to put a stop to it for all. God. I am jn love with this au im sorry can u tell

- and then theres fucking SPIDER MAN. nobody knows who he may work for since, by the logic of q city, if your a vigilante, your working for someone else directly related to the foh, and being sponsored as such. But theres no calling for spiderman, theres even active "have you seen this person" signs around the city, marking them as a non verbalized threat to the standing of foh. Cellbits key.

- now he needs to convince his friends to help him find spiderman. For....... research. Yes. Totally. He wishes to interview spiderman in hopes to figure out "who he works for", which not really. Hes not the best at lying, nor was he really trying. He wants to crack down the foh to its rotten core.

- he even tries to ask roier for help at some point, right? He talks about the signs around the city, says its a shame that hes on a watch list- and how he swings around to actively web heros against the walls to stop them from hurting another person.

- and its convinent theyre on a coffee date (cellbit didnt even notice, roier did, an hes just awkwardly like... hahahahabah thats really weird why would spiderman stop him but also yeah i get that- why would thet get rid of MY hero <:((("

- cellbits subconsciously like. Shit. Pretty boy is pouting about the vigilante. More reason to find the motherfucker.

SORRY ITS SO LONG ENJOY THE RAMBLEEEE

WOW OKAY so let’s see:

1. It’s a lot like the Federation from the canon qsmp, but it’s also more overtly focused on ‘Protecting the City’ from superpowered threats. It stepped in to fill the shoes of the former police state, and by getting rid of the majority of police officers it both opened up opportunities for villains (and thus heroes and thus the Federation) and for heroes (see: previous parentheses.) The founder is anonymous, a “Mister Duck���.

2. I’m actually lowkey playing by MHA rules. Basically, at some point a couple of decades ago, kids started being born with superpowers. It was the more obvious ones that were discovered first, like a girl in France being born with little duck wings. Cellbit’s ability is less obvious, but his parents were constantly overly worried about him because babies and children are always very very scared of everything. Eventually he realized what was up when he was around nine or ten, but he didn’t really tell anybody because even back then he knew that he would “get in trouble” for it.

3. As for villainy, it was an accident. He needed money after his parents died (of sudden heart attacks, and he pretends he doesn’t know what that actually means), and he isn’t a very intimidating guy on his own, so he kinda… helped himself out a little. And it worked super well, so he kept doing it. And he kept doing it. And then he started going a bit overboard with it and the people he was robbing started dying, too.

4. And as for the murder, Cellbit and the hero were both civilians when they got into an argument. The hero, new to the whole thing, ended up using their ability and actually attacked him. He attacked back, notably without using his ability, and he accidentally killed them. The Feds were NOT happy about this, so they messed with the court proceedings and got him sent to prison for three years. But, hey, at least he got therapy there?

5 and 6. Jaiden is 100% working with the Federation in this au. She and Spider-Man are taking very different approaches to what is fundamentally the same issue here. I think her ability is more parrot-y, but she does work for them now. (It’s a very recent development.)

8-10. Spider-Man is a fan-favorite and the Federation does NOT appreciate him ruining their image!! And he knows that he isn’t well liked by them at the moment, and he doesn’t care because it’s fine if Spider-Man dies. He has a job to do, and he is going to do it.

11-end. And it’s a good thing that Cellbit is such a big Spider-Man fan! It’s something Roier thinks they can use to bond. Definitely. Bonding.

…Can you tell superhero aus are my guilty pleasure lol

[everyone-with-a-para]

Hi! I have several questions, if that's okay.

I very recently found out about daydreaming community, and, honestly, was in awe, because all my life I thought I was that one weird autistic child with really big imagination and finding this community was like a blessing, because I don't feel that alone now. But, surfing a in this part of the internet left me a little bit confused and the fact that english is my second language does not help.

So, first question. I somewhat lost the line between immersive daydreamings and MaDD. I am sure that all of my daydreamings are immersive, because all of my life I was daydreaming to the point of every single moment of free time. But I don't understand when immersive daydreamings end and MaDD begins. As far as I understood, people with MaDD have difficult time leaving their daydreams, because of one reason or another and use them as coping mechanisms. At which point immersive daydreamings become MaDD? What is the line? What are, let's say, particular qualities of it? If that's okay for you and isn't hard, can you explain it in detail with examples? I try to understand myself, and while I find in myself a lot of stuff, I don't want to invade the MaDD community as (somewhat) healthy person.

Second, is having DID is a requirement for any of this? Is this still okay to be in the community and not have DID?

Third, maybe not a question, but clarification, as far as I understood, "para" in daydream community means someone (character, your version of self, yourself and so on) you have connection with. Again, character, yourself or version of yourself, in which I am sure. Am I correct in it? Can people you know in real life, if you are religious, God(s), spirits and others, different kins of alterhumanity and fictional characters from other media also consider as "para"? Are there any other labels like this?

Thank you, if you will have time to answer this. It way be a lot, I am just excited to find some niche that I was having all my life actually is (somewhat) common experience and I am not alone in it. I hope you will have a great rest of the week.

Hi welcome! I remember the relief I felt when I first found this community too. MaDD can feel like such an isolating thing if you don't know others experience the same

This got a little long so answers to your questions are under the cut

1. Immersive daydreaming is defined as intense and developed daydreams that feel more vivid than regular passive daydreaming. It's often used as a coping mechanism and often started in childhood, but those are not defining features

Inherently, all maladaptive daydreaming is immersive. It becomes defined as maladaptive when it negatively impacts your daily life. This is widely up to your own interpretation, if you feel like it makes life (whether that's external activities or internal feelings) more difficult for you, as MaDD is not yet a diagnosable disorder

Personally, some ways it negatively impacts, or has impacted me in the past: emotions feeling more real for people in my head than anything in my real life, embarrassment/anxiety of letting my daydreams show on my face in front of people, paranoia regarding mind readers despite knowing they don't exist, injuring myself from acting out daydream scenes, forgetting to eat/drink/take care of basic hygiene in favour of daydreaming or just losing track of time, dissociation, derealisation/depersonalisation, second hand distress from my paras

Anything like that and more can be counted as your daydreams being maladaptive. The coiner of the term, Dr Eli Somer, has actually made a list of proposed diagnostic criteria, should MaDD ever get to be in the DSM. You can find that here

2. DID/OSDD and MaDD have significant overlap/comorbidity and MaDD has been proposed as a dissociative disorder itself (for a research paper about this see here) but one is in no way required for the other

I'm not a system, but I am very vocally supportive of them because my best friend(s) is, that and the comobidity is why you might see a little system content on my blog

3. Para is a term used by the immersive and maladaptive daydreaming communities to describe any character within a daydream. Anyone/thing that exists in real life or as a spiritual concept can't be considered a para unless they are directly part of your daydreams

There are other terms such as parame (a para you daydream from the POV of), paraself (a version of yourself in a daydream), veritbond (a para that feels more independent and has a deeper connection and meaning to you), and paracosm (a world in which a daydream takes place). A comprehensive list of all ID/MaDD terms can be found here

I hope this answers your questions in a clear/helpful way. You're always welcome to ask more!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

I Lost A Friend

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 3637

Summary: The reader moves in with the gang after she and her best friend of several years split up when her friend finds out the truth. 

Notes: So I’ve been working on a steamier Mitchell fic, but I really need this one. As I’ve said he’s one of my biggest comfort characters and this is something I experienced recently and needed to write about. There might be some repetitive things from other ones I’ve written, but like I said, I really needed this one.

Warnings: Depression, panic attacks, etc. (I teared up more than once writing this)

More Imagines: HERE

-

You set your bag down on the floor in front of the couch and wished more than anything to just land face-first into the cushions. But after last night’s endeavor, you desperately needed a shower. 

With the twigs and dirt washed off, you crossed the hall to find your bedroom door open and, not only your pre-packed bag for your monthly ‘trip’ on the floor, but your other suitcases as well. 

Lily stood in the corner, skirting even further away when you came in. You didn’t have to ask. 

She knew. 

You didn’t argue with her. Every word, every bitter remark, every stabbing accusation that she threw at you- you just took it. The past four years dissolved in a matter of minutes. Like it’d meant nothing. 

You packed your car and left, knowing only one place you could turn. 

-

George greeted you at the door, which was a relief. You weren’t sure you’d have been able to keep it together if it had been your boyfriend’s loving eyes that met yours. Besides… you and George had a shared problem, to put it mildly. 

“Hey,” he smiled, but it quickly faded when he saw the bags at your sides. He raised a brow. “Is there something Mitchell hasn’t told us?” 

“I,” you took a deep breath and willed yourself not to fall apart. “I was hoping I could stay here for a few days while I look for a new place.” 

He read your harried expression and stepped aside. “Come in.” You gave him a grateful smile and leaned to grab your bags. He waved you off. “I’ll get those, you just go have a seat. Mitchell is on until later, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” 

“Yeah.” You nodded absentmindedly. 

Already, you felt the weight of guilt on your chest. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be bringing your problems and dumping them on their doorstep. 

You’re draining me.

This was a bad idea. 

“Y/N,” Annie popped in with an excited grin. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been ages.” 

“I was here over the weekend,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. In the hassle of everything, you’d forgotten you were just here. And now you were back to steal their time and energy for your comfort. Like an infestation. 

She hooked an arm through yours and led you over to the couch. “Well, it feels like ages.” She sat you down and clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’ll go make us some tea!”

“Please,” you shook your head, “you don’t have to do anything for me. Really, just pretend I’m not here. I don’t want to be an imposition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she giggled. “I’ll make your favorite.” 

George watched you, your bags in both hands, and brows furrowed. Worry grew in his head. After all, last night was a full moon and something about you was definitely off. His paranoia reached every worst-case scenario it could conjure. Had you hurt someone or worse, killed someone?

“I’ll just take these to Mitchell’s room, yeah?” He asked. 

You almost nodded, but that guilty feeling stopped you. You shrugged. “I could sleep down here if that’s alright. I don’t want to invade. Mitchell likes his space.” You pulled your legs up to your chest as if to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Right,” George said, narrowing his eyes. Had something happened between you and the vampire? His hands gripped the straps of your suitcases. If Mitchell did something stupid… “Well, we’ll just ask him when he gets home then.” 

Annie came out of the kitchen with a mug of steaming tea in hand. George turned to her with a concerned frown. 

“Something’s wrong,” he mouthed, darting his eyes back to you on the couch. 

Annie peaked over his shoulder. You weren’t looking at either of them. Rather, you stared off at a corner with blank eyes. Your fingers picked at your nails, but it didn’t really seem you knew that you were doing it. Like you were completely disconnected from yourself. 

A silent agreement passed between the two roommates to wait for your boyfriend to get home before trying to pry it out of you. 

“So,” Annie covered her concern with bubbly enthusiasm. “Now that Mitchell can’t keep you all to himself, I think we should have a girl’s day.” George frowned. She waved him off. “Oh, you can come too.” 

George sat down beside you and turned on the telly. You talked about the trashy shows you watched and Annie chimed in with questions about your job. You answer with little interest. In fact, everything you said seemed to be from a distance. Like you were keeping yourself behind a fence. 

Whether it was to keep them out or to keep yourself in, they couldn’t tell. 

The more you sat, the more the tension built up in your chest and shoulders started to release. You relaxed into your place, fitted between the two of them. There was an odd balance. As much as you wanted to disappear into the growing hole in your chest, the house wouldn’t let you. You chalked it up to a mistaken sense of belonging. 

Belonging meant lasting and lasting meant staying. The feeling would soon leave you, just as everything else had. Just like Lily did. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, passively participating while George and Annie went about their day. Everything seemed so… normal. Even for George, who had just had his body reconfigured and back again- same as you- the night before. And yet he watched telly and made lunch and did the dishes as if everything were as natural as ever. 

Maybe it really was just you. You were the problem. 

The chore. 

The roommates beckoned for you to join them in the kitchen so you could eat something, but you told them you were just tired and you thought it better to get some rest. Long night and all. 

They exchanged another look when your back was turned. 

You rolled onto your side, facing the cushions, and let the sinking feeling in your chest lure you to sleep. At least like this you couldn’t think anymore, or burden anybody else with your thoughts. All you did was take up space, but at the moment, it couldn’t be helped. 

Annie and George left you alone, their worry growing. 

“What do you think happened?” Annie whispered. 

George shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“You don’t think…” She trailed off. 

They both turned to your sleeping form.  

“I don’t know,” George sighed. “But I don’t know what else would make her this way.” 

Annie nodded in agreement. “If I didn’t know better,” She thought of their third roommate and his excitement when talking about you just hours before. “I’d say her heart was broken.” 

-

Mitchell shouldered his way through the door with a tired huff. His scowling face revealed the quality of his day- having spent it mopping up all sorts of refuse and being yelled at by young doctors showing off for each other. 

But when he saw you curled up on the couch, his positively lit up. His frustrated frown was replaced by a beaming smile and bright eyes. The irritation of the day pushed to the back of his mind. 

His eyes fell on the bags on the floor beside you and he tilted his head curiously. 

“Mitchell.” A whisper came from the top of the stairs. Annie pointed in your direction. “Something’s definitely wrong.” 

He whipped his head back towards you, brows drawn in concern, forming a small line over his nose. “Did she say anything about it?” 

Annie appeared beside him. “That’s the thing,” she shrugged. “She’s barely said anything at all. She hasn’t even gotten up from that spot since she got here.”

That had a pang of panic shooting through his chest. 

Mitchell knew you. You may have only been seeing each other for about a year, but he knew you. 

You were bright and animated and energetic. You could pull him out of the darkest days with just a smile. Most of all, you talked. He always teased that you could make conversation with a wall. But he loved it. He loved the shimmer you got in your eye when you were excited about something. He loved when you laughed. He even loved when you would cry over a cheesy movie. 

He also knew that if you were silent, something was off. 

Mitchell waved Annie away and, despite her pouting, she let him take over. As close as the two of you were, you were just different with Mitchell. You could comfort him when no one else could and vice versa. She only hoped he could get to the bottom of it before you retreated even further into yourself. 

Mitchell stepped slowly across the living room, trying not to make a sound. He knelt by the side of the couch and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, love,” he whispered, gently giving your arm a shake. “Wake up, darlin’.” 

You stirred out of your restless sleep and turned around. “Mitchell? I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until this evening.” 

He gave you a sweet smile. “It is the evening, love.” 

“Oh.” You rubbed your eyes. In seconds, the emptiness returned, despite Mitchell’s loving face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep that long.” 

“That’s alright.” He took a seat beside you, pulling your legs into his lap. He ran his hand up and down your calf in a soothing motion, coaxing you more out of your tired haze. You flipped onto your back, arms still crossed over your stomach- another thing you did when you were holding something back. Mitchell made a note of it but didn’t push. 

You saw his eyes flick over to the bags on the floor and sat up. 

“I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days,” you said meekly. “It wouldn’t be for long, I swear. I just need somewhere until I can find a new place and I didn’t know where else to go-”

“Woah, slow down,” he said, holding up a hand. “Of course, you can stay here. I’ll take your stuff up to my room. It won’t be a problem.” 

“I don’t want to impose. I know you like your space-”

“And I like it more when you are with me.” Mitchell brushed off the cushion and wrinkled his nose. “I won’t make you sleep on this ratty old thing.” 

You nodded in submission and your eyes fixed on the floor in front of you. The fog in your head took over and a part of you left that room and took you back to the flat with Lily. 

You snapped your gaze back up to Mitchell and feigned a smile. “I’ll take them up now.” You snatched up the bags and hurried up the stairs. When you reached his room, you fell back against the doorframe, trying to catch your breath. Tears blurred your vision. 

Fuck, not now. 

The bags fell to your feet and you put your hands on your knees, hoping to force the panic attack to be over, which of course just made it worse. 

“Y/N?” Mitchell called up after you. 

“Be down in a second!” You yelled back, though it came out as more of a wheeze. “I just dropped something.” 

You sucked in a breath, ignored the anxiety threatening to collapse your chest, and went back downstairs. 

Annie and George had joined him and the three of them stood, waiting. 

The panic suffocated you. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

They looked at each other. 

“We were going to ask you the same thing,” Annie blurted. 

Mitchell covered his eyes with his hand with a sigh.

George stared at her. “Yes, and we were going to be subtle about it.” 

“Well I don’t know why,” she said. “Clearly something’s wrong.” 

“I-I didn’t mean to be a problem,” you stammered. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, love, that isn’t-” Mitchell took a deep breath. He crossed to you and took your hands in his. His soft, hazel eyes stared into yours with loving concern. “You aren’t a problem. How could you even think that?” 

“Because I’m-” You stopped yourself from saying the word. Monster. Your lip trembled. 

Mitchell’s heart broke seeing tears well in your eyes. He moved a hand to your cheek. “Just tell me what happened.” 

Make your problems theirs, and they’ll tire of you. 

You’re always too much. You can’t even help it. 

“Lily followed me last night,” you finally whispered. If you said it softly enough, maybe your words would just vanish. 

George’s face fell. 

“She said she doesn’t want to know or understand. She said it was too much for her. I’m too much.” You stared past Mitchell, past Annie and George, with blank eyes. “But it isn’t like I can blame her, of course. I turn into a killer beast once a month and what about outside of that? Take away the wolf and you’re still stuck with me.” 

I won’t let you put this on me like you do with everyone else. 

“Y/N…” Annie sighed her hand on her chest. 

You shrugged and pulled away from Mitchell, letting your hands move as you spoke. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, I get it. I can’t ask her to just accept me after she finds out I’m a monster. Really, it’s not a big deal, I don’t want you guys to worry. I just need a place to stay for a couple of nights and-”

Mitchell stepped in front of you again. You must have started pacing.

“Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said sadly. 

You shook your head. “I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. And even if she does, who’d believe ‘my roommate’s a werewolf’?” 

“I’m not talking about that.” He reached for you, but you stayed back. “Lily’s your best friend. She has been for years.” 

“People change. Friendships break up. It’s not that uncommon. I’m fine.”  

The panic started again. Your chest constricted and moved with the rapidness of your breathing. 

“Hey,” Mitchell said softly, taking another slow step towards you. This time, you let him. He inhaled deeply, lifting his hand with the motion, and exhaled, indicating for you to do the same. 

“I’m fine,” you repeated. 

He kept swaying his hand through the air with his breathing until you finally followed along. With each deep breath came a building cry. He took you in his arms when the tears finally broke through. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t want…” You couldn’t finish, instead, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. 

“You’re allowed to feel, Y/N,” Annie said, crossing the room to put a hand on your back. “You shouldn’t have to hide that from people who care about you.” 

“But I feel too much.” You turned, keeping your head against his chest. “I don’t know how to stop and I can’t keep it in. If I could just keep it in…” 

Mitchell pulled back and took your face in his hands. “You feel because it’s who you are. It’s one of the things I love about you, Y/N. If you denied that part of you…” He moved a hand to your heart. “It would destroy you.” You looked down and he put a finger under your chin to return your gaze to his. “Believe me, I’ve lived long enough to know.” 

George stepped forward. “It’s hard enough to learn how to accept yourself,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to fight to be accepted by your friends.” His eyes drifted between the three of you before him and you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. It was thanks. “You just have to find the right friends.”

You gave him a small smile and wiped away your tears. Mitchell pulled you back into his reassuring embrace. He could feel the tension still present in your shoulders, but your breathing had at least returned to normal. 

“Thank you,” you said, looking at George and Annie. “I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just…” You took a deep breath and stepped away from Mitchell. He put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you again. “If you ever feel that I’m becoming a burden or- or a problem, please just tell me. I’d rather know than have years of friendship to regret in the future.” 

All three looked like they wanted to object. To tell you that that would never happen. That they all loved you for who you are. But, they all knew it wouldn’t do any good just to deny it. They’d just have to show you. 

George nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.” You shook it in agreement. “But, that goes for you, too. You are allowed a break from this place. Even your fellow lovebird over there.” He jerked a thumb at his vampire roommate. “We all know how tiresome his moods can be.” 

You laughed, the sound warming Mitchell’s worried heart. Now, it was you who reached for him, taking his hand with a smirk. 

“I think I’ll manage,” you teased. 

Mitchell pressed a soft kiss to your temple and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you close. To remind you he was there. 

It was Annie that suggested a movie night. The four of you crammed onto the sofa- with you mostly on Mitchell’s lap- and put on a cheesy action movie you could all poke fun at while still enjoying. 

It was a familiar scene to your memory, with friends of different times and different places bobbing in and out in your mind, but all eventually fading. Perhaps that’s what hurt the most about Lily leaving. It had happened so many times before. Of course, she was the first to discover your secret, but even before the bite, the people you loved and cared for all inevitably left. So, despite every wonderful thing Annie, George, and Mitchell had all said, you couldn’t help but ask yourself- how long before they left, too?

You snuggled closer to Mitchell’s chest and tried to cherish the moment while it lasted. 

-

Though you’d spent most of the day sleeping, exhaustion weighed down your limbs as you stretched after the movie was over. George suggested drinks and you cheered in agreement, but betrayed by a yawn, your tiredness put a damper on the idea. 

“Alright,” Mitchell chuckled. “I think we should call it a night then. You need to unpack anyway.” 

“Mitchell, I’m only going to be here for a few days,” you yawned again. 

“I’ll not have you living out of a suitcase while you’re here. I’ll clear a couple of drawers.”

Annie coughed. 

“And some of the closet,” he added. 

The ghost gave him a nod of approval. 

“You really don’t have to do that,” you said. 

“I want to,” he grinned and took your hand, leading you to the stairs. You told Annie and George goodnight and thanked them again for taking you in. 

Annie beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. “Stay as long as you like.” 

George didn’t say anything. You just looked at each other and understood. Perhaps in a way nobody else could. He gave you an awkward thumbs-up that made you snicker. He nodded. You nodded. 

You followed Mitchell upstairs. 

When you climbed into bed, you didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to ruin the night with more of your troubles. He laid down beside you, arms around your middle, pressing your back against his chest. 

The tension was still there, aching between your shoulders. It was as if he could feel your very doubt, the fears still running through your mind. Every expectation drilled into you from learning how to protect yourself. 

“Y/N, love,” he whispered. “Look at me.” 

You winced. This was it. He’d decided you weren’t worth the trouble anymore. You took a deep breath and turned around. His hazel eyes bore deeply into yours, his face barely even a breath away. 

“I’m not leaving,” he said. 

Your breathing hitched. “W-what?” 

“I know that’s what you’re afraid of and I know you think it’s been proven over and over again in your life, but you are not unlovable.” The word that you hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to think hit your chest with painful- but necessary- force. 

“Mitchell,” you gasped, but he continued. 

“You’ve changed all of us. We aren’t going to abandon you because you think you aren’t worth the fight.” He brought his hands to your face as he had before to keep your eyes on him. “And I’m sorry you haven’t found people who see it, but you are worth every second I spend even thinking about you.” 

You were speechless. There wasn’t a thing you could say that would convey the way his words broke through to your heart. The tears that filled your eyes now were welcome ones. 

“I’m not leaving,” he said again. “I know that saying it doesn’t mean much right now because of everything in your head, but I’m going to keep saying it every day until you believe me.” He pressed a soft, slow, reassuring kiss to your lips. “You are the light in my very dark existence.” Another kiss. “I love you.” And another. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You fell asleep in his arms. This sleep wasn’t empty, like it was before. This sleep was filled with ‘I love you’s and belonging. It may not have been a sleep to break all of your mental walls, but it was a sleep that let you dream. 

-

Thank you to the friends that helped me believe in this ending. 

[belletlafleur]

people can hurt me all they want, they can make my nights my worst nightmares but i will never ever wish them the same pain they make me go through anymore, that's just not who i am anymore.

i had a last chance to grow into something bigger and i took it seriously when i almost lost the love of my life for good. he had his reasons, he was right, i was a good person but i wasn't behaving like one.

i grew in hate, i grew in pain, i grew in fights, i grew in suspicion, and that made me who i was and i hurt the people i loved and love the most.

having had a last chance doesn't mean that “you only value when you lose” is true, but the fact that, indeed, we get sick of our own bullshits sometimes too.

firstly, which wasn't right but did anyways and worked slightly, i changed for him and for us, for our relationship. i wanted to be a good girlfriend, a good friend, a good person for him to rely on. but when you don't change for yourself you'll still have doubts.

it took me yet a year to now, change for me.

but this man, this man, he helped healing my soul. he helped me understanding my flaws, he helped me asking for help, he helped me wanting to get better and just do it — even if it took time!

i was scared to death to get out of my comfort zone, to get out of what i knew (anger, sadness, illness) that i wasn't even thinking about the harm i was doing to others — & to myself.

this is not just me bragging about how i've changed and grew into a whole new person — because, in the end of the day im still me and i still have flaws, i'll always have and you too will always have no matter how much you change, no one is perfect, and i still want to grow much more. i still have things to fix, i'm just in a grateful, peaceful and good state of my life right now, taking things slowly — this is a message to those who don't have hope on their illness, on their lives.

3 years ago i was severely hallucinating, anxiety attacks, suicidal, deep into my bpd, my eating disorder just appearing, huge paranoia. today i look back and can tell it took time indeed but i did it.

as a 20 year old girl who's currently without therapy and relying on herself and medication to change (please do therapy if possible it helps so much), some days are harder than others but when the good days knock on your door you'll feel so much better and capable and don't ever blame yourself for feeling down.

some good days come as a surprise, but most of them it's u that have to create them, don't forget it.

im always here open for discussion or conversations. wish u all the best ♡

[lgcminki]

ENCORE OF THIS CIRCUS !!! hello everyone... it's me! velv-*sound of truck passing by* and i've been here... several times before. iykyk. but today i'm here to introduce you to hwang minki... basically, hwang minjun 2.0 new and improved, if you remember that guy from years ago. he's an old trainee with a strong focus and fiery passion for dance who's admittedly... a little stuck right now! for reasons! but surely this is nothing that cannot be fixed! below are the notable links:

PROFILE ⋆ BACKGROUND

as usual, please LIKE this post if you're interested in plotting with minki, and i'll sliiiiiiiiide all the way into your dms B) here's my twitter and i have discord upon request. conveniently i still need people for TRAINEE MISSION 15, particularly for those in the MALE SENIOR TRAINING GROUP for the KITE FLYING educational video thread!! help a guy out </3

other than that, i'll have a list of general connections i would love to have under the cut!

PLOT IDEAS !

friends/acquaintances who might have known him from school, back when he was a lot more... alive. maybe you were happy (or unhappy?) to see him join lgc and pursuing the idol career, but now his drive is gone? does that make you sad? does that make you angry, seeing him wasting his chance as a senior trainee? might have known about minki's Unique Circumstances™ with his childhood friend (details in his background page linked above!)

those he met in the company, who share the same passion with him in dance and would often do covers together. until suddenly he stopped, and that makes you confused? maybe even offended? note that he joined the company in july 2020!

when minki joined, his singing wasn't exactly the best despite not being downright terrible. he has vastly improved now, mostly thanks to some training sessions with your muse!

he... collects plushies. yes, he brought his plushie collection along with him to the company. do you also collect plushies? do you think it's a strange habit to have? DO YOU KNOW WHERE PUSHEEN IS MINKI MISPLACED PUSHEEN AND NOW HE'S PANICKI—

dorm shennanigans!! he's in male dorm d. chore assignment, arguing over chore assignments, one of minki plushies got dyed a vastly different color suddenly in the washer and he wants to know WHO is the culprit!!

casual friends he would've made within the company, those he can hang out with!

this connection would have to be a debuted idol, but someone he admires! would have to be an idol with a more dance position, because that is what he is passionate about

someone, probably dance-focused, who saw minki as a rival for a while only to see minki now more half-hearted in his dance, which would piss you off!

he's prone to worrying over his friends, so maybe a friend who is a bit more on the reckless side. although lately, his worries have grown much closer to paranoia...

anything and everything! i'd love to brainstorm too and if you have ideas of your own, you better believe i want to hear everything

[donnerpartyofone]

This morning I left a long comment on a Facebook post by my dead friend's mom where she said she isn't ready to arrange a life celebration yet, and she urges people to keep sharing her daughter's memory. I had been meaning to do this for a month, but I often find Facebook too annoying to use just in UI/UX terms, and I had developed some sort of ridiculous paranoia that people would find out that I might have been the last person to speak to my friend, and that I was standing outside her apartment expecting her to let me in while she was dying. I fantasized that I would have to account for that somehow, to comb through details that I'm sure wouldn't be useful to anyone, and explain why I didn't do more when she strangely didn't come to the door or answer my texts. I still don't know what happened to her.

I reached out to the only acquaintance we shared in common, who was one of her roommates when we were neighbors. He regarded her as his best friend and has been completely shattered by this, especially as it came a year after the death of his ex-girlfriend, who who acted as their kind-of third musketeer. Privately I got a pretty good impression that he drove my dead friend nuts, but I wouldn't know if that was just a part of their "old married couple" dynamic or if they had a truly one-sided relationship. I guess you just don't always get to know how your dearest loved ones really think of you, and in fact maybe you shouldn't. He was the person I had asked to check up on her the day that she died, and he was the only person I could think to ask what happened to her, although I was afraid to. He texted me a detailed download of all the sad things that have happened to him since she died in September, and then he said he would have to wait until his day off to answer my question. I haven't heard from him and I don't think I'm going to. I'm sort of sorry I asked.

Tangentially: It struck me recently that cause of death has become the final frontier of privacy. This is fascinating to me, considering the constant state of overexposure in which most of us live. I've had several experiences in the past few years of someone dying--a casual acquaintance, a friend more than 3 degrees of separation away, a minor celebrity with a cult following in which I participate--and I just had no way of finding out what happened. These have been rare cases in which Google had nothing, not even a rumor; in the present case I was able to unearth the record of an arrest I had never heard about, but nothing about the death. Obviously if you're Michael Jackson or Prince or something then all bets are off, but below that line, if the bereaved don't choose to broadcast the cause or manner of death, then you'll just never find out what those things could have been. I'm thinking right now of another friend of mine who, we all tended to agree, had committed suicide, which was absolutely in-character for her as far as I was concerned...but at the same time, there were compounding factors that made her true level of deliberation ambiguous. I sometimes wish I could talk to someone about it, but I'm afraid it would just hurt her survivors pointlessly to hash it out. In her case, I just have to choose what I want to believe.

Anyway.

My plan that day had been to get a quick haircut before I went to London to record a commentary track for a new release of THE AMITYVILLE HORROR, based on my research into the creation of its mythology. This opportunity had come by way of a strange coincidence, and it seemed to justify the grueling self-directed project I had made out of it for the past several years. As I was preparing for my trip, which felt like the climax of a long journey with this subject, I started to feel silly about never having gone to Amityville to see the house. It's not an easy thing to justify; I'd basically be traveling for a total of 5 hours just to stand in front of the house long enough to annoy whoever lives there. But it felt like something I ought to do, as part of my devotion to the topic, so my plan was to see my friend for a quick trim, get on the Long Island Rail Road to do the thing, then return as fast as possible to pack in time to leave the house at 4am the following day. When my friend didn't let me in, only an hour and a half after we'd texted, and I waited around for 25 minutes in the boiling heat in case she had stepped out for coffee or something, before finally coming to terms with the fact that she flaked on me while I was preparing for a stressful international trip, I got all agitated and couldn't bring myself to do the rest of my plan. I've still never seen the Amityville house.

But later, after I found out what had happened, I was glad I didn't go. I imagined the alternative timeline: I went to my friend's apartment for a trim, couldn't make contact with her, went to see the legendary house where six people were brutally murdered and where, according to countless books and movies and podcasts etc, demonic possession took hold--and then I came home to discover that my friend had suddenly and mysteriously died. It would have been impossible for me not to connect these things. Not that I'm so eager to believe in curses; in fact my work has mostly focused on why belief in the supernatural has been easier to achieve than the availability of help for sufferers of mental illness, drug addiction, and domestic violence. But I'm not a hardcore skeptic either, which is exactly why this story has been so meaningful to me. We can't identify true mysteries if we don't train ourselves to analyze real-world events, and the reasons why certain events attract certain monstrous interpretations. For me this kind of training is urgently important, because I'm given to certain strains of magical thinking and I have to be vigilantly aware of what motivates my behavior and convictions. The circumstantial connection between my friend's unexpected death, and my plans for that day, could have proven irresistible to me.

Even now, obviously, I am connecting my plan to visit the cursed house at 112 Ocean Avenue to my friend's abrupt passing. The connection isn't as corrupting as it would be if I had put my feet on Amityville soil that day, but the experience I am currently having tells me exactly how potent this influence could have been at maximum. All my work has been about belief, where beliefs come from, what they do to us personally, even neurologically. I'm haunted by things I used to believe and where those beliefs came from, why I was so vulnerable to them, to the point of complicity in my own destruction. I'm sympathetic to people who believe in things that seem dicey, or in things that offer a seductive reward that outstrips the need to weigh evidence and consequences. But I believe that in many, perhaps most cases, skepticism is just as much of a belief system as faith. Hard evidence always looks that way as long as hard evidence is what you're looking for, an impression that seduces you away from noticing what personal choices you are making in the curation of your worldview. And at the risk of being overly cryptic, I have come to believe that people are only capable of perceiving that which they already believe in, whatever that might consist of. In any case, if you are really paying attention, you begin to notice that you find true proof of things less often than you simply have to prejudicially choose what you believe. These days I have tried to make agnosticism into a discipline, but at the moment I am consciously choosing to believe that my friend did not die in connection with a curse. And I am consciously acknowledging the fact that if that day of my life had gone as originally planned, it could have had a much graver impact on my experience of the death.

[raspberry-pudding]

3/8/24

It's another one of those days where I tell myself I'm not going to smoke, but I have no idea how well I'll succeed. I made a short post last night, just vague posting and getting a few thoughts off my chest. But nothing deep.

I feel stupid for posting about my addiction, but at the same time it's the only way I know how to possibly find people like me. Who can become very addicted to weed. I don't have any friends to go to about it because they all smoke and are fine -- or at least, they convince me they aren't addicted and that it's impossible on weed. But what else would you call something that you crave so intensely you're scrapping the bottom of a bag or grinder to get one hit? What else would you call something that you can't control yourself from taking as soon as you wake up? What else would you call something that's meant to make you feel good, but after doing it every day, all day, for several years you get stuck in a cycle of giving in, swearing to go sober/quitting, and then turn around and continue doing it? Every. Single. Day. For the past two years I have sworn to finally quit smoking weed but I just can't get away from it. My body feels like it needs it and I'm miserable.

It doesn't even get me high anymore.

More below the cut for those interested, and so I'm not clogging timelines with a long post. My content isn't for everyone. Please scroll by if you think weed isn't addictive and if you argue with me you'll just get blocked. That's not what I need when I'm just trying to recover.

I miss the person I was before I started smoking. I was so productive and successful; I wrote and exercised everyday. My emotions were better regulated. I felt like I could do anything.

I started smoking a lot later than most people -- 24. And as much as I would like to blame my ex for the addiction, I'm more to blame for my own addiction than anyone else. It started when I was writing an essay on Emily Dickinson and the soul, and weed helped me a lot with writing this piece. At least, for awhile. Soon after, I was getting high every evening to work on the essay, but I'd get distracted and ignore my work. It just sort of spiraled after that.

There are a lot of good reasons why I want to quit. First of all, I want to be a better woman. I want to be the strong woman I used to me -- not this weepy bag who can't even stand the thought of driving myself anymore. Where did all my strength go? Where did all my independence and will go? I wanna be a better woman not only for myself, but for my fiancé. He's very supportive of me, and says that we all have our vices -- doesn't care if I continue smoking or if I quit and will support me no matter which I do. But I need to stop smoking for him, too. He deserves sober-me. He's not only the best man, but the best person I have ever met in my entire life. He deserves the sober-me much more than my ex deserved it, but he's hardly gotten to experience it. He deserves a woman who can do anything and be level-headed. Not the emotional wreck I am on weed.

I'm also already a naturally paranoid person. I don't know how to explain it other than ever since I was a kid I've been prone to extreme paranoia. I've always seen terrifying images in my head and I get concerned that they'll actually happen before my eyes, no matter how off the wall it is. Let me clarify, I never hallucinate (not even on shrooms or acid have I hallucinated), I just have an overactive imagination. Weed, obviously, intensifies this feeling. Sometimes the paranoia is crippling; I'm frozen in fear whether it's in bed or at my desk or in the living room. It can become overwhelming.

Third, I want to go back to school. It's nearing the 3 year mark since I've gotten my Master's degree and I haven't gotten any jobs with it. Granted, it's difficult to do something with my degree in my area and I'm a bitch about having to move. But I'm in a dead-end part time job now that's pushed me into wanting something more. Specifically, wanting what my original plan in life was -- get a PhD and become a professor. Focus my career on academia. It's what I'm good at, and it's what I enjoy doing. I've missed the college space so much. I've missed the research that goes into essays and the excitement I used to get while writing. If I go back for my PhD, I can't continue to be on this fucking drug. I can't do the work I need to while being constantly stoned. How do I know? Because I could barely balance the work-weed balance as I was finishing up my MA. Weed stifled my academic work so much to the point that I almost didn't graduate; if I go for a PhD I have to be sober. There's literally no other option. I have to take it seriously. I cannot do the work I need to while getting stoned every day.

I feel miserable and cranky every day, and the good mood I get from smoking only lasts for so long and then I become grumpy again. Yesterday my grumpy attitude ruined a nice evening out with my fiancé -- he says it didn't, but I feel horrible about the ordeal.

I'm ready to quit. I've been ready to quit for about a year now with no success. I think the furthest I've gotten in the past year is 2 days without weed. Since I started smoking, the further I've gone without is a whole month -- I really don't know (or remember) how I did it. I don't know how to start, or how to keep cravings away. I'm just so frustrated, I want my ambition back. I want my drive and energy back. I want to be even better than I was before. But I can't with this drug holding me down and making me completely numb and lazy.

Any and all advice would be greatly appreciated. I really don't know what to do when the cravings start to hit within another hour or so. I guess the good thing is that I'm all out of weed right now, and while I could go get more it would involve going to the bank to get out cash. Hoping that prevents me from giving in today.

Maybe I'll just write on here when the cravings hit. Just write about how I'm feeling until it goes away. I really don't know. I'm just going insane with this kind of lifestyle and I can't do this anymore. I have to become sober again. The good thing is, leading up to this point, I have decreased how much I've smoked. I went from 3 joints a day to 1 joint a day recently. Quitting cold turkey scares me, but I guess I'm about to attempt it, because I really don't wanna drop $100 on something I wanna quit doing.

Again, let me know anything that's helped any of you quit if you're out there and reading. I would greatly appreciate the advice.

Iris🪻

[psybomb]

Something’s been bugging me about the I/P war, and after speaking to an Israeli expat today I think I finally put my finger on exactly what that is.

You have to understand something, right now. To the average Israeli, they do not believe there was a safe zone declared in Rafah. They believe, often correctly, that their country is beset on all sides by enemies, and that any response less that total overkill is inviting their immediate destruction, and with it the heart of the worldwide hope of their people in diaspora. The way they fight is predicated on the fact that any enemy is going to attempt to torture and kill them whether the intent is obvious, and that former friends can become deadly enemies without warning or provocation.

This… kind of makes it difficult to take constructive criticism. Especially when the above beliefs have been VERY thoroughly borne out over the past 3,000 years.

And that’s when it struck me. I have seen this pattern before, though not from nation states. Any trauma-bonded community is going to act the same way. Soldiers and police deliberately induce it in training to make sure their people respond in ways that will preserve their lives when threatened (I’ll state for the record that police should absolutely not be doing that). Gangs and mafia families, too. However, my example is going to be way closer to home for most of this site.

You ever wonder why queer communities can be bastions of hope and light with one hand, but infamously drama-filled traps on the other? Why it is taking concerted and often generational effort to heal? Same reason. LGBTQ+ communities never know who their allies are going to be day to day, and find themselves in that community at all usually on the tail end of a lifetime of traumatic experiences. When the attack comes (and it ALWAYS comes), it often comes from people who look a lot like your best friend. Paranoia is a way of life and preservation necessity, often rightfully leading to violent response.

Sound familiar? The only difference is scale.

So how do we fix this? Hah, if it was that easy to explain we would have done it by now. The first thing, though, is that any proposed answer has to have a full and clear endpoint in which their existence is an enshrined right. Jews are indigenous to that land, too, lest we forget. I do not deny that Palestinians are as well, nor that there are a lot of heinous crimes that need rectifying, but without that basic acknowledgement then neither Israel nor any Israeli (yes, including the many non-Jews who call it home) will react any more calmly or diplomatically than the ambassador who shredded a copy of the UN charter on the floor this morning. If you don’t guarantee safety and existence, it’s just genocide with extra steps, from a people who have been on the wrong end of it more than once and who often genuinely believe that their current course of action is the only one that lets them live.

I’m personally a 2-state solution advocate, though with several asterisks. The country was established as an imperial project using desperate people to do evil, and the rest of its history hasn’t exactly been a shining rise out of troubled roots… but then again, the people now living there are in their spiritual home. One they have fought for hundreds or thousands of years to return to. It needs to exist for multiple people to be able to live on the world stage, yet it needs to be reorganized so dramatically that it may not be recognizable at the end of it.

This is where we stand. And Palestinians are dying while we do so.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw self harm eating disorder suicide ? mention and mostly mental health issues

My childhood was fucked up. in many many ways, yet i can never tell if it was traumatic...

mental health issues started when i was 7-8.

had psychotic symptoms (believing people could read my mind or were spying on me, severe paranoia when i was outside, believing people were going to do bad things to me and heard footsteps behind me constantly) along w disocciation to the point i saw myself in third person, almost throw myself out of a window in a second floor because i thought i was in a dream and i needed to wake up.

i never felt real, it never felt like me in the mirror, or if my parents were actually my parents, i was so disconnected.

i started cutting when i was 10, had an eating disorder between the ages of 10-12, friends would also cut, we had weekly exams/revisions? where we saw eachothers arms and to see if we had cut or not.

we would comfort eachother, we would try and ''help'' eachother (taking out sharpeners/sharp things out of our pencil cases) while we were only 11-12-13

i never felt safe

i never played with kids everyday, i never had fun everyday, i was in house, locked, because of severe social phobia.

had depression, along with tourette's which my mom was deeply ignorant about and would yell and scould me, dad was absent for some of the years, he's good now, mom too, we have a good relationship,

yet i've always felt like grieving, for mourning a childhood, because i feel like i never had one, there were things i never did like playing w friends outside school, i visited one of my friend's house, one time, andd felt awful so i had to leave, or having a pajama party, at this age i still cry sometimes and i just want to give my younger me a hug, a kiss on the forehead and tell her everything eventually will be okay, even if it now isn't.

i just, wish i were happy, i see a happy kid and i'm like, idk, why couldn't i be like that? why couldn't i be healthy? i spent my childhood in hospitals, clinics, etc etc, for many many reasons, physical and mental issues.

does this counts as trauma?

thank you.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about everything you've been through and please know that you're not alone. These experiences absolutely can count as trauma. You've been through a multitude of traumatic things such as eating disorders, self harm, psychotic symptoms, depression, and more. It's understandable to envy others' happiness considering the context of your experiences. In many ways you've missed out on your childhood and it's okay to mourn that.

It's good that you can somewhat envision your child self and how you would treat them, because healing the child self can be an essential step forward. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional could best help you process your trauma and work with you along your healing journey.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[ankhisms]

have experienced what feels like 800 emotions in rapid succession on a rollercoaster today and it hasnt even really been a bad day honestly or anything im fine you know how it is

my mood swings have just been a lot stronger than they usually are since thats one of the biggest things my meds are for theyre like supposed to be a mood swing stabelizer but anyway

something that im aware is related to my more severe paranoia and obsessive compulsive issues but is less severe and more just adjacent to those is like being scared that im somehow a hypocrite about various random things or that im somehow secretly an awful horrible person who hurts people and does bad things without me even realizing that im doing that. im also aware that this very much stems from the way my abuser treated me and also the behavior of ""friends"" i had when i was younger who just now as im older i realize honestly didnt even like me and kept me around to make fun of me and be cruel to me together as a kind of group bonding thing.

which sucks because when im doing self soothing techniques and trying to calm myself down or even just approaching these thoughts and talking myself thru things it can be hard to counter the fear of "what if my friends or people i know in general actually talk together about how im an awful person and they hate me or talk together about how ive done something wrong without telling me?" with "no thats not fair or true and not based in reality" because it very much WAS reality for me. not in the sense of me having done something "wrong" in the past with those ""friends"" but like them being cruel to me and making fun of me when i wasnt around and the things i did ""wrong"" were just my autistic traits and other symptoms of my various mental things especially during that period of my life where i was completely unmedicated and had just gotten away from my abuser and was still in the awful school environment of being harrassed every single day.

anyway its really like. i know i shouldnt worry about this, rationally i know this. but just because i know something isnt rational it doesnt make my brain stop obsessively thinking about it so its like i could see someone saying "i hate when people go to the moon and jump up and down and sing the abcs" (ridiculous example bc i cant think of anything else) and i could at first go oh yeah i get that and like their post but then my brain will go but what if ive done that without realizing it and they see me liking their post and they go "ugh rey this post is about YOU and people like you and youre such a hypocrite and dont even know it" and the spiral begins. and in the end i guess all of this just goes to show that having people pretend to be friends with you only to hate you and ridicule you and pick apart every little thing you do behind your back really fucks you up.

also thinking about the ex close friend who cut me off out of nowhere with no explanation for seemingly no reason about a year or so ago now and ive continued to have kind of taking off the rose tinted glasses moments where i loved and cherished this friend so much that i excused how shitty they treated me at different times. not at all saying they are or were a bad person or that there was any abuse going on or anything like that but im just realizing that we both come from dysfunctional abusive families and we both have our own physical and mental problems and so throughout our friendship we both mightve not made the best choices or couldve handled things better and im not exempt from that. but also i realized that he would not tell me if i had done something to upset him and it would be like a guessing game for me and would really stress me out and make me feel awful

and its like. now as im older i would want to be able to talk things out and understand what had happened and be able to apologize and work on doing better. and in general thats something i really try my best on like i think in the past i would really get stuck in obsessively overthinking in self analyzing and get into moral obsessive compulsive spirals that just ended up hurting myself more than helping me grow, and anyway i always want to be able to step back and look at myself and my actions and be willing to listen if someone tells me ive done something hurtful or that i need to re-examine my behavior and beliefs, i think im pretty good at listening to people about stuff like that and have gotten much better about not falling into those spirals i just mentioned and examining myself in smaller healthier doses

but at the same time i do really get worried that people just arent telling me that theyre upset with me or that ive done something wrong or hurt them in some way. i really just want to be a good friend to people and i dont want people to be scared of coming to me and talking with me if ive done something to hurt them or to just talk about things with me in general and i dont want people to think im so fragile and mentally fucked up that theyd be scared of upsetting me by telling me id done something hurtful and letting it fester instead. i dont want to hurt people i want to spend my life making people happy and helping people and being a good friend, thats what i want most out of my relationships in life overall. i want to make people feel content and happy and safe.

but idk i just get scared. please be honest with me be upfront with me be blunt with me even i know im traumatized but i wont shatter into a million pieces if you tell me youre upset with me ill appreciate you being honest about it and ill stop whatever it was i was doing or work on it. i know im bad with social cues bc of autism and if i misunderstand something or say something inappropriate/out of my lane due to this please just tell me yknow

i really hate that my brain is like this and that having been abused and mistreated in the past has made me struggle like this because i want to trust that people arent talking badly about me or angry with me secretly i dont want to be so paranoid i dont want people to feel like they cant be honest with me or that im made of glass and that ill shatter if they tell me theyre upset with me, i want to trust that the people in my life like me and dont secretly hate me and im really trying hard but paranoia isnt something i can just magically wave away yknow its something im probably going to be dealing with for most of my life and im always kind of scared that people are going to get tired of my paranoia

despite living in survival mode constantly i still love all the people in my life a lot and i just want everyone to be happy and safe and i always wish there was more i could do to help everyone and i want everyone to be able to thrive and to be living comfortably and have all their needs met and to get all the help they need i love everyone a lot i want everyone to be okay and yeah

have also been majorly overthinking about if i want to do something that im being vague about as i ramble about it which i know is silly and its not even like something bad or negative but i just keep overthinking about the possible what if scenarios of oh what if i do this and they react really badly and cut me off and never want to talk to me again and due to this im also unfortunately like overthinking most things recently and being even MORE scared than usual of coming off as weird or being weird and making people uncomfortable but aint that just the way yknow. ill either do it or ill be a coward

anyway besides that my days been pretty decent its a lovely early autumn day. after typing this all i realized im probably feeling super emotional and weird because i just started my period lmao but thanks if you read this i love u mwah

[sybilius]

ohhh I'd love to know about Jay White / Bullet Club character study piece?

Ahhhhh I think you would really enjoy this one though it's very ill-formed right now and is basically why I'm on the Jay White Deep Dive. I am tossing around several things structurally, and mostly trying to figure out how to write it at a length that won't burn me out. But essentially I like the idea of writing a Jay POV story about his time as leader of bullet club and the layers of struggling with hmmm being both a paranoid maniac who WILL backstab but also caring so much? I think a LOT about Phantasmo "we discussed it and we were going to let Jay ride off into the sunset--". There's affection between the shitty losers of bullet club (affectionate) and I want to tease that out and how Jay both trusts it and cannot trust it as a result of his own actions.

Again, not super well defined yet but I think a lot of the story is contained within my initial idea of how Jay approached Kenta to join bullet club. I think there's this sense to which in order to recruit for Bullet club, he looks for people who are fundamentally dissatisfied with their lot on the roster and preys on that to get them to flip.

And Jay is very very good at that, and I've kind of tapped Ishimori as a character who helps him with that structure. But like, it comes with this terrible double edged sword that is both people pleasing and "I need to stab first". The "I need to stab first" paranoia is visible in the character development as I understand it, but at heart I want this fic to be about the ways in which Jay White is always trying to one-up himself by hyper-reading in to how happy his Bullet Club friends are with being in Bullet Club-- because fundamentally, he's afraid of someone like him stealing them away the same way he did.

There's a whole element too with Gedo + Okada that I'm still tossing over how to weave into the story. Gedo's presence as Jay's crutch is unmistakable but I don't see their relationship as fundamentally all that good for Jay (or Okada)-- so like, Gedo as a character really feeding the twin paranoia / product of Jay White The Best Guy Ever, and that eventually eating up Jay inside. It's like, the contrast is that Jay and say, Phantasmo or Kenta or Ishimori, still fundamentally like and care about each other on some level. Gedo cares about Jay White The Product the same way he cared about Okada the Product (before Okada went full mid-life-crisis mode). But I'm still tossing around how to weave this in and/or how much

AND THEN there's also David Finlay who I have the most ill-formed ideas about but want to have a presence in the story too...same with Tama Tonga... we'll see when I get to that in my backwatch....

tl;dr Jay White is a neurotic mess of a guy and I want to write about him fucking himself over in various ways until his untimely (narrative) demise.

[fuwungi]

Alright so! Here’s the updates on what’s been going on! I was going to put it under a read more/cut thing but I can’t seem to figure that out on mobile so just general tw for mental health talk, trauma, etc

This isn’t going to exactly be linear or anything either cuz my minds just been all over the place but I haven’t been doing good. Haven’t been for a while. I’ve been working on getting help for years now and im thankfully seeing my therapist on the 8th and hoping this one actually stays (cuz my last trauma therapist ghosted me). I got a psych evaluation before hand that took a bit and got diagnosed with severe ptsd and bpd and also paranoid schizophrenia. I never really took my mental health seriously or as seriously as I should becuz for years I was so used to hearing from family and etc that it’s nothing, im just over thinking, “everybody does that” but it’s clearly not the case.

Everything started getting much worse in January, my health started dipping again. I had someone I considered a close friend abandon me and hurt me. Eventually my job I had pretty much set me up to be fired, me and others have considered it’s due to the fact I disclosed my diagnosis cuz it didn’t take long after for me to be fired. And what I was fired for was literally doing exactly what one of the managers told me to do. The next day I had an ex friend blow up at me and trigger my paranoia severely. And after that my abuser outted me and tried to spread harmful lies and misinfo in an attempt to I guess have me run off the internet. A little while after the shop I was apprenticing at also dropped me for my diagnosis but not until the spent a couple weeks straight up ghosting me and ignoring me for hours when I came in (I would come in to practice and work and all of my stuff was moved without telling me, and I also still don’t have any of my stuff back, and nobody would say a word to me or even look at me hardly. And after hours of waiting o would just eventually go home, which was also frustrating cuz I would have the person I’m about to practice on with me waking too. I reached out with messages abt things but was always just left on read.)

All of this just made things worse. I haven’t been able to significantly leave my house for a couple months now ( I say that cuz I still hype myself up to do smaller things like run out to pick up my meds, etc. but if there’s a way around physically doing said thing like ordering groceries, etc I take that). Outside of that I was already having a hard time getting myself to be social or talk to anyone. I haven’t really been talking to anyone or very active since 2020 (which I’m still working on fixing cuz it’s not that I don’t want to talk or anything, I want to so badly, I just really feel like I’m unable to do it).

My psych also diagnosed(? Idk if that’s the right word) me with agoraphobia. Which also explained a lot and helped me realize some things that help me cope and navigate my way socially and in life (and kinnie stuff is one of the things that really helps with that).

So at the moment I’m just freelancing and trying my best to work on myself. After finishing the rest of my comm queue I’m thinking of taking a break from taking comms and just focusing on my own/personal art and school (going for botany and economic science).

If you’ve read through this all, thank you so much for listening. I hope this was worded okay/sounds okay. And I can’t thank the ppl who continue to support me enough.

[blujayonthewing]

Previous anon here! I totally understand what you mean i have the same issue with my own ocs. So can I ask who's your oldesr oc (you've had the longest) and who's your favorite and why? :3c I wanna hear about them but it's hard to think of specific questions! Sidenote, you inspired me to start reblogging things as inspo for my own ocs!

OH I feel you, I'm the exact same way about not knowing what to specifically ask about other people's OCs lmao it's so hard to think of good questions!

My oldest (current) OC is my ranger, Elyss!! I've been playing her for coming up on EIGHT YEARS, which is admittedly not actually as much as it sounds because the run schedules for all the campaigns I'm in tend to be pretty sparse, ahaha :') She is also still my favorite, my beloved girl... 🥺💕 That's at least partly because I've been playing her for so long and for awhile she was my only dnd character, so I've had a lot of opportunity to think about her and play her and get to know her as a character.

She's a water genasi who was born and raised in a land where genasi are essentially unheard of, so she's spent most of her life fairly rejected and lonely. She ended up (voluntarily) living alone in the woods for something close to ten years, and she has a very nature-inspired True Neutral philosophy, so when we started the campaign with the premise of 'an established group of adventures trying to stop A Bad Guy from Taking Over The World' I had to figure out why she would care about that, and one of the answers was 'well... she loves her friends,' which has informed SO much about everything about her ever since. On a practical level, it means I get to engage with the game even if Elyss wouldn't necessarily want to (eg if the paladin wants to do a dangerous stupid thing to save some villagers, I want to go with him to help keep him safe), but it's also made her really interesting and really emotionally rewarding to roleplay with. I'm fortunate in that all my fellow players in her campaign are amazing AND Elyss has meaningful relationships with most of their characters, so I've been able to explore her navigating those relationships and her own feelings... at the beginning of the campaign, she felt really strongly that her love for her companions was completely one-sided, so had a lot of Issues about needing to be unambiguously useful and never a liability to avoid rejection and losing her right to be a part of the group. Unfortunately the circumstances of this campaign have given her... really severe trust issues to the point of sometimes paralyzing paranoia, BUT she DOES now believe that (most of) her close friends actually care about her in return, so, that's something :') I guess tl;dr without explaining the entire campaign and her entire personal development, she just has a lot of complex feelings and life circumstances that are not only interesting to play and think about but that also just... make me wish for the best for her. She's had a really hard time, so it fills me with joy whenever she gets a little reprieve, I'm overwhelmed on her behalf when things are inevitably really bad for her again, and I'm deeply invested in her path toward hope and growth and a happier, more stable future 🥺💕

All that said, I've gotten to play her a lot less lately, and while she's still my favorite, the margin isn't as wide as it used to be, lol. But I dunno if I could put a finger on the definitive second favorite? It depends on who I've played and/or have been obsessing over the most recently I think, lol. Right at this second that feels like a tossup between Juniper, my druid, and Melliwyk, my wizard; I'm not gonna do another wall of text for each of them for this ask BUT-- June is basically the character archetype I have the softest spot for (sweetheart, awkward, big ol nerd) and I wanna kiss her and give her soup, and Mel is a DIFFERENT archetype I tend to be drawn to (mad science type friendly little wierdo) but she has also developed depth that I wasn't expecting and now I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about HER as well. Also, June gives me a good outlet for a lot of soft tenderness, Mel is a good outlet for me in real life being a big fuckin nerd, and Elyss is my single best outlet for just. really loving to be really good at DPS when I'm playing a game kjhkdfhjd

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober 2024: Day Ten - Alternative Prompt - "Regret."

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced kidnapping, implied child abuse, and implied child neglect. 

Word count: 1,303

--

The boy was a mystery to Luis. He liked to hang out around the pizzaplex (keeping mostly to the arcades), and was, by all accounts, a seemingly nice kid. But Luis couldn’t shake the feeling of “wrong” whenever their paths crossed. 

And the recent disappearances certainly didn’t help his paranoia. 

He did his best to avoid the boy, which was easier said than done. At times, it felt like the kid had a sixth-sense about him. Like he knew how Luis felt about him. 

Which is why, after spotting the boy talking to his daughter, Luis had a mini-heart attack. The few other human workers liked to joke about the kid being the one to cause the disappearances, and what was once an unfunny joke told on a smoke break, felt all too real in that very instance. 

He sprinted across the lobby, nearly toppling over a display case in the process. His heart beated wildly. It thudded painfully against his ribcage. The image of the missing persons board they kept in the front security office was burned into his brain. He passed it every morning when he clocked in, and every afternoon when he clocked out. He thought of his daughter whenever he looked at the faces of the various children that would never return home. 

And there were so many now, the oldest posters were covered by the newer ones. 

“Get away from her!” Luis shouted. 

The two kids looked up at him in shock, even the boy who he suspected only talked to Cassie for nefarious purposes. But he did as Luis asked. 

Cassie’s makeup was ruined, and her eyes were red and puffy. It shouldn’t have surprised him. Not when he didn’t hear back from her supposed “friends.” But, yet, it did. He thought, perhaps, one or two kids would show up for, at the very least, a free slice of pizza or two. 

“Dad?” Cassie wiped her eyes, smearing dark purple eyeshadow on her sweater. Next to her, the boy offered up a cloth napkin. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking the napkin. 

“Cass.” Luis looked from his daughter who was wiping off her makeup, to the boy who kept gently patting his daughter’s shoulder. “We….” He still had several hours left in his shift, and he knew from past experience that Faz-ent had no problem firing people. But he couldn’t leave Cassie here. Not when the boy already knew who she was. “I’m going to take you home.”

“Why?” She asked. “I thought you got an all-day pass for my birthday?”

“I did, but…” 

the boy’s hand ceased patting her shoulder. It stayed there, he stayed there, frozen in place, as if waiting for Luis’ next words. He shuddered. 

“I figured you’d want to go home and rest.”

“Well, I did at first.” She sniffled. “But I want to hang out with my new friend.” Cassie smiled up at him. “It’s been a long time since I had a friend, and he offered to share his tokens with me.”

Luis’ heart broke. He hadn’t realized how lonely Cassie was. Maybe if he had, her birthday wouldn’t have been ruined, and he wouldn’t be in this position.

“Fine, but stay in the arcade on this floor. You can stay until I finish a maintenance job I have to get done.”

“Yay! Thanks dad!” Cassie jumped up. She hugged him tight. “I promise I’ll stay out of trouble.”

“I know you will.” The words it’s not you I’m worried about are not said. They don’t need to be. Not when Luis has the boy right in front of him, staring into his eyes. 

The moment is broken the minute his daughter pulls away. She still looks somewhat sad, but happier than he’s seen her in years when she turns back to the boy. “Let’s go!” She tugs him by his wrist, leaving Luis to hope and pray he didn’t make the wrong choice. 

-x-x-x-

Luis enters the front security office. He didn’t understand why Faz-ent couldn’t install another clocking machine further in the back, but it probably had something to do with “budgetary” problems. Problems that only seemed to affect the minimum wage workers. 

A fan sat on the edge of the desk, put on the highest setting to stave off the oppressive heat. But all it did was circulate the same stuffy air.

While waiting for the machine to actually work, Luis found his attention wandering to the missing persons board. It was covered from top to bottom in posters. The posters blew in the wind created by the fan, showing the oldest ones underneath. He couldn’t make any of them out where he stood, but a curiosity overcame him. So, the second the machine clocked him out, Luis went to the board. 

He knew five minutes went fast, especially when the clock-in machine liked to take three minutes to function, but all he needed was one. 

Just to look over the names that have been covered up and forgotten. 

His eyes scan across the posters, silently reading the names and ages. 

Timothy Wilson, aged nine. Missing since: 10-03-2022

Brenda Miller, aged Twelve. Missing since: 08-02-2021

Tyler Collar, aged Five. Missing since: 04-05-2023

His eyes take in another poster, hidden behind the others, as if it was there first. Even with the fan blowing the papers up, it remains hidden. Only the bottom part of the faded poster poked out. 

Gregory Emily, aged ten. Missing since: 06-27-2020

Luis reached out.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

His watch went off, signaling the end of his break. Luis sighed, defeated. 

“Back to work,” he muttered unhappily under his breath. 

-x-x-x-

He found his daughter, thankfully, unharmed and still in the arcade when he went to collect her. The boy was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean he was gone. 

“Time to go,” he said, guiding Cassie to the exit and out to the car. 

“I had so much fun!” She declared in between rambling about all the fun things she did. He listened with half-an-ear, trying to maneuver through traffic. “And Gregory…..”

His brain froze. 

Did she just say Gregory?

Which was obviously a coincidence. Tons of people are named Gregory. It’s not that unique, right? 

Right?

-x-x-x-

He thought about it all night. Way more than he should have, and after arriving at work the next day, he headed straight for the office. He needed his suspicions confirmed. Immediately. Both for his sanity and the well-being of whoever Gregory might be. 

He dug through the posters, trying to spot the familiar name. He kept an eye on the door in case his boss decided to make an appearance, or worse, the boy himself. 

Finally, he saw the name Gregory. Pulling it down - and ripping the top part in the process - Luis scanned over the poster. Again and again and again…..

Because, staring at him, is none other than the boy he saw everyday. Except in the picture he looked happier, more carefree. Childish, or even more his age. Regret bloomed in his chest, before a realization dawned on him. He looks at the year, and then back up at the photo. 

Gregory looked…..the same now…..five years later….

Luis dropped the poster. He didn’t think Gregory was a ghost, though he’s heard plenty of ghost stories growing up near the original Fazbears. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to the boy. Something worse than death - if such a thing existed at all. 

Part of him wished he didn’t go snooping further, because now he has to get involved. Whatever happened to Gregory didn’t matter. Whatever he may have done in the meanwhile, hanging around the pizzaplex, didn’t matter. 

Luis was going to get to the bottom of it and send Gregory home to his family.

[talenlee]

Prime Factors

Back in April, I wanted to write an article on my birthday about Prime numbers that segued into talking about Optimus Prime. It didn’t work out, because I got distracted by a dumb number problem. See, I turned a prime number this year! At first I thought I’d do a whole thing about prime numbers and my birthdays only to find that at literally no point in my life have I ever been a prime age in a prime year. This is really obvious when you think about it, because I was born in an odd-numbered year. That means every year where my age was an odd number, that year was an even number, and vice versa. So much for that idea.

But really, you know what the real prime reason for the prime season is? That’s right, it’s really all about him, and what he sacrificed for us:

Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.

It’s supposedly, Optimus Prime’s iconic line, the line that guides his whole persona for the entirety of my life. It is the one iconic home run of the storytelling edifice that is Transformers media and in a collection of several thousand different characters, it’s rare that a single one of them has so excellently been crystallised early. Like, we’re pretty clear on how Bumblebee jams now as a friend to little kids and okay, maybe now I’m just thinking of him as the Bumblebee from Transformers Animated, but we’ve had a few iterations of almost every single character from the franchise.

Almost always, these characters are just endless reinventions on a general vibe. Transformers Prime supposedly made a tragedy of the death of this guy, called Ironhide? Who supposedly mattered? But it was very funny in the context of someone who knows the character as A Present Red Thing In Group Shots. There’s a recurrent joke for years about a confusion back in the day unto now about which of two particular interchangeable idiots were the red one.

Still, Optimus Prime.

We got that guy down pat.

It’s wild to consider that supposedly this is a guy whose whole ouvre is the idea that freedom is a thing that everyone has a right to. What does freedom mean? Freedom in what way? Freedom from what? It’s one of the most hilariously obvious signs of how at its beating heart, Transformers is a corporate product from an industry rooted in 1980s cold war paranoia, that ultimately the reason the whole industry model exists is low oil prices resulting in a boom in plastic toys that then justified their own existence and then from there, latching more and more industries onto the ever-inflating and planet-dooming exercise of oil extraction. We’re going to roast to death thanks to people making a line go up but we are free.

But I get ahead of myself, a little over my cyber-skis as it were because well, okay, if that’s the summary of his personality, if that’s his iconic line, what’s the character attached to it? Well, he’s the main character of Transformers. Whatever kind of story Transformers is, that Transformers is defined by its relationship to Optimus Prime. In the original he’s a stoic, polite dad figure who will always be at the heart of every action, doesn’t delegate because he’s the one person who solves things and people help him. In Beast Wars he’s a guy who is uncertain about his place as a leader doing his best to maintain some control over a group that don’t respect his authority. In Armada, he’s present. In Superlink he’s… probably also present. In the Bayverse, he’s… well, he’s Michael Bay’s idea of a main character, angry, cruel, apathetic to feelings and dismissive of values. And in Transformers Animated – the best Transformers – he’s an uncertain up and comer learning about what it means to be a leader by comparing himself to other leader figures including a terrorist leader.

Hell, in Cyberverse, Optimus Prime is dead.

(It’s not a big deal, Optimus Prime is dead in every universe he’s in, at least at some point)

(Heck, that’s true for every character, in every universe, especially in ours, but the point is that in every story of Transformers at some point, Optimus Prime is cactus. Dude is made to die, because it happened once in the 1980s and the entirety of male media culture these days is the process of reiterating on anything that made any money at all during that period and that’s why we have not one, not two, but three different Karate Kid reboots.)

Optimus Prime is an ad for a toy. What’s more he’s an ad for a toy that’s never been on its own successful for me. I don’t have an Optimus Prime toy and I never have. I’ve never bothered pursuing him and I don’t think of him as important to my collection. He is the Corn Flakes of the Transformers toy collector playspace. There are thousands of him and they aren’t meaningfully different from one another. If there’s any given tie-in with the franchise, chances are good it’s Optimus Prime and chances are good it’s perfectly fine.

He is and has always been important to the story, and indeed, you can tell things about the nature of the series you’re watching (or reading or playing or building commander decks around or… listening to? There are Transformers audio plays, surely), by looking to Optimus Prime. Even Robot Chicken has a clear vision of how Optimus Prime’s presence in the story is a way to express the way that all of the rest of the joke needs to be delivered.

Optimus Prime is the Mario Mario of Transformers; a sort of default main character who I immediately slide off while trying to find more interesting, more specific characters to look at. The most distinctive thing I could find about his character across all incarnations, the first and only thing that made me go: hang on, I wasn’t expecting that, was that he doesn’t like the music of Motley Crue.

And that’s fine.

I mean we can all agree on that right.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!