#but because im struggling so hard to survive i can barely focus on anything else
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hi i went out to see friends for the first time in a reallyyyy long time
afterwards i cried because i was really convinced they couldn't possibly like me or want to hang out with me anymore because my depression has caused me to become so withdrawn to the point of barely seeing them the last two years
but they hugged me and talked to me like i never left and told me 8000 times how happy they were that i came and we laughed and chilled like we always have
#real friends.... i really do have real friends that love me#and understand that me not being around was never because i dont love them or want them in my life#but because im struggling so hard to survive i can barely focus on anything else#they get it... they really get it#i need to hurry up and get better so i can repay them with the love they give me#💭
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Icing on Top
Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her.
Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.
She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.
Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients.
“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child.
She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil.
She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention.
“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.
“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.
He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”
She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”
He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose.
“Maaaax,” he whispers.
She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas.
So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.
When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.
“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!”
She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter.
“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”
“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”
“You cool?”
She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”
“You su-”
“YES IM SURE, BILLY.”
He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.”
She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”
“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”
“I already said cookies.”
“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer.
“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore.
“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole.
Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home.
She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs?
---
Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.
She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.
Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye.
Her door bursts open.
“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”
When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.”
Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”
She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t.
Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now.
“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.
He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”
Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder.
“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her.
When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal?
She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen.
He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”
She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen.
"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”
She still doesn’t say anything.
“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”
“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!”
“You ruined that shit for your-”
“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it.
Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her.
She’s alone.
----
Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-
The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”
She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often.
“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off.
“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?
“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention.
“What?”
“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down.
“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”
He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?”
Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”
“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room.
She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing.
When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”
He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in.
She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt.
“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”
Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face.
“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment.
“So you’ll let me make them again?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”
She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”
He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.”
She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping?
“You went to the store?”
He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”
“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.”
“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”
Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”
He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.”
---
Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt.
They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that.
The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.
“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”
“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”
Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically. “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”
Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”
She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles.
“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”
She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion.
“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways.
Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now.
“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”
By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last.
Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide.
Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year.
#billy and max#billy hargrove#max mayfield#harringrove#for that one line where max smells steves cologne on him#theyre TOTALLY just friends max#i wouldnt be surprised if theres some grammatical errors hiding in there#i hope you guys like it!#merry christmas! :)
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Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post
Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!
This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.
Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !!
This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)
In no particular order:
If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”
Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one
Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help!
Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk. figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done.
On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because
1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)
2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.
And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.
Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about !
Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year !
Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown)
I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.
My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.
Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.
You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful.
DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER
Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,
for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.
Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.
When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.
Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !
That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!
Have a good day :)
#mine#study tips#college tips#study advice#adhd tips#?#studyblr#study#bullet journal#bujo#dark academia#light academia#I'm fucking trying academia#notes#muji#college advice#idk how to tag#i hope these kinda sorta make sense lol
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ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive
you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.
i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond
because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit
the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing. and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice
so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do. i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be
(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)
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how do i stay alive
it’s a 2-parter, actually. i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things
1. love 2. spite
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1. love
the spite is easier to write about than the love. love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.
spite is where i go when i want to die. love is where i go when i want to want to live.
maybe i don’t want to be alive. but maybe i wish i did. spite doesn’t help me much there. spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable. there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me. i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight
so. love
i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral. that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless. but it would be a lie of omission. spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.
“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them. cry on them. support each other. like each other. fine.” you’ve heard this story before
nah.
i mean - yes. i have people i love. i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner. i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone. i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection
but i could live without every single one of them. i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival. i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received. (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this. i’ve told them all this, they know. they’re glad of it.)
so. what the fuck does “love” mean, then?
the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world. it’s all the little connections i’ve made. every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe. hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away. no dissolution of self today, sir
the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane. partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.
i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn. blue light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.
there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs. my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain. right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.
the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting. but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space. it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there. it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.
we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.
we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration. rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years. i have to start smaller. i’m not used to keeping physical objects. dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves
so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.
my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual. but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken. there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know. i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me
there are two exquisite chairs on the porch. they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds. there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone. i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams
there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard. we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway. some seem to have sprouted by accident. mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence. the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment. birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends
a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with. we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones
on the drive i fell in love with the sky. i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie. i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get. i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above. i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom. the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave
in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself. in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall. we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours. the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth. mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths
i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it. slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain
i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites. the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate. of course we’d end up behind someone. this isn’t divine intervention. this isn’t the benevolence of a god
i thought, but it can be a little magic. if i want it to be.
and it was. it stays with me.
god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing. i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building. and i can keep going. i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them
so i’ll stop here. you get the picture. love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.
i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.
i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.
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2. spite
there are people who want me to die.
i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise. although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much. probably some of them would enjoy my death. i don’t give a shit about that
there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike. a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion
because i’m gay. because i’m bipolar. because i’m autistic. because i’m a dropout. because i grew up poor. because my spine curves and my shoulders ache. because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me
pick your poison.
this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right. that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down
we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it. mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.
i’m older now. by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth. i ask for what i want. i use my time how i want. i do what i want.
there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation. no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too. everyone i love. it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me
trauma is difficult to describe. the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included. i never know if i’m feeling what other people do. i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.
there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me. i don’t touch it all the time. but i don’t pretend it isn’t there. it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes. it presses at my throat. it curdles in my stomach. it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate. it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile. it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.
i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors. i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir. there are a thousand ways to describe this thing. the descriptors aren’t important. what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor. this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.” this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.
it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist. it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop. it wants what it wants, it does what it does. possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that
but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me. to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses. it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it. i cannot fight with myself. i cannot beat my monster into submission. if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,
then it’s stronger. it’s always stronger.
so i surrender.
but that’s not where i stop.
can’t fight it. can’t kill it. can’t muzzle it. can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.
alright.
so what now.
if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me. can’t fix it. will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.
that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric. hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.
so fuck that, i say.
here’s a better question.
if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?
here’s the thing.
the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.
“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.”
losing battle. lost war.
it’s not the monster’s fault. the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears. it exists to protect me through scorched earth. a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury. it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.
i can’t change the monster.
but my mind is a separate thing. my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect. my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.
my mind has learned things the monster can’t.
when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me. but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,
that’s when i’m stronger.
and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes. what it touches. what it destroys. what it burns. where the ashes land.
i do not want to be a destructive person. i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes. i want to make the world better for kids like me. i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born. i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative. i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.
but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.
so it’s good.
when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles. my cognizance slips. i forget why i care. i forget what i want. i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.
i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now. but it still happens. it will keep happening for the rest of my life.
my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.
it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.
it wants to survive.
the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead. it’s been fighting them forever. die like they want? my mind says, sure, what does it matter.
the monster says, nah. our work isn’t done. and fuck them, anyway.
so we get up.
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so that’s how i stay alive.
i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post. i don’t know if anyone will read it all. i don’t know if it’ll mean anything. i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.
i love being alive. and when i don’t, i love being a monster. it’s good. all of it is good. i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces. it’s not one or the other, love or spite. it’s symbiosis. i need both, i love both.
no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:
you’ll have to find your own roots. i can’t give them to you.
but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.
and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world.
i’m positive there’s at least one.
figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.
if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system. adjust your strategy.
you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.
#i have several other questions to answer in my inbox if you've asked me st over the past few weeks#im not ignoring it im figuring out how to phrase my reply#replies#bipolar blogging#actuallybipolar#my writing#life advice#long post#REALLY long post#it's under a read more but if mobile deletes it i apologize#c ptsd tag#suicide m#ok to reblog#Anonymous
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〔 MADISON BAILEY, 22, CIS FEMALE 〕 ╰ TROYE KENNEDY just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of APOLLO who was claimed three months ago ? i’ve heard chiron say that she is PASSIONATE & WARM , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they’d say they’re MEDDLESOME & NAIVE . i’d say they remind me of hearing whispers in the wind that no one else seems to notice , leaving kiss marks on a love letter , quietly humming while doing chores , especially since they’re FOR THE NEW CABINS .
hello beans ! i’m weachy & this right here is troye kennedy . she is a brand spankin’ new muse & i’m so excited to figure her out as time goes on ! however , what i do know about her is under the cut . trigger warning for slight mentions of injury & excessive rambling as i truthfully don’t know when to shut up –– like right now ! anyways , as always , if you would like to plot with her , go ahead and press that little heart to the side & i’ll snake into your ims ! i’m so excited to be here and join all of you !
full name : troye brightly kennedy date of birth : march 18th , 1998 ( making her a pisces ) gender : cis female pronouns : she / her sexual orientation : bisexual / biromantic goldy parent : apollo ( god of music , poetry , healing , medicine , archery ) family : apollo ( father ) , tawni kennedy ( mother ) , brother wc up on the main . playlist : aint no sunshine ( bill withers ) , sweet creature ( harry styles ) , talking to the moon ( bruno mars ) , i hope you dance ( lee ann womack ) , & dust to dust ( the civil wars ) influences : jenny humphrey ( gossip girl / solely season one jenny no other jenny’s exist to me ) , maria ( from the song maria maria by carlos santana ) , nadia shanaa ( elite ) , & donna sheridan ( mamma mia ) tropes : ingenue & girl next door pinterest : linked here !
01 . past .
troye’s like was everything ordinary half a year ago . well , as ordinary as it came . she had an older brother & a mother & they lived in uptown , a chicago suburb . there wasn’t much talk about her and her brother’s fathers . they’d always known they were half siblings , but any attempt to ask their mother about them , they were quickly shut down . by the time both of them were in school , it seemed as though life had gotten much harder . it was extremely hard for them to focus , and they figured the dyslexia was a trait passed down by their mother .
school was absolutely difficult for troye . she wasn’t interested in math or history & she sure as hell struggled in most active parts of her schooling . however , in music class , it was almost as if the music moved her , she swayed and felt the notes in her bones . almost as if listening to music gave her the energy to survive a strenuous day . as she went through school , making her do her homework was like pulling teeth , but place a guitar in her hand and she’d go on for days .
as for her mother , she was gone quite a bit . she was raising two children on her own & had to provide for them as well as her elderly mother . so when troye was not struggling through school , she was typically playing music for her grandmother and doing other adult / motherly things around the house . by the time she was twelve , she could have been classified as a master chef .
only six months ago did she notice an extreme ( what she thought was a change ) in behavior . she had barely graduated high school & college wasn’t exactly something she desired to complete . instead , she spent her time volunteering at a children’s home when her mother and brother were off working . she took her grandmother with her , and would sing songs and tell stories and help them with all things she was confident in –– poetry & music . however , one incident occurred with a child . unknowingly , she held the child and began to sing . when the child’s scrapes and bruises were completely gone , she truthfully didn’t know what to think .
that night , she confronted her mother with her new found knowledge . it was only then that she’d come forward with the truth . troye was a demi god & her father was apollo . troye had less than three months to handle this new found knowledge and research and read things about her father before she was claimed by him & started attending camp . as a new camper , she has no idea what she’s getting herself into .
02 . present .
it’s been three months jam packed with learning the knowledge of demi gods & learning of the issues that camp half blood held . it seemed obvious to her –– being all inclusive was only fair –– besides , why wish troubles on those just because you dealt with them ? she’d never blinked at the possibility that not everyone she be treated fairly .
over the last three months , troye has been working on learning about her gifts that she didn’t know about before ( or didn’t make a connection to ) she realized she was a demi god . she focused on the medicine aspect of her powers as well as further into the explanation as to how she was able to heal that child . also , very recently , she’s taken up archery , and discovering her gifts with that . despite never really being an active child and rather a creative mind , she has chosen to take all of her gifts and run with them , to excel and express herself through all of them .
03 . personality .
the best way to describe her personality is through the song maria maria by carlos santana . she would happily give the clothes off her back for anyone she passed and has spent the past twenty - two years of her life doing just that . she’d rather spend her entire life volunteering and helping other’s than get an ounce of credit for anything she’s done .
still , at camp half blood , she is overly protective and mother like to anyone she’s met so far . kind , down to earth , and gentle seem to be the most common phrases people use to describe her . fighting is not her specialty and something she definitely does not excel in at camp half blood but she’s determined to work on it . despite her gentle spirit , being upbeat is not really her style . she is more of the type to have a soft spoken voice and only say what needs to be said rather than filing awkward silences with words .
04 . instances of her powers in every day life .
looking back on it and knowing the truth , troye can’t picture how she didn’t put it together :
archery expertise ––– this was the last puzzle piece she put together . it wasn’t exactly an archery past that she remembered , but more so how great she’s been at darts her whole life . they had a dart board in her house for a short amount of time . ( a boyfriend of her mother’s had moved in and it was something he enjoyed ) . she’d never lost when they played , and looking back now her expertise in aim definitely aided that . vitakinesis ––– this was described in an above section . audiokinesis ––– this was more of an internal thing than external . any songs she heard , she could manipulate them in her thoughts . until she got to camp half blood , she was sure that everyone could do it . it was her own way of basically remixing songs in her head , and being able to completely replicate them the second she picked up an instrument . excelling in the arts ––– the biggest give away for this is the fact that she has had perfect pitch since she was a baby . she can know any note that is spoken or sang the instant it flows from one’s mouth .
05 . wanted connections .
she has not been at camp long , but disliking her isn’t really common ? so i’d suspect she has quite a bit of friends as well as those that might share her interests . she also loves helping so if your muse is at all interested in music or needs help in any way , she would love to assist . i would also love if she had someone assigned to her to help train her to fight / teach her aggression ? that’s not really something that comes easily to her . because she’s new , she doesn’t have as many past relationships , but i would imagine her having a fwb but the benefit is friendship sorta thing ? she’s a dweeb , n e ways .
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The prompt is courtesy of @toooldtoactcool
Following his discharge, Alex takes the recently vacant position with the sheriff’s department. As the the new guy, he’s on Saturday night jail duty. Michael keeps goading Max to arrest him so he can spend time with Alex who has been avoiding him.
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t put Alex in those awful sheriff’s department outfits, he’s too cute for it. Not to mention, he’s a genius, I felt the sheriff thing a little beneath his ability. I hope my take on it is okay, though ❤
***
“Seriously?”
“What can I say?” Michael smirked. “I’m a menace to society.”
Max glowered at his brother from behind the bars, his arms crossed. “You know this is pathetic, right? If you want to talk to him, just talk to him. It’d make all of our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”
Michael stood. “You don’t think I’ve tried? The guy’s freaking military, Max, if he doesn’t want me near him, it’s gonna be damn hard to get near him.”
“Getting yourself thrown in a cell every day is not what he wants, and you know it,” Max said, his expression softening. “We need him, Michael, and because of you, he’s started to hesitate coming in here. You have to stop.”
“No, Max,” Michael shook his head, holding onto the bars. “I need him. And he won’t talk to me. I’m running out of options here.”
Max pursed his lips, then sighed. “You want me to talk to him for you?”
“No offense, buddy, but I don’t really need a wingman,” Michael said. “Especially not my own brother.”
Max scoffed. “You need all the help you can get.”
“Who’s going to need help?” Alex suddenly said, walking in, his eyes on the papers in his hands. Michael, without really realizing he was doing it, stepped closer to the bars, trying to get as close as possible to Alex.
“Oh – uh –” Max tried, but before he could get a word out, Alex looked up and his eyes caught Michael.
If Michael wasn’t who he was, if he hadn’t known Alex as well as he did, then he may have missed the subtle way Alex tensed, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on his papers, the way his eyes seemed to shine for a split second, only to be shadowed with an overbearing darkness that spoke of resignation.
If Michael hadn’t known Alex, he might’ve missed all of that. But he did know him, so he hadn’t.
“Sorry about my brother,” Max said, but Michael couldn’t miss the way Max moved aside to give Alex a better view of him.
“Bar fight?” Alex asked, his eyes on Michael, and Michael shrugged a shoulder. Alex then looked to Max, and as he approached them, he said, “Then what are you apologizing for? You’re not the one in a cell.”
His tone was curt, his stand cold and distant, as if Michael was a common criminal. Part of Michael knew he should sit back down, to stay quiet for the remainder of the time that he’d be stuck here, to think of another way to talk to Alex, but he couldn’t move. With Alex so close, Michael felt himself drawn to him, his body refusing to pull away from the bars.
“I finished up those security details you wanted,” he said, handing the papers to Max. “Fixed a few miscalculations, looked over the entry and exit points. Pretty basic stuff, but I wanted to doublecheck everything.”
Max looked over the papers, and after a while, nodded. “Alex, this is amazing. Hey, thank you for coming in, all your help. I know you’ve been busy lately, with your enlistment period ending.”
Alex’s brows furrowed. “Wait, how’d you know my enlistment period was…” he trailed off, and Michael saw him glance at him before quickly looking away, sighing. “Right. Well, don’t worry about it. I’m glad to keep busy.”
Max looked like he wanted to say something, his eyes softening as they usually did just before one of his comforting talks, except this time, Michael knew it would be on his behalf. To his luck, before Max could say anything, his two-war radio sounded on his belt, and he picked it up.
Michael only heard static as he focused on Alex who was looking over his work again, though Michael had the strong suspicion he was just doing it to avoid having to look at the cowboy. He didn’t know if he felt great or sick about that.
Before he knew it, Max was talking about needing to head out, and he asked Alex if he wanted a ride back with him. Michael swallowed, his hands tightening to fists around the bars as he thought about Alex leaving, but Alex shook his head, smiled, and said he would drive himself back.
Michael barely registered Max walking out, his eyes on Alex, trying to figure out what to say.
“Are you hurt?” Alex suddenly asked, his eyes down.
For a second, Michael thought he’d heard him wrong, but when Alex glanced at him, he cleared his throat, and smirked. “Uh – why? You wanna nurse me back to health?”
Alex rolled his eyes and started to walk off, but Michael, in a panic, grabbed his sleeve through the bars. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry, don’t leave. I’m sorry.”
Alex raised a brow at him, and Michael let go of his arm, holding his hands up in defense. “I was just… trying to make you laugh.” When Alex looked unimpressed, Michael swallowed and said, “Just – just a few bruises.”
He shook his head. “If this is your attempt at getting my attention –”
“—it is –”
“—it sucks,” he said. “Do you have any idea what this past week has been like? Walking in every morning just to see you beat up? Most people use a phone, Guerin.”
“Would you have picked up?” Alex said nothing, and Michael pursed his lips. He wasn’t completely surprised, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. “I didn’t know you hated me that much.”
Alex frowned. “I don’t hate you, you know I don’t. Don’t say that again.”
Michael’s eyes caught Alex’s, and when Alex looked away, Michael stepped closer, the two a mere few inches apart. He loved seeing Alex in jeans and flannel, the shirt folded at his forearms, a watch and a string bracelet from Maria’s mother on his wrist – so rugged, so grownup, so…
“You look good,” he said quietly, searching his face. “How’ve you been?”
“Better than you, apparently.” He shook his head. “Guerin, you have to promise me you’ll stop doing this. You’re going to get seriously hurt.”
“You know none of those bastards could touch me if I didn’t want them to.”
Alex scoffed, looking at Michael incredulously. “So you’ll risk either breaking a bone or revealing your secret?”
“If that’s what it takes to talk to you,” Michael said, coming as close as he could to the bars so that his body was pressed against them, and he was close enough to Alex to whisper. “You’re avoiding me, and I can’t – I can’t take it.”
“We survived ten years without each other.”
“No, this is different, you know it is. You’re here and you’re not here at the same time.”
“I tried to be here, and you threw me away,” Alex whispered, but it was enough for Michael to feel his anger and pain vibrate through him.
Alex’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and the words died in Michael’s throat. “I was terrified, and I took a chance for you, and you chose someone else. What do you want me to do? Smile every time I see you? Laugh with you like we’re best friends? Like seeing you doesn’t kill me? What?”
“Alex…” Michael trailed off. Even when he had nothing else to say, Alex’s name came to his lips, but what could he say to wipe that look off his face? The one that told Michael that he just didn’t trust him anymore? The one that hoped for a word of comfort, but knew he wouldn’t get one?
He opened his mouth, not knowing what would come out, when Max walked back in, a struggling skinny man, Joel, in his hold.
“Found this idiot right outside,” Max said as he handcuffed Joel to his desk, seeing as how Michael was occupying the only cell there. “Drunk out of his mind.”
“Only one who’s drunk is you, Sheriff,” Joel slurred. “You saw the way that filthy Mexican looked at me! If I hadn’t pulled a gun out, he woulda’!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max said. “Meanwhile, you’re always here.” Michael noticed Max harshly close the cuff around his wrist, and he snorted. “Maybe it’ll give you time to think, or, you know, whatever that mess of a brain usually does in its spare time.”
Max sighed, his hands on his hips. “You guys good to stay here with him for a bit while I go draw up the paperwork? He’s harmless.”
Michael pressed his lips together, wondering whether or not he should remind Max that both he and Alex were perfectly capable of keeping themselves safe no matter who was locked up in there with them, but before he could make the retort, Alex politely said, “Don’t worry, we’re fine.”
Max nodded, ignoring Joel’s accusations of unjust treatment as he walked out.
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Joel complained as Michael tried to speak to Alex, though Alex looked like he was done talking.
Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek, and quickly, he lost patience. He and Alex both snapped at Joel to “Shut up!” and the racist seemed to realize then that he wasn’t alone in the room.
His eyes glossed over Michael and settled on Alex, and his expression soured. “Oh, great,” he whined. “I’m really screwed if the fag is outside the cell. This whole country’s goin’ to the flower boys and caravans!”
Michael stared. “The hell did you just call him?”
Joel narrowed his eyes. “You his boyfriend or somethin’?”
“Guerin, stop, don’t engage with him,” Alex said calmly, seemingly unbothered by the insult. “He’s not thinking clearly.”
“When is he ever?!”
“Hey,” Joel whistled, “freak! The sheriff’ll listen to you. You tell ‘im to let me go, or I will make your life a livin’ hell, boy. I can do it, I have that power.”
“Good for you,” Alex said thoughtlessly, his focus on his papers, then he mumbled to himself about security details.
He was so busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Joel grab a stapler with his free hand, but Michael did. Joel threw it, and just before it hit Alex’s head, it froze in midair. Alex didn’t look particularly startled that it was flying, only that it had been stopped, though Michael’s glare was more focused on a shocked Joel.
Michael felt his blood boil, the energy coursing through his veins, his head throbbing as he forced the stapler open, turning it against Joel in the air.
“You,” he growled, “are gonna pay for that, you asshole.”
“Damn it, Guerin, stop!” Alex hissed, taking the stapler in his hand. While Joel stuttered behind him, he turned to face Michael, his voice low. “What were you thinking?”
“He was going to hit you!” Michael said. “Now, get out of my line of vision so I can blow him up.”
“I can look after myself,” he said, and went to place the stapler on the opposite side of the desk, all the while, Joel stammering nervously.
“Hey, d-did you see that? That stapler flew, did you do that? Hey, freak, answer me –”
Joel grabbed Alex’s arm, and Michael saw panic flash across Alex’s face for only a split second before he grabbed Joel’s wrist, turned his arm, and in a flash, Joel’s face was on the desk, his arm twisted painfully over his head as he screamed, Alex pressing down.
“Grab me again,” he said quietly, his voice dark, “and I’ll tear your arm out of its socket.”
Joel wailed loudly, tears running down his drunk face as he screamed, “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, p-please!”
But it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him, his eyes out of focus.
Michael moved his lips, his words silent. “Alex,” he finally said, his voice soft, but it seemed to be enough to wake Alex out of his trance.
The airman blinked, his brows furrowed, and once he realized what he was doing, he stepped back quickly as if Joel had been on fire. He held his own hands up in front of him, his expression a mix of shock and horror.
“Alex,” Michael tried, “Alex, it’s okay.”
“I – I have to – go, I…” Alex backed toward the door as Max came in.
“Alright, Joel, let’s get this over…” he trailed off, looking at the mess of papers on the ground, the crying Joel slumped over his desk, the distressed look on Michael’s face, and he frowned. “What the hell happened? Hey, Alex, are you okay?”
Alex nearly jumped at Max’s hand on his shoulder, muttering quick apologies as he hurried out, despite Michael calling him to come back.
Max kept his eyes on Joel as he approached Michael. “Okay,” he said, his eyes dark, “what’d you do to Alex? What’d you say to him?”
I-I look in the mirror, and I… I don’t even see myself sometimes. I see my father.
Michael shook his head. “I don’t think it’s what I said, Max. I… I think it’s what I didn’t.”
#malex#alex manes#michael guerin#malex one-shot#malex fanfic#malex fanfiction#malex fic#malex angst#malex fluff#roswell new mexico#roswell nm#tyler blackburn#michael vlamis#malex prompt#malex prompt list#gay#love
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there’s nothing you can do;
anonymous requested:
Could you do one where Justin has problems with Seth again and reader is pretty hot headed so she storms into there and Justin tries to stop her but since she's black belt in taekwondo she beats Seth up and when she turns her back he attacks her? Thanks!! I love your writing so so muchhhh
author’s note: honestly. oh my god. I am sorry it’s a bit late? hopefully it was worth the wait man but it was a real experience writing this one!! AAAAAA i don’t think i will babble much on this note buT THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS! also is this long idk im sorry
I knew today wouldn’t be any different. People passing by and greeting others, classes where I can barely keep my eyes a little bit open, and of course, like the past week, Justin not making an appearance even on the last period.
I knew very well where he was. Knowing him like I do, I probably know as well what he is doing currently. The only thing I didn’t know, was the reason behind of the disappearance.
Walking down the hall I noticed the group of people I was aiming at since the start of the day. Not missing a second, I immediately walked over there and saw how Dempsey spotted me right away, the look on his face was a mix of worry and tiredness.
“Where is he?” I asked the whole group and they stared at me, not wanting to expose their friend’s hiding place. Waiting a little while before letting my temper get over me, I clenched my fists and sighed, “Okay, knowing where he is, why is he not here?” Monty was opening his mouth until Bryce shushed him out.
“Don’t play dumb Y/N, if you know where he is there is no way you don’t know the reason he’s been playing dead.” The chuckle coming out of Bryce’s mouth made me shiver, though I was still holding myself from doing anything that would get me suspended to that creep. He also is the only way I get to communicate with Justin or just being updated with his situation, as much as I hate to admit that.
“I seriously don’t.”
“Not my problem then.” Bryce played a small smirk on mouth and I felt my whole body tensing, I hate that guy. Zach probably noticed the way I suddenly acted and shifted his body so he was standing in front of me, taking Bryce out of my point of view.
“He’s having problems at home.” He breathed out and I looked at him, needing to raise my head up a bit. Shaking my head, I raised my voice “Not possible, Justin told me Seth le-“
“He didn’t. Justin told you that only for you stop worrying so much.” Feeling my body burning with anger, I looked at Zach and had nothing to say. It wasn’t his fault Justin was acting that way, and it also wasn’t Justin’s fault that he didn’t know what else to do.
Exhaling loudly, I thanked Zach and left as quickly as I can the school territory, every inch of my body was aching and burning, wanting only to punch something, or someone specifically.
Driving to Bryce’s, it was no surprise that Justin was the one to open the door for me.
“How could you hide that from me?!” I pushed him backwards, yelling at him frustratingly. He took my arms in his hands, trying to stop my movements but of course not succeeding in doing so as I continued to throw little slaps and punches across his chest.
“I didn’t want you involved.” He said so calmly so I would listen to him and focus on his words, making me sigh in defeat and take a step back from him, turning around. “What did he do?” I wasn’t able to look at him, too ashamed from getting so angry easily.
“Nothi-“
“Don’t fucking lie Foley!” I turned around and pointed at him, calling him out for his bluff. He looked pissed, that wasn’t something I’m going to deny, but I was hurt. Hurt that the person I cared for couldn’t trust me enough in sharing his deepest problems and secrets, hurt that he felt more secure in this unfamiliar place managed by probably the cruelest people, rather than me.
Hurt that the person I loved, was hurt. And I knew nothing about it.
“He threatened me, saying if my foot stomped anywhere near his property, he is going to bash my head on the floor.” His voice was so stern and cold, but his eyes were watering at the thought of those events, and I hated every bit of that. “My mother did nothing, sat on the couch and sniffed another line.” Tiny voice cracks were heard and I boiled. Not at him, definitely not mad at him anymore, but at that meth head and his so called mother.
Stepping closer, I locked him in my embrace. Hugging him tightly as I felt his right hand stroking my hair while his left one keeping me close to his figure. He wasn’t crying, maybe tearing up, but not crying. He had nothing to cry for, not like he wasn’t used to that kind of attention, or that it overwhelmed him. The only thing that made him really observe the situation is how much the person he was holding cared, like no one else did, not even his own birth giver.
I shifted backwards a little, letting myself look into his face, while his face hasn’t moved an inch. “They can’t treat you like that,” He looked down at me and did nothing but look deep into my eyes, “I won’t let them.” A soft sigh escaped his lips as I have seen him put the saddest smile on his face. He caressed my cheek with his hand, “There’s nothing you can do.”
Remembering all the moments he had went through because of them, all the times he suffered because they were only thinking about their own ass and about the fastest way to get high, all the times he was sitting on my porch crying because all he wanted was the pure love of a mother and for god’s sake some normal family attention and care, like every kid deserves.
Letting go of him I felt myself slowly losing it again, sighing. I turned around and walked towards the door, “Where are you going?” His voice was filled with a sprinkle of concern.
“Doing something.”
“How the hell will you do that?” He raised his voice and I heard his steps coming closer as I went through the door and looked for my car keys. “Having a black belt in taekwondo must have its own perks in this case.” Yelling back at him, leaving him stunned as I entered my car and drove away from the Walker’s mansion.
I felt the rush of adrenaline and knocked harshly on the door, feeling my knuckles already turning red and getting scratched a bit. ‘COMING! COMING YOU FUCKERS CALM DOWN!’ Was heard on the other side of the door, and I was trying to calm myself down but there was no luck in that. The moment Seth opened the door I couldn’t help but punch him hard right in the face. “Ow! What the fuck?!” He groaned as he almost fell and started stumbling backwards.
Entering further to the house, I kicked him right in between his legs and he fell down on two, yelling out in pain. “Who the fuck are you?!” He said, still not being able to open his eyes as his hands covered his face, focusing on the agonizing pain he must felt.
“You think you can threat Justin? A boy that isn’t even your own in a place you do nothing but jack off and snort some lines?!” Yelling at him I noticed a figure coming out of room, his mother covering her own mouth as she just stood there. I turned to look at her as she was doing the best thing she could, which was nothing.
“Are you his little girlfriend? Is that it?” I didn’t notice he was looking at me through a nose bleed and one black eye, too swollen to even open it. Chuckling with his raspy voice he tried to stand up but I pushed him down with my leg, leaving it on his chest. “Whether I am or not, you have no right to treat him like that.” I whispered it getting as close as I can to his face and pushing my leg forward into his chest, putting all my weight on that leg.
“Y/N,” I heard a panting voice behind me, “Stop.” But I didn’t. I know it was Justin who was begging me to stop, he probably went on saying that but I didn’t hear him as I was raising my foot to his neck, choking him a bit. “You’re,” Seth coughed out as he was struggling to breathe, “a fucking psycho.”
Kicking his face harshly, Justin came up behind me and took me far away from Seth’s lying figure. I released myself from his grip and standing right in front his mother. “And you,” she let out a tiny cry as tears kept streaming down her face, “how dare you keeping that meth head around anywhere near your son?” She walked backwards, not looking at me until her back hit the wall, mumbling sorry for over twenty times. “Your sorry isn’t worth anything,” I walked back to Justin, going away from there, “it’s unbelievable that you even feel worthy of being someone’s mother.”
As I walked towards Justin, I felt a sharp hand on my ankle, making me fall down, letting out a loud yell as seconds later Seth was tackling me down with a sick smile. Justin was coming at us until his mother pushed him outside and closed the door on him, while Seth lowered his head towards my own, pushing his whole body weight on me as I struggled beneath him, yelling. “You weak little bitch,” I felt a harsh slap as my head turned to the right, my instincts immediately noticing the bottle so close to my right hand. “You think you can come here,” another slap, I yelled out in pain, throwing my right hand forward to get close to the bottle but no luck, “and do whatever the fuck you please?” He laughed out as he held my head in a tight grip and hit it on the floor. Feeling lightheaded, I didn’t care about the other hits I took, only noticing a figure walking behind him, raising an object and hitting Seth’s head with it.
Justin’s mother let out a loud yell as she was touching my body, her hands shaking. Hearing the endless knocks on the door, I felt my body being dragged towards the sound, a soft click. Justin was in a second right next to me, his mother telling him to leave fast before Seth woke up. Maybe I was quite of out of it, but I still felt nothing for couple of seconds, figuring it was Justin who was worried about his mother, not knowing how she is going to survive it, not knowing what to do.
I felt my body being carried away and put back in the backseat of a car, and everything was blurry.
Waking up, the first thing I saw was the clear white ceiling. Grunting, I looked to the side, noticing a chocolate ruffled hair lying beside my bed, using his arm as a probably-not-comfortable pillow. Taking in the fact I was in the hospital, I took my hand and played with his hair. The moment he was fully awake he suddenly lifted himself up, eyes red and open wide with surprise. I smiled at him softly and he just looked at me, not doing anything, not changing his hard expression.
“It was really stupid what you did there Y/N.” I didn’t let a word, letting him speak for once and accepting everything he thought, respecting his anger and worry. “You could’ve been hurt even way worse, the doctors were like ‘Oh, she’s going to make it with some mild concussion’ but there’s nothing ‘Oh, quite sweet’ about it?”
He stood up and paced around the room, hands moving with every word that came out of his mouth. Eventually, he looked back at me, scared and worried, also angry and upset with my actions. “I know I was reckless, but he deserved it.”
“You weren’t supposed to be the one to do something about it.”
“But I did, and I would do it again if it meant keeping you safe.” He sighed, sitting next to the bed again and looked at me with a soft expression. Looking at him, “Don’t think for a moment I didn’t think you could handle it,” I whispered and he looked at me, confusion coming up softly to his face, “but that doesn’t mean I am not going to help you handle it. And I did, we did.” He laughed, raising my own hand to his lips and kissing it so softly, as if a swift move and it was going to melt under his delicate touch.
“How are you feeling?” His voice was gentle, his warm breath against my hand making me feel warm and relieved, smiling tenderly at him. “I would feel better with some cuddles?” Chuckling a little at my comment, he stood up and moved himself to the bed, lying next to me. I giggled a little as he struggled to make himself feel comfortable and shifted my body so half of it was leaning on him, resting my head on the crook of his neck.
I felt his long dainty fingers playing with the ends of my hair, his mouth kissing my forehead and resting his cheek on my head. “I’m still not fine with what you’ve done.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“But I’m glad you’re okay,” he softly whispered, “even more thankful to have you.”
#justin foley imagine#justin foley#zach dempsey imagine#zach dempsey#13rw#13rw imagine#13 reasons why#13 reasons why imagine#thirteen reasons why#thirteen reasons why imagine#th1rteen r3asons why#jf x r
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hi i feel like the devil is really trying to pull me down. ive been quite a few of ur anons recently (im the anon whos friend has leukemia, the demisexual anon, and quite a few others) and most recently my church has been going through a lot of struggles. we havent been getting enough tithes to pay basic funds and our youth group had to let go of our youth leader today because some marriage issues he was having and now we dont have a head to our youth group and its going to affect a lot (1/?)
“of our decisions especially w the youth retreat/evangelical ministry event we have this weekend as well as our mission trip in july bc we now have to get acquainted w a new leader and everything and we already had bad youth funds on top of our bad overall church funds that we’re barely able to go on the mission trip we’re planning, and thats w paying $150 and my parents most likely paying for gas and/or rental vans. and my friend (her names Bailee in case u wanted to know) who has leukemia (2/?)is the first friend ive ever had w a possibility of not living until old age bc her cancer and even tho shes probably gonna survive its still scary for me bc i know if i dont act now she could be gone forever and i cant handle that on top of already being put down by friends for attending church and agreeing w some of the “anti-feminist, pro-patriarchy” things in the bible and most of them dont take me seriously when i try and explain how theyre NOT what they mean and my one friend seems (3/?)to be offended by everything that happens at our church even though she still comes and is lgbt and it feels like i cant do anything right anywhere if i try and combine jesus and lgbt for her and basically i have so much going worldly wrong for me right now and its making this rly hard to focus on christ when i have to deal w so much else and im trying not to let it affect me negatively and pull my relationship from him but its so hard and it keeps getting harder and harder and i need a lot (4/?of prayers rn to get through this in one piece and i feel like i cant do it on my own but im not very comfortable going to anyone at my church abt this so i came to u and im sorry for the long ask(s) but idk what else to do (5/5)”Hi friend,I’ve read your messages over several times and have just been sitting here staring at my computer screen trying to come up with what to say and have been talking to God about it. I love you. I love you so, so much, and God loves you so, so much. I really do believe that when we are faced with tons of worldly opposition, as you are now, it’s because the enemy sees how important we are to God, and sees how hard we’re working at growing closer to Him. This being said… doesn’t make it any easier, though. And I know that. So I just want to say this: keep going. Keep going, and keep loving and trusting God will all your heart and all your soul and all your mind, and keep talking to Him about everything that’s going on, and keep asking Him for strength and guidance, and keep sharing His Word and His love with your friends and family and church and just everyone around you, and keep in His Word. You are dealing with so much right now. It’s completely understandable that you’re having a hard time focusing on Him. Just keep taking it one day at a time, and focus on little bits and pieces. If you look at and think about everything at once, you’re going to get so overwhelmed. (I think you already know this.) If you break it down though–and maybe try writing everything down?–it won’t seem so big. Make sure that, especially now more than ever as you’re having a difficult time focusing on Him, you’re allotting quiet time with Him every day. I worry that you’re doing what I tend to do–giving and giving and giving, without taking time to fill up yourself. When we do that, we end up running around on E(mpty) trying to fill others up when we have nothing left to give. So please, try to focus on yourself and fill yourself up (if only a little) every day, so that you can better serve others. Your relationship with Him is top priority. I am sending so many prayers your way, love. Please feel free to keep me updated on everything. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. - Philippians 4:13All my love,S.
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EXTREMELY LONG rant about Dororo below the cut, all spoilers no context so if u havent seen the 2019 Dororo anime this probs isnt for u but i needed to put all of this somewhere to cope cause bruh
dororo is so good n just so fucking tragic
you have this Asshole of a dude who decides to take the easy way out but also like, if you have all these people under you, relying on you, i think that its kinda understandable to want them to have a prosperous and good life. daigo just went about doing that for
1- the completley wrong reasons, not to get all Good Place on this but he wanted the land prosperous so that he would have more power, not necessarily so his people would be healthy and well-cared for. I think this is shown in the final few episodes where he carelessly grabs people and horses from the villages, uncaring if he is hurting those left behind. His only focus is on growing and keeping his power.
and 2- he does it in the completley wrong way, like really?? youre going to go to making a deal with demons? I suppose in the show he does say he exhausted all other options but still,,,,, bruh,,,, you had to have known deep down that this was not gonna end well. daigo is just a complete shithead honestly, and i completley hate him.
theres definitely a part of me that really wanted Hyakkimaru to kill him at the end, however I do honestly think the end he got was the best one. It made sense given where Hyakkimaru was at at the end of the show, and also I think it doesnt actualy fall into the whole “if i killed you id be just like you!” dumb thing, and instead feels more like he gets ignored in a sense? like, he gets his moment of drama and everything, and of course Hyakkimaru was going to have to deal with him n get closure, but after daigo goes all “bleh just kill me, then i can rule over hell (??? i guess dude)” Hyakkimaru was just like, nah dude, peace n left. It really gave him very little screentime in the end, which is exactly what he deserved. plusssss he didnt seem like he was in v good shape so lets just say he died of “too much realizing i fucking suck as a person” or whatever
Tahomaru.................. bruh even thinking about him makes me wanna fucking cry like... can you imagine being 15 years old and finding out you have a brother you never knew, and that if your brother lives your entire land is (supposedly) going to die. like, Tahomaru is the next leader of this provence, and unlike his terrible father, he actualy cares about his people very deeply. So when given the insane problem of either killing his older brother, or watching all his people suffer, he choses what I think I also would have chosen!! especially at 15 holy shit, he is a teenager being asked to make this fucking terrible choice n it just fully fucking sucks.
Tahomaru fully deserved better, and I will take every AU that says him n Hyakkimarus moms got the fuck out of there n survived, living on n being able to hang with Hyakkimaru n be bros........................... can u imagine................. doing the forehead thing.............Hyakkimaru is like “another lil bro!! hell yeah dude”................. I cry...................
also Mutsu and Hyogo deserved so much better oh my GOD the number one crying scene for me was that one like theyre all like TEENAGERS!!!!!! and theyre all fighting n then these TEENAGERS fucking DIE!!!!!!!! like theyre Tahumaros friends and seeing him grieve for them......... it broke me dude........ even if those three were kinda out of it on demon energy at the time,,, theyre doing their best.......
also real quick i cannot believe they got me attached to a horse so quick only to just as quickly make me cry over it like fuckin rapidash was so good n she just wanted to get back to her kid and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ok so now that scene im gonna be bitter about forever, like yea sure i GUESS given their personalities, and assuming Tahomaru was dying already with no hope of survival, i can see why they all just stayed in the burning fuckin building. I can even accept Nui (bio mom) staying behind. She had very big sad energy the whole series, and especially that episode was so gd depressed, and with her younger son dying on the floor. I think she was right to go to him (for once,,,, like i get one of her kids got sacrificed to demons n shit n thats super sad but ur just gonna ignore the other one?? also bad!!!) so i think her doing that was actualy a very nice gesture, and closed that up nicely.
But Jukai???????????????? what the fuck dude!!! get the fuck out of there!!! Theres no reason he shoulda stayed, besides his whole self sacrificing thing n i guess??? he decided thats what the goddess of mercy wanted???????? him to do???????? for some reason?????/ like if it had been daigo, sure that woulda made sense. but what the fuck??? Jukai kinda just felt like he died just to make that scene more sad, n felt super unnecessary.
ESPECIALLY since the last ep we saw him in at the end he had like regained his will to live!!!!!!!!! hence why the ghoul went after him!!!!!! it was explicitly stated that he got that back!!!!!! so why the fuck did he just throw that in the trash at the end there???? the only thing i can think of is him not wanting to leave Nui alone which like.............. I???? Guess?????????? but also no????? just fucking go and be with ur kid dude, what the fuck.
THEN theres Hyakkimaru just fucking bouncing after all that, no goodbye or anything just fuckin leaves Dororo which feels absolutely wild and kinda ooc, like ok......... hes going........ on a journey..... of self discovery................................................. then what was the whole series about?????? i guess in the original manga n such he left at the end, but it was for a completley different reason that actualy made sense n didnt feel so... weird n tbh kinda forced,,,,,,, but ahh whatever the last shot of them meeting again when they were older was cute so i guess thats,,, fine,,,,
I really fuckin loved this anime, the way they portray Hyakkimaru before hes gained any bits back, and as he slowly gains them over the series, is very good imo. they coulda easily been like “yea he can talk now!! so he can just fully talk cause weird magic :)” but instead we get to see Hyakkimaru struggle pretty realistically with every part thats gained back, which is kinda satisfying n nice in a way imo. I like it a lot. also the constant issure of “do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” is just so good cause like on one hand i fuckin love Hyakkimaru and want him to get his body back, of course!! but on the other hand, when you start to see the people of diagos land suffering and such,,,,,, and know that coulda probably been avoided if Hyakkimaru had just died (tho listen, deals with demons always go bad so probs smth else woulda happened) its fuckin sad as hell.
But also at the end when Hyakkimaru is just like “its my fucking body! give it back it doesnt belong to you!!” hell YES dude you tell them
also the way you feel bad for every fuckin person (except daigo, who can and should choke) is very very good.
anyways i know ive barely talked about Dororo here but thats because shes perfect and i have no criticisms, and also she got the happy end she deserved even if im sure she punched Hyakkimaru VERY HARD for just up and leaving when they reunited. but bruh, tbh thats exactly what he deserves for pulling a stunt like that lmao.
in any case, Dororo is an extremely good anime and I immediately want to watch all of it again, with the knowledge that in my AU daigo fuckin died after that camera cut away, and Jukai totally hauled Nui and Tahomaru the fuck outta there n theyre living on Hyakkimarus good good rice farm together happy n healing n good.
#tasha tells tales#i wanna write fic for this show so bad bruh#never in my life have i wanted to write some fic so bad#well see#probs not#anyways i need to sleep now#but i needed to proccess all this b4 hand cause#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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i think its one thing to have a belief in the world ending and another to hope for it. and i think he hopes for it, masking it in a character of paranoid “shelter survival bunker” fantasies that periodically comes up.
and it does seem really appealing to just go the fuc away but like is that the way to be? i dont even know. i actually dont know. but that seems like an equally hard road to take?
he can trigger some terrible things in me sometimes. and this one is lighter than others but ive been through this and the only answer to get by from one day to the next, hoping that the real answer wll some day come, is to grin and bare it through all of life’s shittiness which is made mostly by mankind itself. and thats the prison you’ll be in. what else can i say? even money wont solve these issues. you cant change how it all works, fit it all to your perception.
i told a friend i felt saddened and overburdened by the traumas and tragedies individuals humans hold because it becomes stressful to engage with new people knowing theyre going to bring a new set of terrible things of life. i dont know what else to do. ignore it? focus on myself? act only in self promotion?
in the end, it all seems really futile. everything we do. everything but sleeping and eating and fucking, it’s all futile.
our mutual friend didnt show up tonight with what he owed after being only 10 minutes away. it was really disappointing but i wasnt really in this panic that i would normally be in. i felt really bad for him that our friend would do this, it really showed a lack of respect when hes done nothing but help him and give to him. robin hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor, you cant steal from he rich and give it to yourself and feel good about it. and hes not even rich. he just has more money than us bums. and im a fucking bum too and thats why i left. i just .. needed to go be a bum by myself and do my bum activities of finding a friend to give me weed. but i also knew i could do that so it wasnt this like panic of oh god i didnt get weed today what will i do but more so dealing with the fact that he was being blatantly disrespected after helping the guy mere hours before. and he was less than ten minutes away! we sat patiently, politely giving him another hour before calling him outright to find his phone off.
its really frustrating like i like our mutual friend - hes been very good to me but he has the tendencies to be a shity person and hes displaying them for like the 10th time in our nearly 2 year friendship. it sucks that we now have to have this big fall out and go through drama and i wont even have to but i have to support him. wel i dont have to, but i will because its not like he did anything wrong. its not even a drug thing - he owed money. and he just .. fucked off. after being rude to me earlier this week.
i mean honestl hed probably pay it back tomorrow or have some shity excuse but thats not what its about. i feel bad he has to work tomorrow. im sure hes struggling to sleep, pissed off about our friend and having to deal with anxiety of dealing with him. anxiety of going to work.
my future plans involved going to school and becoming a floral designer. such small time goals. but i also just want to run away with himand if i do what are my plans, what will we do - its not even a real solution.
back to smoking weed and watching youtube videos.
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