#being vague makes me lose time and clarity.

[cacaitos]

like i have like. 3? more or less rants of this calliber left but i never sit to write them down. that’s why im not a fan of many people following until im done and Normal.

[honeesucker]

Prelude -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count:  2,263

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not Proofread.

Next Part

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t a fundamentally nervous person. Sure, even as a Pro Hero in the public spotlight under constant scrutiny and dissection by media outlets and fans alike he experienced a normal amount of anxious awareness, but he wasn’t nervous – not like he is now, with his right leg jumping up and down rapidly, rubber-bottom boot creating a soft squeak that filled up the sterile room of the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. It had been just over a month since the incident that gave him nightmares and left him with such severe hearing damage that he was currently unable to perform even basic hero duties for his agency – which is why he is sat where he is now, waiting. Hoping the next steps are what could get him back out into the city on normal duty than having his medical leave extended. 

He was losing his mind being left to himself and his thoughts each day, being told by doctors he needed to be still, and take is easy, and he was only losing his patience each subsequent doctor’s appointment that left him no closer to returning to Pro Hero work. 

“Tch,” the blonde ground his teeth as the indignant noise stuck in his throat; he swallowed it down with a harsh gulp. His ears were ringing when the two doctors walked in, eyes unfocused as the room and people in front of him blurred in and out of clarity, everything around him sounded like it was underwater, and he hated it.  

“Mr. Bakugo,” the doctor continued, Katsuki refocusing his attention on the man’s words, annoyed and thinking that Mr. Bakugo is my old man, not me... “we have some support specialists working with the latest auditory data set we took from you and they are getting closer to having a solution to get your hearing back to where it was before, and keep it there – even possibly making it better if all goes to plan.” 

“In the meantime, it is recommended you follow the strict guidelines for allowing your body to heal itself naturally,” the other spoke. “You need to make sure you’re not exceeding the maximum limit for minimal exertion we’ve placed on your physical activity, so you have a better chance of getting back to your pre-incident status.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki sighed out, tired of hearing this same speech each visit. “Don’t overdo it, give my damn body time to heal – I got it.” The two doctors observed Katsuki with cautious eyes, but simply nodded their acceptance of his understanding. It was as good as it was going to get with him. 

“Another suggestion,” one of the two added. “We have provided you with an email detailing a program we’d like you to consider – your colleague Red Riot actually participates and could be a good resource for you if you have any questions about it.” 

“Please take a look when you have a moment and consider this a strong suggestion for helping you progress further in your treatment,” Katsuki eyed the two, irritated at the vagueness of the conversation, but swallowed down his disagreement and simply nodded. 

“Yeah sure,” his chair slid back with a jarring scrape as he stood, moving toward the door to leave, “I’ll read your damn email, but I want progress updates from the support nerds.” He didn’t wait to hear their reply as he pushed through the door and hurried down the hall. He hated hospitals, hated the itch of memory in the back of his mind at the sterilized smell that gave him goosebumps and had him picking up the pace to rush out the side exit before heading to the sidewalk to wait for his friend to come get him after he shot him a text that he was all wrapped up. Another annoying outcome from the accident and the resulting toll on his body – he couldn’t drive himself as it was deemed too unsafe for him.  

Bullshit. 

“Hey Bakubro!” Katsuki’s eyes snapped toward the boisterous voice, seeing his red-headed friend waving his arm out the passenger window of his car. Katsuki ripped the door open and sunk into the passenger seat, Kirishima avoided asking how this appointment went the second he saw Katsuki’s demeanor. The two men drove in silence on the way to Katsuki’s apartment when the silence was cut. 

“Doctors mentioned an email they sent me about this program,” Katsuki tested the water, being unsure what the program his doctors suggested he partake in he wasn’t sure if it was good to bring up with Kirishima at this moment. “They mentioned you’ve taken part in it before... Was curious what it’s all about,” Katsuki wouldn’t add the unspoken because I trust your opinion, but he knew Kirishima knew him and his nuances better than anyone since they’ve been side by side since UA. 

“Program...?” Kirishima wracked his brain for a few minutes until it clicked.  

The Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program.  

A program that matches people with hybrids who have been rescued from inhumane circumstances with a person who needs support in their healing journey, and who is believed will benefit from focusing more on rehabilitating another which has been shown to have equally beneficial results with the healing person themselves. Kirishima had first taken part in the program after he was put on medical leave due to a villain fight that nearly left him dead – his body and his mind took almost a full year to heal, and he nearly gave up entirely. On Pro Hero work, on himself... on life. His doctors had mentioned the program and Kirishima wasn’t sure at first – how would he be able to provide a good home to someone who needed stability and support when he could barely pull himself out of bed? He got matched with a wolf hybrid, TetsuTetsu, who had been rescued from an underground fighting ring, having to kill other hybrids just to be able to get locked in a cage alive for another day. TetsuTetsu was surprisingly positive and open for someone who had gone through what he did, but he still had issues – Kirishima slowly helped break him of his more undesirable reactivity and in return TetsuTetsu gave Kirishima a reason to get up every day, make food, go for walks... talk about things that weighed on him, and before he knew it, he was making strides rebuilding his strength with his new training partner. Kirishima still had TetsuTetsu living with him, and Katsuki had met him several times now, but Kirishima never divulged how their relationship came to be – just alluded to him adopting a hybrid in need. 

“Yeah! If it’s the one I’m thinking about it’s a pretty great program,” Kirishima finally spoke. “It’s a rehabilitation program for hybrids who were rescued from bad situations. They place them with a person who they feel would benefit from having something to care for while working on their own journey too.” 

“Tch,” Katsuki snorted out, “sounds like a pain in the ass waste of time.” 

“It’s how I adopted TetsuTetsu,” Kirishima stated out loud for the first time to his friend. Katsuki noted the stiff body language from his friend, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. “When I was out on leave for that year after...” Kirishima couldn’t finish the thought, the memory still a sore spot. “I was out on leave, and it got bad dude. I really came close to just giving up.” Katsuki had seen his friend in a lot of lights, weak and strong – but Kirishima never revealed what happened after that incident that left him injured when he was on leave for that year. Never thought for a second his life came so close to not having that shitty red hair and sharky smile in it, never thought he’d ever have that brotherhood bond ripped from him. Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat the size of a boulder.  

“That bad, huh?” Kirishima just flashed a half-smile, watching his friend shift uncomfortably in the seat. 

“Yeah,” Kirishima sighed, “it got pretty bad. I was against the idea at first, not thinking I could take care of someone when I couldn’t do it myself but it’s amazing how your mind overrides itself to keep going for someone else... and having TetsuTetsu around really helped me get back on track to be back where I am now.” 

Katsuki had been chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed into a concentrated death stare before he noticed that they were parked in front of his apartment building. “I do like that annoying rockhead,” Katsuki finally said. Kirishima just laughed and gave a gentle punch to his friend’s shoulder. 

“Just think about it dude,” Kirishima smiled, seeing the cogs turning in Bakugo’s head. “They provide a link to the rescue sight so you can see some of the hybrids they have in their facility right now – and look into next steps if you end up going that route...” Bakugo had stepped out of the car listening to his friends, and before shutting the door with a quick Later, dude Kirishima added - “it’s worth it Bakugo.” 

Slam. 

Kirishima just laughed, watching Bakugo enter his building before pulling away to head back home. Intending to text Bakugo later to see where his head is at and see if he wants to talk more in depth about the program. 

Bakugo made his way up to his apartment – opening the door and stepping into the genkan to slip out of his boots and into his bright crimson and black Red Riot house slippers – a joke gift from his friend but functional enough that Bakugo didn’t mind replacing his old ones with them.  He’d never outwardly admit it but he had a love for sentimentality even when it made him uncomfortable, and Kirishima always had such a shit eating grin on his face when he came over to Bakugo’s house and saw them still being used. 

Bakugo’s apartment was wide open, a minimalistic space with deep chocolate colored wood laminate flooring and a traditional shoji style wall, some actual shoji, and some just styled in a more traditional way with wallpaper and wood accents. The whole living room wall facing out toward Musutafu was made up of large windows that lead to a fairly decently sized balcony with a bonfire and patio set, and down a short hallway was the spare room that currently housed his office where he could complete some more of the menial work from home, and a pull-out couch for guests. His bedroom was an equally large, open space but housed a King-sized bed with plush comforters and pillows, a wall dedicated to All Might memorabilia he collected since he was a child and was connected to a luxury bathroom with a deep tub and natural rock wall shower that doubled as a steam room. 

Bakugo took his time getting showered, changed into loungewear and set to work through some of his most recent light work assignments, and finally his emails where one caught his eye immediately. 

Musutafu Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program, LLC <info@MHRFP.jp.com> 

To: Bakugo, Katsuki <explosionmurdergod@endeavoragency.jp.com> 

Tue, Nov 8 at 10:26 AM 

Hello Katsuki Bakugo, 

Congratulations! You have been extended a conditional offer of consideration for adoption as a part of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Program per a request from your medical team at the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. Please note that this adoption offer is contingent upon the completion of the necessary online paperwork and tasks, as well as your attendance to the required hybrid informational seminars prior to the adoption process. Additionally, your offer may be contingent on screening results (e.g., background check, reference check), as applicable for the adoption. 

In advance of you coming to the facility, please follow the link below to complete required paperwork and tasks as stated above. You will also be redirected to our facilities availability calendar to choose a day to come in and tour the facility, speak with staff and begin the introduction process at your convenience. 

Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the facility and ask to speak to the Managing Director.   

Best regards, 

The M.H.R.F.P. Team 

Bakugo stared at his computer screen for the longest time before deciding to click on the hyperlink that led him to the rescue facilities website. He was on autopilot as he filled out all of the personal information, required questions (both information-gathering and personal) and even wrote in his concerns in a concise manner in a provided box for additional comments before hitting submit and staring as the screen buffered with a loading wheel until it finally read ‘Thank you! A member of our staff will be contacting you shortly to confirm your appointment date!’ He didn’t know why he easily accepted this opportunity despite his growing hesitation, again unsure that he could or should be seeking to take care of something else when he could barely manage to care about himself beyond pushing himself into getting back to his normal Hero work... but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him this was something worth checking out. 

“Hell, if shitty Broomhead can do this program then so can I,” he finally said, shutting his laptop and heading toward his bedroom to sleep.  

Underneath the plush covers, in the darkness of his room, Bakugo drifted off into a dream of what awaited him upon meeting a hybrid. 

[ghostgirl-22]

To Be Loved by Everybody But You

18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Day 17: First time (I’m behind 😭)

To say he’s down bad is an understatement. He’s down horrendously. He keeps thinking it’s gonna go away if he hooks up with enough girls. Hell, it’s fucked up but he’s even fucked Arts girlfriend a handful of times just because she’s his. He doesn’t like her for him. She gave into him way too easily. He knows he’s a fucking asshole. But whoever gets to be with him has to be special. Art is so special.

And his real mistake was teaching Art how to touch himself in the first place. Mutual masturbation, led to kissing, led to dry humping led to whatever the fuck has been happening on and off during sleepless nights in their dorm room for years.

Jackson doesn’t look like Art. He’s shorter for one thing, Art’s about 6 ft tall, Jackson is probably 5’10. He’s decidedly less blonde, his haircut is entirely different, short, straight and spiky with gel on top. He’s hairier and he tans like an Italian. Patrick fidgets on his bed, tap tap tapping his fingers along the headboard. They’re in Jacksons room. His roommate’s always going home for the weekend because his family lives nearby. Kinda defeats the purpose of boarding school but whatever.

Jackson is cute enough, not Patrick’s type but he’s cute. He’s the only boy that’s openly out but apparently he’s hooked up plenty of times. “I don’t kiss and tell… but no he’s never asked me.” Jackson says when Patrick asks about Art.

“You’re nervous,” Jackson points out. He settles next to Patrick on the bed.

”I’m not fucking nervous,” Patrick lies. He sits closer to Jackson. He’s made out with him before when he couldn’t kiss Art. It doesn’t quite soothe the ache but it’s something.

”You look like you’re gonna vomit,” Jackson says dryly, he curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair. “I’m surprised you two really never fucked.”

“I told you—“

“Yeah I know what you told me…” he says. “I think it’s fucking toxic and if you don’t draw boundaries that’ll probably end up blowing up in your face.”

Patrick grabs him and pulls him into a kiss mostly to shut him up. They start making out on his bed. Patrick does what he would with a woman. If he’s going to be on top the way Jackson suggested then it can’t exactly be that different. He’s anxious though. He’s not drunk but he doesn’t need to be drunk to close his eyes and imagine Art. It feels good until Jackson makes a sound and then Patrick’s disoriented. He almost loses his nerve but his dick is so hard.

He’s just been fucking the wrong gender… if he can do this… the obsession will go away and he can be normal. He stops and sighs.

“You’re supposed to put on lube so it—“

”I know,” Patrick says.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Jackson says playfully, he starts rubbing Patrick through his shorts. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to ask me, you have such a big one.”

Patrick smirks. He hears it often enough that he’s really confident about that part… even if he’s taken down a peg by this being his first time and not Jackson’s. He tries to imagine what Art would say in this situation. He already knows what he’d look like… he’s watched him bend over enough when they play doubles. God.

“Okay so…” Patrick reaches for the lube.

“You want me to help?” Jackson asks.

Patrick wants to tell him he gets it and he thinks he gets it but he just needs a little clarity. “Do I put it on you? In your…” he gestures vaguely at Jackson’s lower half.

“I mean yeah, you can do it like that, I can bend over and you can put it on your fingers and get me wet. Or you can put it on your cock… or let me put it on it.”

Patrick shrugs, “I can do it… are you gonna…bend over?”

Jackson smiles, “I want to watch you do it. Then I’ll bend over.”

Patrick takes a breath, “fine,” he says and he eases his dick out and pulls a condom on.

Jackson licks his lips. Patrick laughs, “this is so awkward.”

“It’s hot,” Jackson says. “It’d be hotter if you let me put it on.”

Patrick gives him an amused look.

“I’m serious, imagine like you always do, that I’m your roommate and we’re just fucking around. He’s touched your cock right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says.

“Imagine he’s putting it on you so you can fuck him,” Jackson says.

Patrick grips himself tighter. Imagining Art when he’s in that state, the state where he’s dizzy and horny and grinding his ass along Patrick’s erection while Patrick fists his—

“Dont fucking start jerking off,” Jackson laughs.

Patrick groans brought back to reality in an instant. “Okay shut up, let me—you should bend over.”

Jackson moves to get into position and honestly Patrick just wants the dark. “Can you turn off the lamp?”

“Better for your fantasy huh?” Jackson says.

Patrick sits up as the lights go low. The dim light from the hallway and moonlight between the blinds is the only illumination. Art probably thinks Patrick snuck into his girlfriend’s room. His girlfriend probably thinks he’s exhausted after practice and is spending Friday night messing around with Art. He hopes they don’t run into each other in the mess hall. It’s how his last relationship got fucked.

It’s still not perfect. Jackson is hairy where Patrick knows Art wouldn’t be when he grabs him and slides his shorts down. He steadies Jackson and tries to ease himself in. He hears Jackson breathing. It’s really, really tight, virgin tight but oddly enough he feels himself sinking deeper into the tight ring of muscle. He feels what must be clenching from Jackson and he groans. This actually feels fucking good. Different than pussy but really fucking good.

“Fuck you’re big,” Jackson gasps.

Patrick moves his hips. He wishes, God, how he wishes he could do this in Art. He’d probably be so tight. Patrick would have to listen to the whiny voice he gets when he’s close. Art would have the same comment, “slow down, Patrick”, “it’s too big, Patrick”, “do it again, Patrick.”

He’s gasping fucking into him. Jackson doesn’t get wetter but the lube keeps him slipping in and out and because it’s so tight and his brain is so fixated on Art he comes, what could be considered embarrassingly quick.

He isn’t normally embarrassed in bed but he feels it when he pulls out and Jackson sighs, with what sounds like disappointment.

“Uh give me two minutes,” Patrick says.

“Well technically I already…never mind.”

Patrick laughs and settles down on the bed leaning up against the wall. “Yeah okay, well give me two more.”

“Two more minutes,” Jackson sits next to him.

“Does it hurt?” Patrick asks.

“No, I mean, yours takes some getting used to but it’s a good hurt.”

Patrick nods, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness.

“You want to try it?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Next time.”

“And he’s okay with this?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“So what? You guys do everything but fuck?”

“Look, we don't have to talk about him,” Patrick says.

“Isn’t all of this about him?”

Patrick sighs and slides down the wall.

“I’ve been in love with a “friend” before…it sucks.” Jackson continues. “Especially when it feels like your lovers.”

“He would never be okay with this.” Patrick laughs bitterly. “He thinks the kissing and stuff… he thinks it’s just messing around. Boys being stupid. And he acts like he’s grown out of it… now that he’s not a virgin anymore.”

“Yeah I know plenty of guys in denial. You should stop before you hurt yourself.”

Patrick hopes it’s denial and that he’s not gonna be kept away from Art forever. But until Art figures it out he can keep doing this to stave off the feelings. He’s never been good at self preservation.

“I think I’m ready again,” he says.

[hellofeternity]

ORV transcends language | how ORV is kind to readers (1.1k words)

the difficulties in analyzing text are already numerous without a language barrier, the way one word can mean 5 things and when you put it in a sentence suddenly it can mean 50 things and put that sentence in a paragraph? go further and put that paragraph in a page? construct a whole world around it, weave it into the fabric, and suddenly you are painting with words.

ORV is a daunting text, it calls and references so many mythos world wide, greek, roman, indian, chinese, japanese, it plays with meaning and intent and uses gaps in our knowledge like weapons, making us extrapolate our own meaning between the sentences, it is a tome of knowledge when it comes to histories and philosophies it feels at times like I will never understand all these things inside it.

One of the difficulties of reading a translated text is that when we analyze a text the authorial intent weighs very heavily in our minds, sure we can immerse ourselves in the world but once we start picking apart at the threads we hit a wall pretty soon when we start asking ourselves "what did the author mean by this?" however in a translated text there is an obvious gap, a game of telephone, did the translator actually capture the authors intent? or are we just reading the translators perception? sadly I don't know korean, and I cant say I have the drive to learn it, as such I know there will forever be a side of ORV that I will never be privy to - however I am bilingual and had the pleasure of reading two translated versions of ORV, an English translation and an Arabic translation, I didn't finish reading the said Arabic translation but a couple things stood out to me when I briefly did ORV is very kind to readers, following along in other stories can seem confusing at times, the pacing might be too fast and you might miss some details in a characters actions, the wording might be too vague and ah damn 20 pages later you realize you don't actually know why the characters are doing what they are doing. A big writing adage that you will see a lot is "show dont tell" and it holds merit, but ORV doesn't subscribe to it, because ORV shows AND tells. ORV built a world around readers and reading, and it makes sure that there is clarity every step of the way on what is happening, first by starting out as a homage to the isekai genre, and not deviating too much at the start, making the readers feel at home in a worldview they are familiar with, systems, leveling, videos games etc, and when it starts deviating it explains things with clarity that no matter how bad the translation is you understand the general intent, and secondly by being VERY blatant about the names of things and having a built in "story" system that is built on common story tropes and names the themes for you! take for example "unbroken faith" and "Blade of faith" both of these are two translated versions of dokja's sword. I will never know which one is closer to the original authorial intent, but I can tell you something, dokja's sword is symbolism to the faith he is wielding. (CH386 vague spoilers) or the entirety of "the great war of saints and demons" being about the concept of good and evil fighting and how kimcom aren't just above being good and evil, they are both. By using story tropes that we are familiar with to explain the complexity of situations in a simple forms you no longer have to worry about losing you readers understandings through language barriers. Every story in the world in every language knows what good vs evil is, every language has the words to explain them. and therein lies the beauty of ORV. But of course this isn't to say translations don't matter, it does speak to the strength of an original texts clarity when it accounts for the big things by making them simplified, but when we get down to the nitty gritty it starts to lose form take for example

"Tell me, you fool. If I continue to regress, will I ever get to meet you again?"

this person here has a great write up explaining the translators thoughts behind this specific line

but it has spawned a lot of debate in the English speaking fandom, as to the strength of its translation, I remember when I first saw someone claiming that its a mistranslation and "you fool" isn't part of the original, my first thought was "and so?" I do not mean to be dismissive to the original text, but I do not exist in a space where I can appreciate it in the original korean, I do not exist in a worldview where I can understand the historical implications of a lot of the characters, and even when I try to research it in English sadly the resources do not exist yet and its even more laughable to think of finding these things in Arabic. (Goryeos first sword doesn't have an English wikipedia page as a clear example) a lot of people have issues with the most popular English fantranslation of ORV - and I can understand why, being bilingual I have a lot of opinions on how a lot of things SHOULD be translated most of the time, and have done my own translation work but as I sit and think about this popular translation I cant help but just feel love for it, it might be lacking to some, it might be inaccurate at times to others, but its just enough for me to paint the gaps in the text with my perceptions, the words used are tied to my affections the Arabic translation of ORV is clunky, it is messy, it doesn't have as much grace as the English translation of ORV does, the words barely string together cohesively, but it has enough clarity, enough intent, and enough love for its readers, to catch their hearts, their attention and their energy

and so I want this to be the first post on this blog because, the author is dead here, not because I buried them, but because the tower of babel fell down a long time ago, and all we have is rubble and each other. a lot of the analysis on this blog will try to be respectful to the korean original wherever it can, however my words will be coming from an anglosphere perspective, and build on other English reader's perceptions of a text translation that a decent amount of people don't think is adequate, but just like ORV is kind to us, we can be kind back, I will quote the most popular version because its what connects us together, and while the authors intent might be lost, we can share our own meanings with each other, and build our own intent from the rubble.

[shivvroys]

lia u keep killing me with this fluff!!! im officially encouraging you to make these girls cry and give me some good lia angst -- prompt 14 "I'm not done with you. I'm not sure I'll ever be."

sowwwy for the long wait, but here is...something!

takes place *waves hand vaguely*, post affair exposure?

"I'm not done with you. I'm not sure I'll ever be."

The alcohol hasn’t done enough to soothe her nerves by the time Shiv shows up on her doorstep, with red-rimmed eyes and torn up thumbs. Karolina opens the door but takes a step forward, blocking her from entering.

“What are you doing here?”

The scowl on Shiv’s face seems to indicate she isn’t sure of the reason herself.

“I came to talk?” she tries.

Karolina scoffs, crossing her arms.

“I think you sent a very clear message, Siobhan.”

The light from the hallway sits above Shiv like a darkened cloud, sinking her shoulders in on themselves. When she turns her head, the light illuminates her cheekbone like the hilt of a knife rising to strike.

“You knew he was going to do that, Karolina.” she shrugs. “I mean, what the fuck did you expect?”

Karolina nods, the defeat hanging low in her chest like a rattling cough. The silence from her work phone—the longest it’s gone without lighting up every ten minutes in over a decade, empties the walls of her house like a funeral. A silent death.

“You’re right.”

The silence rings in her ears like a fucking cicada. She knows Shiv had shown up fiending for a fight—wanting Karolina to scream, or cry—to lash out until she could feel safe in her own anger. Until she had a reason to bite back.

She starts shuffling her feet, trying to figure out how to stoke a fire that’s left Karolina hours ago.

“What, that’s all you have to say?”

Karolina uncrosses her arms and takes a step back, one hand reaching for the door.

“I’m going to lose my job, Shiv.” she whispers. There’s very little restrain left in her to keep her jaw from trembling as she speaks. “And I thought you might care about that—about...”

She can’t bear to end her sentence, to give Shiv the satisfaction of knowing just how fucking stupid she’d been. She starts to pull the door closed, before Shiv puts her hand out, stopping her.

“Wait—I…” she says. “I do. Of course I fucking care, Karolina. I just…”

Karolina finishes her sentence with a wry smile. “Not enough?”

Shiv starts to protest, but Karolina’s had enough of being talked over and about by the Roy family today.

“You had your fun, Shiv. And you’re gonna find someone else to have fun with, so we can just be done here. I’ve had a long fucking day.”

Tears have already started to pool in her eyes, so she gathers whatever shred of dignity hasn’t already been splattered all over the walls of the Waystar building, and closes the door with a firm thud, spreading her palms flat against the cool wood.

Outside, she hears Shiv scoff and dig her heels in Karolina’s doormat, before a loud knocking starts rattling the door.

“Yeah, well I’ve had a long fucking day, too, Karolina!”

Although muffled, Shiv’s voice rings through the apartment like a strong gust of wind. Karolina stands in the darkened hallway, staring at the door.

“Fucking talk to me!”

Karolina isn’t sure if the shaking she hears is Shiv’s, or her own. She stands there for a while, listening to Shiv curse and pummel her fists into her door. Whatever this moment is, Karolina realizes with devastating clarity, she'll take it over the silence of her apartment, over the bitterness of the wine and the coolness of her bedsheets.

Once Shiv’s finally worn herself out, and the knocking stops, Karolina steps forward with hitched breathing. Looking through the peephole she sees Shiv hasn’t left, but is trying to calm down her own breathing. Her arms are wrapped around herself—the distorted view of the lens making her look like she’d collapsed in on herself.

Under the pressure of Karolina's own shaking hands, the door moves slightly in its frame, the quiet clicking alerting Shiv. She snaps her head up, meeting Karolina’s eyes through the tiny glass circle.

“I’m not done with you.” she says, quietly, though Karolina knows Shiv’s sensed her presence. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”

Taking a deep breath, Karolina finally speaks up.

“Shiv, go. Please.”

She watches Shiv nod, before standing up to her full height, staring into the peephole with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“I’m gonna make this right. I will.”

She gives the door a teary smirk, before turning around and quietly leaving.

On the other side of the door, Karolina wipes hurriedly at an errant tear, before bracing herself against the silence that awaits her in her shiny, cold, tomb.

[bluberryffxiv]

topic of the hour seems to be ardbert and his relation to the wol and its been making me ruminate on his relationship with bonana so lets ramble about that....but first i have to talk about mental illness. lol

so, the instigating action of nemona leaving home and starting her msq journey was her mom finally putting her foot down and forcing her to go to sharlayan, something shed been fighting against for years at that point. she did not take it very well at all, and in the days following she became a mess of anger and despondence and was pretty inconsolable, the world may as well have been ending for her at that point. which lead to her doing a lot of drastic and irrational things, one of which came very close to killing her

while she was unconscious she had a strange dream, in which she met another version of herself who acted very different. he was kind and gentle, and introduced himself as bonana (the nickname his friends used). he offered to trade places, promising to ease the burdens of life and carry onwards for nemona, stating that whenever she felt ready she could trade back

when bonana was woken up by sasabe, it was as if he was a different person. no longer moping around, he acted with clarity and made a plan. he realized there was a ship bound for eorzea, leaving before the one he was supposed to be on. so he made his preparations, cutting and dyeing his hair and donning a new wardrobe, essentially discarding his old life and making way for the one hed always dreamed of

from then on he was just bonana, the guy who was eager to help anyone and everyone, with only a vague recollection of a promise made to...someone. whenever he got asked why he did what he did this is all he would answer with, if he answered at all. to any aware of him and sasabe they assumed she was the person he meant, and she herself believed it too because he had also made a promise to her in the past (in reality he had repressed that memory because it was made after a very traumatic incident).

it wouldnt be until heavensward when he picks up dark knight that nemonas presence starts to leak through in the form of fray, giving voice to the thoughts and feelings bonana thought he'd left behind. and it happens again later with myste, this time giving form to the pent up guilt and grief he couldnt process. but neither time really stuck because he wasnt ready to acknowledge what he'd done

which finally brings us to shadowbringers and how this all relates to ardbert! at this point bonana, as a personality, is breaking down because he was something made out of a childs idea of a hero, and he simply wasnt built to weather the kinds of things he'd faced as the warrior of light, with the events of shb bringing him to his very limits. however, ardbert ended up being a very welcome presence because during downtime they got to talk and understand each other better, and bonana came to realize how eerily similar the two of them were. he ended up being the first person he'd confide in about his dissociative nature and poor memory, and ardbert genuinely seemed to understand

so just like the exarch, losing him after the soul fusion felt like losing a piece of his heart, ironically (keep in mind bonana is horrible at dealing with loss). ardbert became another bullet on the list of things that lead to his breakdown at the very end of the patches.

but now we know ardbert didnt completely disappear, and i think during anemone arc he gains a complete understanding of the situation, and wants nothing more than to reach through to nemona and her how much she is loved, as herself. literally im just imagining him sitting somewhere deep in the back of her head as this guy throughout endwalker, until the oddity nature of ultima thule finally allows him to help revive bonana

[snailofkale]

so its occurred to me that kirby hcs i talk about with my buddies so often that they don’t even need to be restated anymore and we’ve kind of just accepted as fact are, in fact, entirely noncanon and could do with specifying! specifically those surrounding Kirby, Meta, DMK, Galacta, and Morpho.

also this post is gonna be really bad and confusing im so sorries

THESE ARE JUST MY HEADCANONS!!

They’re being stated as though factual because it would be annoying to specify every time!

so, to start, they’re all the same species. i’m pretty sure this is a fairly common hc? specifically, kirby is a preadolescent child and doesn’t have wings YET, whereas the others are adults who didn’t have wings as children. normally i call this species “kirby” and its members “kirbies” but i’m gonna call them

orb knights

in this post for the sake of clarity.

orb knights live for many thousands of years. kirby is only a few hundred years old (~200) prince fluff is older (idk how much i haven’t thought about him that much), Meta (and DMK) are several thousand (i don’t really have a solid estimate for them, not over 15k) (honestly i hesitate over 10k), galacta is a few tens of thousands (i generally put him at 50k?) and morpho is at least a few hundred thousand. the time at which morpho was a child is so ancient that the only way to know about in detail it is to be that ancient

orb knights tend to get darker with age but this isn’t a universal rule. also, the actual hue of their bodies doesn’t typically change much.

the age of an orb knight (physically and mentally) doesn’t translate properly into human terms. meta knight is old but not elderly, if that makes sense. galacta on account of being sealed has partially forgotten that time passes at all so he has in a way transcended describable age. morpho has as well for reasons i’ll get to. kirby is not a baby. he’s more like ~10. the younger an orb knight the easier it is for me to describe their age, personally.

orb knights have a sort of built in awareness of their culture and traditions despite possibly never meeting another member of their species. its sort of like the world’s worst hivemind meets instinct, or maybe like vaguely remembering something you read 6 years ago and trying it out and it working. the most notable and visible aspect is the masks, which orb knights usually make not long after they grow wings, many describing a comforting sense of having someone telling them that’s what they’re supposed to do.

orb knights (and indeed, many species in the kirby universe) have anatomy only possible with magic. they have no brains, no bones, no proper digestive system, and no circulatory system. they’re basically just a thick somewhat squishy membrane with eyes enclosing a mouth that leads nowhere, keeping themselves held up and locomoting with sheer force of will.

the texture of their skin is extremely variable, going from totally rubbery (i imagine galacta knight is on this end) to, rarely, downright fluffy (none of our known orb knights are fluffy, prince fluff doesn’t count because he’s made of yarn.) (if he wasn’t made of yarn he would probably be fluffy though). i’d imagine kirby has a very soft peach fuzz feel, morpho is more like velvet, and meta is probably somewhere in the middle of those two.

orb knights don’t die from age. they sort of fade out of existence very slowly. morpho knight is effectively dead. morpho knight is also the grim reaper, but more importantly he’s dead. most orb knights do not become the grim reaper upon dying

when an orb knight is dying this way, they lose all their power. the only way to gain this power back is by fusing with an entity of roughly equal power to their former self. this fusion is temporary and will break down in a relatively short amount of time, leaving both participants mostly unharmed.

orb knights can also be scarred, injured, and killed (skipping the “ghost” phase morpho’s in). all of these are exceptionally difficult to accomplish. when kirby falls in battle, he isn’t dead, he’s exhausted. DMK’s mask scar indicates an actual scar.

alright thats all i have rn sorry for how long ghis post is

[silly-boio]

Well it's 2am after spring break and I gotta be up for classes in an increasingly frightened number of hours. My sleep schedule has been roughly fucked in the ass by me, of course. Is there anything better to do with this time than write smut?

So usually the stuff I write is intentionally vague in gender because 1. I'm attracted to every gender. 2. I wanna appeal to every gender (and make them all feel sexy cause y'all are). 3. I wanna avoid fetishizing anyone.

So, instead of that, I'm gonna write 7 mid-length smut posts. In-between horny shower thought and short fiction. I'm gonna use kinda neutral language because I wanna cast a wide net (see above) and I'm an anarchist, traditional gender can get stuffed. That being said I'm a cis dude, so I really don't lose anything by saying this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(the language below all based on traditional gender shit for clarity, honestly I've just been stressing out too much about language, and this shit does not matter that much)

Anywhoosits, here's the list of smut.

- Male anatomy, presenting masc(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting femme(ish)

- Male anatomy, presenting femme(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting masc(ish)

- Male anatomy, presenting androgenous(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting androgenous(ish)

- Indeterminate anatomy, presenting androgynous(ish)

So yea, I'm gonna do all 7 of these, probably in all different ways (top, bottom, fetish, etc.), there's a lot of different combos I could do, but this is really just a writing exercise and 7 is a cool number. So ye, gimme suggestions/motivation if you come across this.

<3

[peachym00]

Prying his eyes open to the light flooding in from the unclosed curtains in his room was not the worst way Pete could have woken up. Once, years ago, he’d woken up in the back of a car, the left side of his face throbbing from where his father had punched him for losing a match; it was still dark. He didn’t know where he was going or who was driving the car, and it scared him. He was only eleven.

As the grogginess faded to something more manageable, his head was pounding; a glass of water was on his bedside table, and he was only wearing one sock. Sitting up was a struggle; the pain in his head worsened when he moved, making him feel nauseous. Reaching out for the glass of water, he realised some paracetamol was sitting there too.

Huh. 

After giving some time for the painkillers to kick in and his brain to restart, he gets out of bed and into the shower. Standing under the hot water gives him clarity, so much so that the memories from the night before start flooding in. He was drunk. So drunk. In front of Vegas.

Fuck.

The thought renders him useless, and he drops a near-full bottle of shower gel onto his foot, yelping in pain, then wincing when the echo of his own shout hurts his head.

Vague flashbacks of Vegas walking into their conversation in the bar, saving him from face-planting and helping him to bed surface from the shallow depths of his brain.

“God, Pete, you could give me a hand,” Vegas struggled to take all of Pete’s weight as they walked towards his bed.

“Here,” he holds his hand in front of Vegas’s face, chuckling to himself while he does it.

“What are you doing?” 

“Giving you a hand,” Pete bursts into hysterical laughter as Vegas shoves him onto the bed.

“You’re fucking hilarious, Pete, really,” Vegas sighs, pulling off Pete’s shoes for him, “your comedic talents are wasted in the mafia. Do you need help getting undressed, or can you do that yourself?”

“You just want to see me n a k e d,” Pete teasingly spelt out, watching as Vegas stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. Pete tried to sit up but found he couldn’t manage it; instead, he settled for leaning back on his arms, slightly propped up.

Before he knew it, Vegas was leaning over him on the bed; Pete felt like he was going cross-eyed, trying to look up at him, “And what if I do?” Vegas murmured, far too close for comfort.  

Well. 

Suddenly everything wasn’t so funny anymore.

“You’ll have to use your imagination because the only place you’ll be seeing me naked is in your dreams,” Pete whispered back, proud of himself for being able to sound coherent. 

“And what sweet, sweet dreams they’ll be,” Vegas said lowly, his tongue poking out between his lips, wetting them slightly so they glistened in the room’s low light.

Pete gulped loudly. 

He was fucked. And that was putting it lightly.

How was Pete supposed to face him now?

[wisdomscalling]

Our conditioning is literally the past that we carry everywhere we go. What about my narrative needs changing? My heart is so cold and disconnected, my mind runs rampage as my heart’s wire hangs out of my chest.  The path to self love hurts and its massive to take responsibility for all this pain that we are constantly learning about everyday. The weight of my life feels heavy thats because my life is bleeding out loose ends and lack of direction.  I’m afraid to let people in, and I never thought the day I would be ice cold was the day I realised that I need to speak freedom. The lies we tell ourselves to live a life being involved in the external and materialised society pulls ourselves away from clarity. The fight for survival is a crazy shift where we are constantly projecting pain and our inner world into the environment around us. A part of my fear of losing my freedom is the fear of being stuck in something that holds me back. The amount of time we dedicate into asserting ourselves into an environment that doesn’t align with our inner development. Its crazy the wheels are always turning yet we are so caught up in the world around us that we don’t know what we want. We disconnect due to lack of clarity and awareness.  The path to healing is incredibly hard, and I fear losing my freedom. A part of me is given up when I don’t make decisions that align with my values. The truth is, true love is free and flows like water. I truly believe that, love is a constant study of ourselves and how we coexist our inner worlds to the external world.  I know my mind is chaotic, a never ending chain of many thoughts. My heart and mind runs its own whirlpool of a race for my mind seeks to figure itself out.  Living your own life is something we all struggle to do, yet the polarity of both extremities is our deep and genuine desire to keep moving forward with the best of intentions. Yet a lifetime of pain to digest for the souls bottomless pit of darkness. I know I hide in the shadows, my indecisiveness and vagueness is truthfully my insecurities of been seen in a way that feels out of reach. Not being able to recognise myself scares me, and why constantly searching for self love and acceptance is key to living my life unapologetically. I am grateful my profession has been a platform for spiritual growth and development. I must recognise that my healing has been deeply reflected by my challenges in the gym as well as my passion. I realise a part of me gets lost in the image of survival, to be suffocatingly strong all the time fills up a heart overweight and weak. For my empathy and emotional sensitives desire an expressive outlet of extension of self. I need to feel understood, mostly by myself. I have a lot of healing to do, there is a world of amazing people out there I could connect with. Yet I am stunned by the cycle of my own conditioning of pain.  My cold heart is a byproduct of disappointment and pain. I feel the older we get, the less patience we have and I hope that we have the patience to love when needed for ourselves and others. For all the times I thought I understood what love was, there is something so painful about choosing yourself every single time. Setting boundaries with people and committing to your safety and security. That’s hard, I find this action to be misunderstood by many people, the conflict hurts me as I acknowledge that people make choices that is a projection of pain and control. Oh, how unaware we truly are to identify that love must be free to makes its choice on where to go in life. Love is a breath of fresh air, the tides of the waves and the roots in your garden. The freedom to coexist with your environment has been demonstrated by nature, for we are natural beings. Completely alienated from who, how and why we are/feel in this life time. The structural system to life pulls us away from our authenticity that freedom and growth truly feels lonely. For we desire to build a life of presence and fulfilment.  Environment and survival - our humanness is constantly challenged by many paradoxes. Our systematic needs as a human is a very different fight for survival when our inner and external/materialistic world collides. We must coexist in a set of external rules for our inner world is unique to our own.  The beauty of love and connection and how you can grow with your environment as you feel connected to your inner beliefs and remain present with emotions and reality.  Emotional baggage is often carried everywhere we go, known as our conditioning. I acknowledge my lack of journalling and inner digging has resulted to spiritual disconnection. I know I have healing to do and my environment needs change. I will create space for more healing and connecting with my world.

[usagihoppu]

Being bipolar is so strange because it's like someone else pilots your life for months. Then you crash back to your actual self and your life's now completely wrecked, and you only have vague memories of why.

I feel like I've literally lived multiple lives. Not in the birth/death sense, but like I have periods of my life where I wake up and I'm hyperfixated on something I've never cared about or even liked.

Let's say for example it's being the best athlete. I spend literally all my money, no I'm not exaggerating, on athletic gear, I train, I make new friends/love interests, lose old friends/love interests. Then like a few months later I wake up and have this moment of clarity of "what the fuck am I doing? I don't even like this, why is my life centered around it?"

So you change back to a "regular" state, and lose those new friends too because the idea of being in that world sounds as fun as walking on glass. And then you just kinda...stagnate until the next one. Often times you actually crash into a major depression after realizing what you did while manic. And then as you heal, you find new interests to make "yours" and not the manic version of yours. Except the next episode cycles in and a whole new fixation on that starts. It all repeats again.

I've been a professional classical musician, indie coffee house musician, drunk and drug fueled nights rock musician, teacher, artist, photographer, programmer, podcaster, streamer, only fans girl, writer, mangaka, animator etc etc etc. Nearly none of these to the quality of someone who actually knows what she's doing. Probably the teaching and music were the only things I had significant success in. Enough to make good money and live on it.

It's literally like I'm an rpg blank slate and someone randomly picks up my character creator and starts a new story then gets bored and leaves halfway through.

I have pushed nearly all my friends out of my life in these episodes and I'm incredibly lucky that a small few love me and understand me enough to know when I'm sick and when I'm me. And they love me regardless and have stuck around.

Idk what I'm really meant to be doing with this post. Venting I guess. Just wanted to shout my thoughts and frustrations into the ether.

[emilieideas]

In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado (2019)

“That is probably the truest and most gothic part; not because of war or because we’d only met with chaparones before marriage; rather because I didn’t know her, not really, until I did. She was a stranger because something essential was shielded, released in tiny bursts until it became a flood—a flood of what I realized I did not know. Afterward, I would morn her as if she’d died, because something had: someone we had created together.” (77)

“abusers do not need to be, and rarely are, cackling maniacs. They just need to want something, and not care how they get it.” (94)

“It’s obvious to us, now, that that is a squirrel and that is a fish and that is a bird, but how was Adam supposed to know that? He wasn’t just newly born, he was newly created; he didn’t have years of life experience to support this creative enterprise [of naming the world], or anyone to teach him about it. When I think about him, just sitting there with his brand-new fist under his brand-new chin, looking vaguely perturbed and puzzled and anxious, I feel a lot of sympathy. Putting language to something for which you have no language is no easy feat.” (134)

“‘By elevating physical violence over the other facets of a battered woman’s experience,’ law professor Leigh Goodmark wrote in 2004, ‘the legal system sets the standard by which the stories of battered women are judged. If there is no [legally designated] assault, she is not a victim, regardless of how debilitating her experience has been, how complete her isolation, or how horrific the emotional abuse she has suffered. And by creating this kind of myopia about the nature of domestic violence, the legal system does battered women a grave injustice.’“ (138-139)

“you aren’t just mad, or heartbroken: you grieve from the betrayal” (142)

“Afterward—when she will not stop trying to talk to you or emailing you with flowery apologies on Yom Kippur, and when people do not believe what you tell them about her and the Dream House—you’ll wish she had hit you. Hit you hard enough that you’d have bruised in grotesque and obvious ways, hard enough that you took photos, hard enough that you went to the cops, hard enough that you could have gotten the restraining order you wanted. Hard enough that the common sense that evaded you for the entirety of your time in the Dream House had been knocked into you. You have this fantasy, this fucked-up fantasy, of being able to whip out your phone and pull up some awful photo of yourself, looking glazed and disinterested and half your face is covered in a pulsing star. That is, as you said, fucked up: there are probably millions of people on the blunt end of a lover’s fist who pray for the opposite, daily or even hourly, and to put that sort of wish into the universe is demented in the extreme. You will wish for it anyway. Clarity is an intoxicating drug, and you spent almost two years without it, believing you were losing your mind, believing you were the monster, and you want something black and white more than you’ve ever wanted anything.” (224)

“What is the value of proof? What does it mean for something to be true? If a tree falls in the woods and pins a wood thrush to the earth, and she shrieks and shrieks but no one hears her, did she make a sound? Did she suffer? Who’s to say?” (226)

“When it started, I believed I was special. It was a terrible thing to discover that I was common, that everything that happened to me—a crystalline, devastating landscape I navigated in my bare feet—was detailed in books and reports, in statistics.” (232)

“I wished I had always lived in this body, and you could have lived here with me, and I could have told you it’s all right, it’s going to be all right.” (242)

[newworldallstar0]

Unlocking Potential: Personal Development Techniques from Life Coaching

In an ever-evolving world where the pace of life seems faster than ever, individuals often find themselves stuck in patterns that limit their potential for personal growth. These patterns, whether rooted in limiting beliefs, fear, or a lack of clarity, can prevent people from realizing their dreams and living a fulfilling life. Enter the life coach an ally who empowers individuals to break free from these constraints, offering strategies to unlock potential and foster personal growth. In this article, we’ll explore key life coaching strategies that help individuals discover their potential, overcome obstacles, and achieve meaningful progress in their personal lives.

Understanding Personal Growth

Before diving into the strategies, it’s crucial to grasp the concept of personal growth. Personal growth is the ongoing process of self-improvement in various aspects of life, including emotional, intellectual, and spiritual well-being. It involves a deep understanding of oneself, the pursuit of knowledge, and the willingness to face and overcome challenges. While many people desire personal growth, they often lack the tools or strategies to achieve it, leading to frustration and stagnation.

Life coaches specialize in helping individuals identify areas where growth is needed, develop strategies to achieve it, and provide accountability throughout the journey. The coach-client relationship is built on trust, with the coach acting as a facilitator rather than a director. This empowerment is the cornerstone of life coaching’s effectiveness.

Setting Clear, Achievable Goals

One of the most effective strategies life coaches use is helping individuals set clear, achievable goals. Many people struggle with vague aspirations such as “I want to be happier” or “I need to get healthier.” While these desires are valid, they lack the specificity needed to create actionable plans.

Life coaches help clients break down these broad desires into smaller, measurable goals using the SMART framework Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound. For instance, instead of saying, “I want to get healthier,” a life coach might help a client specify, “I want to lose 10 pounds in the next three months by exercising three times a week and reducing my sugar intake.” This goal is clear, measurable, and realistic, making it easier to track progress.

Achieving smaller, well-defined goals also builds confidence and momentum. Each success acts as a stepping stone toward larger aspirations, creating a positive feedback loop that fuels continued personal growth.

Challenging Limiting Beliefs

One of the most significant barriers to personal growth is limiting beliefs those negative thoughts or assumptions about oneself that constrain actions and diminish self-worth. Common limiting beliefs include thoughts like “I’m not smart enough,” “I don’t deserve success,” or “It’s too late for me to change.” These beliefs can be deeply ingrained, often formed in early childhood, and can prevent individuals from pursuing opportunities that would lead to growth.

Life coaches are skilled at identifying these limiting beliefs and helping clients reframe them. By asking powerful questions and guiding clients through self-reflection, coaches can help individuals uncover the root causes of their beliefs and challenge their validity. For example, a coach might ask, “What evidence do you have that supports this belief?” or “How would your life be different if you didn’t hold this belief?”

Through this process, clients often realize that their limiting beliefs are not grounded in reality but are rather self-imposed barriers. Once identified, these beliefs can be replaced with empowering ones, such as “I am capable of learning new things” or “I am worthy of success.” This shift in mindset is a critical step in unlocking personal potential.

Building Emotional Resilience

Personal growth requires emotional resilience the ability to bounce back from adversity, cope with stress, and maintain a positive outlook even in challenging circumstances. Life is filled with setbacks, and without emotional resilience, it’s easy to get discouraged and give up on personal growth efforts.

Life coaches help individuals build emotional resilience by teaching them coping mechanisms and strategies for managing stress and negative emotions. Techniques such as mindfulness, meditation, and cognitive reframing are often introduced to help clients stay grounded and maintain perspective during difficult times. Coaches also encourage clients to view setbacks not as failures but as learning opportunities, fostering a growth mindset.

By building emotional resilience, individuals are better equipped to handle the ups and downs of life, making them more likely to stay committed to their personal growth journey even when things get tough.

Accountability and Support

Accountability is one of the most powerful tools life coaches offer. Many people set goals and make plans but struggle to follow through, either because they get distracted, lose motivation, or face unforeseen challenges. Life coaches provide consistent support and hold clients accountable for their actions, ensuring that progress is made.

Regular check-ins and progress reviews are a staple of the life coaching process. During these sessions, coaches help clients assess what’s working, what’s not, and how to adjust their strategies moving forward. This level of accountability keeps clients focused and motivated, making it less likely that they’ll abandon their goals.

Moreover, life coaches provide emotional support, offering encouragement and validation when clients are feeling discouraged or overwhelmed. This support system helps clients stay engaged and optimistic, even when the path to personal growth seems difficult.

Cultivating Self-Awareness

Self-awareness is the foundation of personal growth. Without a clear understanding of who you are your strengths, weaknesses, values, and desires it’s difficult to create a meaningful path for self-improvement. Life coaches help clients cultivate self-awareness by guiding them through introspective exercises and encouraging them to reflect on their behaviors, thought patterns, and emotional responses.

Journaling, meditation, and personality assessments are some of the tools life coaches use to help clients develop self-awareness. By examining their actions and motivations, individuals gain a deeper understanding of why they behave the way they do and how their habits are impacting their lives. This self-knowledge empowers clients to make conscious choices that align with their values and goals, rather than being driven by unconscious patterns or external pressures.

The more self-aware an individual becomes, the more control they have over their personal growth. Life coaches emphasize the importance of continuous self-reflection, encouraging clients to regularly check in with themselves and adjust their course as needed.

Embracing Change and Uncertainty

Change is an inevitable part of life, and personal growth often requires stepping out of one’s comfort zone. However, many people resist change because it’s uncomfortable or because they fear the unknown. Life coaches help clients embrace change and uncertainty by shifting their perspective on it.

Instead of viewing change as something to be feared, life coaches encourage clients to see it as an opportunity for growth and learning. They help individuals develop a sense of curiosity about the future, focusing on the potential benefits rather than the risks. By reframing change in this way, clients are more likely to take bold actions and pursue opportunities that align with their goals.

Additionally, life coaches teach clients how to manage uncertainty by developing problem-solving skills and building trust in their ability to handle whatever comes their way. This shift in mindset allows individuals to approach life with a sense of confidence and adaptability, which is essential for long-term personal growth.

Unlocking one’s potential for personal growth is not a one-size-fits-all journey. It requires a deep understanding of oneself, a willingness to face and overcome obstacles, and the development of key skills such as emotional resilience and self-awareness. Life coaches provide invaluable support on this journey, offering strategies that empower individuals to set clear goals, challenge limiting beliefs, and embrace change.

Through the power of accountability, encouragement, and personalized guidance, life coaches help individuals tap into their inner potential, leading to a more fulfilling and purpose-driven life. Personal growth is a lifelong endeavor, but with the right strategies and support, anyone can unlock their potential and achieve their greatest aspirations.

[thephilosopheroffeelings]

Football, US elections, narcissism

Three things I love: Sports, politics & psychology. Yesterday was a good day to experience all.

First went to watch England senior men football team's match against Finland at Wembley. England's passing was incisive with slick position switches where necessary while keeping the ball moving was nothing but superb. But, there is always a but, England team gives you 'it could have been way better' feeling. Whether they win or lose, whether it is under the management of Southgate or Carsley - it could have been different. Grealish was rubbish. Lewis was so confident with the ball, delight to watch. Not my first time but I realised I miss watching football live. It rained, had cheeky chips and many beers. I was able to live in the moment. England could have done better but I could not.

Respect to the gaffer but Harry Kane should have played the full time. 100th caps & scoring 2 goals. Come on. I do not know what Carsley was thinking and I do not care if I am being honest. I was more thinking about how Harry Kane must be feeling. He is 31, he was the top scorer a few times in his career, nearly 70 goals with England in 100 matches but no big cups yet. I cannot know how he feels but I can only imagine it should not be easy. Yet, he seems 'calm and collected,' even when he was substituted yesterday. Another kind of mentality really. Regardless of end result, live in the moment & keep scoring skip, a lot to learn from you.

When I got home it was pretty late and decided to stay awake to watch the US election debate. I took my bra off, wore my white baggy & stained t-shirt and sat in my knickers under a blanket. Made myself a cup of tea. It was a disastrous debate. I do not know what I was expecting when you have Trump there but you know what they say: Hope dies last. I do not know how many times he lied & used inductive reasoning. We cannot explain what he was doing there with political terms only as what we saw was pathological. There comes psychology and my day only got better when I was thinking it was not possible.

Trump is overtly narcissist. When a narcissist debates, they do not do it to reason or find a solution. They debate to be right and if that is not the case, they either stop the debate or keep arguing to react an emotional response. To do the latter, they use 'word salad' technique.

When you ask ChatGPT what narcissistic word salad means, it says:

““Narcissistic word salad” refers to a communication pattern often associated with narcissistic individuals, where their speech or writing becomes convoluted, incoherent, or filled with jargon and irrelevant details. This style is used to confuse, deflect, or dominate conversations, making it difficult for others to follow or challenge what is being said. It can include contradictions, circular reasoning, non-sequiturs, and a general lack of clarity, all intended to overwhelm or control the listener. The purpose is often to evade accountability or to assert superiority in the conversation.

It is often filled with grandiose claims or self-importance. It's a term used to describe communication that sounds impressive or intelligent but is actually vague or nonsensical, and often reflects a preoccupation with one's own superiority.

For example, someone might say, “My unparalleled vision for transforming the paradigm of existential metrics through my singularly innovative methodologies and transformative perspectives will undoubtedly catalyze unprecedented advancements in the global arena of intellectual enrichment.”

In this statement, the speaker is using complex language and lofty terms to make it seem like they have a grand plan or unique insights, but the actual meaning is unclear or lacking substance.”

You bring a problem that bothers you to someone and instead of finding solutions together, if you find yourself arguing and more confused and reactive than starting point and in the end saying sorry to cease that emotional and cognitive mess, yup, you are arguing with a narcissistic person. The problem is here cognitive skills, or the lack thereof. If you are not mindful enough, you can find yourself dealing with cognitive dissonance: Your cognition will catch that something is off (balance) but you will keep trying to understand and reason (good luck if you are neurodivergent). In the end, you will find yourself reacting emotionally instead of letting it go. And then you have to deal with regret, shame & disbelief on top of everything.

Trump uses inductive reasoning as his beloved tool not because he is stupid but his thinking pattern is so black & white. Thinking that everyone is unique or every situation is different or showing empathy and compassion requires gray areas, emotional intelligence and cognitive flexibility (being thick skinned in short and informal term); he proved over and over that he is lack of all. Instead of seeing and respecting differences or accepting human sides of people (ie making mistakes), narcissists will use silent treatment or word salad when they think you challenge them; even though you are not challenging ‘them’ but ‘debating with them.’ Two tactics work like a magic to gain and stay in control. It is all about being in control if you are thin skinned. Then what would you do while debating with them to have your control back so you feel balanced? The answer should be ‘nothing’ as Kamala Harris brilliantly did yesterday. But in reality, you start blaming yourself, questioning yourself, finding excuses for their poor behaviors and constantly apologizing to finish their attack and save your nervous system from survival mode. And voila, you are not ‘thinking’ anymore but ‘reacting’ as you are not feeling ‘safe.’

Trump yesterday was not there to reason or debate. Trump was there to prove a point that the reality of it exists only for him: He was better than not only Kamala Harris but also anyone and at any given time. This impossible mission is not just tiring or problematic for himself but can put a whole nation in trouble. We have seen the great examples of this tragedy in history. In ‘real’ life, you need to ‘earn’ your place by proving yourself and keep competing to ‘secure’ your place. Take sports, even the best athletes are ‘the best’ only for a few years. Records set only to be broken by the next best. Being okay with one’s true self with its all messiness (includes defeats) humbles one immensely. He has a lot to learn from Harry Kane.

Trump was there to ‘attack’ and when he realized that it would take word salad to accomplish that, he used it without hesitation. I found myself emotionally reacting to his contradictions (*cough* lies *cough*) or pure nonsense like “having abortion at nine months and after birth” or “Now she wants to do transgender operations on illegal aliens that are in prison.” or the best one yet “I have a concept of plans.” He doesn’t want you to think and respond. He wants you to emotionally react regardless you support him or not because he knows he cannot win with reasoning: Emotionally react so he can project his cognitive dissonance on to you if you don’t support him or emotionally react and vote for him (populism fueled by post-truth politics!). But Kamala Harris showed that she has a mind of steel.

No one has to like her answers but staying sane, not reacting emotionally and not letting your cognitive skills deflect mean winning when you are debating with a narcissist. As England team, Kamala Harris could have done better but she won this game. On to the next one.

Now I need some sleep.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

when conflict resolves

like glowing the lunar sphere collects the sunlight

to radiate on the nights of her fullest reign

I'm learning it takes time to absorb the energy

of the emotions that impact us and that move us

but first they have to move through us

like the arrows of eros or artemis and even apollo

emotions hit our life force and stay in our bodies

we have to grasp the hilt of the arrow

pull it out of us and let it bleed into the sea

of our hearts and just feel the burn of it

understand why it hurt and what it means

inside us so we can release it back into the flow

and if you never learned how to feel them

or figured those feelings hadn't even mattered

well, you'll find yourself full of a bunch of arrows

but each one you pull out and examine

understand and comfort with your attention

if you do it right the arrow loses its stain of color

becomes starlight in your hands

and if you're wise you can put it back into your quiver

so that should another situation happen where

someone is aiming their bows at you

you can either shoot back

or build proper fortification

or catch it as it comes and grin slowly at the adversary

know that the intention and impact

are yours to take and use how you see fit

energy is energy and once purified

can neither be created nor destroyed

it just changes form and if you attach to the emotion

it will change form no matter what so the loss is always there

change is the only constant so look at the color of that arrow

remember the pain and then release it

watch the color fade into pure luminescence

this is the power we have in our consciousness

and I've counted so many of these arrows

transmuted them because it's all I've known

but now I know what I have to do

and where to fire them and like the light

everything in my life has to change

and I'm finally okay with that

not with bravado or determined confidence

but with this sense of sorrowful peace

because even when you want something else

so bad that you can almost taste it

it hurts to change everything

even if it's change you desperately want

maybe that's the price of your dreams

you have to take this arrow of sadness

and see it and feel it and know it to heal it

soothe the heart that feels the little deaths

of everything you thought you knew

I'm looking at mine now and it's cyan

stained in a scarlet that is wet in my hands

but I took it with my arms completely open

chest vulnerable and eyes flashing

HIT ME IN THE FUCKING HEART I DON'T GIVE A SHIT

and the deity of justice grinned and took sly aim

didn't even count just watched me with interest

as the shot hit and I fell and screamed and jerked

with the impact I asked for but was shit at the taking

by the time I recovered my composure they were gone

and I did what I knew and jerked it out

patched it up and cursed as it got inflected

healing doesn't happen best in isolation

and so I'm changing my direction and heading north

whatever the fuck that means

taking hands and trusting in darkness and it's not fun

but not many would describe the spiritual journey as fun

I've touched whispers of future and I have vague impressions

that's all the clarity they really give you as you begin

but each step makes the color lighter and brighter

and so I know to take another and another

until I know how to go from lost to found

do the next right thing and move with inspired action

not the shy avoidance of the deceiving but powerful fear

it feels like being blindfolded while I'm trying desperately to look

anticipate or understand of do anything besides

just keep walking toward my own sense of knowing

but that's the game and you just keep going

breathe and release up hills both ways in the snow

at least I know it's going to be worth it

all of this headache and changing and moving

growing is supposed to be painful

that's why so many choose not to

so here we go

[mt-lowercase-m-derogatory]

{typical tumblr discourse disclaimer: trying for a chill vibe, I'm just taking an aside to peddle some of the nuance OP was talking about. This post was probably not addressed at whatever collagenopathy mutation "never before documented in the literature" I've got, and I'm not trying to imply OP wronged me somehow}

What is medically/legally considered "schwerbehindert" here might be different, but I really urge caution around thinking someone isn't severely physically disabled because they walk and move perfectly well using light/no mobility aids

Personally, in the health state when I actually present to the world, there are very few non-exercise activities an abled person could do that I cannot also do for a bit, albeit with some pain and uncertainty. The trouble is that something bad is happening while I do things or sit/stand upright for longer, and all I'm sure of is that it's not my respiratory or (probably) my circulatory system.

I'll be at a rare and cherished social gathering for a few hours, just seeming a bit loopy and dissociated in the latter half, then I'll safely arrive home unaided if the Vienna underground is in sight, not even using mobility aids! (I've tried a few but my physio found none to be safe for me). I'll manage to change clothes and go to bed, and then... I'll manage to be awake around 60-70 hours the following 7 days, mostly out of my mind with more brain fog than brain.

The only answers my doctors have feel more like questions: it might be an unrelated hypersomnia that just didn't show up on the polysomnography, it might be post-exertional malaise, it might be some kind of comorbid kleine levin syndrome, it's so odd that it's not POTS, it might just be a symptom of "whatever is going on, let's call it Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because that was the original diagnosis", or my blood-brain barrier might just not work right with whatever third-grade materials my body made it of.

And all I personally know is that... I have the full physical and neurological capability to move, I can manage the pain, I can manage the psychological aspect... But any given activity still comes at a high cost beyond all that, and neither any process I can observe nor any version of god damn spoon theory can adequately explain it.

It's more like my mind is a bottle of water, and every few minutes I stand upright is a spoon of milk dropped into it. I lose full clarity basically immediately, and then it just becomes harder and harder to tell how far I'm gone until I stop being able to talk fluidly or make decisions.

And this is not something I just realized when it set in - like any good child used to being gaslit about their body-wide chronic pain, I didn't even realize I had any health problems when I started waking up disoriented, unsure whether my alarms had rang already, with me having decided to skip school and go back to sleep without remembering any of it.

It was only with covid lockdown that the physical attendance I was forcing myself into naturally tuned down, leaving my "free time" lucid and awake enough to become sure that I had a health problem beyond migraines, with my first few doctor's just leading to a psychologist suspecting schizophrenia

... Lockdown might genuinely have saved my life. I- I hadn't processed that before now.

I think I had something more in mind about this vague group of conditions science is recently getting much better at diagnosing. Especially how the problem in figuring them out is that the causes (and the most informative and dangerous symptoms) are physical issues outside the brain, but the signs that cause most of the Leidensdruck (the pressure of suffering a patient's diagnosis and treatment is in service of) are more classically studied and discussed in psychiatric disability.

... But I've been trying to write a coherent tumblr post for 3 hours now and my brain is trying to erase all caches so I think I'll just hit post.

Also the term "severely disabled" is getting stretched pretty thin too, I see a lot of people who are like... talking about how severely disabled they are and how their body is rotting and they're a total lost cause who can do nothing for themselves, and then I look at their blog and they're like... a cane user or something similar.

I really hate to be like "that's not that bad" when someone else is suffering, but it makes it really hard to find people who are in a similar boat as far as being nonambulatory and who need constant care from others. It's taken me a long time to find a precious few friends who share those experiences and that I can relate to and it certainly doesn't make it easier when the definition of severely disabled is stretched so thin.

I really don't think it's helping the impostor syndrome some people face either. There are a ton of people who are in constant pain with mobility issues and stuff like that who are on the fence about calling themselves disabled at all because they see people talking about how their glasses that correct their vision to 20/20 are a disability aid that makes them Visually Impaired and Disabled and want to avoid looking or sounding like them.

There's a lot more nuance to this than I could put into words because holy cow I don't want to hurt people that don't deserve to be but also I want to be able to find and talk to people who are also disabled without sifting through 10,000 "I'm severely disabled because I need to eat microwave meals when I don't have the spoons to cook" people first. I don't have the capacity or ability to do that sifting, it's almost like I'm severely disabled or something.