#but I would get tested and everything was normal

[maskedbyghost]

Simon knew marriage came with adjustments, but nothing could have prepared him for life with a writer.

It wasn’t just the weird questions—though there were plenty of those—it was the way your mind never seemed to slow down. You’d be doing something completely normal, like folding laundry, and suddenly stop, eyes going distant.

He’d barely have time to ask what was wrong before you’d rush off to scribble something down, muttering about plot twists and character arcs.

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting up in bed, phone screen lighting up your face as you frantically typed notes because “this idea can’t wait until morning.”

It meant half-finished coffee cups scattered around the house, abandoned when inspiration hit.

It meant narrating your own actions under your breath, like “she sighed, stretching her arms above her head” while actually doing it, which always made him raise an eyebrow.

And then there were the moments that made him question everything, like when you casually asked if he thought someone could realistically survive being shot twice in the chest or how long a body would take to decompose in a swamp. He used to answer with concern. Now, he barely looked up. “For a book?” “For a book.”

At first, he thought the strangest part was the research, but then he realized it was how easily you pulled him into it. You used him for everything—testing out fight scenes by making him grab your wrist so you could figure out how a character would escape, running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms as you mumbled about muscle structure and “what kind of build do you think my main guy should have?”

You studied him constantly, stealing phrases he said, describing his expressions in your notes, even admitting once that a few of your male characters had a bit of his attitude.

And then there was the way you used him for other inspiration. He figured it out one evening when he saw you sitting on the couch, staring at him with that look—one that usually meant you had something on your mind, but this time, you weren’t saying anything. Just watching.

He glanced over from where he was cleaning his gun. “What?”

You didn’t answer right away, just tilted your head slightly. “I think I want to write a new scene.”

He raised his brow, setting his things aside. “What kind of scene?”

A small smile played on your lips as you stood, walking toward him. “Something a bit messy.”

Simon leaned back, arms resting lazily on the couch as he looked you up and down. “You need details, then?”

“Mhm.” You straddled his lap, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Need to get it just right.”

He smirked, his hands settling on your waist. “That why you’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to be put to work?”

“You don’t mind a little hard work, do you?” you teased, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

His grip tightened, voice low. “Not if you’re gonna make it worth my while.”

Much later, when you were tangled in the sheets, catching your breath, you rolled over and reached for your phone. Before you could even unlock it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against Simon’s chest. “Nope,” he muttered against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I just had a thought—”

“Don’t care.” His voice was warm and heavy with sleep. “Whatever you’re about to write down, you can remember it in the morning.”

“But—”

A hand slid down your hip, fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I said, in the morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. Then, just to make sure you listened, he added, “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

Your entire body heated at the words, your brain short-circuiting for a second before snapping into overdrive. Without a word, you bolted upright, nearly diving for your phone as you started typing furiously.

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, fingers flying across the screen. “This is really good.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 3

-.-. …. .. .-.. -.. .-. . -. / -.— —- ..- -. —. / .- … / - . -.

Part 1 found here.

CW: A/B/O sexism I guess is what we should call this? Trauma reactions to doctors, awful in world politics.

Keeping his eyes on you Kyle’s concern rises with each shallow breath you suck between your teeth.

The nurse had been watching and held the door open as he directed Kyle to the first room on the right. Settling your body flat on the table he steps back, trying to give the nurse room to move. With two chairs, a small counter and a sink, and a ‘calming’ green on the walls the room looks exactly like he expects it to.

“How long ago was the exposure?” The nurse is taking your vitals and you stiffen as if your body hit rigor. “Ma’am if you don’t relax this is going to take longer.”

“Less than thirty minutes,” Kyle answers coolly.

The whine, primal and terrified, that comes from your throat as the blood pressure cuff is tightening has Kyle moving to where your head lays. Running the back of his knuckles down your cheeks he whispers to you. The scent of your fear, clear and uncontaminated with whatever afflicted you normally, flooded the room.

“Hey, hey. I’m here. You’re not alone. Everything will be okay.”

The nurse, an alpha by scent, makes a noise that pulls Kyle to look at him. The nurse, Johnson by the glance to his name tag, keeps his eyes on the monitor taking your blood pressure and pulse. Kyle focuses back on you. Your body regains mobility as the cuff is removed, eyes rolling like a horse looking for a place to run.

“Her vitals are all looking normal, the doctor will be in shortly,” Johnson shuts the door behind him. He must not be far enough away from the door when he starts talking to someone else. “Beta bitch in room one has track marks up both arms. I knew betas died from drugs more than any other gender but it’s wild to see that out here.”

Kyle would have stormed out the door to rip into the man if your hands hadn’t slapped into his, holding them tight. Pulling yourself upright from the reclined position you tuck your knees to your chest and rest your chin atop them. Letting go of his hands you curl them around your legs.

Sitting on a chair positioned next to the bed Kyle looks up at you, trying to catch your eyes.

“Even when he could see the streaks of color through your irises no recognition lit your features. Concerned, Kyle stays sitting on the bed with you watching each breath and twitch. Nothing changes until the door opens with a faint knock.

“My name is Doctor Chen. Can you tell me what happened today?”

Like an automaton, you uncurl from your crunched position. Legs folded you straighten your back and rest your forearms on your knees palms aimed at the ceiling. Kyle had seen poses similar in meditation videos he would watch sometimes to give his mind a moment to relax. There is no peace in your pose. The width of your open eyes and the shallowness of your breath all remind him of victims he has saved from torture.

Memories that left their marks on his bones should not be reflected in your posture, he faced evil abroad and in the mirror to keep people like you safe.

He glanced at the man, dark hair, light blue scrubs, thick-rimmed glasses, and a white overcoat Kyle mostly associated with lab work. A quick draw of breath and Kyle marked him as an alpha. Dr. Chen did not look at you once, eyes staying firmly on him.

“We had an exposure to an allergen.”

Dr. Chen nodded once and sat on the small, wheeled stool that Kyle only ever saw in doctor’s offices. He wondered if they had to special order them or if they appeared in the building like fairies to offers of milk and bread. The man logged into his computer with a swipe of his name tag to an RFID reader and tapped a few buttons before turning to look at Kyle again.

“Do you know what the allergy was in reaction to?” He adjusts his glasses further up his nose.

“We don’t and would like to get some testing. Does this clinic do testing?” Kyle asked; all of his medical care happened on base.

Dr. Chen’s eyes glanced at you for the first time with a flare of his nose as he took in the fear salting the room with your uniquely beta scent. Kyle knew deeper than his marrow that you could turn off his brain and any explosive rage that he dealt with being an alpha. You didn’t use that now, but by the gods, he wished you would. The flash of disgust that whipped across Dr. Chen’s face ignited the soul-deep rage that existed with being an alpha.

“Dr. Chen,” the darkness, power, in Kyle’s voice brought the doctor’s face to him. “You will treat my wife with respect or I will ensure you don’t live to regret it.”

The cloying, nose-coating scent of Dr. Chen’s alpha rising to meet the challenge filled Kyle’s nose. He let the monster rise in his eyes, keeping his scent muted. Military training had to be good for something beyond the battlefield.

Kyle stands, placing his body between the doctor and the bed where you sit. Arms crossed and shoulders spread wide he used the mass of his bulk to show the barrier he could be. He didn’t know you, but Kate had seen something that prompted her to give them the care over you. You would not feel any harm if he could prevent it. You started to rock softly, eyes still unseeing. Then you begin to hum Edelweiss, effectively breaking the tension. Chen lost the staring match when he glanced at you.

“Do your job doctor, so I don’t have to.”

“That is out of line Mr—”

“Sergeant, special forces.”

Dr. Chen’s eyes narrowed but accepted the correction.

“Sergeant, your wife is doing fine by her visual inspection and her vitals agree. This clinic does not offer allergy testing but there are a few private practices here that you can call.” He turned back to his computer, typing in what Kyle assumed to be a summary of the visit today. “Most of what we do here for allergies is to stop the reaction and watch for any adverse effects.”

“I will need a copy of that report for our records,” Kyle stated it like a command he would give a private or a trainee. A firm ‘this is the course of action you will be taking’ that did not leave any room for questions or disobedience.

If Dr. Chen thought of arguing with Kyle, he kept it to himself. He left shortly after with a comment that Johnson would be in soon with the paperwork he requested. That is how Johnny found them, Kyle’s arms crossed and holding back his rage and you the juxtaposition of a peaceful body and an absent mind.

“You are more than you appear, wife,” Johnny took your hand, curling fingers around palms.

They wait in the cadence of your voice for nearly five minutes before Johnson appears, papers in hand. Kyle snaps a vice grip around the man’s wrist, pulling him close.

“Johnson. If I hear you telling tales about betas, and more specifically about my wife I will paint the walls of your room with colors not even crime techs will unsee.”

The man under his eyes paled quite impressively. Plucking the papers from his hand Kyle dropped Johnson’s hand and turned to his pack mate and partner in crime. Johnny’s thumb traced a track along the back of your hand as he watched the interaction play out before him.

“Can you carry her to the truck?”

Johnny’s eyes flicked as he watched the nurse flee from the room.

“Yeah. Up you pop bonnie,” he settled one arm over his shoulder and then the other before lifting you under the thighs to settle around his waist.

Still, you hummed, no life in your form. Kyle had a glare and a harsh, nose-blistering scent of rage for anyone who looked too long. Johnny settled in the back seat with you, buckling you into the middle so he could keep a hand on you and Kyle could check on you in the review mirror.

The drive home is tense, filled only with Kyle’s quiet mutterings about inexperienced winter drivers. When he turns onto the path home Johnny asks a question.

“What the hell happened in the clinic when I was on the phone with John?”

The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of Kyle’s hands.

“Nurse and doctor had some awful things to say about our wife, called her a drug addict, and couldn’t keep professional.”

“The hell? Why did they do that?” Johnny’s face in the rearview is tight with angry concern.

“It’s due to the beta laws that went into place ten…eleven? Yeah maybe eleven years ago.” Your voice is an unexpected addition to the conversation.

Kyle slows to a stop in the snow, throwing the truck in park and turning to look at you.

“What beta laws?”

He knows his gaze is harsh when you flinch back. Johnny wraps an arm around you and you settle a bit.

“There were laws on the books for a long time that weren’t really enforced,” you swallow and look from man to man before staring at your knees and continuing. “About how betas weren’t allowed the same personhood rights as alphas and omegas due to the lack of either consistent rut or heat. Apparently, the ability to do both is scary to the government. Several years back a group successfully passed a new law that said basically that betas should be treated like children, unable to sign paperwork without an approving authority, have bank accounts alone, apply for a credit card, or passport, you name it without the approval of an alpha or omega. In some places it went beyond that, stripping beta’s of all rights.”

Johnny muttered under his breath something that sounded like ‘What the fuck’ but Kyle kept his eyes on you.

“What happened to you?” His whisper hardens on your skin like ice.

There is no weak, scared beta woman here, only a beast that would peel him apart if he pushed. He didn’t scare her, but doctors did.

“No.”

Nodding once and accepting the answer Kyle turned back to driving. He would discuss this all with the guys after they had settled into bed. The interactions with the clinic staff were nothing like he had ever experienced before. Though as he thought of it he couldn’t remember the last time he had worked with a beta.

Simon and John step onto the porch as Kyle parks, as if they had been keeping watch for them.

The four men set about their tasks, hauling everything inside. You follow when Johnny reaches into the back seat and helps you out, hand tucked in his as he carries in a few bags. Simon sets about setting up the bed they picked for your room. Johnny settles you at the table, laughing and joking at you as he prepares a plate of food. Kyle and John set to work on creating the dresser. They don’t hear you laugh at any of Johnny’s stories but John points to you once and Kyle catches a glimpse of a smile. The sun slips away into the trees as each of the men finishes their task. Once the bed is made and the mattress settled on the frame John and Kyle lift the dresser into place.

The three men who had built things collapsed onto the couch facing the back wall of windows into the woods. Simon is settled between John and Kyle an arm dropped around each of them. You are standing on the back porch, head tilted back as you look at the ink-dark sky. The coat and boots you wear are those picked up today. Kyle didn’t think to wonder where Johnny had gone until he bounced down the steps with a bright bundle of fabric over one shoulder as he shoved a beanie on his head.

“Where ya going, Johnny?” Simon pitches his voice to carry but not to shout.

“Gonna give our wife a gift,” he winks at his lovers and pops out the back door.

Simon tightens the arm around Kyle.

“He loves you. That won’t change if he chooses to love someone new as well,” John murmured.

Kyle looked over at John who lay his head fully on Simon, nose buried in the scent gland at his neck. John licks the length of the gland causing Simon to let out a short whine.

Glancing back out to the back porch Kyle watches Johnny settle a shawl across your shoulders and sees in your profile confusion, hesitance. When you look down and clutch the shawl tight to your chest Kyle could only call the look on your face concerned acceptance. Johnny grinned at you like the sun had risen.

“To bed Simon, I can feel you grumble. Your rut starts soon. Let Johnny get our wife settled and let Kyle and I get you into bed.” John pushes up from the couch pulling Simon with him.

Kyle stands as well, eyes drifting to you and Johnny one last time. Standing side by side the two stare at the stars. John calls him from his observations and Kyle starts up the stairs after his lovers. His other lover will arrive with time.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad

[yunazxxx]

who do you think is the roughest in katseye?

the roughest in katseye… huh lets see

i wanna start off with sophia, because she really screams that she would HEAVILY contradict her own words. let me give you an example.

lets say you and sophia were having a nice time together, but you were doing things you knew was testing her patience. sophia was known for being so patient, but here you were making her grit her teeth and try to calm down every second.

sophia had never really, you know, been pissed in front of you but here you were feeling her energy switch. she would just look at you, sophia wasn’t one to be too rough physically.

once she got you where she wanted you, thats when she’d praise you, which was normal. your body reacting to everything she said, but then she’d begin degrading you in the same sentence.

she’d do this so often because she loved mind fucking you. it was her favorite thing, seeing you getting confused, unsure whether she was serious or not about the things she’d say, calling you her “dirty slut” but in the same sentence saying you’re so beautiful.

now of course we have, megan / manon

when it comes to megan, i don’t know i feel like shes not too rough with you, but she would definitely be so smug if shes able to get you below her.

like for instance —

you two were play wrestling, or just tussling around one day and you’re on top of her, you tease her and whatnot, per usual but she gets you on your back

and then next thing you know she’s smirking and smiling about it, calling you little things like “weak” but knowing how fast you could just shut her up she enjoys it.

but for manon, hmmm —

manon doesn’t seem like she’d be rough with you, honestly i don’t know maybe its her being a cancer or just her personality in general but i don’t see her ever being rough with you??

like if she ever got rough with you, she’d feel so bad right after like her heart would start aching and everything (my baby </3)

but for lara and daniela. — now lets get lara out the way first, because

i dont know what it is with lara and marking but i feel like she’d love to give you new marks every single time.

of course if you get her to that point, she’d always make sure you’re in pain once she’s done with you but she’s also kinda like a sophia.

she’d contradict so much she says, it’ll start with “i won’t be too hard with you” and then next thing you know, you’re waking up to her smiling to you while you’re in a warm bath after you passed out.

now daniela, the one who i PERSONALLY. believe to be the roughest out of all the katz.

now theres times where she’d play around and be like, “oh i didn’t know it would hurt that bad” but wouldn’t be soft with you.

daniela loved playing the “not knowing” act, knowing she’d keep doing it continuously. loving how red your skin would get, or how much louder you are when she was harder with you.

now, when she was mad it was actually different. she wouldn’t play the whole “not knowing” role, she’d purposely hurt you and would even degrade you.

if you tried begging or crying, pleading with her, anything she’d just mock you and bring up how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

[ladyazurith]

I was wondering if you planned to do an analysis of what happened in Trey's dream? I enjoyed the one you wrote about Cater's and the analysis you did on Cater over all. The part about Trey and Cater being more like coworkers than friends, wasn't something I had thought about before, but it does seem to hold true. I know a lot of people were hoping for some emotional scene between Cater and Trey. Ace seemed to have stole the show on that one. But I did get the coworker vibe in Trey's dream. He was far more focused on Riddle and Che'nya who I would see as his 'real' friends and Cater was more of a footnote.

I wanted to hear your take on it if I could? If not I understand. You seem far more focused on Cater than the other characters.

I hadn't intended to do a thorough analysis of Trey's dream. (Honestly, i didn't think my one on Cater's was that thorough) But I do agree the 'coworker' vibes continued in Trey's dream. To tell the truth, I'm more interested in what we saw happen between Ace and Cater than I am in anything to do with Trey's dream. BUT since you asked I'll note a few things that I picked out.

First, the big thing is that Trey wasn't picked by Riddle to be his dorm leader, he got the position by vote. Honestly, I always assumed like I'm sure most of the fandom did that he was tasked with it by Riddle because of their history. And it does seem he got the role because of his connection to Riddle but only because of how much he vouched for him. Came across to me like he was basically Riddle's hype man when he took over as Dorm Leader.

Riddle and Trey's relationship is complicated, and I'm actually kind of cooking up a write up on a theory that has to do with Riddle, Trey and Cater's dynamic, and this only fed into it. A summary though is that I think Riddle favors Cater (he has gone out of his way to make accommodations for Cater, when he's overly strict with most everything else) because Cater isn't someone his mother disapproved of and furthermore since he doesn't eat sweets, he'd never have gotten in trouble with the tart incident if he'd been with Cater instead.

Trey on the other hand wants Riddle's approval, he still carries a lot of his own Trauma for what happened when they were children and the disapproval of Riddle's mother (Remember, Riddle thinks his mother is right about everything, so this has to exist in some fashion in his mind) and seems to almost be testing Trey at times (though he still views him as a close friend, and cares a lot about him).

In turn, I think Trey is resentful of this favoritism, and his poor treatment of Cater in certain situations is born out of this. With the way he dismissed Cater's objections sending him off to paint the roses during the sorting ceremony while he "dealt" with Riddle. Remember there is a LOT OF work Cater puts in around the dorm to cover for his dormmate's mistakes, which Riddle *never* knew about. With Cater not really realizing Riddle might actually favor him.

Anyway, that's a whole thing in and of itself. It would be a very long post with screenshots of interactions, backing up the theory.

Secondly, is that Trey really is just *weird*, he tries so hard to appear normal but ugh, those *things* that made up the rest of Heartslabyul were just out there. But he also has an unhealthy relationship with food. Something we already knew was true for Riddle, Cater, Vil, and Azul. He views it as a source of care and comfort, regardless of its effects on the person consuming it. This is something else that I think is a more complex issue, I can't cover too much here.

But those are my major thoughts on what we got out of Trey's dream. I hope you enjoy :)

[starstyff]

Duuuuuude brooooo

>Be me

>Have an intermittent ED that corresponds with manic episodes

>Repeatedly lose a lot of weight in a short period of time

>Eventually stabilize and give up on maintaining a low weight

>Gain a bunch of weight

>Reluctantly make peace with body as is

>Decide that finding a psych medication that works well is most important

>Find one that works well after two years of trial and error :^)

>Get blood test per psychiatrist order

>Discover I am pre-diabetic :(

>Medication is known to do this but has genetic and lifestyle elements

>Now have to rigorously examine diet and begin exercise routine :^)

>(I am incapable of having a good relationship with food while also tracking any type of nutritional metric)

>Recognizes that doing this right nutritionally and mentally would require a lot of work

>Brain immediately supplies that just not eating would probably fix it

It’s always something huh

[randomwriteronline]

Mata Nui refused to sleep.

He had not given a reason for it, in the distinct way one does not give a reason for something they find immensely discomforting, so none had bothered to pry further, and he had never slept.

This was a useful problem. Useful, because he could still rest through meditation whilst remaining aware of his sorroundings, meaning there was always someone to keep an eye out for the many rogue crawlies that infested Bara Magna at night and any Bone Hunter ambushes, so there was no need to take turns keeping awake and vigilant; a problem, because Kiina now had to be wrestled to sleep lest she abused the down time they had to pester the stranger on space and planets and the such, and Mata Nui was more than glad to speak of anything she might have inquired about at length.

That would have also been a useful problem, as his explanations were told in a low gentle monotone that could have lulled a furious Rock Steed into a chittering pup gently kicking and pawing at the sand in its slumber, if the Gaquri would have managed to stop interjecting with far too loud a volume of voice.

As it was, however, all their conversations did was hinder everybody else's attempt at getting some shut-eye.

When Ackar awoke, the night was perfectly silent.

He wondered briefly why in Plude he'd stirred. A sudden flesh-rendering pain jolting through his right shoulder answered him a little too eagerly for his tastes, and he groaned as he kneaded into it with his fingers.

"Ackar?" a half whisper reached him.

He grunted in acknowledgement.

Mata Nui shifted from where he sat to lean over him: "Is something the matter, my friend?"

The Glatorian pushed himself upright with a bit of difficulty: "Nothing, nothing... Give me a second," he muttered, "I shouldn't sleep with it, but - urgh! Alright, alright, hold my elbow a moment, would you?"

He hissed his thanks through gritted teeth as his limb was caught in a gentle grip. His fingers slipped below his armpit and fumbled angrily with the folds of his skin as his grimace twitched with each spark of pain: at last, with a few clunks and exhausted pops, the arm went limp in Mata Nui's hold as it detached from the rest of Ackar's body, leaving the Glatorian to sigh in relief and move his hand closer to the crook of his own neck.

His friend stared at the body part suddenly in his palms with no shortage of surprise.

"It is a prosthesis," he noted, a little awed: "I did not realize that."

"Yes, well - it's not really your fault for that. It's not that easy to tell, and I never mentioned it," the Glatorian replied as he did his best to massage his aching shoulder blade.

The motion attracted the attention of blue eyes: "Are you hurt?"

"Ah... Nothing to be worried about. I should not sleep with it, is all. It decides to start stinging like Plude if I do that too much."

"You have slept with it all these nights, though."

Ackar gave a lopsided smile: "I know, I know - but when you're out here in the desert, it's always better to have two arms at the ready rather than one."

Mata Nui nodded solemnly, with a grave air about him, as though the Glatorian had bestowed great wisdom upon him instead of basic Bara Magnan common sense, and the veteran warrior could not help chuckling a little at him.

The otherworlder took great care to place the fake limb on the sand so that it would not jam its inner mechanisms before turning once more to his friend: "May I help you?"

"With what?"

"Your shoulder."

"It's just inflamed muscles."

"It doesn't seem as though you can reach the spot bothering you very comfortably on your own. I would be glad to lend a hand."

"Oh? You have experience with this?" the Glatorian teased him lightly, but he did slowly begin unfastening his chest armor with careful movements made surprisingly swift by half a lifetime practicing with only one hand.

"I do not," Mata Nui confessed, completely missing any and all implications: "But I do wish to be of help."

"If it would please you, then, be my guest," Ackar smiled. "Though I will say, at the cost of sounding like a frail maiden - take off your gauntlets at least. I'm pretty sure you'd rip my flesh right off of me if it got pinched in your armor."

"I see. That is an unfortunate request."

"Why so?"

"I am physically incapable of removing my armor."

The other just shrugged casually as he pulled off his undershirt: "I can help you with it."

"You are very kind, but I did not mean that it is impractical to fasten or get out of," the otherworlder clarified. He placed a palm on where his clavicle should have been, lightly curling his phalanxes around the edges of the golden yellow metal covering his upper half: "Taking this off would be akin to skinning me."

Ackar responded to the information with a wide eyed stare.

"Ah," he convened finally: "That'd be quite terrible."

"It would indeed, my friend."

"So - hold it, hold it. You've been naked this whole time?"

"I... Would not... Describe myself as such."

"No, no, I mean--" the Glatorian reworded himself as he scooted over, "This whole time, we've been running around fighting for our lives, fending off vicious beasts and Bone Hunters, and you haven't had a single piece of protective gear on you?"

Mata Nui blinked: "I am shielded," he replied.

"I don't mean Click and the whole - thing, that you make him do that turns him into a shield," Ackar said as he settled down with his back to his friend. "I mean something that keeps your soft insides from getting sliced in half at the first swing of a blade, or from getting skewered by the first Thornax launched into the back of your knee."

"I am shielded." the other insisted.

"By what?"

"My carapace."

His fingertips laid on the Tapyri's back, only to retreat in confusion a moment after. Whatever puzzled him was eventually deemed inconsequential, as he returned to study the shoulder blade beneath his fingers in search of any anomalies beneath the skin that could clue him in on where to strike.

"Your what?" Ackar asked.

"My body is naturally armored," he explained without breaking focus: "Much like insects, certain species of reptiles, or likely the Vorox and Zesk from what I could observe of them, I am covered by an exoskeleton meant to protect my organs and sustain my body. It is unclear whether I possess an additional endoskeleton, like you, but I must confess I am not very keen to find out."

"Huh," his friend noted. After a moment, he added: "Because you'd have to be skinned."

"Yes."

"Very fair."

That was quite the load of information.

By all means, this wasn't necessarily the first time they'd heard of carapaced sentient beings - the Fezeri of the Iron tribe had something of the sort, and if you tried searching through their old settlements enough you were bound to find some molts that had survived the passage of time - but they still had bones in them. Like normal people.

And yes, of course, Mata Nui was abnormal under every aspect if you looked at him for longer than two minutes.

But being a huge humanoid bug?

Now that was unexpected.

More than everything else.

Including coming from space. Because even Kiina had imagined that spacepeople would have had bones in them, or at least been aware of having them.

All of a sudden the Glatorian gave a short snorting laugh.

"You're so confusing," he said whistfully, craning his neck back. "By the looks of it one would guess you're just a slightly irregular fellow, and yet you're some sort of alien who's more like Click than any of the rest of us. You're just full of surprises."

"Oh! I suppose that is true," Mata Nui mused.

He sounded somewhat amused by his resemblance to the beetle. Like he hadn't noticed it himself until now.

His fingers slid on what seemed like a slight bump under the oily skin. That must have been the problem, he thought to himself, and without further ado dug his thumb in the spot: against his carapace he almost felt the individual fibers of muscle flatten under the pressure he exercised upon them, the tight knot they were wrapped in struggling not to yield and unfurl.

He didn't quite get the time to focus on that, however, as he was startled out of the tactile sensation by a deep gurgling sound rattling almost right in his audio receptor.

Ackar, for his part, was trembling so much that the flesh folded around the back of his ribs seemed to be trying its hardest to imitate the vibrating tempo of a dragonfly's wings as it raced its peers across the surface of a lake.

"Oh, I think you found it!" he gingerly said before his friend could wonder whether he'd accidentally hurt him - which in a matter of seconds was no longer a concern seeing as the Glatorian all but leaned further into his thumb: "Go on, go on, those bastards are hard to get rid of--"

Another growl reverberated through the otherwise still air, and Mata Nui realized it was coming from directly under his palms.

Ergo, it was coming from Ackar.

He tried digging harder into the skin: the shoulder wiggled around his finger in a very curious way and the gurgling's volume raised a little more, while the trembling returned to rattle through the Tapyri just as hard as it had before.

Sound and tremors repeated in varying intensity as he continued to knead his fingers against the suffering spot, usually accompanied by the body in question trying to recline directly into the pressure much like certain creatures do when gently scratched in specific areas. He deduced these reactions must have been positive ones, meant to communicate a contented or happy disposition - perhaps specific to the Fire tribe? The trembling in particular, with its very visible reverberations all across the being's frame, seemed to require the presence of an amount of skin which was notably higher than what he could glimpse on Gaquri and Lebori alike... Although Ackar was also significantly older than Gresh, Berix and Kiina, and it would not have been wise to rule out the possibilty of age playing an important part in determining the quantity of soft tissue.

Speaking of the skin, though he was very taken with the large splatter-like marks all across his back, there was also something else that was puzzling if not outright concerning him about it.

"You're sweating quite a lot," Mata Nui noted out loud.

Ackar leaned so far into his hand that he almost dropped down right onto the sand.

"Ah - 'sss not sweat," he drawled through the rumbling in his neck: "Don'- don't frrreak out now, ok- 's mucus."

His friend hummed, unbothered: "That explains the consistency."

"Don' worrrrrry about it - 's norrrmal, yesss? We - us Tapyri, we jusss' make it, see... For the, the tem- RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Sorrrrrry, so'ry... We live near volcanos 'n' open lava pools, so the temp'raturesss would shrrrivel us up..."

"I understand... It keeps you hydrated in otherwise extreme climates."

"Uh-huh... Plus 's easierrr t' wash off the ash like that... Jusss' ssscoop it all off, and the'e, all clean like an oil'd up--" an even more powerful gurgle took over his throat, and he arched his back so much that Mata Nui had to quickly catch him with both hands before he slipped right out of his grip. Now that the Tapyri's face was in view he could note with great interest that his thin teeth were paraded in a wide trembling grin, almost clattering together, and that his eyes were squeezed shut as if he were in great pain - although the effect his expression gave off, even looking at it upside down as the fallen god was, seemed closer to exceptional enjoyment. He watched him mutter a curse under his breath before his voice raised again, slurring in bliss: "A'e you su'e you've nev'r done this beforrre? Y're good!"

"I am afraid I only have theoretical knowledge at my disposal, although in great quantities," his friend replied, a little embarrassed as he laid the other's head down onto his armored legs.

Ackar grinned a little wider as his nape touched down on something pleasantly warm: "Ahhh, booksss, booksss..." he chuckled, wriggling in place, fingers idly pulling the air in uncoordinated motions: "I g'ess they'rrre good f'r sssom'thin', eh?"

His chest jumped with a giddy silent giggle, causing his rumbling to stutter a few times.

Now that he looked at his actual arm better, Mata Nui realized that its back too sported large splatters of different pigmentation. He caught it in his free hand very carefully, turning it over to observe it better while the Glatorian simply allowed him to, maybe not even noticing: their position and shape was not as random as it appeared, but instead seemed to follow an imperfect pattern which mirrored that flanking the man's spine. A quick glance at his prosthesis revealed no such detail on the fake flesh.

Such a curious thing, he mused as he thoughtlessly played with the organic limb - pressing on its palm, lifting it, bending its elbow and wrist to watch the skin crease and muscles tense or relax. He'd seen this sort of appearance on a few creatures along his travels, usually to ward off predators by denoting some sort of poisonous nature... Perhaps the Fire tribe had evolved to secrete a type of venom mixed into their protective layer of mucus in response to threats, or it could have been a strategy of ages past that had managed to survive with each subsequent step they'd taken up their evolutionary ladder for some reason or another.

He'd never had a tongue to test the effects of different poisons personally, and while he might have had one now (though he wasn't sure, since he had not had the time to properly study or think about this body's anatomy much) he was a little uncertain on whether his friend would have appreciated having his fingers shoved in Mata Nui's mouth for the sake of scientific research.

He had come across a few sapient species that considered that a formal greeting, but he would rather not take his chances.

Maybe he could have asked later.

He felt Ackar's shoulders shift and squirm in his lap to get more comfortable, and he returned his attention to him just in time for the Tapyri to open his eyes and meet his gaze in turn.

For a small period of time they simply looked at one another. The otherworlder continued idly moving the other's limb, exercising a gentle pressure upon his palm as he shifted the arm up and down without any rhyme or reason; Ackar himself just let him do as he pleased, only blinking back at him, face stuck in a neutral expression, not making a singular attempt at stopping him.

"Oh," he spoke at last with a nervous laugh: "Well. Hello."

What a strange thing to say. Mata Nui tilted his head slightly: "Hello," he replied in tone.

"I've made myself comfortable, haven't I?"

"If you are referring to your position, I took the liberty to recline you myself in order to keep you from getting injured."

It was unclear if the information reassured the Glatorian or not, as his reaction was to widen his pupils slightly, considerably darken the skin of his nose, and only peep: "Ah."

"You were leaning rather far back. You could have fallen."

"Ah," he repeated. "Thank you, friend."

"It was my pleasure."

Ackar's nose turned a little darker again.

Mata Nui touched it thoughtlessly: its temperature had increased, he mused to himself, so perhaps blood was rushing to that specific spot for one reason or other.

"You might be building a fever," he warned.

"I do not believe I am," the Tapyri replied a little stilted, again with an embarrassed chuckle, "But thanks for worrying."

Concerns soothed, the fallen god dug a digit back in the pained spot and earned another gurgle for his good deed, which reverberated this time across the plates of his legs. He was surprised to find it caused a weird, pleasant sensation akin to a feeling he unfortunately was not sure he had a name for yet.

He returned his attention to his friend: "How is your shoulder feeling?"

Ackar had shut his eyes again, and squirmed in a sort of pleased manner: "Betterrr," he replied, growls now coming from his throat in shorter bursts. He cracked open an eyelid to look at his own arm being maneuvered by Mata Nui's hand as though it were the limb of some sort of machine, losing himself in the feeling of the armored palm and the limp movement of his own joints: "Havin' fun?"

The other followed his gaze, and instantly turned bashful: "Oh - I apologize. I was lost in thought," he whispered sheepishly, placing the limb down on the Glatorian's chest.

His friend cackled: "It's quite fine, it didn't hurt."

Another gargle rumbled through him as the last kink in his muscle was smoothed down.

Mata Nui continued massaging the spot either way, and Ackar continued quietly responding to his kindness with soft purrs; and for a short while, as the desert breathed its tired chill and the winds didn't blow any sand into their eyes or noses or mouths, they simply remained quiet.

Fingertips ran across his arm softly, slowly.

If he concentrated enough he could hear how the barely perceptible sound them scraping the mucus off of one another.

It was terribly comfortable.

Terribly soothing...

A soft monotone stirred him from the torpor he was falling into: "In truth, I was quite taken with your skin's markings."

Without opening his eyes, Ackar turned his head: "Hm?"

"These," his friend explained. He felt him trace an unclear shape on his forearm a few times, gently: "You present an irregular pattern of noticeably different pigmentation both here and on your back. The closest condition I could try to compare it to would be vitiligo, but it does not appear to be anything like it."

The Glatorian hummed softly: "Oh, we just have them... They're common, to us Tapyri. Splatters, spots, dots... Various colors, too..."

"How curious," the otherworlder murmured. He moved from one spot to the other seamlessly, following their borders. "Poisonous creatures often advertise their toxicity to potential predators through similar visual cues."

"Is that so..."

"Perhaps you too have some."

Ackar chuckled as he humored him: "Perhaps I do, who knows!"

"Like a salamander."

"And what is that?"

"It is a term that indicates a family of small amphibians of which many species contain a potent poison within their mucus-covered skin. Their appearance is quite similar to that of lizards, so they are often mistaken for reptiles despite their lack of scales. Land-dwelling turtles often incur into a similar yet opposite misconception, being believed to be amphibians when they are not."

"Hm. And their poison, what does it do?"

"It is deadly in exceptionally small doses and can affect the victim by means of contact with bruised skin, ingestion, inhalation, and injection."

"Oh, I'd like that."

"You would?"

"Yeah, why not? First sand bat to swallow me whole gets a nice surprise, and I take that bastard down with me."

He laughed softly, reclining his head further into Mata Nui's lap.

His yellowish eyes looked up again curved into half moons, meeting the fallen god's own with a lopsided grin: "That'd be a nice little consolation at least, wouldn't you think?"

His friend's glowing irises looked back down at him with a sort of vacuous glimmer.

They were a very nice blue.

The otherworlder's hands were heavily segmented, each articulation encased in a golden shell fitting perfectly against the others. It was really curious how he'd never noticed that until he had his cheeks cradled into one of those palms, weirdly coarse and warm like sand.

Mata Nui looked directly into his eyes: "You are so deeply interesting," he said with such earnest awe.

He sounded so starstruck - he was so starstruck, staring at the Glatorian utterly entranced as though he was marveling at the sight of in the most incredible discovery of this age.

"If the circumstances of our meeting had been different, less wrecked with quests and worries," the fallen god continued, speaking awfully softly as he returned his mellow grip to the Tapyri's hand and began shifting his arm around aimlessly again, to feel the shift of muscle and skin and mucus, "I would have loved to simply watch you live for weeks on end. To take note of your speech patterns, your specific anatomy, how your body moves, how it reacts to stimuli..."

"That," Ackar murmured, breathless: "Is a bit forward - isn't it?"

His friend leaned his head to the side ever so slightly, not blinking.

"At least you should first..."

He choked on his own breath very briefly; he shut his eyes with a little bewildered wheeze and smacked his palm on his face.

Great Beings.

That could have been incredibly awkward.

Mata Nui, who was still holding onto his hand waiting for an elaboration with a fair share of interest on the matter, decided the necessary amount of time for an explanation's request to be polite had passed and curteously encouraged him: "Do continue. I would like to know the proper steps to follow."

But the Glatorian shook his head with a breathy cackle: "Don't- it's nothing, don't think about it. I'm very tired and talking stupid."

"I apologize. I should let you rest, then."

"Oh, no, if you - if you want to talk about something, it's fine."

A surge of warmth radiated from the carapaced fingers wrapped around his hand: "It would not bother you?"

"No, no... You've got a soothing voice really, so it wouldn't... I don't know how long I can listen to you consciously, but if you'd just keep telling me about... Oh, I don't know..."

"Would you like me to continue with the salamanders?"

Oh, he knew that little wiggle that had just shaken his friend's legs. It was the same as Kiina's flapping knees while sitting crosslegged, Gresh's one-handed claps and the weird little laugh Berix sputtered when he saw something he liked way too much.

Mata Nui really wanted to tell him more about those beasties.

Maybe he was excited about the similarities he'd found between them and the Tapyri. Or maybe he just liked talking - he'd always seemed awfully happy rambling to Kiina.

Either way, the little terrors had already gotten in his good graces with their poison, so why not learn more about them?

"I reckon I would," he smiled.

His arm was lifted again, and he could now see the excitement in his friend's eyes: "It would be my pleasure," he assured him. He leaned a little further down, closer to his face: "What would you like for me to start with?"

The Glatorian twisted his mouth for a moment: "To start, to start... The legs, let's go with those. How many do they have?

"They tend to have four limbs, two front and two hind, although certain species completely lack the latter," Mata Nui began without missing a beat: "The number of toes is also variable, but never exceeds four on the front and five on the rear. A rather incredible ability the entire salamander genus can vaunt is that of fully regenerating entire limbs without any trace of scarring."

Ackar hummed, amused, and moved his lone shoulder blade as though its arm was still attached: "That's a real good one, I'll say... Don't quite get the lack of back legs, though."

"Specimens that showcase such a peculiar characteristic tend to be fully aquatic throughout their entire lifetime, so perhaps an additional pair of limbs were considered more superflous to them than they were to other species that maintain an amphibious existence or even turn completely terrestrial upon reaching adulthood - though still favoring damp, cool habitats due to their permeable skin, preferrably near water." the otherworlder explained. Then, as though remembering it suddenly, he added in a slightly humored tone: "Sapient inhabitants of the planet on which I observed these creatures most often associate them to fire, particularly to the ability to resist it unharmed or putting it out entirely. A misconception created by the salamanders' habit of making their nests in rotting logs, from which they would flee when they were placed in the fire, also led to the belief that they were born from flames."

Something else they had in common with Tapyri...

One of their oldest tales, a myth to tell children - they were the spawn of embers, born from ashes still warm of extinguished bonfires, from the glowing rivers trickling down the sides of volcanoes...

Ackar squeezed his eyes hard and forced himself concious. A small sigh escaped him: he was already fighting a losing battle with his eyelids to keep them open, lulled into a thoughtless state by Mata Nui's excited monotone gently and eagerly pouring as much information as he could into his head.

His throat rumbled weakly, its grumbles vibrating against the equally pleased lap wiggling beneath his head - oh, if he could stay awake a little more, just a little more...

"Their diet tends to vary based on their environment and size, but they are known to eat anything the deem large enough," Mata Nui kept going softly, stroking the Glatorian's hand with his thumb: "Among their most common preys are insects such as flies, beetles, cicadellidae, moths, caeliferae and aquatic bugs, arachnids such as mites and spiders, earthworms, hexapods, and various larvae, while larger species may also hunt crabs, small mammals, fish, and other amphibians; in case of particularly scarce resources they might also resort to cannibalizing other salamanders, something that often happens between young specimens. Their jaws have each a row of small teeth capable of bending inward to keep the prey from escaping, sometimes helped by patches of teeth found on their palatine bones and vomer as well to better hold it down - aquatic specimens rely on them to macerate and tear the prey, as their tongues lack muscles and cannot be flicked out to catch food in the way their terrestrial counterparts' can. This is made possible by their ability to secrete a sticky mucus from glands positioned on the roof of their mouth and the tip of the tongue itself..."

And he continued talking for a good couple of hours, droning in the night with his quiet excitement without worrying too much about Ackar's silent snoring adding itself to the sound of Kiina, Gresh and Berix, simply happy to listen to them breathe and live around him and talk, talk, talk about all the marvelous things he'd loved alone until now.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[mmaurysiek]

thank you for indulging my curiosity about the subject! also, the songs are a blast 🫀

(the latter song reminds me of scheming with my little sister)

I agree that this is fascinating!

about ADHD and boredom — from what information I have (and that includes info that someone somehow tested dopamine levels of ADHDers who were made to wait like a few hours for the testing to get done, and apparently there was a rapid drop and by the end of it they had it comparable or lower to the lowest percentile of depression patients) — it's only called boredom because it's felt in situations which everyone insists are boring — but the actual experience is probably closer to sensory deprivation / dread. ....and now I have further guesses that would be unethical to test on purpose, so maybe it's better if my curiosity about it ain't sated.

(I did get myself bored on purpose, tho — what can I say, I'm like terminally curious (when not too burnt out), I have limited self-preservation, and it couldn't possibly be worse than electric surprise showers. or the time when I was curious what was going to happen if I didn't get REM sleep and caused myself to hallucinate a little.)

(the self-preservation does go a little funky when very necessary repeating life things like e.g. eating feel like torture, because of the boredom, doesn't it?)

I can't speak for ASPD because I personally even don't know (or don't know that I know) anyone who would have that experience without accompanying ADHD.

if we are comparing masking, I don't have the experience of dividing it by disorders so clearly. my own masking wasn't even focused on appearing more normal, I couldn't do that. instead I performed a calming, entertaining, very low maintenance presence. — and for that purpose, I masked some divergent and expected traits alike.

I'm fascinated with what you're saying about memory. most people's memories don't start that young, so I never before found anyone to compare this with — and it's the first time I've heard of this kind of memory shift. my own memory mechanism shifted a little differently (but also, the way my memory works has always been and continues to be kinda weird) — I have some static impressions from before, and then starting from the age of 3yo, before I could speak, some of my memories gain continuity (movement, action).

I'm not sure if that early start of my memories has anything to do with trauma. my first proper memory is simply full of frustration as I could not communicate what I needed to, that with knowing only like ten words, and the only relevant word there being "no". my second proper memory happens shortly after, and it's a time when my older sister almost accidentally threw me down a staircase, while she was panicking.

at first I memory-saved everything, but like a few years in — I had to consciously choose to throw out the specific wording of overheard conversations because I ran out of space and the new memories weren't saving anymore until after I made space for them 😅

thanks to you, I've realised that I'm not claustrophobic at all and more agoraphobic than I thought. I used to think that agoraphobia was only relevant for situations like e.g. when I scaled a building and held the rooftop for my dear life because it was incredibly disconcerting to have nothing but sky above me. — and yet it turns out that agoraphobia alone explains the core of my aversion to driving a car (traffic jams), as opposed to a bike (lets me leave the road at any time) or public transport (and its emergency exits) — (for some context, I live in Europe; there's no place without a village or town within a walking distance; I can and I have jumped outta train and walked the rest of the way, when it stopped moving forward) — I'm learning 👀💚

trapped in a corn maze again?? sounds like a terrible experience

having fun in order to cope reminds me of a different character from a different universe — someone who went all theatre kid on the third several years long research mission without break, after being the sole survivor of two previous ones >:3

about biases, I'm just a weirdo with a burning need to figure these things out consciously, so that I can identify the utmost minimum that I need to partake in, so that they can be played, learned, and improved upon — and you've just pointed at some problems with this that I'm trying to find a way to solve. (it's rare that I get to talk about these observations because people usually freak out about anyone approaching these things consciously 🤔)

about the definition of an abusive relationship — just because something may be dysfunctional rather than abusive - doesn't make it any better, any easier to experience. it's not a moral judgement from me, I'm simply trying to use accurate words as I know them — and I'm open to corrections on my vocabulary if they aren't — and yeah, as far as I can tell - the types of abuse apply even when the term abusive relationship does not. like, if one googles them somewhere online that's still applicable framing. 🤔

about intention based bias, I'm nodding along. you're describing it better than I could, not just here but also in other posts.

about physical and emotional pain, i've heard it a lot, that emotional is worse than physical. I'm absolutely no authority on this — I don't even feel pain like most people do, due to some genetic mutation that lowers the inflammation response, or something. so my subjective comparison wouldn't be relevant to general human experience.

that surgery sounds traumatic and horrible. I wish no one had to go through that.

Lets look at aspd from a neurodivergence sense for the amazing digitial circus as well as some other disorders (all for fun) And which personality disorders fit some of the cast

Aspd got that

Not valueing social or legal norms or morality for their own right (not necessarily against). Can have own morality.

Boredom is severely painful as well as situations where you feel trapped and can't escape easily (aspd has a high comorbidity with agoraphobia according to studies) which leads to urges (not necessarily actions) of harm to self andor others. Hence it having high self harm and suicide attempt rates, impulsivity, anger including lashing out with words or actions, addiction. All for relief.

And "improper response to punishment" meaning doesn't lower behavior but rather causes anger at punisher, doing it behind back, or no change

On average lower or missing or selective with who towards for specific emotions or reactions in regard to affective empathy, care, sompassion, guilt, shame. (Doesn't determine actions)

Now which characters fit that well enough...

JAX AND POMNI

Others fit things too. Ragatha fits the ego seeking and wanting praise and to be looked good of npd.

Gangle fits more the attention seeking of histrionic. With dysthymia's depressive mood typically

Zooble fits more of the not wanting any of it of schizoid

Kinger...like there is some things i could say but so much uncertainty other then autistic.

Also, slight spoiler for ep 4 but gangle was outright extremely abusive in episode 4, I said what I said. Way worse then what Jax had done for all of the episodes total. And no, none of it was deserved, people don't deserve to be abused. I can't believe I have to say that to this fandom.

No disorder makes you bad or abusive, your actions do

Ragatha tieing someone up and making it so they were unable to speak for an entire adventure when the person tied up likely has fear of situations difficult to escape from? Extremely bad. Because of actions. Doesn't matter if she did it for "good emotions"

[fluentisonus]

.

[icewindandboringhorror]

A very interesting cloud formation!

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

burgertron HATE ged prep . burgertron PILEDRIVE WHOEVER MADE IT SO THAT YOU HAVE TO TAKE 4 SEPARATE TESTS TO GET A PIECE OF PAPER THAT SAYS YOU DID IT into THE FUCKING DIRT!!!!!!!

[ratvich]

i am not survivng the horros

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Got my call reminder for my gastric emptying study and I'm a little nervous 👉👈

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

The hormone cycle my ENEMY when I catch you!!!!

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Issues with Writing a Self-Insert #1

In case y'all didn't know, I've been going through a reflective period recently, and I've noticed that fear of what others think has held me back in almost every single aspect of my life, and unfortunately fandom is no exception.

I remember when I was like 14 and I tried to write fanfiction for the first time (I don't remember even what fandom I was writing for). Unfortunately, I could barely type a single paragraph without immediately deleting all that I wrote and being overly critical of my lack of writing ability. Even at that age, in the privacy of my dorm room, I couldn't shake off the fear of failure (and I mean howw?? I wasn't the only 14 year old trying to write Wattpad fanfiction). I remember comparing myself to some of my peers who had an amazing talent for writing. For me, I didn't get jealous, but rather I got intimidated, so intimidated that instead of continuing on with something and being imperfect at it, I'd just drop the entire activity altogether.

Because of this habit, I missed out on a lot of potential opportunities for growth during this time. I guess I saw people who were amazing, assumed that they popped out of the womb like that or something, and just....gave up. If I could go back in time, I would tell young me to embrace the cringe, embrace the mess. So what if people laugh or look at you funny or immediately stop whispering to each other once they see you? It sucks, but you will find your people, and you will survive. Trying to be palatable to everyone just means that you stifle yourself.

Years later, I wanted to get back into fanfiction, but this time with very little creative writing experience. What held me back was the fear that someone would read something that I wrote and ridicule it for being something that only an angsty teen would write, except that I am no longer an angsty teen but an unfortunately angsty adult riddled with insecurity, and that reality would just make that hypothetical comment sting even more (that's another thing about me. I create hypothetical ways for people to roast me in order to talk myself out of doing stuff).