#because these same patterns are why I keep losing friends over and over again

[stereax]

saw you post 'listen before you go', thought you'd enjoy this:

oh...

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Finally! My DoL PCs and their LIs

My friends asked me if I wanted to join the School AU with their OCs and I thought for the longest time before bringing Lya to the party. Then I kinda just felt like it and drew the whole gang :D They came out beautifully so more information and separated images undercut!

The First one is of course Lya the Blossom

Main PC

Harpy transforms, Mate for Life.

Wears all white if she can.

Very light in weight, makes her defiant attempts usually ineffective.

Went through a lot to make things easier for her loved ones.

Skilled in segg but doesn't really enjoy it anymore at this point if it's not with her loved one. What she seeks in segg with her lover is intimacy and the feeling of security.

Secretly a meanie. Gets jealous easily and envious of almost anyone, but doesn't show it or act on it often.

Despises the Temple to her core but believes Jordan is a genuinely good person. Wanted to fuck him just because.

Protective toward her lover and the children at the Orphanage.

Very insecure about her financial state. She tried to make money anytime she could.

CONSENT YOU MOTHERFU-

Can't cook. Literally. Keep her away from the kitchen.

Male Robin the Lover~ (Sorry I love this title)

The one and only.

Maybe he's trying his best, maybe he's hiding from something so terrible, who knows.

Love the purple color.

Easily scared and would cry out loud if Lya was there to reassure him and demand a lot of hugs, head pats, and kisses afterward.

Clingy as hell, but luckily he's cute just enough to let it pass.

Hell lots of freckles, everywhere all over his body even though he mostly stays at home or in the shades. Sensitive skin then.

Squishy belly.

Occasionally cross-dress when going on a date with Lya but keeps it as a hobby only.

Love to do makeup for Lya and skin care together.

Grow in height a LOT since the game started and wondering why Lya still stays the same, not that he complains about her growth of boobs and ass.

Lyah the Emancipated

The second PC, made with a lot of feast boots, almost all of the Vrel coins Lya earned.

Wears all black if he can.

Demonic Harpy Chimera Transforms.

Waiting for Robin's preg contents.

2m14. Larger body type, 6/6 physic, S athletic, Vengeful Sadist. Basically all offensive.

Fucking huge manboobs produce fucking lots of milk

Almost always wears a buttplug

The only one taller than him is Jordan.

"Blood moon? Fuck Ivory Wraith I'm out."

Still works at Strip Club, mostly because he loves wearing bunny suits and he wants to look out for Darryl.

Chef. Let him cook.

Housekeeping skill F-. Drops and crashes everything every time trying to clean or deco his room.

Doesn't know how to smile but will unconsciously do so when he's near Robin.

Doesn't understand why he's still sometimes mistaken as female.

Fem Robin the Lover~

So cute and squishy.

People unconsciously smile when she smiles.

"Too precious must protect."

Her weight is top secret.

Knows it all too well that Lyah intentionally feeds her more sweet treats and creamy drinks every day during every school break but can't resist the temptation of sweets.

Accepts gaining weight during the leisurely times, but has to lose it a bit before school starts again so she can fit into the school's uniforms.

Pretty proud that her lover is a chef at the biggest Cafe in town.

Slightly less freckle than male Robin. Just slightly.

Wardrobe full of checkered pattern clothes.

Of course she can cook well.

Perfect housewife material.

Timid when using strap-on but usually gets absorbed in the moment too much she forgor to pull the buttplug out before diving her strap in.

Lyah is not complaining though so it's all good.

Last but not least Kariya the Alter Ego!

"Well somebody has to go to prison and asylum and... hmmm"

Devil transforms

Full name Sesshouin Kariya. Kariya means "Midnight' Swallow"

Not a new save file but one of Lya's older saves. Hence the Alter Ego title.

Was born cuz I was bored and wanted to go to places Lya and Lyah can't go because they're worried about their lover being left alone.

They don't set a love interest because of that, so they can't get attached and can freely roam everywhere.

Enjoy segg as it is, purely seeking more pleasure day by day.

Drooling Masochist. Prefer group.

Get bored easily but are also quick to forget, so after a while that very same thing may pique their interest again.

Zones out a lot. Absent-minded. Sometimes clueless to things that are not segg-related.

"Ahhhh Nii-chan, nee-chan, help me it's 23:55 already and I forgor to cum inside somebody today waaaaaaaa-!!"

Intentionally dress more feminine because they love showing off.

The color palette is reversed from Lya's.

" I wonder if it's blood moon soon..."

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Part Two / Part Three PART FOUR YOU ARE HERE Part five 

As always I own my entire soul to  @chalkysgarbagefire

Steve didn't show up to lunch that Monday. 

This was a problem, because Gareth and Eddie had carefully prepared the entirety of Hellfire to help make Steve play a D&D one-shot. 

(Well, mostly Eddie--and he'd left out the parts about how the entire goal was to acclimate Harrington to hugs and high fives. 

Gareth assumed that was a more careful conversation they'd all have later, outside of school grounds.) 

"Eds, if you jiggle your legs any harder the table is going to take flight." Gareth complained, scooting away before he got jabbed in the gut. 

"Where is he!?" Eddie muttered, glancing at his watch for what had to be the twenty-fifth time. “Are we sure he showed up to class this morning?" 

Stewart, the only person to share a class with Harrington, gave their leader an exasperated look. "Yes, I’m sure." 

He flicked his spoon, pointing it towards Eddie. "And yes he looked fine, yes, everything seemed normal, no I don't know why he's not here and no, no one fucking abducted him, or threatened him, or any of the other crazy excuses you keep coming up with!” 

Eddie’s frown deepened as Gareth and Grant traded concerned glances. 

"Maybe he just didn't want to sit with us today." Jeff remarked, approaching the topic with the same care a technician had when approaching a live bomb. 

Gareth thought it was a smart move, considering Eddie looked like he was about to rocket into the ceiling. 

"He's sat with us everyday, why would he change now?"  Eddie argued. 

"Maybe there's a basketball thing happening. Or he's saying hi to his jock buddies." Gareth tried, using the same cautious tone Jeff had. 

"We’re his friends!" Eddie snapped, looking two seconds away from losing his shit entirely.

 Almost unconsciously, Gareth and Jeff both raised a hand almost to try and help calm him.

Like he was a wild horse and they were the preteen girls in the movies determined to establish a bond before he killed their grandpa or some shit. 

This was what happened when one deviated from a predetermined Munson-made plan. Not that Steve had known that of course, but then, he wasn’t exactly catching the fallout, was he?

‘I am making Harrington buy lunch after this.’ Gareth thought, as Eddie returned to bouncing both his legs almost frantically. ‘From someplace expensive.’ 

"Maybe Hargrove ate him."  Grant suggested, as if the very thought of Billy Hargrove wouldn’t set Eddie off on a rampage. 

"I could see it." Stewart agreed. "Dude has cannibal vibes." 

"Not. Helping." Jeff hissed, his palm still in the air and hovering vaguely over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Sure enough, Eddie’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of Hawkin High’s new King. "That’s it. We’re going to find him.” 

“Have fun.” Tiff said, waving him off. 

Eddie glared. “We’re all going.” He practically spat.

With a put upon sigh, Tiff set her food down. "You really want to spend the rest of our lunch period stalking around the hallways looking for Harrington?" 

Eddie gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 

"Yes Tiff, I do." He said, a manic gleam in his eyes. 

He shoved up from the table, striking the kind of pose he often used during his rants. “This is a break in a pattern of behavior. A veer from an established path! This is the very first sign in every horror movie that something is wrong!” 

He went to put his foot up on the edge of the table, like a pirate captain looking to the seas ahead, but instead missed it entirely and fell forward. 

Eddie flailed for a moment, before managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Instantly he began acting like he’d intended to fall like that from the start. 

“I refuse to let any of us behave like idiotic, stupid, horror movie characters.” He finished dramatically, hair hanging in his face. 

“You’ve been watching that Sherlock Holmes show again, haven’t you?.” Jeff asked him flatly. 

“Among other things.” Gareth muttered, because as usual, he was the one who’d been watching said shows and movies with Eddie.

Not that it bothered him any, just that it meant he got to watch his best friend adopt new behaviors in real time. 

Eddie flew back up, flinging his hair out of his face with a dramatic toss of his head. 

“Come on my Watson’s! Let’s go find Harrington. I have a one-shot to pitch dammit!” Eddie outright yelled, flinging his arm skyward once again. 

He got several startled glances in the cafeteria for it, but as used to Eddie as they all were, no one bothered to say anything to him. 

“Why the fuck would we all be Watson?” Stewart muttered as he stood. 

“I agree. Obviously, I’d be Watson.” Gareth said, also getting to his feet. “You’d be Mrs. Hudson.” 

“Oh fuck you, I would at least be the other crazy smart dude.” 

“Mycroft or Moriarty?”

“Mycroft.” Grant and Jeff chanted as one, the both of them putting their food away. 

“Not one of you is any Sherlock Holmes character. Except maybe the dog.” Tiff cut in with an eye roll as she finally gave in and stood herself. "Now come on, let's go take Eddie for a walk." 

Said metalhead flipped her the bird, but otherwise didn't protest. 

(Probably because this wasn't the first time they'd had to do laps with Eddie.) 

xXx

"Maybe he just went home." Gareth said reasonably some fifteen or so minutes later. 

They'd made their way through the school, Eddie obnoxiously bursting through all the bathroom doors to loudly (and embarrassingly) yell for Steve.

They hadn't seen hide nor perfectly shaped hair of their wayward jock, and none of them were looking forward to trapezing around the outside of the school to hunt for him.

Thankfully, they didn't have to. 

"Wait.” Tiffany asked, as they passed by the small little hallway leading to the art and photography rooms. “Is that Steve?"

Immediately all heads turned towards the direction she had pointed in. 

"I think so?" Jeff guessed, eyeing the guy standing in the hallway down from them. 

Gareth squinted, trying to get a better look. "Looks like." He agreed. "Also looks like Tiff was right, he is hanging out with other people." 

Eddie tensed at that. A true feat, Gareth thought, because he was already wound so tight he looked in danger of snapping in half. 

 "Fucking useless." Tiff muttered. 

Louder, she said; "Let's try that again. Isn't that our idiot jock with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she supposedly cheated on him with?" 

The lot of them watched as Steve stood in one of his classic defensive positions (arms tucked into his sides, back rigid and chin down, like he was about to perform some kind of football tackle.) 

Nancy Wheeler faced him, her own chin raised and her arms crossed like she was about to give the lecture of a lifetime. 

In between them stood Jonathan Byers, though he was angled more towards his girlfriend than Steve. The guy practically radiated discomfort but seemed to be managing. 

Even if his shoulders were practically above his ears.  

It didn't exactly look like a two on one situation, but then it didn't not look like it either. 

"Shit." Gareth said, which summed up the situation rather nicely. 

"Should we go save him?" Grant asked, concerned. 

Not one person moved.

 Instead, all eyes went to their fearless leader--who was uncharacteristically silent. 

Gareth took in the narrowed, frantic-turned-furious look upon his friend's face and wondered vaguely if he was going to have to stop a murder today.

Possibly two, depending on Byer’s involvement. 

"Defensive position boys!" Tiffany called out, breaking the spell with sheer volume as she made the decision for them. "Eddie, you with us or not?" 

Brave words for her, considering Gareth knew damn well that Tiff was often more bark than bite. 

Thankfully, it worked. 

"Right!" Eddie barked, jerking in place as he came back to himself. "Our Stevie needs us, men and Tiff!" 

He pointed forwards, like a war general leading a charge. "Hellfire, move out!" 

Fanning out into a triangle behind their club president, the lot of them followed as Eddie marched forward. 

"You know I didn't mean it like that." Nancy was saying, and even though Gareth didn't know her he could tell she was frustrated. 

 "You have people you can talk to. You have m--" she cut herself off when Eddie strode up next to Steve. 

Then blinked rapidly, reminding Gareth of a startled cocker spaniel when the rest of Hellfire fanned out around Harrington like wolves guarding their young. 

(Or brightly colored and very angry ducks, but wolves sounded cooler. 

Plus the last time he'd said something like this aloud; Grant had loudly informed him it was actually Muskox that made protective circles, Stewart brought up that triceratops were cooler, Jeff decided they should be bees and Tiffany had gone off on a tangent about badly done animal behavioral studies.) 

"I daresay I agree!" Eddie said, taking a dramatic leap forward and startling Steve and Byers both. 

That alone was a cause to worry--Gareth couldn't recall a single time Steve wasn't hyper-aware of his surroundings enough to get properly lost in it. 

At least lost enough that he missed an entire group of people approaching. 

"Steve is more than welcome to talk to people! His people." Eddie leaned forward a touch, the smirk on his face the one he used when he was playing up his role as the town's satanist cult leader. 

To her credit, Nancy recovered remarkably fast. "I take it you believe that's you?" 

Eddie reared back, like a cobra rising to strike. "Why Nancy Wheeler, Stevie here is an adult and can choose who he wants to talk to.”

He turned, one hand over his heart and the other held out to Steve. " Ain’t that right, big boy?”

Nancy and Byers both just stared. 

Gareth couldn’t blame them, he was staring too. 

Apparently deciding Eddie was too ridiculous to deal with, Nancy returned instead to talking to Steve--who, Gareth noted with more than his fair share of pride, looked a bit more grounded now that Hellfire had arrived. 

“I understand that we’re in a weird place right now, but you have to  know I still care about you, right?” Nancy bit her lip, clearly unhappy to have an audience but plowing ahead anyway. 

"I'm fine, Nance.” Steve told her, voice steady, but growing flat. 

 He was shutting down--shutting her out, if not everyone out. Gareth knew, if only because he’d watched Harrington do it to them more than once. 

(Knew because he himself had shut downs just like this. Eddie and Nancy were the kind of people who got loud in their anger, demanding people see and face them. 

Gareth on the other hand, even with his more explosive temper, often ended up more like Steve when faced with breakdowns with people he cared about. He didn’t want to hurt them. To say the wrong thing, to lash out when someone was just trying to help.

It was safer to shut up, back away and put some distance between yourself and whoever had pissed you off.) 

Either Nancy wasn’t aware of that or was too deep into her own emotions to see it, because she took a half step forward. “I know you’re not fine. I know you, Steve.” 

“Not anymore you don’t.” Steve responded, and Gareth wondered if he realized he was leaning away from her--and towards Eddie. 

Considering the way Wheeler’s eyes bounced between them, he knew she definitely had. 

Quite possible Byers too, from how he had to stop himself from pulling Nancy away. 

“I’ve been working hard to become someone else.” Steve added. “So you don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m not your problem anymore.”  He spoke without malice, just with the pure emptiness of someone who completely believed everything he said. 

“Steve-” Nancy protested, but Eddie cut her off. 

"You heard him." He said, peacocking his little social win in a way only Eddie could. "Now if you don't mind, I have extremely important things to discuss and you have cut drastically into my time." 

He flicked his fingers in a shoo gesture, one that made Nancy's eyes spark in a way that quite frankly, terrified Gareth. 

"Fine." She grit out through clenched teeth. "You know I’m always available to talk, Steve." 

She strode off, passing Steve and the rest of Hellfire without a glance backwards. 

"Sorry man." Jonathan muttered apologetically to Steve as he passed, following after his girlfriend. 

Steve waved him off. 

"Well she's just a delight." Jeff muttered, once Nancy was well out of hearing range. 

Steve's entire chest heaved in a sigh, swaying slightly backwards as if the entire confrontation had physically drained him. 

"She's trying to help.” Steve muttered softly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She's just...coming at it wrong." 

He turned, seeming to finally notice that all of Hellfire was there. "What are you all doing out here anyway?" 

"Rescuing you." Grant informed him. 

"From Nancy and Jonathan?"  Steve said in disbelief. 

Like Byers hadn't supposedly kicked his ass already. Nevermind the moping Wheeler had caused. 

(The entire school had witnessed the moping. 

It was, after all, part of what had drawn Eddie to Steve.) 

"Yes." Tiff replied bluntly. “Also if she corners you like that again, I will make it my personal mission in life to top all her test scores.” 

"I--okay." Steve blinked rapidly, clearly unsure of how to process that.

“Not that I needed rescuing,” He continued after a moment, staring at the whole group. “But why were you looking for me in the first place?” 

His voice was slowly recovering, coming out of that weird flatness it had scrunched itself into. It was an excellent sign, a sign of trust, and Gareth leapt to keep it before someone could say something stupid and fuck it up. 

"Eddie needed you to pitch his next one shot idea and couldn't wait for you to show up." Gareth admitted. “We decided to hunt you down since you were missing lunch.” 

“Oh.” Steve blinked again, and though it’d be concerning on anyone else, the guy just looked like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry man.”

“It's alright Stevie. I just thought you'd totally ditched us.” Eddie sniffed dramatically, looking like he was going to wing an arm around Steve’s shoulder but thought better of it. “No biggie.” 

He pouted, and made absolutely sure Steve could see him do it. 

“Is this you trying to get more of my M&M brownies?” Steve asked after a moment. 

“Oh my dear, sweet, athletic friend. Not at all. Instead, you are going to play the one shot I worked so hard on.” Eddie bounced his shoulder into him as he spoke.  

 It was a weird little compromise the two of them seemed to have, since Gareth had regularly witnessed Eddie ping-ponging off Steve’s shoulders. “Let us break your tabletop cherry.” 

“Or what?” Steve asked, the tiniest bit of humor peaking through. 

Eddie stared at him, abruptly still and completely serious. “I will cry, Steven. Loudly.” 

It brought a small smile to Steve’s face.

“Fine. I’ll play your dumb dweeb game.” He said, and couldn’t seem to stop the smile from overtaking his face when Eddie threw his arms in the air and cheered. 

“Come on, I’m pretty sure the bell rang forever ago.” Jeff said, as they began to venture out back to the main hallway. 

(“Hey guys?” Steve asked, right before they all split up to go to their various classes. “Thanks. For the save.”

Eddie positively beamed. “Anytime, Steve. Anytime.”) 

xXx 

“Hey Gareth?” Steve asked a few days later, joining Gareth in the library during his free period. 

(Gareth himself was skipping, because if he had to listen to yet another lesson on the Crucible he was going to declare himself a satan worshiping witch and demand to be hanged.) 

Gareth hummed to show he heard, as he carefully took stock of the loot he’d gotten from their last game. Eddie had been pretty good about it for once, and he wanted to look things over before the one shot. 

“Can I ask kind of a weird question?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

“Shoot, Stevie.” Gareth replied, finally comfortable enough to use the main nickname Eddie had nailed the poor guy with. 

“Did Eddie give me a character with bad eyesight or “night vision” or whatever, because he thinks I have bad eyesight?” Steve’s fingers made sassy little air quotations around “night vision” because he knew damn well it wasn’t called that and didn’t want to get chewed out. 

It was appreciated, even if it was cheeky as shit. 

Gareth stopped writing. “Why’d you think that?” 

“He just keeps acting like I’m my character.” Steve replied with a shrug. “Like all that stuff we planned  about how my character gets around and relies on the group since he can’t see that great in the daylight? He does it for me too.” 

“It’s Eddie, he’s eccentric.” Gareth struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to give the game away. 

Laughing would absolutely clue Steve in to the fact that Eddie was doing it on purpose. 

“He just keeps telling me before he touches me. Outside of the game.” Steve continued, utterly baffled. 

Of course, Eddie was doing far more than that, in order to keep up the appearance that he was just being a weirdo who was too into his game. (Instead of trying to alert Steve to the fact he was going to lean on him, hug him, or do any other thing involving skin to skin contact that usually made Harrington panic.)

“If you don’t like it you should tell him,” Gareth said. He knew it was the better option, encouraging Steve to communicate. They could come up with something else if this was too weird (as frankly, many of Eddie’s plans could be. 

Bless the guy but he had a habit of going for the dramatic over the practical.) 

“No!” Steve protested, far too quickly. 

He cleared his throat with a cough, and continued in a much calmer voice, “No, I don’t wanna ruin his fun or anything.” 

As far as excuses go for letting something happen it was a weak one, but Gareth wasn’t going to call him on it. If Steve wanted to hide behind Eddie and his “fun”  then Gareth would happily pretend to buy it. 

Would buy whatever excuse Steve needed, to help make the guy feel more comfortable and like himself than the still often vacant ghost that hung around now. 

“Just wanted to know if he actually thought my eyesight sucked.” Steve finished in a mumble. 

“Well you did trip over the curb that one time.” Gareth teased playfully, and shot a grin at Harrington when that awkward look of his melted into something more offended. 

“I was walking backwards!” Steve defended, his normal, almost bitchy tone returning. 

“Uh-huh. And what about when you almost ate shit over that garbage can and Eddie had to save you?” Gareth taunted. 

He grinned, watching as a blush overtook the older boys face, Steve glancing away frantically and--

Oh. 

Oh!

'Oh-ho, ho, ho!' Gareth thought with absolute glee. The entire fucking school knew what Steve looked like when he had a crush, (Steve himself had made sure of that with Nancy) and Gareth recognized the beginning of it happening all over again.

Steve Harrington had a crush.

On Eddie.

Gareth could work with this.

“You know….” He  paused, grin turning sly as a sudden idea came to him. “If you want to mess with Eddie a little bit I have an idea.” 

Steve stared at him, confused. “Why would we want to mess with him?” 

Gareth leaned forward. “Because pranks are fun, Harrington. Legend has it you even used to do them.”  

Steve still didn't look convinced, but the nice thing about a man like Steve was that all Gareth had to appeal to was his sense of adventure. 

“Now." He clapped his hands together in a move that had very much been stolen years ago from Eddie. "How good are your acting skills?

Meant to post this yesterday but I got surprise laid off last week and that pushed me back a bit, sorries! Absolutely related, I have a Ko-Fi now lmao. It’s https://ko-fi.com/sp0o0kyghosthost 

Unemployment should go through just fine so I don’t really think I need to full panic but hey if you wanna throw me a dollar and yell “Dance writer dance!” I’ll do a lil tippy-tap jig. 

[olailamajnoon]

Nefertiti's headdress (again)

Catwoman and Zatanna were sitting on either side of Batman, who was trying to work.

Since this arrangement was not conducive to working, he didn’t know why he was even trying. Zatanna was telling Selina how she had the perfect heist idea to steal all of Bruce’s money, and Selina was looking increasingly intrigued. 

Bruce sighed. "Not that I'm not a fan of this conversation, but do you have to have it over me?”

Zatanna ignored him. Bruce turned to Selina. “Do not encourage her. Or this.”

“Relax, darling,” Selina purred. “She’s just trying to send me to the Bahamas so she can have you all to herself.”

Zatanna rolled her eyes. “Not everyone wants a piece of your boytoy.”

This was an unfair characterization of Bruce, but he knew protesting it wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Zatanna was telling Selina how she knew a spell that could copy a man’s eyeball patterns, and lift his fingerprints at the same time.

“Why would you know this,” Bruce muttered. “Are you secretly a criminal.”

“Probably,” said Zatanna carelessly, flicking her hair. “I wouldn’t know. I keep losing time and getting up in all sorts of strange places.”

“Darling,” said Selina, meaning Zatanna and not Bruce. “You should see a doctor.”

“I see plenty of doctors,” Zatanna said, brushing off Selina’s concerns. “Metropolis is full of ‘em. Can’t go a dozen paces without seeing one.”

Selina looked askance at Bruce. Bruce looked askance at Selina. Both of them were having A Moment. Selina turned to Zatanna. 

“How about next time,” her lips curled in naughty glee, “we team up.”

Zatanna was tapping away on her tab. She turned it to Selina. It was a picture of Nefertiti’s headdress on the Egyptian Museum website. “How about now?”

Selina pointed to Bruce. “What about the big lug.” Possibly this was flirtation. Bruce was looking increasingly tired.

“Let’s take him on the heist too!” Zatanna said, bouncing. “Devil knows he needs to cheer up.”

"Sweetheart," said Selina, "I've been trying to get him to go on heists with me for years." 

"But you didn't know how to push his buttons!" Zatanna said triumphantly. 

"And you do?" asked Selina. 

"Well, I'm a better manipulator than you," Zatanna said, and Selina emitted a disbelieving giggle. Bruce produced another long-suffering sigh. 

Zatanna was still not looking at Bruce. “Step one is, establish a tragic backstory. Step two: form an emotional dependence. Step three: suggest the heist as a bonding exercise. Also, being broke helps.” 

“Oh you silly little thing,” Selina said, smiling encouragingly. “You think you’ll have him wrapped around your finger, once you’ve made a complete idiot of yourself.”  

Bruce took this opportunity to again point out that he was still right there, sitting between the two of them. Neither of them acknowledged this. Bruce looked back into his laptop, trying to focus on a quarterly report. 

Zatanna touched him, and he looked up. She had summoned tears into her eyes. “Bruce, my parents treated me so badly, and you’re the only friend I have in the world. Can we please go steal Nefertiti’s headdress?” 

“You’re really subtle,” he said. 

“I know, right?” Zatanna was preening. “Also, by the way.” She turned to Selina. “I, like, totally get what Bruce sees in you.” She was looking appreciatively at Selina’s tight latex skinsuit, her eyes raking over Selina's body. 

Selina arched an eyebrow.

“Also I think I’m bi,” Zatanna said, biting her lower lip. “Because I keep imagining Bruce unzipping you, during awkward roof sex.”

“That would be a pretty big indication, yeah,” said Selina. She couldn’t help smiling predatorily. Bruce’s face had gone pink. 

“I think this conversation has officially gone off the rails,” he said, as he stood up and collected his laptop and papers. “Enjoy your heist.” 

Zatanna stared at him. “Aren’t you going to…you know, stop us?”

“Stopping you two,” Bruce said, in a voice that lacked all personality, “feels like playing into your script. I’ll pass.”

[xerith-42]

*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

[gx-gameon]

It's exclusive to the dub, but Ishizu explains that once Atem crosses over into the afterlife, the Millennium Items would lose their magic and the shadow games would be sealed away forever, never to harm humanity again.

Just imagine Jaden's reaction to hearing that the Shadow Riders broke the seal his Uncle Atem literally gave his life to make so that humanity would be safe from the Shadow Realm. He would be ready to take each of them out with his bare fists the way Uncle Tristan taught him.

Oh I love this interpretation!!!

Jaden is pretty upset with the shadow riders in general.

I don’t know if there were any shadow games between the end of DM and the start of Gx I haven’t decided yet.

But I feel like cannon Gx disproves that idea because Jaden’s first ever shadow game is against Jinzo, a monster spirit. I feel like the shadow magic is tied to the duel spirits and therefore can’t be banished from the world without also banishing all of the monsters.

But I think the ability for a human to initiate a shadow game or have power over it is tied to the millennium items. That’s why Yami and Marik aren’t as affected as Joey and Mai are in battle city. They have a connection to an item that enhances their shadow magic.

I think the millennium items enhance their wielders own magical ability allowing them to extend themselves farther and do more with less consequences than someone without one. After all there are plenty of people in the cannon who can summon real monsters without using an item.

I think Atem would have enough power and control to initiate a full shadow game without an item. Just for virtue of him being magically trained. He can definitely summon real monsters without one.

By the end of the series Jaden can summon real monsters as well and I wouldn’t be surprised if he could initiate shadow games as well.

And there are all the physic duelist in 5Ds. They might not be starting shadow games but they are summoning real monsters and damage.

I think Jaden’s rage at the shadow riders is that they are not only using shadow games against Jaden and his friends, something he knows is extremely dangerous. But their objects are like reverse mockeries of Atem’s millennium items.

He’s knows that the millennium items weren’t all good, nor were they all used for good. But he understands that they were powerful tools that enhanced the users abilities.

He is upset with the Shadow riders having shadow charms because of the distinct disadvantage it puts them at. As we see with Camula she uses hers to steal souls and offer other peoples souls as sacrifices even when they are not part of the duel. These tools give them an advantage.

Jaden is the only person on his side with a Shadow charm. And he has to feel a bit of a connection to his dad and uncle. Finally understanding what it mush have been like to be the only one with a millennium item in this friend group. It puts you in the position of protector. Jaden’s the only one who stands a chance against someone using their shadow charm. He has to be at the top of his game. But he doesn’t have a pattern to lean on. Winged Kuriboh is great but it’s not the same dynamic and Yugi and Yami/Atem. Jaden doesn’t have a person to lean on. He’s alone.

Honestly I understand why Jaden gets so close to his spirits.

The Shadow charms are also a mockery of the Millennium items. Just the way some of them look you can tell that they were based on a certain item. And Jaden is already over it. As dangerous as this is he can tell that the shadow charms aren’t as powerful as the Millennium items. He’s not about to lose to a bunch of rip offs. Not when his dad and friends worked so hard to seal away the originals.

Not when that was the point of Atem’s journey to the afterlife.

(Sure Seto dug up the Puzzle to go after Atem. But I haven’t decided if they keep it or return it yet)

This was a great ask. I have a lot to think about. Thank you.

[hauntsthenarrative]

1, 8 and 10 for yellowjackets 👀

HEY MOOTIEEEE okok;

The character everyone gets wrong - I feel like people misunderstand so many of the characters (as an ex Misty hater who didn't understand the mechanics of a black box I have been guilty of this), but I think the main one is Natalie. I've seen a lot of people complain about how her character is largely based around Travis, but the whole point of it is to demonstrate her trauma-bonding habits and how she EVENTUALLY GROWS OUT OF THAT. While we didn't get a chance to see healed Nat apart from the S2 finale, the show explores how you have this loner girl, who's included with the team and her two friends but at the same time reclusive, with a horrific family life that prevents her from truly connecting with others (ex. Kevin, who she probably never invited over to her house to bond or otherwise EVER again), and a sex life with men who have only used her for her body. You bring her into this situation where she's stranded with the only girls who truly notice her and a guy - Travis, who has an asshole dad who is just lost. Travis keeps people at arm's length, he's got this turmoil inside of him, he's angry and isn't afraid to show it. And Nat is drawn to him because she NEVER gets to be angry- she had to be careful around her dad and take care of her mom. And she sees her inner thoughts in this guy so much. Natalie wants to be there for him in the same way that no one could ever be there for her, and it's someone she can connect with on a personal level, not someone who wants her for her body, not someone who will never understand her, not someone who will idealize her and see her for her beauty. And just as suddenly she's taking bullets FROM this guy and she's falling into the same pattern as her mother, even becoming her. But she stays with Travis for so long, because she doesn't see her father, she sees herself. And so she bonds with him, she sticks with him, she destroys him just as much as he destroys her because she wants to punish herself, and Travis, in many ways, IS her. But the problem is that Travis is also her dad, and she wants so badly to love and hate herself, that she doesn't know he's the one holding all the cards. When she loses him, she loses herself, her other half, her purpose in life, and then he dies and she will never have him in her life again. So in S2, this man who she has projected herself onto, it turns out, really isn't a part of her at all. They are 2 separate puzzle pieces painfully glued together, but they can be separated. That's why Natalie isn't with Travis on the plane to her death. She's with her younger self. Because all along, it wasn't Travis that she truly loved and accepted, and who loved and accepted her. It was the parts of her she had lost and had finally gained back.

Jesus I yapped on the first one so I'm gonna make the next one shorter. For number 8, I think people are wrong about Ben. Do I think it was awful he lit the cabin on fire? Yes, obviously that's fucked up. But this is a man who needs more food than the rest and hasn't eaten for literal weeks at this point. He is anxious, schizophrenic, and totally anti-cannibalism. He just witnessed his only 'friend' (Nat) let a CHILD die in her place and be crowned a fucked up cult leader queen for a group of insane women (and Travis). He is horrified. He is scared. He is on his last leg. Like I said, lighting the cabin on fire was horrific, but whose to say he was next? So I think it can be justified a bit in many extents.

Finally, for number 10, I'm sorry to all my Van loving mutuals, but i genuinely HATE her. I know she's starving and unreasonable but I feel like her character got really fucked up towards the ends of season 1 and the entirety of season 2. Fanon acts like she's the greatest ever but she literally told a guy whose brother she had JUST LET DIE that he was being selfish, and that she didn't regret letting a little boy die when there was a USELESS, CULTISH, HALF DEAD BITCH who was WILLING AND READY to be consumed if necessary that was offering herself up for food. Javi's whole death was fucking bullshit and literally horrific. They let Jackie sleep outside and consumed her dead body but couldn't allow an ailing Lottie to just die when she was already injured? And Van EXCUSING that behavior and on top of that TAUNTING a fellow survivor about the fact they were going to fucking eat his little brother? I feel sick. All the girls are fucked, but Van is especially shitty, and fanon needs to stop making her out to be a fucking perfect angel.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #353

I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me at the moment. I'm trying to figure it out.

So like. I woke up like this today:

...Which, ya know, by all accounts, is a pretty great start to a day. I even went to bed on time(ish) and everything. Didn't even wake up at a particularly stupid hour.

The next thing I did was put on some pajamas. And then I put on my giant wearable blanket over them:

I am toasty and warm and covered in soft things. This is ideal.

...What is not ideal is that I am losing iron. I will likely be losing iron for the next 7-10 days or so. But like... I got a burger to replenish what my body is losing. Check it out:

...It was delicious!!

And I played Hades for a long time. The current goal is to get a victory on the very first run. But you can only do that on a fresh save file. The general consensus is that, while such a thing is technically possible, it's also a wildly impractical thing to try to attempt. It's a challenging game. And on the very first run, your character is, compared to what he becomes after all the upgrades and such, very limited in what he can do. The character is at a significant disadvantage on the very first run, in a variety of respects.

...Still. One thing we seem to have in common is a love of surpassing our own limitations. Besides... if I can snatch a victory from the jaws of defeat even at such a significant disadvantage, then can you imagine what I'll be capable of after I succeed?

I like to look at it this way: the obstacles in the world I'm navigating within the confines of this game are static. They do not grow, change, or improve. They operate with the same basic patterns. And... they are up against a force who will slowly but surely learn and improve with time. In order for them to succeed, they have to remain undefeated indefinitely, over and over and over again. Whereas I...

...I only need to succeed once. One time. That's it. The odds are astonishingly in my favor, as long as my skills continue to improve! And they will continue to improve as I practice, because that's how brains work. As long as I don't give up (or somehow end up permanently rendered unable to play), my victory is inevitable.

It's like Dead Cells that way. Do you remember how I was when I first started? Do you remember how I struggled mightily, even back when I played without any Boss Cells? And did you watch as I grew into someone who can reliably play on 5 Boss Cells?

There's a lot we can do if we refuse to give up, I think.

Anyway, today I got all the way up to the final boss of the third area; check it out!

...The Minotaur is cool. As a character, he seems very pragmatic and down-to-earth. Not a whole lot of empathy to him; he does what he does regardless of what others around him feel, though he seems mostly guided by his core values. He also doesn't go out of his way to be a jerk.

...Theseus, on the other hand... whoof... He's... definitely... not very nice. At all. And he keeps calling Zagreus “blackguard”, and treating him as though he's this wicked, lying thing, even though he clearly isn't. Very bizarre.

Anyway. So I played for a long time, and I even heeded my alarms to drink water today. So I'm fed, I'm hydrated, I'm relatively well-slept, and I tended appropriately to my body's loss of iron and protein. Yesterday, after writing the letter to you, M, J, and I went and scheduled English tests for us sometime in January. We will go to Mitsuwa afterwards. And tomorrow, I am looking forward to going to work, and I'm also looking forward to meeting with J and at least one other friend at Eggcellent.

By all accounts, today was objectively pretty great!! And tomorrow I've got some pretty fun stuff to look forward to. And in the relatively near future, I have additional things to look forward to. And then after taking a break from Hades, I even found myself in this wonderful situation:

...And yet... somehow, I still feel... vaguely empty. And I can't for the life of me figure out why.

Like. I'm warm. I'm safe. I'm fed, hydrated, and rested. I have no shortage of fun stuff to do, no shortage of people whom I love, and no shortage of people who love me back.

...And yet. I wondered what is the point of it all. I thought for a brief moment about making a permanent exit from my meat suit.

...Why...?

...No, like, seriously, what the fuck. Ya know? It's mondo fucken frustrating. Especially since, like... I know what the point of it all is; it's to create love and joy and beauty in all the ways that only we know how to do. And I live in a world of tasty snacks and soft blankets and safe houses and loving people, so like... what exactly is my brain trying to escape from??? I have no idea, and wish it would quit being a miserable fucking turdmongler!!

Like. Goddammit, I did all the things that were supposed to make the happy chemical. And still it's just... like... refusing to make the happy chemical. And it refuses to make the happy chemical despite knowing that it should, objectively, have lots and lots of reasons to make the happy chemical. I just wish I knew why it was being so uncooperative.

...Ah well. Suppose sometimes some days are just like this. I have enough experience with whatever this ridiculous state of mind is to know that it's not permanent. I'm not gonna be stuck like this forever. I know it's gonna be fine. Just... I get the feeling like I'm probably gonna hafta wait a bit until whatever's going on stops, and then maybe things will be a bit more normal all up in the electric meatball rolling around between my ears.

...Might just be the result of the chemical instructions that tell my body to dump precious resources like iron and protein once a month. But also... I think it's been a while since last I've eaten any fish. Maybe my body is running low on omega-3s or something. And here I am, asking it to learn the mechanics of a new game or whatever... Our bodies need omega-3s in order to build new neural connections. Those myelin sheaths don't just appear out of thin air, ya know!

...Maybe I'll make a steamed salmon or something. That'd probably be good. I'll try it soon and tell you how it works out, okay?

Off days happen. They happen even when everything, objectively, is going well. It's okay. It's not the end of the world. We just keep plunkin' along, as we do.

Suppose I'll do that; if I keep writing, I'm probably just gonna ramble on ya.

Hey, Sephiroth? You're doing all kinds of kooky shit over at the Edge of Creation, right? Learning all kinds of new things and whatnot? When's the last time you had any fish? Try to eat some soon, okay? Salmon is a good choice; it's low in mercury, and it's good for ya.

I'll write again tomorrow, so please stay safe, and remember that you're loved. You're loved because I love you. And lots and lots of other people do, too.

'Til soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 30

We walked home in silence, our footsteps echoing in the still night. I kept my hands to myself, sensing Steve's irritation even though he didn't say a word. I couldn't quite explain what had come over me. Maybe this way I could always have a part of Bucky with me, but I could understand why he was so taken aback. We were passing Prospect Park when Steve stopped walking.

"Wanna sit by the lake?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

I took his hand. "I would love to."

The sun was going down, and it felt like an eternity since we had just sat and enjoyed the view.

It was fairly empty. A couple of teenagers were sitting on the benches, their eyes fixated on the little screens in their hands. The pier still looked the same. They had just built a small stall that sold food a few steps away. It must have been good because people were lining up to get something called tacos, whatever that was. Ducks were swimming in the lake, eating breadcrumbs that someone had dropped for them. We sat down in our usual spot, Steve on my right and a glaring empty space on my left.

"I understand why you did it," Steve broke the silence. "We all grieve differently. If that's your way of feeling close to him, it's nobody's business, not even mine."

I looked at my hands resting in my lap. I don't know when I started the habit of biting my nails, but they were horrible to look at. I could hear my mother scolding me from the afterlife. "I still can't believe he's gone. I keep expecting to wake up from this horrible nightmare," I said, not to mention the nightmares I did have when I could fall asleep for a change.

Steve sighed, wrapping his arm around me and planting a gentle kiss on my head. I hugged his waist, drawing comfort from his warmth. "We couldn't even bury him...I just want to talk to him, one last time." I started to tear up again, my tears staining Steve's shirt. This didn't feel like grief; it felt like dying, as if someone had ripped out a part of my heart. How was I supposed to keep on living with half a heart?

Everything in this city reminded me of him. Every corner was part of a memory we had shared. Streets we ran through as children, the lake we swam in when the heat became too much, the very pier we were sitting on, just reading. Every time my heart had jumped because his hand had just touched mine for a brief second.

Steve enveloped me in his arms, his head on mine, and from the tears that fell on my arm, I could tell that he was crying too. Together we mourned the man we both loved and had lost but would never forget. We watched the sun go down, remembering him and sharing this moment of grief. Perhaps with each of our remaining halves of a heart, we could make one whole.

Neither of us slept that night. We lay in my bed, going from crying to laughing because we remembered something ridiculous Bucky had done, then back to crying because he would never make us laugh again. We closed our eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but to no avail. We lay there, facing each other, hand in hand, Steve tracing patterns on my palm.

"I'm sorry that I blamed you after he..." I whispered. It hurt to say it, but it had been eating at me the whole time. I had said horrible things as if the pain of losing his best friend wasn't enough.

"You couldn't have known. You just tried to do the right thing," I added.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "But it is my fault. Maybe you could have..."

I stopped him. "Yeah, maybe...or maybe not. Or maybe I would have just had to watch him die," I replied. "It is not your fault, Steve. Don't do that to yourself."

I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. I wiped his tears with my other hand, laying my head on his chest as he put his arms around me. We were a long way from being okay, but maybe someday we would stop dreading every day that we were alive.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and our lives fell into a routine, something we had not had for a long time. We gave each other the space we needed when we knew the other needed to just cry it out by themselves, but we found comfort in each other just as much. We tried new things together but held on to old things we just could not let go, like Steve's old record player. We played our favorite songs and danced in our living room.

We even watched "The Hobbit" movie in the movie theater, and I cried at the end, not because it touched me, but because Bucky would have loved seeing it, just so he could talk about how bad it was, compared to the book. On his birthday, we bought cake and ate it at the lake in Prospect Park. Even though it started to rain, we did not leave until we had finished the cake, getting drenched in the process.

We visited the graves of the Howling Commandos, leaving flowers and remembering all the shenanigans we would get up to. Steve even tried to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, but I preferred to sit behind him while he drove, letting the wind blow through my hair. Life started to feel more normal, whatever that meant. Memories of Bucky stopped being a stab to the heart; I even caught myself smiling at the thought of him, instead of breaking out in tears.

We spent the nights in my bed, and Steve barely slept in his room anymore. Falling asleep became easier, although the nightmares never subsided. Knowing that I was not alone eased my mind. He would cuddle me from behind, his warm breath on my neck and his heartbeat at my back. I craved that feeling; he was my comfort in this strange new world.

There was this invisible line that we never crossed, no matter how much we wanted to be close to each other. But every time I had my back to him, my heart beat faster, in anticipation of what could happen if I just turned around, our faces only inches apart, but I never did.

It was a night like any other. We lay there the way we always did. A thunderstorm was raging outside, rain pelting on the windows. We had gone to bed what felt like an hour ago, but neither of us was sleeping. Steve had his hands on my stomach, his head on my shoulder, his breath fanning my neck. I was conscious of every breath he took, and it felt like his body was pressed against me more than usual.

Steve gave me the lightest kiss on my neck, then moved his hand under my shirt, caressing my stomach. Shivers went through me as he continued to pepper my skin with kisses. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations of his fingers on my skin and his lips exploring me. He was reaching for the waistband of my sleep shorts, as I tilted my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck. He took the opportunity to continue his passionate onslaught, leaving a trail of wet kisses along my collarbone. His hands began to wander, roaming over my body and exploring every curve and contour. I let out a gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot, my body arching against his in response.

His fingers slipped into my shorts, finding the sensitive folds of my skin and drawing a gasp from my lips. His own body was responding in kind, his desire growing with each gasp and moan that escaped my lips. He pulled me even closer to him, cradling me in his arms as he continued to explore my body with his mouth and hands. He moved his mouth to my ear, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin there as I let out a soft moan, my body reacting to his every touch.

I arched my body back against his, my breath coming in soft moans as he began to trail kisses down my back. It had been so long since I had been touched, that I already fell apart in his arms, shuddering in pleasure. I could feel his arousal against my back, so I pushed my butt into it, urging him to take off his pants. "Uhm no I, I can't I'm sorry," he mumbled, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me back confused.

That night was the first time he slept in his room again, after a long time.

Next Chapter

[innernachoesandguacamole]

Input You, Output You

(I understand this may be completely redundant as there’s only so many ways one can describe the very simple and intuitive concept of ‘just be’, but my mind has run in circles with ‘what about the circumstances or senses’ despite the principle being repeated a million times over, so I thought I’d put my thoughts down to help myself better understand it, and hopefully help others better understand through this interpretation!)

I’ve recently been spending more time on my phone that I’d like on brain-numbing, meaningless stuff

Not just social media, but mindless mobile games

Just being inundated with excessive visual and aural stimulation that says nothing, means nothing once the app is closed

I feel drained and disconnected afterwards

I can’t engage with family or friends as much as I like, my thoughts drift back even when I’m not actively scrolling or playing, it’s like my mind becomes a jumbled pile of brainrot mush that doesn’t even make me happy

Yet I find myself going back again and again for that comfortable, predictable stimulation

But I recently came across an ig reel by Adam / etymologynerd that’s lingered in my mind since first watching: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C_VnTi2Pjg8/?igsh=djFuYnNtZnY0c290

If you don’t feel like watching he’s discussing how ai generated content’s ability to make comprehensible… anything is solely due to the massive amounts of human-created data it’s trained on

It doesn’t actually understand or create like a person does because it’s a pattern predictor, not a soul or individual being

Once it starts training on itself it loses that conscious discerner and so the outputs get less coherent until it eventually eats its own tail and just makes nonsense

Same thing can be applied to you because the human mind-body is itself a pattern predictor that spits out whatever it’s fed - think solving an equation, drawing from past experience, a mediocre song stuck in your head because you were fed it against your will by spotify’s stupid algorithm and now you’re singing the lyrics, your internal clock being fucked up because you kept sleeping at 3am lol

The mind-body is not its own conscious entity, it can’t do anything by itself

But even with all these seemingly automatic thoughts and actions, you always have the ability to consciously step out and change the scene

You as the observer bring it into existence and continue to keep it alive through your awareness of it

If you allow your awareness to follow or focus on a certain belief or habit, your world will naturally adjust to output that initial belief again and again and again

This doesn’t necessarily have to be inherently good or bad; it’s up to you to continuously check on the data you choose to input

Are you content with what you are observing? If not, why have you not already tweaked your dataset?

As you continue to submit your power to the primitive, lifeless machine of the mind-body with manufactured fears and desires and identities, does your life feel like it’s losing meaning? Do you want enough to escape that comfort of familiarity in order to go beyond?

Is the reward of loving yourself, of returning to yourself enough for you to step out of the cycle into the vastness of infinity, even with initial resistance and garbage outputs from the pattern predictor?

Remind yourself of your autonomy again and again

Your inner foundation trains your ‘AI’ to imitate the input of your focused attention and your being

Take time to take a step back from the generated illusion and focus on what speaks to you :) as the dataset consolidates, the output will naturally reflect it

Don’t worry about the how or when

You don’t need to source, blueprint, or assemble the parts of the machine in order to install it and reap the rewards

Know it’s part of you and let the magic happen

Input ____, output ____

That’s all :)

[daydreamgoddess14]

So Long... As You Love Me?

Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton

No. 14 - When Rebecca falls hard and tells him (or Ted figures it out a different way), Ted doesn't want to ruin their friendship. Rebecca suffers, Ted maintains he's not in love until there's a moment.

A 3.11/2 retelling - Rebecca does have a truthbomb but Ted is still reeling from his mom’s visit - should he stay or should he go?

~~~~~~

"Do you know what time it is?" Rebecca asked confidently. 

"Uh, 9:30. Or half nine as you folks say over here for some goofy-ass reason." 

"Mm-hmm. That's just to annoy Americans." She admitted. 

"Ah.Yeah." 

"No, this is that time of year when I come down here and reveal something to you." 

"Oh, snap! That's right. Okay. Well, here we go. Uh, you know what? Maybe I should guess this year. No, no, no, that's silly. Yeah. No, you just go ahead and tell me. Go on, let 'er rip." Ted pretended to brace himself. 

"I… shit. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Sassy."

"What's Sassy Smurf got to do with your truthbomb, boss?"

"Girl talk. She told me why she really turned you down when you asked her out. She said it was because you liked me, which I told her was absurd of course, but then she got it into her head that I like you which I again, told her was ridiculous but… well…" Rebecca had near paced a hole in the floor, "I think she's right. No. No, I know she's right. I like you, Ted. I love you, actually… That's it. That's my truthbomb."

"Well holy smokes, boss. That's uh, that's pretty unexpected."

"Yes, indeed. Surprise!" She waved her jazz hands with a self-conscious smile.

"I guess I actually have one for you too, boss… I'm gonna go home at the end of the season."

"For a holiday? Because the end of the season is next week, Ted?"

"For good."

"Oh." She breathed, and then remembered her own yet to be acknowledged truthbomb, "Oh ." Shame and anxiety washed over her, she felt exposed and unmoored. She fumbled for the door, brushing past him.

"Wait, we should talk about what you said?" He tried to stop her, 

"No no. No need, Ted. No need at all. Fully umm… respect your decision. You have my total support." She stuttered numbly, barely registering her own words. 

"Boss… it ain't that I don't -, I mean, I don't want you to think that I don't have feelings for you. Heck in another world, Rebecca I would never have waited this long. I'm sorry, I just -, I can't. I can't do this right now." The rejection took Rebecca's breath away. She'd sensed it was coming in his change of subject, but to hear his resignation at the same time? To be rejected as a friend as well as a life partner? The thought of not having him in her life at all hurt like no pain she'd experienced before. More than the pain caused by her father, by Rupert. None of it compared to the intensity of the pain of losing her soulmate. The love of her life that she'd waited so long for. Who didn't feel the same way. It was too much. The fences go back under construction, higher and stronger than ever before and Rebecca protects herself, she puts on her game face.

"Totally agree, Ted. No idea what I was thinking. Just being silly old Rebecca. I'll just go and get on with the day." She pushed past him and through the locker room without even glancing at Will. 

 

They spend the remainder of the week in a not-quite-talking limbo. Deliberately keeping each other at arms length - Ted unable to move past his mother's declaration that Henry needs him, and Rebecca unwilling to discuss both her own truthbomb, and the impact of Ted's. Preparations for the final game go on as planned, the team also dealing with the stress of losing Ted and Beard regardless of the final results on Sunday. Uncertainty reigns on Nelson Road. It sets Rebecca on edge and unnerves her in a way she hasn't felt since she spent every waking hour treading on eggshells around Rupert. She feels the same trepidation. It eats into her sleeping pattern, her appetite and her day to day conduct. She stays late at night and arrives early in the morning. She avoids Higgins and Keeley's desperation to discuss Ted's departure and buries her head fully in the sandy soil underneath the beautifully maintained Nelson Road pitch. In her periphery, she can see that Ted battles his own demons. She can see that he's struggling with his decision to leave, torn between Henry in Kansas and his found family in Richmond. The team alternate between teasing him for leaving them, and actively berating him for it, their emotions uncontrolled and overwhelming. For those who don't have families locally with them, or even in the same country, he's a father figure - the closest thing they have to a parent. They're still so young really. The week progresses and Rebecca moves from replacement discussions to considering selling the club. Although the rejection by Ted burns, she quickly realises that she'd still follow him anywhere if he'd only say the word. But he won't. He can't, and she can't force his hand - she would never take a father away from his son. Following lunch with her mother, she tries one last attempt. Goes to the mattresses as they say. Offers of obscene amounts of money, schools for Henry, anything she can think of to sway him. She doesn't speak again of her love though. It's too much, if she starts she's afraid she'll never stop. She keeps it strictly professional, if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get. 

 

The morning of the match dawns. They're literally an hour from taking to the pitch when Roy asks to join the Diamond Dogs. The words ring in Ted's ears, 

" Change isn't about trying to be perfect."

"Perfection sucks. Perfect is boring."

"Oi, what the fuck is up with you? And don't say it's the leaving blues, you've been weird all week." Roy asked Ted. 

"Rebecca's in love with me." All eyes turn to him. 

"What. The. Fuck?" Roy recovers first. 

"How long did you sit on that little nugget?" Trent asked. 

"And you didn't tell moi?" Beard looks visibly hurt.

"She told me last week, she told me and my only response was to tell her I was leaving."

"Ouch,"

"Brutal,"

"You're a twat. You really are, an incredible person like that tells you she loves you and you tell her you've booked a flight home?" Roy is first to Rebecca's defence. 

"I've seen you do dumb shit, Ted, but that really takes top prize, man." 

"How did she take it?" Nate asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect," he admits, sadly. "I think I might be an idiot?" There are hefty nods of agreement all round. "I think I might not want to leave?"

"Oh thank god!" Nate breathes. 

"It's not too late to back out, buddy." Beard reassures him. 

"What about Henry?"

"Speaking from personal experience, I know my daughter is far happier and more settled now that I'm honest and open about who I am. Living a lie will only cause pain for everyone involved." 

"Thanks Trent, I appreciate your honesty. Rebecca offered to help me relocate Henry and Michelle if that's what I wanted. I turned her down."

"Sounds like you need to have a talk to Michelle and figure out how to move forward as a family unit rather than a married couple. You just accepted the terms of the divorce because it was easier than the pain of dealing with it. Time to put on your big boy pants, Coach." Beard told him. 

"We need to deal with this match first, fellas. Let's go. Dogs dismissed."

 

The match is hard work. With fraught emotions, the Greyhounds are down 2 - 0 at halftime. Rebecca slipped into the locker room during Ted's talk. 

"We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. Right? That we tried. Yeah?" The players murmur arpund him. 

"All right. Anybody else have something to say?" 

"Coach?"

"Yeah, Sam, what you got?" The young man stood and retrieved a small piece of yellow paper from behind his Nigeria team photo. Jamie was right behind him, taking a piece out from the book he'd supposedly thrown away.  Isaac's was battered - kept in the band of his captain's armband, the whole team stood and added their contribution, some embracing each other as they did so. From the doorway beside Trent, Rebecca watched with tears in her eyes. With a shrug of acknowledgement, the team set to work assembling the jigsaw. They stood back slightly puzzled as they appeared to find one piece missing.

"Ahem." Rebecca cleared her throat. From her bag, she pulled out a little green army figure, 

"Oh!" Jamie grinned, tucked between the plasticky legs was a scrap of yellow paper. Rebecca freed it and added it to the missing space. 

"And there it is. Number four. Yeah? All right, let's bring it in." Rebecca stepped forward, tucked in between Isaac and Colin, the Captain giving her hand a little squeeze as she added it to the pile. "I know folks like to say, "There's no place like home." That's true, you know. Man, there ain't a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either. Captain?" Rebecca felt Isaac shudder beside her, 

"Richmond on three. One, two, three…" "Richmond!" The team shouted in unison. They dispersed and filtered out in small groups. As the crowd cleared, Ted caught Rebecca's eye. She gave him a sad smile and followed Jamie out. He's still left dumbstruck as Beard hustles him back out to the dugout. Seeing her with a piece of the sign, tucked in the legs of her little green soldier figurine no less, it was like he'd been struck by lightning. He's still a little dazed out on the pitch. By the time Isaac is stepping up to take a penalty, he knows . It's an awakening - he suddenly sees and feels everything as it should be. You can hear a pin drop in the stadium but from high in the stands, he hears one clear roar for the Richmond captain. 

"C'mon Isaaaaaaaaaaac!!" She bellows. He tries to imagine what other gaffers, coaches and owners might think of a total novice stepping up to take his first penalty at such a crucial moment in such a crucial game, but Rebecca shows nothing but love and support for her boys - as usual. His heart bursts. There's no place like home - it's true. And he knows where his home is. He hears it in her voice. The rest of the game is, admittedly, a bit of a blur. It's only when they're 2 - 2 and looking for one final piece of magic that he drags himself back into the game. With some obscure gesticulating to Jamie and Sam, they come up with a plan. Sam's goal is beautiful and even over the sound of 70,000 people, he's certain he can still hear Rebecca. When the final whistle blows, the crowd pour onto the pitch. The result is in from Manchester - they've taken the league, but no one seems to care. He pushes through the crowd, accepting handshakes and shoulder grabs on the way up the steps. Up and up into the nosebleeds, all the way to the owner's box where Rebecca is flanked by Keeley and Sassy.

"We didn't win the whole fucking thing, boss. I'm so sorry." She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, 

"It's OK, Ted. This is perfect, this is enough."

"No, it ain't. I made you a promise. If it's OK with you, I'd like to rescind my resignation? I need a do-over next year. I made a promise to the woman I love, and I can't let her down." Keeley gasps beside her, the cameras have picked up on Ted and though it's without sound, the images are being broadcast on live TV. She drops back down into her seat as Leslie pulls Ted up and over the little wall that separates the box from the main grandstand. Ted thanks Sassy with a little nod as she moves to let him take her seat. "I'm sorry, Becca. I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure it out. There's no place like home, right? This is my home. It's you, it's always been you." On the pitch, the team are still huddling together, but they're looking to the big screens. Rebecca can only nod as she drags Ted closer and presses her face into the crook of his neck. When she finally pulls away, the team and remaining crowd are hushed - waiting, just waiting… he cups her cheek and she smiles, the camera capturing her serene smile as Ted finally leans in to kiss her. Nelson Road is rapture.

 

FIN.

[smimon]

The other promised personal post, this one about my self-discovery that I completed last year and in the result gained a weirdly powerful feel, like when Eragon found his true name if you know what I mean

Three main paths: art, brain training, isolation.

1. Art

Art was something I always loved, of course all kids do art but I never stopped. I kept making up characters and settings and stories and theme songs and game designs. I did my first zine at like 6 years old lol.

Living in capitalism meant that the most attractive stories were beyond my reach for financial reasons, so out of disappointment I decided to start telling my own stories, as if that was hard. This was all very early in my life and I believe I was always meant to be an artist and storyteller, and the skills I gained only helped me later.

Like when things started to get more difficult around middle school. When family started demanding and gave nothing back anymore. When the only protector I had left me alone to pursue a career, repeating that if they can handle it, I can too - but I was still a child.

When it was forbidden to talk, feel and hurt, I kept creating. Losing myself in fiction, which years later turned out to be much less fictional than it seemed. Most of my writing was about myself this whole time. I was scared someone might find out so I concealed the message so deep that I alone couldn't see it anymore.

And new stories kept coming, I kept drawing, the XP I gained brought improvement. Never completing anything but always creating something new, finding endless joy in rotating the blorbos in my head. And this continues until today.

Many many times I had doubts if it's all worth anything, a devil telling me I should drop art. And always some inner force pushing me back to the drawing desk. So many times I had to ask myself the question: why do I keep making art? And finally, very recently, I have found the answer.

I am an artist. Artists make art. It's that simple.

2. Brain training

Similar to other body parts, brain can be trained. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, learning, math, there are many ways.

For me it was trying to understand my family.

Recognizing patterns level hard. Predicting what will happen. Inventing ways to protect myself. Teaching myself to do things no one would explain to me but everyone demanded me to know.

School was easy compared to this. Studying gave results in a short term, sometimes it was even fun. Teachers noticed and behaved as if it was their success. Other kids' parents noticed and started bullying their children to get the same results, because if I can do it, why can't they? They were not abusive enough to trigger a similar mechanism, but abusive enough to make their children hate me.

But I haven't noticed. I had a few friends and did not even notice everyone else was against me. This was my elementary and middle school, and then at high school the level was much more even so I could be more invisible.

All the time I tried to figure out my family, and they kept surprising me. All the time I could get good grades, and felt like this is the only thing I am good at.

But as Master's degree approached, I had to accept this can't continue forever, that I am not smart enough to get a PhD. That after graduating I will have to start a job, live a normal life, do things I never learned. I was sure I will die within months, but hey, it's been years already and it only gets easier!

My true victory came just a few years after. I have finally realized there is no way to understand my family because they are simply irrational.

That's it! I am free now! High-fiving all the mathematicians who proved a problem to be unsolvable because hey, that's an accomplishment too!!!

3. Isolation

Introverted by nature, I don't like to spend too much time with people, especially the same people over and over again. Especially my family. Three days is my limit.

And I was tied to them all my life. So when I finally moved out, the sudden experience of freedom overwhelmed me. I did not want to give it away until I get saturated with how good it feels to be alone. Also, gaining distance feom my abusers allowed healing to start. But before that, long hours of remembering and understanding and grieving. Gaining courage to finally meet myself, discover who I am. Forget who I was supposed to be. A journey of self-discovery that brought peace and hope and skill and confidence.

But I am still human. Humans are social animals. I need some contact every now or then or I go insane.

For a few years, I used pokemon go. Going to raid hour every week. But everyone was busy playing so the contact was very shallow.

I started going to fandom conventions trying to relive the same kind of wonder I felt as a teenager. It is different this time, of course. I got used to the fun parts. Nothing seems as impressive as earlier. But even then, I felt like this is my place, and my kind if people. I only needed a way to connect.

Then Käärijä happened, of course. Suddenly I had a thought: the biggest fandom convention in the country doesn't have much to offer for me, but maybe I can do something crazy, maybe I can make this event a bit more me-friendly. I returned to fb after years of break to ask on groups if there are any Käärijä fans willing to meet up.

And they were. It only gets crazier from there.

I started talking to some of them. One suggested a Frank fanclub because we all had some Frank gadgets. I designed a sticker. I designed another one. I organized three meetups, day after day. People came. I made friends. A group chat was founded. Was it me who did it?

Then another crazy idea. Make more stickers. Repeat this at other conventions. And so my convention tour started. With many many stickers.

And then I start a daily Käärijä sketchbook. And then I find friends through the stickers. And then I find friends throught the art. And then the friends warm my heart and break it open and put a foot inside so it doesn't close back too soon.

And I realize I am not alone.

Okay?

So I am an artist, I stubbornly forced my way through my early years and ended up with a pretty cool job, and now I get just enough money and independence to decide how to spend time with people who are in general pretty amazing after all ✌️ still no idea what I want next but I am really happy I made it to here

[blue-bower]

Vent time. Buckle up.

I never thought I'd see the day where I would walk out of a job. I tried to leave with patience, grace and gratitude. I tried to stick it out for the sake of my coworkers, who I genuinely love. I thought it was only fair to them, after having endured the constant mental stress for more than two years.

But no job is worth a decline in mental health. No job is worth having panic attacks on the clock day after day; being so worn out physically and mentally that we no longer have the time or the drive to do things we're passionate about. No job is worth being gaslighted and guilted into thinking we should prioritize the corporation over things that actually feel fulfilling in our lives.

To recap: I worked at a massive vacation resort, in a tourist town with a barely sustainable housing economy, therefore a barely sustainable and adequate staffing situation. And that was only becoming more and more apparent as the last couple years passed. It made me hateful, constantly angry, a nervous fucking wreck, and suicidal. If it weren't for the support of my closest friends, I...honestly might not still be here anymore.

I liked working there the first year. Sure, I had heavy new-job anxiety, I'd never worked in the business before. It was terrifying, but I had enough help and support along the way that I picked up on things pretty quickly. Too quickly, apparently. They started recommending me for Supervisor six months in. They promoted me twice; first time was to give me official permission to help in other areas around the resort, then again to focus more on back-office work. Both of which gave me the time I needed away from the front desk, away from screaming entitled old Boomers, away from the endless drama perpetuated by some of my coworkers.

But eventually, once we started losing staff and had some absolutely baffling upper-management decisions pushed on us, I was getting pulled to the front desk way more than I could mentally handle. My pleas to get back to what my role was actually designated to do and was most suitable for the sake of my mental & emotional needs constantly fell on deaf ears. Because why the fuck would a major capitalist corporation treat a neurodivergent, anxiety-ridden, nonbinary mess of a human being with respect? At the end of the day we're just numbers. Unless we're bleeding out and dying on the job, we're expected to get the fuck over it because "everyone's in the same boat, it is what it is."

I recognized a year into the job that they were starting to take advantage of me. I was falling into the same pattern of doubling and tripling my own workload out of the deep-seated need to impress my peers, to feel like I'm worth something, that I had at my other job. But I continued to let it happen, because I kept telling myself that having a job like this on my resume could land me a job in many fields. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone that I could do it. I basically developed Stockholm Syndrome. And I'm ashamed of that fact.

"It is what it is", once again, almost drove me to permanent depression and mental break. It made me backtrack on so much of my progress with improving my mental health. It drove me to start taking edibles; first once a week, then twice a week, then every other night. It's taken everything in me to break the habit before I started taking them every night. (Which yeah, idgaf what you do for recreational purposes, and I don't have the intention to fully give them up since they genuinely do help me get a lot of good story concepts written, but I learned the hard way after a few bad trips and bad chest palpitations that I still need to be careful.)

The point is: Defeatedly accepting "it is what it is", instead of DOING something to CHANGE how it is, is how people end up trapped in toxic environments to begin with, and try to pull other people down with them. Misery loves company, after all. Jobs are shitty no matter what, so might as well keep drinking poisoned wine instead of seeing if anywhere else has at least slightly less bitterness and toxicity, right?? Is it better to force everyone to stay on the sinking ship while panicking and trying desperately to patch up the holes before you drown, because you'd feel guilty if you left your crewmates behind? Or is it better to abandon ship and swim safely to shore, trusting that they know how to use the life rafts or send an SOS for a rescue ship?

It's all well and good to care about the people in your life, whether it be friends family co-workers partners etc. It's common for people, especially people with Golden Child and Impostor Syndrome, to just, naturally fall into the habit of taking way too much on our shoulders because we just want to be helpful. We're proud of being the Jack of All Trades, proud of excelling in areas that are needed in the workplace. But at some point, we've got to learn to set our boundaries, or we'll be so weighed down that we'll crumble and break.

We also need to trust that the coworkers that we genuinely enjoy working with, that are just as privy to the bullshit, that they can take care of themselves if things become too much. We should listen to the advice of people who have struggled through similar stresses and traumas. We owe it to them for having struggled together. I owe it to the awesome people in my life to help me finally make a decision that absolutely terrified the anxiety demon constantly looming over me, but ultimately freed me from the massive weight on my back.

I'm taking a good two-week gap before jumping into my next job. I'm anxious about the future of course, shit is so goddamn expensive these days, but I need to remind myself that I have plenty of opportunities to at least land a decent job long enough to save up and pack up for my eventual plans to move further inland.

I've learned an important life lesson; one that I thought I'd already learned, but didn't fully realize how much of an absolute monster the working world can be. It taught me how to be more courageous and confident in myself; how to stay true to myself no matter how much society tries to make me repress it. My main hope going forward is that I end up finding a job where I can let my true self shine.

[lacewise]

Through the horror of seeing people put a target my friends and family and knowing I could be next, onward! To

Part 4: Tacking down threads!

(So they don’t fall apart!)

(In grounds lace!)

I’ll be dealing with the ground laces first in this one, because there are two (2) different ways to work aemilia ars.

Okay so the biggest thing any guide for true needle lace will tell you is to fold a thread in half and place the first tacking stitch exactly where the fold in the thread is. This is for a very important reason!!!!

It’s so when you finish tacking down the threads, you can lock the leftover threads into the existing threads. That keeps the pattern together.

I highly recommend buying a book or going to a class to get this next part explained, but: you take one of the two halves of the thread you are working with and put it under and over (ie through the space in) the folded thread, then back up the last stitches. The other thread is put through somewhere (in a more complex pattern, it’s just hidden away from where it’s stitched down where there’s room, in simpler patterns I think it’s tucked into the original folded thread without travelling through, back, or around).

If you don’t lock it, it WILL come apart when you remove it. I’ve done a fix for this before and it’s a nightmare. It’s the same type of fix as tatting but Worse. You have to remember to lock it at every edge and every new part of the motif. If you run out of thread, that’s no problem, you just lock the old and the new.

Every tacking stitch is supposed to be approximately 3 mm apart (and that’s important for later) (unless you have a sharp corner, then you’re supposed to place an extra stitch right at the angle). I saw a hack on Pinterest where you put sharpie 3 mm apart on your finger so you have a reference while you’re sewing. It works great, with one caveat: ONLY do it with absolutely waterproof marker!!! It should not rub off at all or trust me: it will. Onto your work. (This is why a pin vise is recommended for this part, btw.)

The tacking stitches’ tension should be firm but willing to move if you put your needle under it (since you will be doing that frequently!). If you make the stitches too loose, your tension will be a mess. If you make the stitches too tight, you will be fighting against your own sewing. And you will lose. (One time I had to finish my lace after removing it from the backing. Never again.)

Okay, so you’ve tacked down your pattern. What’s next? Yeah this is why you want the stitches 3 mm apart… basically all stitches in the foundational row are supposed to be 3 mm to 6 mm apart (depending on the stitch: grounds are usually 6 mm, almost all other stitches are set 3 mm for the first row, likewise the rows are either 3 mm or 6 mm apart for correct tension, depending on the stitch). Good news! If you’ve only messed up a little and your stitches are a bit wiggly (as they are supposed to be), you can correct most of it. Bad news: if not, you are going to have to vibe it. We’ve all been there! Good luck!

For the stitches themselves, you’re going to want to consult videos or diagrams. A lot. All the time. For a while. I would especially pay attention to diagrams when you’re looking for a tension reference because sometimes people rush samples! (Except for Catherine Barley. All her samples are completely impeccable.)

I’m not really confident covering attaching or joining the thread (yet) but it’s covered in every single book and class.

Once you’re finished and ready to buttonhole over the cordonnet, you will praise or curse your sewing work once again! For a basic cordonnet, you put your thread through your work, fold it over (facing out), and then start buttonholing. It looks best when the stitches are about every 3 mm (yeah). Once you’re done, you tuck the threads in, and carefully cut off the excess. Then you can remove it from your backing and have made lace! I’ve only worked in basic cordonnets so far but Intermediate Technical Instruction, Catherine Barley, and maybe(?) Earnshaw’s book (I will go over that in my review) all have tutorials for more advanced styles.

[ofviolentdeath]

Characters: Devin and Lissa Word Count: 625 TW: Mild violence

-----

Devin had never wanted to be responsible for anyone the way he was his sister. He'd never wanted kids and, while Lissa was definitely not his kid, he still felt like he had to parent her after their parents passed. After all, she was all he had left and dammit, he wasn't about to lose her too.

Truth be told, he was fucking exhausted. The constant fighting and worry, the recent move, the stress of it all, it had him sick to his stomach.

And there was Lissa. Out galavanting around with some guy when they needed to be laying low while Devin worked out a better living arrangement for them. Needless to say, he wasn't thrilled when she slipped into their makeshift home, trying to be as quiet as possible.

It wasn't as bad as her brother made things seem. Sure, she hadn't been home in two days, but that didn't mean she had fallen back into her worst patterns. Hell, she was only a little hungover and that had been only alcohol instead of her usual vices of any drug she could get her fingers on.

She didn't understand what Devin's issue with her new boyfriend even was. Especially given her brother's taste included a friend of hers at one point.

It was beginning to make her absolutely stir-crazy and if he kept pushing, she was going to hit him. Not that it would do much since he never swung back and that was equally unsatisfying.

She had been trying to get in and to her room without his notice, but she should have known better. He was leaning against the wall, eyes dark with anger and concern and all she could do was sigh and try to prepare for the fight that was sure to follow.

"Where the hell were you, Liss?"

"None of your goddamn business, Dev," she shot back, rising to the challenge in his tone with her own stubborn refusal to back down.

"It is my goddamn business when you fucking disappear for two days!" he snapped, pushing away from the wall and taking a step towards her, checking her over for any visible signs of injury.

"I'm an adult and you're not my fucking dad!"

It was a low blow, but she had used it enough times since the loss of their parents that it didn't really phase Devin anymore. It had hurt the first few times she had thrown it in his face.

"Thank god for that because I can see why some animals eat their fucking young."

The argument was familiar, the same lines thrown back and forth a dozen or more times at this point. If there wasn't so much tension in the room, it would have been almost funny.

"Oh go fuck yourself, you miserable fucking dick," she growled as she pushed past him, intent on making her way to her room.

Devin grabbed for her arm, trying to stop her. He hadn't anticipated her turning and swinging on him.

The punch connected and Devin stumbled, his grip tightening on her wrist for a second to keep his balance. It wasn't the first time she had reacted like that but it was the first time she had done it sober.

"For fucks sake, Alissa! What the fuck?!"

"Let go before I fucking do it again!"

"FINE!" he yelled, dropping her wrist and holding his hands up. "If you're going to take off for more than a goddamn day with whatever shady fucking prick you're playing bedwarmer for, at least have the goddamn decency to let me know you're fucking alive."

"Go to hell, Devin," was her parting remark as she walked away, leaving him to rub the blooming bruise starting to color his jaw.

[1ts-m3nt4l-1lln3ss-1nn1t]

why does everything suck so much? i thought i was getting better, i'm in therapy, i saw my partner and friends i hadn't seen in like a month last weekend, and sure i fucked up my last year of school but i'm starting courses in less than a month to fix that, and after that i probably have a spot at my dream uni secured, so why am i so fucking sad??? i thought i was over this shit but noooooo, i'm taking my adhd meds at 7am before sleeping for 2 hours and being woken up by the amphetamines, all i can think about is hurting myself and how tired i am and what if everything goes wrong again. god i'm fucking pathetic

i was supposed to be getting better but i can't even do that right, everything just feels like it goes wrong all the the

like fucking hell the cycle just goes on and on and on again, i think i'm getting better and then the tiniest thing goes wrong and i'm back in the hole

and nothing's even gone wrong this time!! everything's fine!! my dad's angry but he's always been angry and i'm pretty sure my parents like my friends more than me but it's been like that for ages so why can't i just fucking keep it together, in 8 days i'll have been self-harm free for 1 year and 9 months and i'm pretty much recovered from my ed but every passing day just makes me want to rip myself open more and my body is not my body and i am not myself

and another thing!! i don't even know who i am anymore!! what i am!!! i haven't felt real in months, i almost got top surgery back in january and then i didn't because i had a menty b and had to cancel and because i couldn't figure shit out i ended up ghosting them and now i can't ever go back there, and i'm so indescribably scared of permanence that i don't know if i'll ever be able to be comfortable in my own skin!!! like FUCK i know i don't want as much tiddy as i have but i can't tell if i want significantly less or none at all because i haven't experienced myself free of boobs since middle school, but i have experienced my body with a binder which i know feels right but what if i'm wrong about how i think not having boobs would feel and it freaks me out??? because my body's been shaped by my chest because it's heavy so what if it feels wrong to not have it there?? what if i regret it???? and some days having boobs is kinda nice, they look right with certain outfits but i don't know if i'm genuinely enjoying how my body looks or if it's just a body that i think looks nice

and same thing with testosterone, i want a different voice but i don't want to lose my upper range but i want an expanded lower range but it sounds fine as is sometimes?? and i want more body hair but sometimes i just want to be smooth and i know male pattern baldness would fuck me up and i cannot deal with that but my face structure becoming more masculine feels like it would be really nice right now but what if i end up hating it?? what if i change in ways i don't want or can't handle (also could turn into a legitimate health problem if i got more acne and an environmental hazard if my body odor worsened)

moving on with gender and identity i barely even have a NAME anymore. like shit i want by the same one for over 3 years with the people that mattered but i don't know if it fits anymore or if anything fits anymore. can anything fit anymore, can there ever be a word for me, will i ever feel like a person in the ways i should

why is it all so difficult. why won't everything stop changing for literally 5 seconds so i can take a breath and just, figure it out for once.

am i me or am i just someone pretending to be me