#but every day it gets easier to put those down and recognize who i REALLY am
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feyriejane · 9 months ago
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it turns out that I'm not this horrible manipulative person who's angry all the time ive just been told that my entire life whenever I didn't give someone what they wanted.
#more shocking revelations to come as i finally put REAL effort into processing my trauma#my parents love to talk about how awful i was as a kid#how i was manipulative angry and violent and i never thought of anyone but myself#and i genuinely believed that because no one ever told me any different#i believed that i needed to work hard and sacrifice as much as i can for the people i love in order to make up for them enduring me#now that ive surrounded myself with kind and gentle people#im not angry all the time#disagreements are conversations and even if they get a little emotional sometimes we're not fighting#looking back i don't think its a coincidence that those same insults were hurled towards me when i decided to end a friendship#at the time i took it as proof that my parents and my ex were right#i WAS that horrible person and it didn't matter what i did i could never make up for that#it caused me to relapse into self harm after it had been YEARS since id done that#but ive since come to realize that the actual common denominator in all of the situations where ive been called those things#is when i wasn't doing what the person saying them wanted me to#these were words said to hurt me#to get me to either give in and give them what they wanted or punish myself on their behalf#coming to that conclusion has made a world of difference#this shit is still hard and im still carrying these beliefs about myself around with me#but every day it gets easier to put those down and recognize who i REALLY am#and who i really am is pretty great#personal#self harm mention#tw self harm#tw child abuse#self harm#child abuse#child abuse mention#wanted to cover all my bases with tws#though i don't really expect anyone else to actually read all my tags lol
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pomefioredove · 7 months ago
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Hi !! I love your writing! I think you've nailed the twst characters personalities really nicely <33
So if possible, I'd like to have some hcs Sebek, Ruggie, Jack, Jamil and Deuce would realize that they have a crush on the reader (in which the reader is basically their closest friend atp) and how'd they'd react to it. Would they be the type to shove it back down or get it over with? Something else entirely, maybe??
Hope this isn't too much. Thank you in advance! Take all the time you need!
hii first off thank you so much!! <3 and ofc ofc I LOVE pining (and friends to lovers?!)
pomefiore part
summary: how they would have a crush on you type of post: headcanons characters: deuce, jack, ruggie, jamil, sebek additional info: romantic, reader isn't specified to be yuu except in sebek's part because I found it funny, reader is gender neutral, deuce is a cutie patootie
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𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞
oh, he is in utter turmoil about this
on one hand: he really, really likes you
you're such a wonderful person
the kind of partner he'd be proud to introduce to his mom
on the other hand...
he really, really doesn't want to mess this up
you already have such a great thing going on as friends!
if he ruined that, he would literally never forgive himself
and Ace would make fun of him for it until the very end of time itself
so, of course he just sits on these feelings. maybe if he focuses on something else, they'll go away?
spoiler alert: they do not
they definitely do not
if anything, trying to ignore them just makes it worse for him; suddenly he's becoming an entirely different person around you
it's like a switch is flipped the second you're in the room
he becomes clumsy, easily flustered, can barely string a sentence together
Ace gives him hell about it, of course
and when there's no hope of hiding it any longer, he just confesses
(not that it wasn't obvious already... but for his sake, you'll have to pretend like it's shocking news)
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𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥
he's actually... pretty upfront about it?
once he's got his feelings on the matter sorted, anyway
...which takes him a few weeks
when he first recognizes his crush on you, he pours himself into his training
not as a distraction, really; he just finds it easier to think when he's working out
he really does want to think this one through
much like Deuce, Jack understands that he'd put the friendship at risk if he were to confess
unlike Deuce, however, he's somewhat aware that ignoring and hiding is a coward's way out, and will only push you away
so, once he's very sure about his feelings, he confesses
it's not exactly like a confession, though
more of a... lecture?
just informs you that he's developed feelings, doesn't want them to affect the friendship, and leaves the decision up to you
won't freak if you don't reciprocate, but... he might be a little bummed out
okay... more than a little
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𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢
first thought: he doesn't have time for this
Ruggie has a job, school, and a whole neighborhood to feed back home
now a partner? no, that's completely out of the question
besides, it's not like you'd ever reciprocate. who'd wanna spend every date eating dandelion salad?
no one, that's who
of course he doesn't bother asking, but he assumes that goes without saying
but he's busy enough to put those feelings on the back burner and deal with them some other day
...if only he wasn't so distracted by thoughts of you, that plan might have worked!
by his third slip-up, Leona's had enough and demands he's gotta sort out whatever's bothering him if he ever wants to show his face there again
(he might've been in a bad mood)
but, unfortunately, Ruggie knows he's right
it's better to be rejected now than to spend the rest of his school days mulling over it
so, he just spills the beans, as plain and simple as possible
tries to walk away as soon as he's done so he doesn't have to see the look on your face
you can imagine his surprise when you pull him back
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𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫
actually has a pretty similar reaction to Ruggie
Jamil can't possibly fathom having a partner in a world where he doesn't even have his own freedom
in a sense, he just doesn't want to drag you into his life
in another, more important sense, he would be devastated if you rejected him
so he just... ignores it
of course, Jamil knows that pretending the feelings aren't there won't do much, but he doesn't really have a lot of options
he's not one to talk through his feelings, after all
not that anyone asks...
and his ability to interact with you as if nothing is different is astonishing
even if it feels like he's melting inside
though, you may catch him smiling more at you these days
he just can't help himself
when he's got his other stuff sorted, you'll be next on the agenda
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𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤 𝐙𝐢𝐠𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭
you claim to have no magic, and yet you bewitch him into caring about you just as much as his liege?!
well... maybe not as much...
but close! very close!
even admitting that to himself feels like high treason
nonetheless, you have to be something very special to distract him from what he calls his "true purpose in life"
he sees you and feels... ill?
he's light-headed, he's dizzy, his stomach feels funny...
and he's been thinking about you more so than usual
yes, you're friends... he'll even admit he's grown quite fond of you in comparison to the other people you call "friends"
but this is... unusual
surely, you've placed some kind of curse on him!
Silver is the first to hear about it
poor boy is too tired to deal, and so he passes on the problem to Lilia
who just chuckles and makes a lot of odd references and metaphors that no one of this century would understand
no, Sebek has to come to the conclusion that he likes you all on his own
(like-likes you)
and after some pestering from Lilia, he admits that perhaps you and he could protect Malleus... together!
(he's going to have to work on the wording of that confession)
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princessamericachavez · 2 months ago
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Under your skin
s8x01 - Alternate scenario
Buck can't shake the feeling he's in trouble, but he can't quite bring himself out of his own head. Not until Eddie puts his hand on his shoulder and demands, wordlessly, their eyes meet. Not until he sees panic in his best friend's eyes.
Don't react, he tells himself, even as his fists clench and shake.
Every insult Gerrard is throwing his way stings like a million bees. It should be easy to brush off. Why would he care if Gerrard likes him or respects him? Who cares what he thinks? Buck certainly doesn't. And yet, and yet, and yet... the words he's spitting on his face are perfectly crafted to puncture his chest.
Seriously, it's like someone took every single terrible awful cruel thing his brain has tortured him with since he was a child —you're not good enough, you are nothing, you are a washout, you are a failure, you are a joke, you are an idiot, you are reckless, you are disrespectful, you are not good enough, you never will be— and given Gerrard the script.
You gotta stop letting this guy get under your skin, Buck, Eddie had said. And Buck clings to those words. Not because they work (it's easier said than done) but because they are Eddie's and his best friend knows him better than anyone in the whole damn world and he thinks he's good enough, Eddie thinks Buck is great, Eddie trusts Buck with his son, Eddie thinks Buck isn't expendable. And if Eddie believes it, then Buck can believe it too.
He just has to block Gerrard out. He can take it. He's taken worse from his own parents, dammit. All he has to do is focus on something else. Anything else. His breathing, the warm air blowing from outside, the workers doing their damn best to ignore the dressing down he's getting, the saw-
Oh. The saw.
Buck hears the click when it falls loose, then the metallic clank of it hitting the floor.
And Buck reacts.
He promised himself he wouldn't, but his instincts are stronger than his discipline and this... well, it's different, isn't it? So he's allowed to react.
Buck launches forward without thinking, tackles Gerrard out of the way and hears the sickening crack of the captain's head hitting concrete.
Shit.
"Buck!" Three voices break through the buzz in his head and he tries to turn around to face them, to put together some sort of apology or explanation for his reaction (he's barely finished processing it himself) but something stops him.
"Don't move, Buck. Don't move," Eddie's voice is steady as usual, but Buck knows him well enough to recognize the undertone of anxiety behind it.
He really fucked up this time.
"Is- Is he okay? I'm sorry. I just-"
"He's fine, Buckaroo. He's gonna be fine," Hen says, all gentle honey.
Buck has been craving honey all day.
"Probably saved his life..." Chim gasps, but he doesn't sound proud of Buck, he sounds angry.
Buck can't shake the feeling he's in trouble, but he can't quite bring himself out of his own head. Not until Eddie puts his hand on his shoulder and demands, wordlessly, their eyes meet. Not until he sees panic in his best friend's eyes.
"Buck, I need you to stay with me," he says.
"Of course," Buck replies, brow furrowing. Why wouldn't he stay with Eddie? That's all he wants most of the time. He tries to tell him as much, but then he tastes blood.
Oh, that's not good.
He looks down, to where the blood droplets spill on his uniform (Gerrard is going to yell at him again, for sure, over staining his shirt). And there, halfway buried in his abdomen, is the saw.
"So... that's where... that ended up..." he tries to laugh, but it hurts like hell. Like a million bees. Give him the bees any day. At least they are cool. This is worse.
"Buck!" Eddie demands his attention again, tense.
Right. He spaced out.
"Sorry," he says wetly, because Eddie looks upset and he has to fix it. "Let it... get... under my skin... uh?"
Eddie looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry or to yell at him. Before he's made up his mind, though, the edges of Buck's vision blur and darken and finally, finally, the noise stops.
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cal-daisies-and-briars · 23 days ago
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⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️��️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️
As an American, I need this. Please.
Skipping the queue to do this for you, because yeah. That's a solid af reason.
1k for TWATYTK:
---
If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that. Knowing what that’s like has informed so many of his parenting choices over the years. Eddie looks at his husband. He gets the religious, cultural side of it in a way Buck doesn’t. But Buck isn’t a stranger to a different genre of growing up without the necessary affection, either. More so than Eddie, maybe. 
Buck has a strange, contemplative look on his face. 
“And, uh, the open adoption part,” he says to Lourdes. “That’s so you know for sure?”
Eddie raises an eyebrow, not quite following. But the way Lourdes’ face sinks, she does. She understands what Buck is saying. 
“Yeah,” Lourdes nods. “I can’t keep her. I know I can’t. But what kind of person would I be if I just… Didn’t make sure she was okay with people who love her properly?”
Eddie gets that, too. It’s the same thought process that led him to changing his will all those years ago. To changing what would have been the natural, assumed process of things in the case of his death. Chris would have been fine if Eddie died and he went to live with his parents. His physical needs would have been met. They wouldn’t have even been hard on him in the same ways they were hard on Eddie, for a number of reasons from different circumstances to ableism. But would they have loved him properly? Fought for him right? No. Eddie knows that wholeheartedly. No. 
Lourdes may not want or be able to parent this child. But she’s got that bone deep instinct that Eddie recognizes. The one where you’re desperate to make sure your child has it better and easier than you did. 
“She’s lucky,” Eddie says suddenly. Because maybe no one has told this girl that. Maybe she’s only been told that she’s fucked up. “The baby. She’s lucky.”
Lourdes blinks. Her face kind of goes blank.
“Not every kid has someone advocating for them like that,” Eddie explains. 
When Lourdes speaks again, her voice is a little shaky.
“Thank you.”
☆☆☆
They leave Pepa’s maybe an hour later. When Pepa and Maria arrived back from their walk, they did of course make Eddie and Buck tell Lourdes all about Chris. Even though Eddie is certain she’s already heard. It’s a bizarre matchmaking process that leaves Eddie with a poor taste in his mouth. Regardless, he’s glad they met Lourdes. Glad they talked to her. Even if he can be one person to make her feel like she’s not a screw up, whatever. He’ll take it. It was worth the rest of the discomfort. 
Buck is quiet as they leave. He’s got a very intense but distant look in his eyes. He’s thinking so hard Eddie worries steam is going to start coming out of his ears. Eddie feels guilty. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be here. 
They don’t even make it down Pepa’s street before Buck pulls the vehicle over, puts it into park, and looks at Eddie. 
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. 
“I change my mind,” Buck says. 
“What?” 
“I change my mind. We should adopt her baby.”
Eddie can’t be hearing this correctly.
“Buck,” he sighs. “Come on. You don’t have to do this because you feel bad or pressured.”
Buck shakes his head. “That’s not what this is. I really want to do it.”
“Okay, well,” Eddie huffs, a little exasperated. “You were adamantly against this a few days ago, remember? So I’m sort of confused here.”
“I can’t have a change of heart?” He asks.
“Not without me worrying that you feel backed into a corner or-or guilty…”
“I don’t!” Buck practically snaps. “I’m just fucking terrified, okay?”
Eddie feels a bit stunned. That’s not what he expected to hear. In this whole lengthy discussion, spanning over a year, about becoming parents again, Buck has never expressed fear. That’s sort of Eddie’s thing. Buck has always been the one who plows full steam ahead. Confident. Optimistic. Easy-going. But, Eddie supposes, they’ve never been this close before.
“Okay,” Eddie says gently. “Explain that to me.”
Buck takes a deep breath. “I… I liked that we had everything under control before, right?”
“Right,” Eddie nods. 
“But I… I do like the idea of helping her. Of having a little girl in October? That’s, like, so soon. That’s amazing.”
Eddie smiles a little. “Yeah, that would be pretty cool.”
Well… October 19th is less than four months away. So that’s… Scary as shit, actually? But Eddie could handle that. Of course that’s the part Buck is excited about. But, overall, yes. A little girl, sooner than they expected, does sound pretty wonderful. Even if Eddie had been super sure their next kid would be a boy. That hardly matters. 
“But, Eddie… We would have no control,” Buck says. “She could… She could change her mind. She… She could change her mind before. She could change her mind at the birth. In California, she has thirty days to take her back.” 
“Oh,” Eddie exhales, understanding. 
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t handle that, Eddie. How could I handle that? It was hard enough handing over the baby when I knew he wasn’t mine to keep, I…” Buck gulps for breath. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
“Okay,” Eddie nods. “Okay, I understand. And yeah, that would… That would be awful. It would.”
Buck breathes, clearly trying to bring himself back down.
“For what it’s worth,” Eddie says. “I don’t think she’d do that.”
“We don’t really know her,” Buck says. “I like her. She seems great. But we don’t know her.”
“No,” Eddie agrees. “We don’t. I just… I got a sense she’s really serious about setting that baby up to have a happier life than she’s had. Which is why she’d prefer two public servants to the wealthy church family.” 
“Right,” Buck mumbles. “Yeah, she did… She did seem that way.”
“But…” Eddie sighs. “I don’t think that’s the main factor here.”
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writerswhy · 4 months ago
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Can you talk more about your davron hcs? like his religious guilt? you said he’s jealous of davos, is it because aeron’s more repressed? 
and more angst please and thank you 🙏
How fun! Thank you for the ask anon, I really needed this today <3
can you talk more about your davron hcs? like his religious guilt?
So I like the religious guilt, I do, but I also feel like Aeron recognizes that the gods can and do still love him despite his sexuality. Same with his family (if they were ever to find out), they may not “approve” or fully accept but they love him. (Think of Ethel Cain’s “God loves you but not enough to save you.”)
That being said, he still feels “wrong” — and he can’t help but feel bitter and angry (that’s where the shame comes in) over it. His wants and needs will always come second. It’s the part of him he needs to keep hidden.
is it because aeron’s more repressed?
It depends on what you mean by repressed. I hc Aeron as someone who’s actually quite cheeky and playful with those he feels comfortable with. I don’t actually think he’s a bad swordsmen or rider (maybe by Bracken standards he falls short) either. He’s very much aware he can hold his own and is proud of the work he’s put in to get there. 
(Imagine on the day of the burning mill Aeron just surprises the group of boys guarding the boundary and says something like “I heard you were in need of a knight” only to get them killed lol.)
And you know he jumps at every opportunity to tease Davos. He’s gotta keep his man on his toes. 
and more angst please and thank you 🙏 & you said he’s jealous of davos [because he’s repressed?]
Yesssssss~ I love angst. Give me all the angst. I think Aeron’s jealously is a little more complicated than that, though. Sure, he’s definitely jealous of how easy it is for Davos to just go for what he wants—and I mentioned that it scares him because it can get them caught—but I feel like Aeron wants to reciprocate with the same level of intensity, and with that comes the guilt when he can’t. 
It’d be easier to pretend that what they have is fleeting, or that Davos really is just another Blackwood, but it’s near impossible when Davos frees all the horses from the stable just so he can send everyone away to get Aeron alone, or when he sleeps beside him all open and vulnerable, like he knows Aeron would never hurt him (which lol, between the two I think Aeron is the one who could destroy them both). 
Idk, I like the idea of Aeron being someone who thinks he knows better. He’ll make that choice for them without consulting Davos. And it may be that he’s making the right decision, but he’s taking that away from Davos. All Aeron has to do is ask and Davos is more likely than not to concede. As long as he knows that it’s what Aeron needs/wants, Davos would do anything. But there’s a reason Aeron doesn’t come to him as a partner, and it’s probably because he knows he can have it all. Deep down he knows that what he desires is within reach. It’s not ideal, but it’s not impossible either. All Aeron has to do is trust, and that’s easier said than done.
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the-guilty-writer · 2 years ago
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Seven
Aaron Hotchner x platonic!GN!reader
Summary: “No one should have to function like this. Someone should fight for you. You deserve for someone to fight for you.” 
A/N: Apparently I just really like naming my work after numbers. Prompt from my poll a few weeks ago! Ya'll picked Hotch and I’m not mad about it at all! I don’t usually do dedications, but I think this is worthy of one. The piece revolves around physical chronic pain, but the emotions in this can be applicable to many situations: so to all those who need it, i hope you find comfort in this piece.
CW: Reader experiences chronic pain, feelings of unworthiness, takes medication
---
Seven.
On a scale from one to ten, your pain was a seven. On normal days is was a four, maybe three if you were lucky. You called your doctor if it was above a six for a few days and your medication wasn’t working. The only time it was worth it to go to the ER was when you reached a nine - anything less and they didn’t take you seriously. Today, you were at a seven.
With every breath, the oxygen that washed into your lungs fueled the fire that burned you from inside out. The medication that should have kicked in hours ago didn’t ease the sensation; you’d taken the pills in the middle of the night when agony woke you from your slumber. The drugs made you feel high out of your mind, but at least they worked. By the time you’d have to get up, the worst of the side effects would be gone and the excruciating suffering would have deadened itself to a more manageable ache. But not today.
Today, you sat at your desk in the bullpen, fighting back tears. With every slight movement you made the pain washed through your body like acid. All you could do was go on, wishing that you had taken the day off. You could have called in sick, but there was something about the pile of files on your desk that forced you to come into work; the longer it took to get a profiles out, the longer it would take to stop the killers and the more lives could be lost. You wouldn't let that happen.
If one was to put it simply, you always put the needs of others before your own. Your greatest blessing and your greatest curse in one.
A notification came up on your phone - a reminder that the team was gathering for a meeting. The walk from your desk to the conference room was less than 100ft, but even the idea of standing made you want to cry. It was painful to think about walking, and you honestly weren’t sure if you’d make it up those five stairs without throwing up. You’d made the journey before, though, even on bad days.
But today you had reached a new level of anguish. Through the past few months, the pain had been slowly intensifying - so slowly that you didn’t recognize it until you did. It was as if you were a child who didn’t realize how many seashells they had collected until they were halfway back down the beach, only noticing the extra strain when they didn’t have enough energy to carry the bucket any longer; the gradual desensitization to the weight caused it to go unnoticed until the body could no longer pretend that it didn’t exist.
Still, you gathered your papers like another beautiful shell to add to your overflowing bucket and stood to go to the conference room. Every fiber of your body screamed. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you still stood from your desk. Every time your heel hit the floor, lightning struck through your body, and with every step the voltage increased.
When you found yourself at the bottom of the staircase, your breath was uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. The metal of the railing was shockingly cold under your palm, not making it any easier to hide how raw your body was to any sensation. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for the painful ascent.
“(Y/N)?”
You paused and looked up to the man who stood outside his office at the top of the stairs. “Sorry I’m late,” you said. The waver in your voice would have gone unnoticed if you were anywhere else but the bullpen of the BAU. Nothing went unnoticed in the bullpen of the BAU.
Hotch tilted his head slightly- the action itself softened his entire demeanor. But you didn’t want him to be soft right now. You wanted him to tell you to get your ass to the conference room, that everyone was allowed to be late just once, that the team was on a deadline and-
“Are you okay?”
“I-” Your breath faltered before increasing in speed. “I-” The hand on the rail took on a little more weight than before. “I’m-” Your throat closed, unable to speak the lie you so badly wanted to tell, but couldn’t. One more attempt at a deep breath that was severely shallow. “No.”
And just like that, you began to fall apart. Your mind, clouded with pain, didn’t quite register what was happening. It could only pick out the small things; files no longer being in your hands, the sound of an old office chair’s wheels, the smell of a freshly pressed suit, and gentle hands guiding you.
“Sit down.” It was odd to hear your boss’s voice in such a gentle manner, but you were in no state to be shocked and in no position to deny his order. So you sat, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball as soon as you hit the seat. You tried to think about your breaathing once again, having to focus a little too much on a function that the body should do automatically.
“Here,” it was Hotch again, pressing a bottle of water into your hands. “Drink this.”
If you felt better you might make a joke about poison, but you didn’t. You instead, drank the water- room temperature. Somehow you managed not to spill it all over your shirt. Hotch gently took the bottle back and you heard him set it down on the desk.
When you opened your eyes, you were met by the sight of your boss looking at you with concern. You let out a sigh. You hated that look. Even though Hotch was well aware of your condition, it was different for someone to see you experiencing it in real time… shattering your idea that if no one ever saw it, then it didn’t actually exist. You never actually suffered.
“Do you have your medication with you?” Hotch asked.
“I already took the maximum dose,” you whispered, feeling the hopelessness weigh on your chest.
“I’ll take you to the ER,” he started, getting up from where he was sitting across from you. 
“No,” you said, swallowing to contain the pain from escaping your tone. “I’m only at a seven.”
Hotch paused and sat down again. “What do you mean?”
“When you go to the ER they ask you to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten,” you told him. “I only go if I'm at a nine. Right now I'm at a seven.”
You met Hotch’s gaze. Even with its softness, it was still soul piercing. As if he was looking right through your eyes, reading the thoughts written across your mind.
“You’re in pain.”
“As long as I can function, it isn't worth the fight.”
“No one should have to function like this. Someone should fight for you. You deserve for someone to fight for you.” 
A pause stood between you and your boss, his words hanging in the air long after he had finished speaking. Never, in your life, had you been confronted by such deep sympathy at once.
As a child, you had hidden your pain so well that no one would have ever known it was there unless you told them. The pain grew as the years went on, but every cry for help was shut down. Complain and you were a burden, other people had it worse, you weren’t worth the trouble. So you kept it to yourself.
Until now.
With tears in your eyes, you nodded at Hotch. He helped you rise from the chair, careful to support you without causing further pain. You stood carefully, clenching your jaw to keep from screaming.
The manila folders caught your eye. “My files-”
“Reid can handle your files,” Hotch said softly, as he helped you move slowly toward the glass bullpen doors.
“The meeting-”
“Morgan can lead the meeting.”
“There are consults-”
“Prentiss can do your consults.” Hotch opened the door for you.
“Are you sure?” you asked.
The question was deeper than it appeared on the surface; are you sure I can miss work? Are you sure I’m not bothering you? Are you sure I’m worth it?
Hotch took your hand gently. “Yes.”
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icaruskey · 1 year ago
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Once again, this is @pillowspace's AU that I'm kinda going AWOL with. I just want to make something a little more cheerful after leaving Y/N struggling to get home last night.
Clone AU is being a bit prickly, but I think that's mostly cause I want to draw for it rn and I'm still in the throes of color separations whenever I have a spare moment on my tablet. But that'll be done soonish I think? By the end of the week for sure because I need to start making my mylar sheets soon.
Time Loop whump fic will likely be pecked away at throughout the day to deal with school stress. This is just a quick palette cleanser since to me HD Y/N is a bit in the middle personality-wise.
TL is a lot more extraverted and kind, and Clone is the one most likely to cause the DCA to experience the first animatronic heart attack if they ever spoke because every other word would be fuck. HD is one of those people who recognizes the struggle they're in, but they can also find the good moments and appreciate them all the more while giving the bird to everything making life actively harder for them and their little brother.
"You sure you're fine." Gretchen sounds doubtful, but you smile and keep working.
"Positive. Look, nothing really happened in the grand scheme of things, right? I'm not hurt."
"Your hand is bruised, and you had to cancel your cards," Gretchen says, and to prove a point, she grabs your hand.
You flinch, pulling back. "I made it home in one piece and nothing really valuable got stolen," you reply archly, shoving the last of the books towards your friend. "Go put these away. I need to check the computer room to make sure no one needs help."
"This conversation isn't over," Gretchen warns, even as she pushes the cart away. The library is fairly quiet at this point in the day, early in the afternoon, before school is let out and you all get inundated with kids and teens looking to kill a couple hours before their parents get home. It's the perfect time to make sure everything is clean and ready for kids to play.
The computer room is actually pretty quiet, though there is one brightly colored splotch of a person in the corner. You can hear them tapping slowly at the keyboard as you check each computer, wiping things down and logging out of a couple accounts. Eventually, you've made it to the corner with the stranger, struck by just how tall they are.
"Is everything all right?" you ask brightly.
"O-oh!" The stranger is clearly startled, so you take an extra step back, just for safety. "Yes, sorry. I think we, I, signed up for an hour? Has time. passed that fast?"
"No, sorry. There's a timer in the corner, here." You tap at the monitor helpfully. "I didn't mean to confuse you. I just wanted to know if you needed any help."
The stranger doesn't reply, instead fidgeting with what you're guessing is a scarf around their face. "Is your hand okay?" They ask, and you quickly withdraw it, tucking it close to your chest. "I don't mean to pry. It just looks painful."
"Ah, well." You grimace, remembering that Gretchen is going to be on you the moment she's done with her returns. It's easier to hide in the computer room, and besides, what's the likelihood this stranger will talk to her? You decide to sit, still achey from last night and exhausted from a lack of sleep. "I was mugged last night."
"You were what?" The horror in their voice is less grating than it was with your friend, and when you smile, it just feels tired, not forced. "You can't possibly be okay after that!"
"I kind of have to be. It's making some of my duties today a little harder though. I can't exactly balance heavy boxes with this hand, and my coworkers are sweet, but if I don't do my work, I think they're going to send me home." You curl and uncurl your hand slowly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grimacing. "And I need the money, so. Here we are, you know?"
"Here we are," they agree, a bit distractedly. They pecked at the computer a little longer, apparently thinking as they suddenly turn back to you. "I can help you move those boxes. I-if you'd like I mean."
"Oh?" You pause, thinking. "Oh, uh. Sure! If you're sure that is. I --- yeah, it'd be really helpful, but you don't have to. You signed up for the computer and oh fuck, I've just started spilling my guts out to you."
They flinch when you curse, muttering something in the middle of your rambling before holding up one gloved (gloves indoors?) hand. "It's all right. We, I, like to help. Just point us in the right direction."
"Okay," you saw, drawing the word out until it's more a sound than a word. "You can help this time. But I'm going to have to do something in return."
"That's not really---"
"Nuh uh," you interrupt, wagging a finger (from the unbruised hand), in front of their face. "Fair's fair, and if you're helping me, I'm helping you. Consider this a rain check."
"Fine," they say, turning to log out of the computer. When they stand, you feel very, very small. "Lead the way, Mx. Librarian."
"That's Librarian Clerk to you," you say, a little teasingly. You do take point, walking through the library to where you and Gretchen had packed away the Halloween decorations. "And what do I call you?"
"Sun," they say, and they take the first of three boxes without so much as a grunt of exertion. Tall and strong. If you were a lesser person, you would be jealous. Maybe you are anyway.
"Sun," you repeat, and it's an unusual name for this unusual not-quite-a-stranger. You lead them towards the back, fiddling with your keys to find the one for the storage closet. "It's very nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too."
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umihoshi · 6 months ago
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some tips for people who just started living on their own
It's been 4 years now, and I'm not regretting a single day that I moved out. No more adapting to what my parents want, no more reporting where I'm going or who I'm bringing over, I can create my save haven the way I like it. For me, it was really the start of becoming myself.
But, there's a bunch of stuff here and there that would've been nice if I had known it from the get-go. And I thought: let's share them!
1 what appliances to invest in?
one thing that is going to come back every single day is cooking. and food is expensive AF if you're not careful. I found 2 great ways to save a bunch of money and they both rely on one thing: Invest in a good freezer! Many grocery stores have systems where they price down things that are close to the shelf life date. One of our local grocery stores can go up to 70% discount! But the problem with those is, you need to eat it right away.... OR DO YOU??? Freezing things close to expiring will let them last for a full freaking month extra. and vegetables go even longer. Plenty of time to use it when you need it (just don't forget to thaw) Be careful though: once you thawed it, you can't freeze it again.
Items are usually also WAY cheaper if you buy them in bulk. Chop them up and in the freezer they go! This one's also great if you don't always have the energy or drive to cook: cook up a large pot of whatever you like, put it in containers and freeze them. I always like doing so with pasta sauce and then cook the pasta fresh~ But it also works great with stews, curry and other types of sauces. stores like IKEA have containers that are just the right size for one meal.
For some of you, the next one may be a no-brainer, but.... My mom was really proud of how fast she was with doing the dishes. She was always like 'why get a dishwasher, I'm faster if I do it myself'. And I have lived up to that same idea up until half a year ago. My kitchen was always a mess, I didn't feel like cooking, inviting people over was embarrassing. I exhausted myself every time visitors would come and I had to fight that monster pile. Please, if you recognize these problems: invest in a dishwasher. Life became SO MUCH easier. My house is clean, my mind is more at ease, social contact increased cuz it's not as big a hassle to clean before guests show up. I really wish I wouldn't have wasted those 3 years fighting a monster that was this easy to tackle in the end...
2 easy cooking
Though it's also a bit of an investment: cooking becomes fucking easy with an airfryer. No oil is added, so it's a bunch healthier. you just put the temperature and timer and it's done. and a lot of things can just fry simultaneously. chuck in some meat and potato's at 400F (200C) for 20 minutes and all you'll have to worry about is adding some vegies with it. springrolls, pizza, potato's, meat. it all gets nice and crunchy too. (prepare vegies in a rice cooker for the same don't-have-to-keep-an-eye-on-it experience. you can cook them simultaneously with rice too!)
Something that became one of my fave dishes of the late is 'stir fried whatever'. it goes like this: Bake whatever meat you fancy, great with egg or tofu too. add whatever vegies (straight out of the freezer is fine). add stir fry sauce in whatever amount seems nice (little for coating, more if you want it to be saucy). make some carbs and you're fucking DONE! no measuring, no thinking what spices to use, it goes with anything and everything. and your local grocery has probably like 5 different flavors. (or at least, it does here. dunno if that's true for America...) like it creamy? add half a cup of soya milk. it takes like 10 minutes tops (not counting the cooking of rice/pasta/potato/bread)
3 think in money or think in space
With tricks like a good freezer, saving money with discount products becomes a whole lot easier. But there are also different discount products that can save you a lot of money. my mom always used to buy like.... packs of 4 toilet rolls. and if you calculate it, buying 3x4 rolls is so much more expensive than buying a 12 pack. But what you'll need for that is space. Try keeping account of a spot like that in your house. cupboard underneath the sink, the spot where they installed the boiler, top shelves you don't often use cuz it's high up, on top of the fridge, garage. I live in an apartment and have a small storage space for my bicycle. Perfect spot for non-consumables. (be careful to keep them out of reach for mice) think toilet paper, tissues, cat litter, soap, shampoo, toothpaste. they'll be good in 2 years too, and you'll still be needing them all the same. I once found this 6 pack of toothpaste for like 3,-! aint no one selling 1 tube for 0,50 when I buy it once I need it.
dunno if this is of any use to someone, but I hope this can help out anyone to safe some money, time or energy! Because it sure did for me.
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stormoflina · 1 year ago
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Domi interview, part 5 (final part)
About loneliness
D: "Whoever says they don't ever feel lonely, is lying. There are moments, when I feel lonely. Sometimes, there are days, when I'm sitting at the sofa, thinking "well, what do i do, they don't [friends] have time, they are not here", I haven't been here that long that I would just say it to somebody let's hang out. In dayslike these, I put on a movie and hope that I can fall asleep quickly and tommorrow can come quicker. There are days like that, they are not easy."
About getting recognized
I: "At the moment, in Liverpool or Manchester, can you just walk down the street [without being recognized]? Back in Hungary, Budapest, it wouldn't really work, I think, to like go to the grocery store?"
D: "It doesn't really work here either. Well, I don't really walk around in Liverpool, because I live in Manchester. only been there once, when I signed the contract, but even back then it was weird, even tho I didn't even play in a match back then. It happens in Manchester, but it's easier there, there are more teams, City, United. A lot of players live here, from Liverpool, Everton, you can get around easier, but you still have to be mindful, they recognize you, watch you."
I: "Is it tiresome, a part of it? Sometimes you must be like, okay, I just want to go to the mall. Can you make that happen, or are you like, I won't go, because it's too much trouble."
D: "There are ways to work it out. We have connections here and there, they can make it easier, more comfortable for us."
About the English press
D: With me, they have been fair so far, so I can't say anything bad about it. I guess, I haven't been here that long to say anything about me, but in time, we will see how it is."
About the Salah-Szoboszlai-Trent triangle
D: "I really like this box-to-box and the rotations we have going on. We all know what to do, we all pay attention to each other, I really like my position."
About his running capacity and speed
Asked if he feels like he always had this speed and runnin capability in him, or it's something new he had developed since joining Liverpool.
D: "I had it Leipzig too, I don't even understand... Speaking of the NT, in the NT, every single match, I get leg cramps. Here [LFC], never. Yet, when I look at the stats, I run much more in LFC, than I do in the NT. At the end of the Everton match, I started sprinting once again (...) But I'm not the only one. If you ask Milos (Milos Kerkez, his hungarian NT teammate, who also plays for Bournemouth), he says the same thing.
Maybe, because the pressure is bigger [in the NT], I'm the captain, I have to pay attention to more things, the others. I try to take the pressure from the others, so they can play more freely, I try to help everyone, so maybe this is why I get cramps. I do everything the same, I eat the same things, vitamins, everything."
---
There were some other questions in the end, but they were not that interesting, about stats and stuff, so I left those out. Hope you guys enjoyed it, thanks for all the kind messages you left me!
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inactivewattpadauthor · 2 years ago
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Mileena x Earthrealmer Reader
It hasn't been long since you been individually stationed in Outworld, and you've already been detected by someone or something.
Yes, it's partially your fault for being a lousy Special Forces soldier/spy, but you've been through a lot to even give a damn. It's not like you can't take care of yourself, but if you get captured by the enemy and killed, then that's just what happens.
You returned to your small camp in an oasis outside from Outworld civilization in hopes of nothing following you.
While you were sharpening your knife, you heard rustling leaves behind you that didn't follow up with the wind blowing through the area. You let out a sigh of annoyance, realizing you weren't alone.
"Come on out. I can hear you!" You called out without looking up from your knife.
"Filthy Earthrealmer! What are you doing in Outworld's lands?" A feral feminine voice hissed out from the bushes surrounding the camp.
'That sounds like...'
Recognizing the familiar voice you peered up to see the well-known, unnaturally created kombatant with such a personality...
Mileena.
It's much easier to identify her by her choice of color for her clothing, but you were just most likely a bit surprised to see her rather than anyone else who could've stalked you.
"Wow, I could have never seen this day coming. Did you follow me here?" You fully faced her, suppressing any type of hyped emotion you had.
"Don't ignore my question, you imbecile!" She said a bit more agitated, along with pulling out her sais, taking a step towards you.
"Apologies. I'm just... camping, ma'am." You quickly came up with.
"A pathetic lie won't work on me, Earthrealmer! You're lucky I'm not that hungry to feast on your flesh!"
"Well, are you still gonna kill me and maybe put my body in a refrigerator? If Outworld even has those." You asked, readying your knife in case she pounces.
"Gah! You should be trembling before me! Not asking such ridiculous questions!"
Your lack of fear for Mileena was making her mad, but truthfully, it's not just because you're not that frightened, but you read her file back at base. It would be a lie if you say you don't find her fascinating.
On a quick note, Mileena pulled down her mask to reveal one of her infamous features of herself; her monstrous teeth.  Sincerely a well-known factor or a Tarkatan.
"Scared now, human?" She chuckled in her usual seductive way.
Not to her liking, you didn't react to it. What made you unsteady was her piercing gaze of growing impatience.
"Look, it's not that I'm scared of you," you started off, realizing how offensive the beginning would sound to her,"BUT, I just personally find you thrilling in a... cool way." You rubbed the back of your neck.
Mileena was rather confused about your words. "Is this your way of trying to escape your fate? With false flattery?"
"I'm not lying. As much as it sucks that you eat my kind and I'm mostly next, I find you bad ass. It's not every day a feminine feral figure like you exists."
You weren't attentive towards how your words were subtly calming the former empress.
"Also, from what I heard, you're not really a monster. You lost someone you loved. Not trying to be touchy or reopen that wound before I die, but "
You frown at a feeling that took you a while to shove down.
"I know what that's like."
After a few quiet seconds, your heart sank from the seem to be awkward moment you caused.
'God, let her kill me already.'
"Stupid human, just go back where you came from." Mileena muttered, putting her mask back over her mouth before quickly disappearing back into the bushes.
You only stood there, still cringing from the awkwardness you caused. Is this how you escape the flesh eating empress?
---Time skip to evening, brought to you by me praying for Nightwolf and Fujin to be added in mk1---
It was about late evening, and you sat near your campfire, still processing what happened previously during the day.
'Did she feel bad for me? I don't get why she just left just like that.'
'Or maybe, again, she felt awkward too, and I killed her mood to kill me.'
"Ahem."
Your attention was immediately grabbed by whomever. You looked in their direction only to see it was Mileena again, staring down at you from the other side of the campfire.
"Oh, hi. Are you finally hungry?" You slipped a small smile.
"If I was, you'd be dead because of your lack of awareness just then." She sharply said. Her tone wasn't that aggressive like the first encounter.
"Right... So what is it you want from me then?"
"Why are you here?"
"All I can tell you is I'm Special Forces. The rest is classified information."
"I'll kill you if you don't tell me."
"Well, the general will kill me if I tell you. And I would rather die with honor." You huffed before staring at the bonfire.
There was silence again, but it wasn't like earlier.
Mileena walked around the fire and next to you.
Any weary person would move from her, concerned if she was gonna attack, but you didn't. Perhaps you were waiting for her to do it?
She didn't attack. She just sat down beside you as if a lonely person found their fellow lonely friend somewhere unfamiliar.
The moment would be described as... comforting?
"Why are you actually here?" You asked.
"Did you really mean those words from earlier about me?"
She looked right at you. Her eyes seem to have some sort of desperation in them. But you looked past that for the moment.
"I did. I'm sorry about that, though. I didn't mean to spill out like that. I wasn't trying to ruin your mood to kill me or whatever." You looked down in shame.
"If you're speaking the truth, don't be. I never met a soul that shares the same pain as I do."
"I see. I work with plenty of people who also lost loved ones. However, I still just feel alone about it no matter what. It's a terrible wound that permanently stings."
"You're a very unique human. What is your name?" Mileena asked. Elder Gods, how you didn't see this coming.
"I'm Y/n. And if you don't mind, I'm supposed to be here for a while." You smiled again at her.
"I don't mind, but the second you turn on me, I'll flay and wear you like cattle." Mileena warned.
"I'm not planning on it, don't worry." You laughed a bit.
You looked to your side at a duffel bag and reached for the candy bar you saved. You wouldn't be surprised if it was melted.
"Does Outworld happen to know about chocolate?" You asked while opening your snack.
"Does Outworld have chocolate?! Of course we do! What type of bizarre question is that?!" Mileena shouted in a annoyed, yet a bit humorous tone.
"Okay, okay, my bad! Here, try some from Earthrealm." You broke off a piece and handed it to her.
You awaited her reaction as she quickly consumed the piece within seconds.
"I'm not a sweet tooth person, but," Mileena paused for a second. Then she looked back at you.
"Outworld's chocolate is better than whatever you gave me."
Your eyebrows twitched as you looked at the candy brand.
'Hershey's'
"If you say so, almighty one."
Both of you spent some time chatting, unknowingly warming up to each other. You both were aware this could cause troubles on both sides, but you paid no mind to it.
It's been a while since you connected with someone like this, not trying to brush off friends from SF.
Soon, you rubbed your tired eyes, and Mileena noticed this. "You must be bold to sleep here without concern of something catching you."
"There's nowhere better." You yawned.
"Since I've taken a liking to you, I can offer you a safe, much more comfortable place to rest. However, you tell no-"
"If I told my team I casually spoke with the daughter of Shao Kahn like friends, I'm sure it would end very bad for me. I like you too. You don't have to worry about me getting you in trouble." You cut her off and explained.
"I'll stay here for just this one night. Tomorrow, I take you up on the kind deal. Mkay?" You stood and looked at her.
Mileena did the same, preparing to leave. "Fine then. If a Tarkatan finds you and eats you, it's totally your fault." She says with humor.
"It totally will be. But, goodnight, Mileena. Thanks for not killing me."
Mileena looked at you with a warming facial expression. "I'll see you tomorrow, Y/n." She purred before taking off swiftly again in the oasis.
As you put out the fire and laid to rest, a thought suddenly popped in your mind.
'Was she flirting with me on that last part?'
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k0k1ch1111 · 5 months ago
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Quote log quote log!!
Yk what time it is phantom-ers/hj a log of every single line from a fic I copied yo my clipboard for whatever reason
Starting with the source of the sound, Kokichi was sitting on the ground with his knees tucked under him, his hands by his face as he continued to endlessly scream-sob for no apparent reason.
The only one not partaking in the madness was Maki, who was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich with an entirely deadpan expression.
Shuichi…!” Kokichi yelped suddenly, and much to everyone’s visible surprise, he dove into Shuichi’s chest, embracing him so tightly that it became difficult to breathe. “Wh–whhhhhhhhuuhh… Shuichiiiii…”
“Wh-What do you mean?” Shuichi asked with an edge of nervousness. “I was just being nice to him.”“He screamed bloody-murder when I tried doing that,” Kaito commented, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
So Miu’s possessed and Kokichi’s having an emotional breakdown,” Himiko summarized. “We should do something about this, I think…”
“Miu asked for fun,” Gonta explained happily. “Got notebooks to draw in, and boxes full of crayons and pens and stickers. Warehouse really does have everything!”My poor room, Shuichi silently mourned as Tsumugi, K1-B0 and Gonta all carried everything into his room-turned-infirmary.
“I’m just saying that when you’re sick, i-it’s easier to recognize someone else who is,” Kokichi drawled, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s like a fifth sense.”“Don’t you mean six?” Himiko corrected him with a frown.“Yeah. A sick-th sense,” Kokichi unexpectedly agreed.
“But–” Shuichi tried.Maki’s red eyes gleamed. “Do you want to die?”Fair point.
On the notebook, there were words scrawled in purple. It read, write your response pls. I don’t want Maki hearing because I don’t like her :P So if you don’t like me hugging you then what can I do? Bcus I always feel sicker when you’re not next to me :( ♡
I don’t want you feeling sicker. If hugging me at all times is what keeps your disease at bay then I can put up with it. When Kokichi read this, he pouted and began writing beneath that note in his own purple crayon. Shuichi waited patiently to read the finished note. Shut up and give me a real answer coward
Oh. Okay.
Shuichi wrote back, holding hands is fine… :)
“Oh, um. I drew… a cat, um, reading a book.”Kokichi squinted down at his shaky, barely comprehensible lines. “...what’s that thing next to it?” “My first attempt.” “Oh.”
A devilish smile formed on Kokichi’s face. “Succumbed, you say? Guys, I think Miu’s getting better already!” “I-I didn’t mean anything by that! Succumbed is only a word.” “You would like to succumb, wouldn’t you?”
Kokichi gasped, his eyes lighting up enthusiastically. “Yes! The poison is kicking in!” “Wh-What!? Poison!?” “Kiddiiiiiing~” Kokichi sang. “If you died, Shuichi, I’d have to haul your corpse around, and that'd just be a hassle.”
His uncle would argue that nine year olds were not typically independent in nature. Shuichi would argue that he had spent plenty of days alone and not set the house on fire and/or died.
Once he awoke, he was immediately helped to the bathroom on his teary request, where he proceeded to fill his sink with cold water and dunk his head into it. Logically thinking, he did not think that would help in the slightest, but he had felt so hot and his head had felt so fuzzy that he didn’t even think twice about it.
he instantly burst into silent tears– not because he was sad or upset or anything! But he just felt so, so overstimulated and frustrated with himself that he could not take it anymore. Those emotions often tended to tears, so this wasn’t surprising.
“Yeesh! What are you, in love with him? That’s Kokichi’s shtick, y’know!” Monokuma barked, noticeably leaning away from the entomologist.“What?” Both Shuichi and Kokichi demanded in unison.
“...I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck before. What’s wrong?” Maki inquired, finally seeming to realize something was off.
“Gonta,” he said in a deadpan tone. “I am the Ultimate Supreme Leader. If you do not become my steed within the next five seconds, I am going to cry so hard. Do not test me.”
That comment didn’t sit well with Kokichi’s lizard-brained desire for Shuichi, but he had at least an iota of self control and was able to simply nod
So maybe falling asleep with things in his shirt was a generally bad idea, but he didn’t want Maki to find and take it. He unfolded the hat he had found and taken from Shuichi’s drawers and placed it on his head, adjusting it in the same way Shuichi used to.
“Tsumugi’s a nerd, Gonta,” Kokichi shot back half-heartedly, knocking in the vent cover. “She likes anime and wears glasses. That means her eyesight sucks. She wouldn’t be able to find Shuichi if he punched her in the face.”
“You’re acting like I kidnapped him,” Kokichi scoffed. “Be grateful I’m wearing this, because this is the only reason I am not in tears right now. We’re going to look for Shuichi, right? So let’s get to it.”
“Shuichi is sick, kidnapped and probably bored out of his skull,” Kokichi snapped, vaguely aware his open defensiveness was rooted in his disease. He paused, considering, before adding, “or high. He might be really, really high.”
“Shuichi would lose a fight to a paper bag,” Maki agreed dryly. “...but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”“Maki!” Kaito barked in protest.“Don’t fight,” Shuichi interjected meekly. “Let’s discuss everyone’s alibis first. I still don’t know them.”
“I’ll cover for Shuichi where he can’t, and Shuichi will cover for me! It’s like your thing with him, Kaito, except better, with established boundaries.”
“Maybe she use bag!” Gonta offered. “Put Shuichi in bag and carry him all the way to her lab.”If there was anyone who was going to get it, Kokichi sure wasn’t expecting it to be Gonta.
Keeboy’s words made him smile grimly. I guess that’s something we have in common; hurting Shuichi when we didn’t want to.Fuuuuck, we have so much apologizing to do.
“Shuichiii~♪” Kokichi sang in a significantly softer tone. His detective glanced up towards him, his breath hitching slightly as he was addressed. “Do you remember my present from earlier? You still have it, don’t you? Can you show everyone, pretty please?”
“Did Shuichi tell you to be a nosy dumbass who wears slippers in public?” Kokichi retorted, expertly holding back a giggle as Kaito squawked in outrage. “I’m talking right now, so wait your turn!”
Shuichi was trembling, teary-eyed with the memories of what he had faced. “She p-pushed it further in when I… when I said s-sorry… and– and she… M-Maki, I’m sorry…”“Why are you apologizing…?” Maki demanded, though there was no fire in her voice. She sounded quiet; defeated. “I hurt you. You… don’t need to apologize to me.”
See, Shuichi? Kokichi wanted to say. You’re not alone. You don’t need to take this on by yourself. You’re not me
“Why do you shoot down all my ideas?” Himiko demanded in turn.“Because they're wrong,” Kokichi retorted simply. “And because Miu couldn’t do that. How could someone who couldn’t even eat by herself pour and drug her own dr–”
“Let me rephrase,” Kokichi deadpanned. “Giving the Courteous Disease to a slut–” Kaito violently face-palmed.
Kokichi’s hand wandered to his chest, where he could feel his heart thumping sporadically. He had one flaw in his lies, and that was his heartbeat. His heart would always give him away if someone cared enough to check.
Kokichi challenged him less than kindly. “I don’t care how much dirt you ate as a child, a strong immune system doesn’t mean an impenetrable one.”
oh yes, it is time to throw away your highest moral values and end a friend’s life. Joy.
Kokichi could only regard Shuichi with a mystified look.That's… strange. He had never taken Shuichi as a liar. (Goes hard btw)
Last chapter!!! Woohoo! Most aren't as much funny as I just fuck with the vibe
A pin drop would make him fracture, and he wasn’t sure if there was any coming back from that this time.
“Sidekick…?”
Oh. Not a potential murderer. Just Kaito.
“It’s fine if you’re struggling, sidekick. Just another enemy for you to fight once you’re ready, yeah? But the way you are now, you’d probably lose a fight to a wet napkin. So!"
Unless he was lying. Then Shuichi would feel sort of dumb.
A disease that forced Kokichi to become dependent rather than independent, playing his most fragile feelings like a marionette.
“Yes. Everything. Even…”
Oh, he knew exactly what Kokichi was thinking. He might as well get it out of the way now.
“...what happened with me and Maki.”
Kokichi gasped. “You were being unfaithful!?”
“What–!? No! You– you know, the… everything with her disease.”
“I know. I just like seeing you flustered.”
“Syndrome’d isn’t a word,” Shuichi pointed out. “And no, I don’t have Stockholm syndrome, Kokichi. "
“Stop it. Your general depressing aura is putting a strain on my radiant and mysterious one.” (me)
WOOHOOOO!!!
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hummingbird-games · 2 years ago
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(spoilers for Adrian’s route incoming, etc, etc)
I have been putting off this particular post of ramblings because I truly don’t think I can do justice to putting my thoughts into words for Adrian. Not like the other guys. But at the end of the day these are truly for my entertainment (and God-awful memory) and I just happen to have an audience. So. No pressure. Also I’m trying not to repeat myself. Which is hard. (I love this game. I don’t know how I can make that more obvious?? But I guess I keep trying with these posts and the damn TikToks LOL) 
Adrian is just...such a sweetheart?? And I adored ANY AND EVERY SINGLE TIME we got to tease him???? Beautiful, oh my goodness. 
...Which is why when he wanted to get down and dirty in the GYM but not for workout purposes, I had the gall to be surprised!! 😂😂😂😂😂
But listen!! Anytime he went from sweet, golden retriever energy to serious, intimidating, sexy war god I was experiencing All The Emotions. Which is hilarious because we get HINTS of this throughout the first couple chapters...so I should have seen this coming (also I keep clicking the spice option, like what the heck do you think that means?? @ me) but that didn’t stop me from being dramatic and running back on here to scream into the void (check the tags if you’re interested. I had to make a proper 18+ tag and everything when I was convinced that was gonna happen due to College Craze aha 👍🏽).
Um. So, while Adrian was fighting Logan for Most Horny (sorry, I still think Logan can keep his crown and throne 👀) he was also fighting Ezra for Most Disgustingly Romantic (more evidence is needed from both sides for me for the jury to come to a conclusion)! 
Alsooooo, MC internally screaming in all caps had to be the most relatable shit I have ever seen oh my God. I couldn’t even laugh sometimes because I was like she’s like me, fr fr, with all the seriousness in the world!
Speaking of seriousness, there is a line I really enjoy that comes after the big breakup, which after doing this three times, did not get easier?? It got harder??? I sick. And I still have to do the bad ends in the new year?? I hate this. Anyhoo, the line:
“He recognized the sadness. Saw it in me and walked with me.” 
Grief is a funny thing. It’s different for everyone, and it was this year I truly noticed just how different people who have never been touched by grief walk verses those who have. And there’s a fun little cocktail of emotions that comes wrapped in the grief besides the advertised sadness, but it’s like, deeper than that. Some people are really good at hiding that sadness. And for someone else who has gone through a loss, any type of significant loss, and to see that in someone else and to not run away from it, not try and fix it, not try and belittle you for it? It’s a huge ass deal. 
HUGE. 
So obviously I cried. 
And then more events happened (seriously y’all, just play the game, even if it’s one route) and THIS LINE SMACKED ME IN THE FACE TOO:
“When I was with you I felt so happy...so happy that I worried I’d be punished for my happiness.”
Girlfriend, same. Saaaaaaaame. 
Now, in no particular order or in great detail, because I should wrap this up, here are other things I loved. 
More Grace screentime!!! We get a little of her in Ezra’s route and then we see her a lot more in Adrian’s which I loved! 
Karaoke! Super unique mechanic in the game and I need to go back and unlock all the songs. 
Any and all interactions with Amara!! I love our best friend, send tweet. 
Under the cut because I feel bad hijacking Adrian’s post, but this is a perfect place to conclude my game route ramblings overall.
I think that if I haaaaad to pick, Ezra is my favorite guy. Period. I loved him at jump, before I played the demo! And I will love this fictional man until I die. Tunnel vision?? Yes, what about it?
Logan has my favorite route...because he really was not on my radar and then he was and I feel like one day (in someone’s DMs not here lol) I will untangle why Logan’s route is a study in what romance media is missing for me and how it fucking delivered.
And Adrian? Most likely be who I’d click with in real life 🤔 
There’s so much replayability in An Everyday Love. And even if you exhaust all the available content, it’s still such a comfort piece of media.
So, if I have not convinced you to play, I have failed us both 😂💛And I will renew efforts in the future. 
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lazylogic · 2 years ago
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TL;DR: I’ve let my online art presence and the internet as a whole become so weighty to me that I’m constantly having a meltdown over how the internet has changed and how I present myself online, so I’m cutting myself off from being an artist on the internet, because it seems like the only healthy option for me right now.
I think I need to stop posting online entirely. As drastic and melodramatic as that sounds, I’m spending time on an internet that I hate, wishing for an internet that no longer exists. I’ve repeatedly ~taken breaks from social media to try and detox~, and it does help in the short term, but eventually I just fall back into my “existential art crisis” and become anxious, stressed, and frustrated again, hating myself and hating every choice I’ve made up to this point. I’m happy when I draw at my own pace, but I’m quickly overwhelmed by the “I’m not posting enough so people won’t like me anymore” anxiety I get.
I know I’m like, the only one who feels this way, the only one who cares this much and takes art this seriously that I’ve let it crush me so much. For some reason my art and my ability to draw is so deeply ingrained in my identity and sense of self, and it’s become so monumentally important to me that it’s worn me down this much. But I know I’m not the only artist online who feels pressure to perform every day, who compares themself to others, who feels burnt out every month, and who is constantly fighting with the evolving technology and society that seems to be consistently designed to screw us. I know many have been able to adapt, and have done it smoothly, and I commend them and am incredibly happy for them. I’m proud to have happy and well-adjusted art peers! I can’t do that. I want to put in the effort to adapt, I have to many ideas to share and stories to tell, but I’m just…spent. Every time I try, it takes up all of my very limited energy, and I’m back to hibernation mode again. I am tired. I’m too small, sensitive and self-conscious to simply keep trucking along. My fragility makes every effort so painful. I really cannot do this anymore.
Posting my art online used to be fun. I loved connecting with people over fan art, OCs, gushing with other artists about each other’s creations, and getting love and support from people who found enjoyment in it. I used to get kind asks on Tumblr just complimenting my art or encouraging me when I posted a vent piece. Tumblr especially used to be my chill place. Most of those people, along with that happy and peaceful environment, are gone now. Old Tumblr is dead, old DeviantArt is gone, I feel detached from FA more than I ever have. Everything feels scattered and divided, and people are so jaded, which I really can’t blame anyone for. No matter where I go, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, and I don’t really want to be anywhere, either. I feel like I don’t even fit in with my own demographic, no matter what I try. I can’t emphasize enough that I’m trying to post for and enjoy an internet and online community that no longer exists. It’s my own fault for living in the past. Everything is far too fleeting now, engagement is king and constant streams of new content, as well as outrage, equals that. Everyone else seems to be able to change so readily with it, and I’m still stuck figuring things out from five years ago. I can’t seem to recognize or understand anyone anymore, either. I can’t keep up, and I don’t want to try to anymore.
I think what I wanted the most for my art was for it to resonate with people. It’s always been my favorite thing to do for fun, and it always made me so happy knowing my art made someone’s day better, even if it was just Hattie being silly or cute fan art. The idea that I could make someone breathe easier because I drew something soft and comforting is incredibly meaningful to me. But my art was always a powerful emotional outlet for me, too. I know my vent art would often dip into edgy territory, especially in my teenage years, and I withdrew from drawing vent art as a whole because I became too self-aware of it and I felt too exposed. But it was real, and it came from a real place and real emotions, and that’s still important to me. I feel emotions very strongly. I wanted to say something and be understood. And I guess that’s what I still want? To be understood, like anyone else would want, I guess.
I don’t even know what I want out of posting online anymore, or why I bother to check it. Every bit of engagement I get feels more empty than rewarding, and that discrepancy keeps growing. I hate it, because I know it’s because my brain has been trained to want more. I hate that I need more and more validation that people care about me via my art, because it used to be purely mine. And I want so much for it to just be mine again. It’s really felt like I’ve been drawing for everyone else for such a long time, and I guess that’s also my own fault. I feel trapped here. I really don’t enjoy drawing anymore, and I never get the urge to like I used to, and I cannot express how much that absolutely guts me. I always say social media is what ruined it for me, but I know that my participation in social media was my own choice, so I know I actually ruined it for myself.
I have a lot of work to do. I need to just get better as a person, fix my mental health, gain any semblance of self-worth so that I’m not breaking down every week over my value as an artist being synonymous with my value as a person (before you wonder, I am working with mental health professionals regularly now). I know I complain a LOT about the internet and how it’s changed, but I need to make it very clear that I don’t meant to put the blame solely on all of that for my mental state. I recognize that I just have a lot of issues and I make things harder for myself all the time. I’m chronically living in the past and unhappy with the present, and that’s 100% a me problem. This is the only move I can think of that will allow me to actually focus on getting my shit together; removing the option of being an online artist altogether. I can’t cheat and peek at Twitter and slowly make my way back after three weeks. While I’m at it, I will probably stop posting everywhere else too (not that I was really posting much anyway). I don’t want to say I’m leaving forever but I will say that I want no more expectations, I’m not gonna be posting anymore, basically until further notice. I have to figure my shit out for real. I’m not sure if this will even work, it might just make things worse for me. But I’m just at a loss and I feel like I need to do something. I don’t know if my absence from online art posting will cause me to miraculously enjoy drawing again and a year from now I’ll have a massive backlog to show everyone, I’ll be fixed and happy…I don’t know. I just know this isn’t for me, not right now.
I feel guilty doing this, because I have people who have been following me and supporting me for well over a decade, and I think you guys deserve better than this. It’s a big part of my motivation for doing this to begin with - I’m kind of ashamed to show myself to these awesome people every day, I feel like I owe everyone more than just my gratitude, but I haven’t been able to deliver consistent art or content in years. I feel like I'm letting so many people down every day, and ultimately I feel the same about leaving. But I need to get better first. I think about everyone all the time and feel so lucky and so stupid. I know it’s dramatic, but to everyone, thank you, and I’m sorry.
For anybody going, “it’s not that deep,” I’ve heard that plenty. This post isn’t for you.
I’m not completely disappearing from the internet. If you want to get into contact with me, you can add me on Discord at RealaChao#7312. I will still accept commissions privately for now, so just reach out to me (I’ll update my commissions Carrd site if I decide to close them). I won’t necessarily be deleting my accounts, but I will be logging out of everything at least and disabling notifications, so please don’t message me on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or anywhere else expecting a reply. You can also email me at [email protected]. Lastly, my main focus these days has been my Neocities, so you’re welcome to check that out (though it's largely a draft right now). It’s not going to be an art site, though, at least not only art. It’s gonna be my quiet home.
I also posted this here. Genuinely, thanks for everything.
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kittycatcarla · 8 months ago
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Without the member wall (beware, i've taken it with copy paste and not fully checked it):
I’ve been a psychology professor since 2012. In the past six years, I’ve witnessed students of all ages procrastinate on papers, skip presentation days, miss assignments, and let due dates fly by. I’ve seen promising prospective grad students fail to get applications in on time; I’ve watched PhD candidates take months or years revising a single dissertation draft; I once had a student who enrolled in the same class of mine two semesters in a row, and never turned in anything either time.
I don’t think laziness was ever at fault.
Ever.
In fact, I don’t believe that laziness exists.
I’m a social psychologist, so I’m interested primarily in the situational and contextual factors that drive human behavior. When you’re seeking to predict or explain a person’s actions, looking at the social norms, and the person’s context, is usually a pretty safe bet. Situational constraints typically predict behavior far better than personality, intelligence, or other individual-level traits.
So when I see a student failing to complete assignments, missing deadlines, or not delivering results in other aspects of their life, I’m moved to ask: what are the situational factors holding this student back? What needs are currently not being met?And, when it comes to behavioral “laziness,” I’m especially moved to ask: what are the barriers to action that I can’t see?
There are always barriers. Recognizing those barriers— and viewing them as legitimate — is often the first step to breaking “lazy” behavior patterns.
It’s really helpful to respond to a person’s ineffective behavior with curiosity rather than judgment. I learned this from a friend of mine, the writer and activist Kimberly Longhofer (who publishes under the name Mik Everett). Kim is passionate about the acceptance and accommodation of disabled people and homeless people. Their writing about both subjects is some of the most illuminating, bias-busting work I’ve ever encountered. Part of that is because Kim is brilliant, but it’s also because at various points in their life, Kim has been both disabled and homeless.
Kim is the person who taught me that judging a homeless person for wanting to buy alcohol or cigarettes is utter folly. When you’re homeless, the nights are cold, the world is unfriendly, and everything is painfully uncomfortable. Whether you’re sleeping under a bridge, in a tent, or at a shelter, it’s hard to rest easy. You are likely to have injuries or chronic conditions that bother you persistently, and little access to medical care to deal with it. You probably don’t have much healthy food.
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Few people who haven’t been homeless think this way. They want to moralize the decisions of poor people, perhaps to comfort themselves about the injustices of the world. For many, it’s easier to think homeless people are, in part, responsible for their suffering than it is to acknowledge the situational factors.
And when you don’t fully understand a person’s context — what it feels like to be them every day, all the small annoyances and major traumas that define their life — it’s easy to impose abstract, rigid expectations on a person’s behavior. All homeless people should put down the bottle and get to work. Never mind that most of them have mental health symptoms and physical ailments, and are fighting constantly to be recognized as human. Never mind that they are unable to get a good night’s rest or a nourishing meal for weeks or months on end. Never mind that even in my comfortable, easy life, I can’t go a few days without craving a drink or making an irresponsible purchase. They have to do better.
But they’re already doing the best they can. I’ve known homeless people who worked full-time jobs, and who devoted themselves to the care of other people in their communities. A lot of homeless people have to navigate bureaucracies constantly, interfacing with social workers, case workers, police officers, shelter staff, Medicaid staff, and a slew of charities both well-meaning and condescending. It’s a lot of fucking work to be homeless. And when a homeless or poor person runs out of steam and makes a “bad decision,” there’s a damn good reason for it.
If a person’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you, it is because you are missing a part of their context. It’s that simple. I’m so grateful to Kim and their writing for making me aware of this fact. No psychology class, at any level, taught me that. But now that it is a lens that I have, I find myself applying it to all kinds of behaviors that are mistaken for signs of moral failure — and I’ve yet to find one that can’t be explained and empathized with.
Let’s look at a sign of academic “laziness” that I believe is anything but: procrastination.
People love to blame procrastinators for their behavior. Putting off work sure looks lazy, to an untrained eye. Even the people who are actively doing the procrastinating can mistake their behavior for laziness. You’re supposed to be doing something, and you’re not doing it — that’s a moral failure right? That means you’re weak-willed, unmotivated, and lazy, doesn’t it?
For decades, psychological research has been able to explain procrastination as a functioning problem, not a consequence of laziness. When a person fails to begin a project that they careabout, it’s typically due to either a) anxiety about their attempts not being “good enough” or b) confusion about what the first steps of the task are. Not laziness. In fact, procrastination is more likely when the task is meaningful and the individual cares about doing it well.
When you’re paralyzed with fear of failure, or you don’t even know how to begin a massive, complicated undertaking, it’s damn hard to get shit done. It has nothing to do with desire, motivation, or moral upstandingness. Procastinators can will themselves to work for hours; they can sit in front of a blank word document, doing nothing else, and torture themselves; they can pile on the guilt again and again — none of it makes initiating the task any easier. In fact, their desire to get the damn thing done may worsen their stress and make starting the task harder.
The solution, instead, is to look for what is holding the procrastinator back. If anxiety is the major barrier, the procrastinator actually needs to walk away from the computer/book/word document and engage in a relaxing activity. Being branded “lazy” by other people is likely to lead to the exact opposite behavior.
Often, though, the barrier is that procrastinators have executive functioning challenges — they struggle to divide a large responsibility into a series of discrete, specific, and ordered tasks. Here’s an example of executive functioning in action: I completed my dissertation (from proposal to data collection to final defense) in a little over a year. I was able to write my dissertation pretty easily and quickly because I knew that I had to a) compile research on the topic, b) outline the paper, c) schedule regular writing periods, and d) chip away at the paper, section by section, day by day, according to a schedule I had pre-determined.
Nobody had to teach me to slice up tasks like that. And nobody had to force me to adhere to my schedule. Accomplishing tasks like this is consistent with how my analytical, Autistic, hyper-focused brain works. Most people don’t have that ease. They need an external structure to keep them writing — regular writing group meetings with friends, for example — and deadlines set by someone else. When faced with a major, massive project, most people want advice for how to divide it into smaller tasks, and a timeline for completion. In order to track progress, most people require organizational tools, such as a to-do list, calendar, datebook, or syllabus.
Needing or benefiting from such things doesn’t make a person lazy. It just means they have needs. The more we embrace that, the more we can help people thrive.
I had a student who was skipping class. Sometimes I’d see her lingering near the building, right before class was about to start, looking tired. Class would start, and she wouldn’t show up. When she was present in class, she was a bit withdrawn; she sat in the back of the room, eyes down, energy low. She contributed during small group work, but never talked during larger class discussions.
A lot of my colleagues would look at this student and think she was lazy, disorganized, or apathetic. I know this because I’ve heard how they talk about under-performing students. There’s often rage and resentment in their words and tone — why won’t this student take my class seriously? Why won’t they make me feel important, interesting, smart?
But my class had a unit on mental health stigma. It’s a passion of mine, because I’m a neuroatypical psychologist. I know how unfair my field is to people like me. The class & I talked about the unfair judgments people levy against those with mental illness; how depression is interpreted as laziness, how mood swings are framed as manipulative, how people with “severe” mental illnesses are assumed incompetent or dangerous.
The quiet, occasionally-class-skipping student watched this discussion with keen interest. After class, as people filtered out of the room, she hung back and asked to talk to me. And then she disclosed that she had a mental illness and was actively working to treat it. She was busy with therapy and switching medications, and all the side effects that entails. Sometimes, she was not able to leave the house or sit still in a classroom for hours. She didn’t dare tell her other professors that this was why she was missing classes and late, sometimes, on assignments; they’d think she was using her illness as an excuse. But she trusted me to understand.
And I did. And I was so, so angry that this student was made to feel responsible for her symptoms. She was balancing a full course load, a part-time job, and ongoing, serious mental health treatment. And she was capable of intuiting her needs and communicating them with others. She was a fucking badass, not a lazy fuck. I told her so.
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Over the years, at that same school, I encountered countless other students who were under-estimated because the barriers in their lives were not seen as legitimate. There was the young man with OCD who always came to class late, because his compulsions sometimes left him stuck in place for a few moments. There was the survivor of an abusive relationship, who was processing her trauma in therapy appointments right before my class each week. There was the young woman who had been assaulted by a peer — and who had to continue attending classes with that peer, while the school was investigating the case.
These students all came to me willingly, and shared what was bothering them. Because I discussed mental illness, trauma, and stigma in my class, they knew I would be understanding. And with some accommodations, they blossomed academically. They gained confidence, made attempts at assignments that intimidated them, raised their grades, started considering graduate school and internships. I always found myself admiring them. When I was a college student, I was nowhere near as self-aware. I hadn’t even begun my lifelong project of learning to ask for help.
Students with barriers were not always treated with such kindness by my fellow psychology professors. One colleague, in particular, was infamous for providing no make-up exams and allowing no late arrivals. No matter a student’s situation, she was unflinchingly rigid in her requirements. No barrier was insurmountable, in her mind; no limitation was acceptable. People floundered in her class. They felt shame about their sexual assault histories, their anxiety symptoms, their depressive episodes. When a student who did poorly in her classes performed well in mine, she was suspicious.
It’s morally repugnant to me that any educator would be so hostile to the people they are supposed to serve. It’s especially infuriating, that the person enacting this terror was a psychologist. The injustice and ignorance of it leaves me teary every time I discuss it. It’s a common attitude in many educational circles, but no student deserves to encounter it.
I know, of course, that educators are not taught to reflect on what their students’ unseen barriers are. Some universities pride themselves on refusing to accommodate disabled or mentally ill students — they mistake cruelty for intellectual rigor. And, since most professors are people who succeeded academically with ease, they have trouble taking the perspective of someone with executive functioning struggles, sensory overloads, depression, self-harm histories, addictions, or eating disorders. I can see the external factors that lead to these problems. Just as I know that “lazy” behavior is not an active choice, I know that judgmental, elitist attitudes are typically borne out of situational ignorance.
And that’s why I’m writing this piece. I’m hoping to awaken my fellow educators — of all levels — to the fact that if a student is struggling, they probably aren’t choosing to. They probably want to do well. They probably are trying. More broadly, I want all people to take a curious and empathic approach to individuals whom they initially want to judge as “lazy” or irresponsible.
If a person can’t get out of bed, something is making them exhausted. If a student isn’t writing papers, there’s some aspect of the assignment that they can’t do without help. If an employee misses deadlines constantly, something is making organization and deadline-meeting difficult. Even if a person is actively choosing to self-sabotage, there’s a reason for it — some fear they’re working through, some need not being met, a lack of self-esteem being expressed.
People do not choose to fail or disappoint. No one wants to feel incapable, apathetic, or ineffective. If you look at a person’s action (or inaction) and see only laziness, you are missing key details. There is always an explanation. There are always barriers. Just because you can’t see them, or don’t view them as legitimate, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Look harder.
Maybe you weren’t always able to look at human behavior this way. That’s okay. Now you are. Give it a try.
good read for teachers.
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riddikulus-writings · 6 months ago
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Born To Run
FRISAL; 3ABY
DAY 2; Mid Afternoon
“It’s barely past noon.”
“We’re vacationing,” Anaya moved her sunglasses up to rest atop her head and wrapped her red-painted lips around the straw of her blue cocktail, “Who cares what time it is when you start your day drinking?”
Cal watched her drink, silently wishing he had taken her up on her offer to order him one, “We’re working,” he hissed, leaning closer, “What if Javal walks in?”
“He will in about a half hour,” Anaya leaned across the table, their noses almost touching, “And I can work and drink.” her breath smelled like berries, “What are you planning to do? Whip out your saber as soon as he gets here? I know you’ve got it on you. Play the long game for once, relax, and order a drink.”
Cal’s mouth hung open as he wondered what to say to that. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently wrapped his fingers around Anaya’s cocktail and slid it so he could reach her straw. He all but flinched when he tasted it; it was strong. Definitely some type of berry. The alcohol stung his throat. Cal made a face and gave it back, “I guess it’s not that bad. What is it?”
“Something called Blue Skies. I think it’s a specialty this month. Want me to get a larger one and we can just share?”
Cal was tired. He didn’t sleep very well last night, his body opting, instead, to keep him up with night terrors about Bracca, of all things, “Yeah. Yeah, do that, please. I don’t really drink.”
“That’s a whole lie. I bet you drink Spotchka in your free time. Or Jet Juice,” Anaya slipped from her side of the table, glass in hand, “Some of that really sweet stuff.”
Despite being raised a Jedi – being raised to suppress essentially every emotion – Cal still couldn’t help but watch Anaya’s butt as she wandered through the growing crowd, her really short shorts hugging her a little too well. He shook his head and pulled his focus back to the crowd, looking for Kolphi.
Anaya was a smidge off from her calculations; Cal clocked Kolphi as soon as the man walked in, his short sleeve shirt completely unbuttoned, knee length shorts fluttering in the short breeze coming from the party deck across the room. Dark sunglasses sat on his head in his even darker hair.
He looked like a tourist.
Cal looked like a tourist; his outfit mirrors Javal’s. Anaya had thrown the clothes at him that morning, barely waking him from what little sleep he’d gotten. He’d heard a short “Put those on.” before being alone in her living room once more.
The hairs on the back of Cal’s neck stood up when he accidentally made eye contact with Kolphi from across the crowd. In an attempt to blend in, Cal smiled a little and gave a friendly nod. Kolphi returned it and moved further into the room. Don’t come over here, don’t come over here, don’t come over here–
He definitely didn’t like the hungry look on the Imp’s face when he saw Anaya arrive back at their table, blocking the majority of Cal’s view from the man, “Javal is here.”
“I know,” she indeed brought a larger glass this time, the bright blue drink offending Cal’s eyes. There were two straws in it, “Did he recognize you?”
“Me? You’re the one who’s been living here for who knows how long.” 
“And you’re the one who jumped immediately to the Empire’s Most Wanted like, what? Twenty years ago?,” she took a long drag from their drink.
Alright, she’s got a point. Cal pulled the glass towards him and did the same, the aggressive berry flavor going down somewhat easier this time, “No, he didn’t. He seemed pretty interested in you when you came back, though.”
“Probably my long, pale legs. They almost glow in the dark.”
“Or the fact your butt is almost out.”
“Don’t act like you hate the shorts,” she smiled softly at him, “I bet you secretly want to trade with me.”
Cal glanced down at his outfit and then back up at Anaya, “No way, Naya.”
“I wouldn’t trade, anyway. I’d look atrocious in your outfit.”
Cal waited until Anaya was in the middle of a drink, and– “And I’d look atrocious in your bikini top.”
She almost spit up her drink giggling. Attempting to swallow without incident, and she began swatting her palm on the table, “You asshole, you did that on purpose!”
He couldn’t help but laugh with her, shrugging, “Maybe.” 
Anaya swiped her hand down her chin, “Maybe he saw VD under here,” she ducked down to glance under the table at their two droids, her voice muffled by the dark wood tabletop, “He is a really old Imperial droid.”
BD suddenly poked at Cal’s ankle. Cal looked ducked down with Anaya, half under the table, to look down at the two, “What, buddy?”
His chirps alerted the two of them of an approaching waiter with another tall Blue Skies and a platter of fries. Anaya raised an eyebrow as the Chiss set the two down, “Ma’am, we didn’t order these…?”
The slender Chiss flashed a bright smile at Anaya and brushed some of her white hair behind her ear, “A man sitting at the bar wanted to treat the happy couple to another drink. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
As she left, both Cal and Anaya scanned the bar and found Kolphi, raising his own Blue Skies at them, shooting a borderline sinister grin in their direction. They smiled back – Anaya even waved – but a heavy blanket of unease settled over the two of them.
They turned back to each other, still fake smiling, though the look in both their eyes screamed discomfort. Anaya spoke through her clenched teeth, “That’s worrisome.”
“Completely.” Cal dragged their original drink towards him and sucked the glass dry. “Do we have to pretend to be dating now?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, loverboy.” She was already working on the one that Javal sent them, “Hope he didn’t spike it.”
“The Chiss made it.” Cal told her calmly.
“He could’ve paid her.”
“Stop worrying,” Anaya had an impish grin on her lips, “Vacation with me, Kestis.”
“Anaya,” he pulled the drink from her palm, laughter threatening to bubble up his throat, “You’re the one who was just worrying about a spiked drink.”
She threw her head back, barking laughs barely heard over the buzz of the growing afternoon crowd. She smacked her palm on the tabletop, “Ah, that’s great! Okay, no more drinks for me ‘till tonight. Right?”
“Right.”
"'m gonna hold you to that."
"No you won't." If he's learned anything about her the past few hours, it's that she's a pushover when it comes to her own rules.
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ego-morior · 1 year ago
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I'm stuck.
God, you would think the feeling would go away once you hit 30 but it will probably take me 30 more years to realize feeling stuck is just something very human that happens to humans.
I've been debating going to therapy recently, just to get a third person point of view on the feelings I harbor. Someone without bias to validate certain things and point out the flaws of others. A different pair of eyes to take a look at all the puzzle pieces I have yet to combine together across the table. Someone with enough experience to point out that there are a few missing edges that I will never recover and that it's okay to stop searching for them. Maybe hearing it out loud from someone else won't hurt as much as when I whisper it to myself in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday.
Something you learn a little later on, is that writing things after a breakdown and not during one, will always be easier to digest on an empty stomach. The rage, sorrow, fear and anguish have simmered down into a stew that isn't bubbling violently over the edges. When it's finally warm enough to sip from without burning your tongue, that is when you should pick up the pen. And that's exactly what I'm choosing to do now, on a cold morning in November.
November 8th, 2023.
I have quietly wept during the past days and loudly sobbed during the past few nights. This is the first morning I don't wake up with a wet pillow and the first time I can drink my coffee and listen to something silly online that has nothing to do with my life. Maybe it's the seasonal depression or the timing of Snapchat memories that has claimed victory to my senses this year. About two weeks ago, I gave up on a love I hadn't heard from in three years. The first year apart, I carried the yearning in the front pocket of every flannel I wore, the second year, I kept it in my purse, far enough where it wasn't part of who I was anymore, but close enough if I ever needed it. The third year, I kept those feelings in a small box in my sock drawer. And now, I have accepted the fact that they have no place in my home or in my life, because the idea of a "maybe one day," has lost it's meaning as time marched forward.
I spoke about him in passing, but I never really emphasized his importance in my growth. Maybe one day, I'll tell you about him, but for now just know, that the person I thought was my other half, was nothing more than a simple tease from the universe. There are several hundreds of articles on how to identify a soulmate or a soul tie. How to know "they're the one" etc. Something silly to give a lost existence some sort of made up trajectory to feel better about yourself for not being able to find a definitive path. But what they don't tell you, is that once your sense of escapism finishes, you feel more lost than before. Because directly afterwards as your feet move forward, your head keeps looking back at what could have been, what might have been, the 'where did they go?'s or the 'what are they doing now's and you don't focus on what's in front of you. The moment you stop looking back, you realize time has continued on and your feet have taken you somewhere you don't recognize.
Here I am, somewhere new, but only mentally and emotionally.
A different man I had a small chapter with, became a father this week. The man I spent almost a decade with, my very first relationship, has purchased a large home on an even larger property with a new wife. A couple of childhood friends have gotten married and made families. Time has moved on, and the frustration I have felt these past days is that everyone seems to have proof that time has moved on. Everybody, except me.
I wondered if maybe I was jealous of them, while I cried and sobbed and screamed uncontrollably this week. I couldn't put into words how every image was a punch in the gut. Some have wondered if maybe I missed my ex, or maybe I wanted to be the third baby-mama of the man who taught me how to love my own body. But I feel nothing towards them in particular and I didn't have the words to explain the anguish I felt to those who tried leaning an ear my way. The emotions felt deeper than just missing or yearning somebody from my past, but the explanations that came out of me only seemed to lean in that direction.
But the pot has finally simmered.
And I can finally put into words what my heart and mind have been begging to express.
I hate that everyone I have known, then and now, has proof that time has moved forward. A new home, a new baby, a new wife in a new place in a new stage in life takes time and energy. These kinds of things don't just happen. I have an apartment, a car, and a small position as a glorified cashier in a store.
I don't have a published book, or a new relationship to flaunt. I don't have a well-paying job or an upcoming vacation I can plan to run away from the feelings I pretend I don't pack in the suitcase I carry with me. The passage of time has always been the antagonist of my life and oddly enough, all it does is its job.
And it does it well, and it does it for everything and everyone else.
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