#doing nothing and now my mental and physical health is the worst its ever been combined with terrible financial situation...

[waterfal-ling]

zenin’s shadow - chapter 2 (gojo satoru x reader)

SYNOPSIS: Y/N, the outcast daughter of the Zenin Clan, a weapon forged from a forbidden union and raised in isolation. Gifted with immense cursed power, she is treated as little more than an instrument in the clan's pursuit of dominance. Her existence is one of obedience and sacrifice, a life defined by brutal training and a relentless drive to serve. Yet beneath the surface of her rigid purpose, a quiet curiosity about the world beyond the Zenin estate begins to grow. Despite the clan’s control, her strength, independence, and the haunting longing for something more are forces she cannot easily suppress. As she grapples with her role as a pawn in the Zenin Clan’s ruthless games, she must confront the delicate balance between her duty as a weapon and the desire for a life outside their cold walls. In a world where power, control, and family define everything, Y/N must explore the internal struggle of a girl caught between the chains of her bloodline and the faint hope for something beyond the shadows of her clan’s ambition.

WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, profanity, self-harm, abandonment, mental health struggles, violence, abuse and trauma, gender discrimination (it is the Zenin's afterall), self-discovery -- will probably add more and the warnings for individual chapters if needed, grammar issues here and there - but I will try to catch them if I can.

TAGS: f!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, very slow-burn, angst to comfort to eventual fluff (but angst will be a very on-going thing), gojo being super mean - until he isn't, CANON-ADJACENT (will follow aspects of the original timeline, but I have changed the timings of things and/or characters fate).

a/n: Took me way too long to post this and I had to do it from my phone...I still cannot figure out how people make their posts so pretty (and ngl I am a bit too lazy to figure it out). Enjoy the angst and let me know what you think :)

COMMENTS, LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED

previous < Chapter Two: Breaking the Spirit > next

The Zenin estate felt colder than ever. Its imposing walls, stone cold and towering like silent sentinels, wrapped around her with an almost suffocating grip. The sense of isolation was a constant companion, the echo of her footsteps in the empty halls a painful reminder that she was locked in a cage of her own making. Despite the bruises and scars—both physical and mental—that she had accumulated over the months, the worst punishment had come in the form of silence.

She was not allowed to leave the estate. No missions. No contact with anyone. Only the endless rounds of psychological conditioning designed to break her down further. The Zenin Clan had stripped away her individuality, her autonomy. All she had left was the sharp, unyielding knowledge that she was nothing more than a tool for their use.

Months passed.

She felt like a shadow, moving through the estate with quiet precision, always under the watchful eye of those who had been tasked with ensuring she stayed compliant. There were no longer any training sessions—just endless hours spent in isolation, reflecting on her place in the world. Her cursed energy, once a seething, untamed force, now lay dormant within her, as if it, too, had given up on ever breaking free.

But even in her isolation, the mission call came. It was a brief moment of hope, though it quickly turned to dread when she realized what it meant.

The Zenin daughter was summoned before the Clan’s higher-ups, the familiar stone chamber cold and unwelcoming. The air was thick with incense and a strange tension. She stood rigid, awaiting her orders, the sting of previous failures still fresh in her mind.

"Zenin daughter," the Elder began, his voice as cold and calculating as ever. "You are to accompany Suguru Geto and Gojo Satoru on a mission."

A knot twisted in her stomach. After months of silence, months of training meant to break her, they were sending her out once more. This time, it wasn’t a simple assassination or a task for elimination.

"Your task is clear," the Elder continued, his eyes narrowing. "You will ensure that Riko Amanai is delivered safely to Master Tengen. You will follow Geto and Gojo’s orders. You are not to deviate from the plan. Do you understand?"

The words were laced with authority, but even as they echoed in the cold stone room, something inside her recoiled. She was a tool, a vessel for their power. She was not allowed to make decisions. She was not allowed to think for herself.

"Yes," she responded quietly, bowing her head in deference. She had no choice but to obey. It was always that way. Always.

The Elder dismissed her with a sharp gesture, and without another word, she turned and exited the room, the weight of her obedience heavy on her chest. She was merely an extension of the Zenin Clan’s will, nothing more.

The night before they left, she found herself standing beside Suguru Geto and Gojo Satoru at the designated meeting point. The sun had long since set, and the moon cast its pale light over the desolate landscape. Her heart thudded quietly in her chest, but she made no move to show it.

Geto stood with his arms folded, his usual calm demeanor in place. Beside him, Gojo was leaning lazily against a pillar, his ever-present grin plastered on his face as if nothing in the world could shake him.

"Zenin" Geto acknowledged her with a small nod, but his tone was clinical, almost detached. "You’re early”. He glanced at Gojo, who eyed her with curiosity - was this really the so called “Zenin Shadow”. Her cursed energy wavered slightly, but it was low. All he had heard in clan meetings -not that he paid much attention anyway, was that the Zenin’s had an ace under their sleeve. One that was supposed to tilt the scales on their side.

Gojo remembers a conversation he overheard during one of the clan meetings way before his time at jujitsu tech. One that maybe he was not supposed to overhear - not that he ever cared much for the rules anyways.

“I heard that they are not allowed outside the compound” one whispered to those around them, “that all they do is train and go on missions”

“Already?” A different member of the group asked “do we even know anything about this so called “shadow” or are these all rumors” they asked smartly in a low voice, “either way, that Gojo kid will be the strongest, so as long as we can keep him in check, I am sure that they will be able to deal with that so called asset”

Gojo rolled his eyes, quickly losing interest. They were right. Not only he could beat them quickly, but they would not move against him - he was a Gojo after all. The future clan head. Who cares who they were? They would never compare to him.

Now, she stands in-front of him. Her gaze low and her lands clenched beside her. Gojo quickly lost interest, seeing that those rumors about her being a “cold blooded” individual may be true; but her supposed strength is nowhere close to where either Geto or himself were. He loudly sighed, earning a quick glance from Geto.

Her eyes remained lowered, her posture stiff. "I am ready," she said softly.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I’m sure you are," he teased, clearly unimpressed. "But I still don’t get why you’re here. It’s not like you’re much of an asset, right? All the Zenin Clan sees is some weapon with a bit of power."

Her chest tightened, but she remained silent. Gojo’s words were sharp, but they weren’t wrong. Weapon was all she had ever been to the Zenin Clan. And it seemed that was all she would ever be.

Geto’s gaze shifted from Gojo to the Zenin girl his face unreadable. “That is not up to us, Satoru. Let’s just focus on the mission.”

Gojo chuckled lightly, but there was something dismissive in his voice. “Sure. Whatever. But this mission would be a lot smoother without the baggage.”

Geto didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened slightly, betraying his irritation. He didn’t want this anymore than Gojo did; but rules were meant to be followed.

As they walked away first, starting their normal bantering, the Zenin girl couldn’t help but bring her gaze up slightly. They were pushing each other, Gojo laughing loudly as Geto chuckled. They reminded them of those two sorcerers she had seen in her last mission prior to her punishment. She smiled slightly under her masks. Although she was a weapon meant to follow orders, she had for once done something that she was sure was good: protecting someone who was cared for.

As the trio made their way to the meeting place, a sudden chill filled the air. A low hum of cursed energy rippled through the area, signaling the approach of someone important. A figure appeared from the shadows—Yaga, the headmaster of Jujutsu High.

"Geto. Gojo. Zenin." Yaga’s voice was deep, a low rumble that carried weight.

The three turned to face him, but Yaga’s gaze shifted to the Zenin daughter, scrutinizing her for a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though sizing her up.

"You’re the Zenin Clan’s prized weapon, aren’t you?" he said, his tone neither kind nor harsh. "I’ve heard little about you, other than that you’re strong. No name, no cursed technique, nothing"

The Zenin girl kept her gaze down, her heart racing. She had heard of Yaga’s reputation—a skilled sorcerer, capable of commanding the greatest threats. The fact that he was even acknowledging her strength felt unsettling.

"Yaga," Geto greeted him with a nod, though his expression was neutral. “You know the situation. We’re just here to deliver Riko. What’s the deal with her tagging along?”

Yaga’s eyes lingered on the Zenin girl before meeting Geto’s gaze. "It’s not about you. It’s an order from the higher-ups. They've specifically instructed that she accompany you, no exceptions."

Gojo, leaning against the stone wall beside them, chuckled. "Yeah? But why? What’s the point of bringing along a deadweight like her? She can’t even use her cursed energy properly without them hovering over her every move."

Yaga’s eyes flashed with a warning, but he didn’t let the tension rise. “Don’t underestimate her, Satoru. The higher-ups seem to think she’ll be needed in some capacity. I’ve heard… things.”

“Things?” Gojo raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Like what?"

Yaga crossed his arms, his gaze turning more serious. "I don’t know the full details. But I’ve been told that she is stronger than she appears. The higher-ups trust her… and I trust that they have their reasons. Don’t make the mistake of assuming she’s nothing more than a tool."

Geto’s eyes flicked to the Zenin girl for a moment, his face impassive. He clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned to Gojo. "We’re going to have to keep an eye on her, Satoru. Don’t take any unnecessary risks with her."

Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Baby-sitting a supposed “super strong weapon”, keeping her out of trouble while we do all the heavy lifting.”

Yaga sighed one more time “Gojo, just do as told. Now, it’s late, go back to your dorms and show her an empty room near - the mission is scheduled to start at sunrise”

The Zenin girls chest tightened once again as she overheard their conversation. The same frases going through her head: “Stronger than she appeared.” “A tool.”

That was the only truth she knew. And yet, hearing them discuss her as a “liability”—a “weakness”—did something to her. It solidified the very thing she had been told her entire life: she was a tool, a weapon. Nothing more. Nothing more would ever be allowed. She wasn’t a person. She wasn’t anything other than a means to an end.

And now, even though her body was being forced back into the mission, she knew that her purpose was set in stone. She was to serve, to obey. Nothing would change that.

As the group continued on their walk towards the dorms, Geto and Gojo kept their distance from the girl with the the tension only growing among them. It was clear that they didn’t trust her.

The mission was important, and while the Zenin girl remained silent, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the judgment that followed her. To them, she was a burden—a liability.

“Here you go” Geto said with a tight smile “you can sleep here tonight, we will come collect you in the morning”

“And just be ready. I know how long you girls take to get ready” Gojo said, his voice slightly irritated as he typed away on his phone, clearly disinterested in the conversation already as he started walking away.

Geto quickly raised his hand, waving good bye as he caught up to Gojo, rapidly falling into a conversation. She took the chance to once again stqre at their relationship, he chest tight and heavy as she could almost feel the ache in her hands from how tightly she was closing her fists.

She knew that could not be her. But as she stared, she wondered what her life could have been had she not been cursed cursed energy.

Could she have a purpose?

As she entered the dorm room, she looked around. She felt on edge and uncertain of her new surroundings. But her eyes quickly caught onto the item in the left wall: a bed. She had never properly slept on one since being with the Zenin clan. They always believed that using a tatami that she would move out of the way would always be easier.

Her hands quickly caught onto the sheets, feeling the softness in them. She knew that even if it was for one night, this was probably about to be the best sleep she had in a while - and she would cherish it based on the fact that she did not know when that was to occur again.

As her body started to ask for rest, she moved towards the small bag she had - taking out a pair of pants and a shirt. She walked towards the sink and placed her items down. She took her hair out and removed her mask, forcing herself to not look at her face on the mirror. As she took off her clothing, her mind grew curious. Despite her heart begging her to not look, she glanced up towards the mirror. There, she saw a girl with scars littering across her body, some deeper, some larger, some tinier. As her eyes continued to wander, they landed on her face. The large scar that went horizontally across her face and the vertical one that went down her cheek were a reminder of the one time in her life where she felt alive: at the hands of a too strong of a curse for her inexperienced self - one that brought her to the closets she was felt to dying and to her freedom.

The first time the clan had realized the power of her reversed cursed technique, it was an accident. Her trainer had brought her to a curse as some clan elders stood at a distance; they wanted to see the supposed improvement she had with this new trainer - one known for their harsh but effective techniques. As she activated her cursed technique, she noticed that the fire touching her finger tips was burning her, causing her to instinctively stop her technique. The curse took her hesitation to their advantage, clawing themselves towards her, hashing her face and her body: Blood ran to her head as adrenaline cursed her body along her curser technique. Blood was covering her eyes, but her training forced her to use her senses to find a weakness. Her mind raced, how could she be so careless? Are they going to be mad? What will my punishment be? As her mind spiraled, her mind asked a last one, “wouldn’t death mean freedom?”.

She stuck in that last question - maybe in her next life she would be lucky? As tiredness hit her body, she allowed herself to open her eyes to look at the sky. She decided to give up, smiling. She could hear her trainer yelling at her in the distance, words muffled, the curse being gone, and the calmness of nothingness as she started closing her eyes. She felt herself smiling.

“Maybe in my next life” she thought, “I will learn to be happy”

Her body was taken to a medic in the main estate, hoping to not lose their asset so fast. However, the medic, perplexed, mentioned that her body was already healing. Slowly, but she could do it by herself.

When she finally woke, back in her closed quarters, she was confused. Was the afterlife going to look just like her previous life? Her head snapped when her door opened - her trainer storming up to her angrily as he pushed her off the bed and forced her head to the ground.

“You made me look like a fool” he sneered, pushing her head harder onto the floor, “you made my trainings look useless, when the only one that is useless here is you”

Her gaze stayed static - she had survived? Her eyes quickly watered, realizing she was in the same position in life as she was before - if not worst.

“How am I still here?” Her hoarse voice asked in no more than a whisper.

“That was the same thing I was wondering myself after that unsatisfactory performance you gave” he said, anger lacing his voice, “but your cursed technique saved you. I was hoping that was it for you so I would be freed, but I can never get what I want” he finished, grasping her hair as he pulled her to meet his face, her knees still on the ground.

“I will make you the perfect weapon” he whispered with a sly smile, “we will see if you can actually die - and then I’ll bring you back and do it again…you will never embarrass me again” he said one more time , his smile never leaving her face as she looked as forced on her feet, pushed towards the training grounds even as h was legs trembled from the lack of usage of them, her arms weak, and her head still disoriented.

As she finally laid in that bed at jujutsu tech, her mind continued to run. She felt jealousy towards what Gojo and Geto had - each other. Could she ever find someone that would stand by her side? Maybe she could try to befriend Geto? He did not seem very fond of her, and she did not have good interpersonal skills (if any)…but he seemed cordial. Maybe she could learn with him what a friendship is.

Her hands clenched as her body filled with anxiousness. The Zenin Clan had pushed her so roughly towards a life of isolation that she felt that she couldn’t possibly be unable to have normal relationships with someone. Never speaking out of turn, always keeping her gaze down, always alert.

Her mind reeled back to her encounter with the two young sorcerers, and then to the punishment that followed.

Her heart felt heavy, and for the first time in a long time, she felt her eyes welled with tears. Frustration and pain filling her body. She could never befriend anybody, she thought that with resolute. Nobody would ever know who she was, because she was nobody, all but a shadow who will continue to live behind the greatness of others.

The Zenin Clan had left their mark on her forever: she was nothing more than a weapon to be used. And, for the first time, she understood that more than ever.

[astra-galaxie]

🌺🥊❤️✂️🌂🧠💎💀 for leon please :)

Ah, Léon, Nathan’s father and Yann’s older brother in my series! How I’ve missed him after giving him so much angst when we last saw him in season 3…

Like Aslan, I plan to have him return in season 5, too, so be ready to keep an eye out for him!

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Yes, but he hasn’t appeared yet. I won’t spoil his identity (in case I change things), but I will say that, as of now, I intend for him to be related to a somewhat prominent character in Pacific Bay.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Love: Baking. Léon is a master baker and has been since he was little. When he was sick, he couldn't leave his house often and had to be careful with what he ate. So, his mother began experimenting with baking to create delicious but safe treats for her son to enjoy. On Léon’s good days, Martha would pull up a chair to the counter for him, and they would bake together. To this day, whenever Léon is baking, it takes him back to simpler times as he remembers baking with his mother and feeling free from the worries and fear of cancer.

Hate: Visiting hospitals. Léon has nothing against the medical field or its professionals, but he’s received enough bad news from hospitals that he dreads visiting, fearing he’ll just receive more… He still goes to all his appointments and does everything his doctors instruct, but he always has to mentally prepare himself for the worst, even if it's just for a simple check-up.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Meeting his little brother for the first time. There’s a large age gap between Léon and Yann (10 years), so he very clearly remembers his parents telling him he was going to be a big brother, his mother’s pregnancy, and meeting Yann after he was born. He’ll never forget the love he felt holding Yann for the first time and watching the baby smile at him with bright brown eyes.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

When he found out his parents were dead. Léon was travelling back to the United States at the time and didn’t get the news until he landed in Pacific Bay. His flight had been delayed, so he arrived a few days later than intended. His aunt greeted him at the airport and told him the terrible news. Léon was so distraught and angry with himself for not being there to save them or to comfort Yann that when it came time for the funeral, he hid in the back, believing he didn’t deserve to sit up front after being away from his family for so long due to his cancer and later joining the army.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Mystery (for obvious reasons) and fantasy (for reasons I haven’t officially revealed yet).

(Do with that info as you like!😉)

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

The fact that even though I was making him up as I went along, he somehow managed to turn out to be a good OC!

However, a more character-based answer is his reliance and strength. Léon has been through a lot with his health (physical and mental), his family, friends and career, and despite every challenge he faced, he didn’t back down and kept going. Even when it seemed like the world was against him, Léon continued to push forward to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

No. Even though Léon has battled cancer 3 times now, he’s beaten it each time, and I don’t plan to kill him off. (And I promise, after cancer battle #3, he will stay in remission!)

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Yes. Léon has heliophobia - fear of the sun/sunlight/bright light.

I love teasing my secrets and surprises in these types of asks! Léon shall return like many of my OCs one day, and I look forward to revealing more of his lore! (And his secret special someone~)😊

[sewercentipede]

And also lately I just Never go out except to go to live shows of musicians that i know are worth it. And even then it’s so fuckin hard every single time and im always so close to just not going. Because I am seriously so fucking depressed it’s so bad it’s the worst it’s been in like ever for the last idk how long and getting worse all the time. It takes so much effort to get out of bed, much less leave the house for anything

BUT, I try so hard to do it for concerts and clubs. because being in a crowd surrounded by music and people,, are a form of therapy, meditation, and prayer for me. Concerts and clubs are the only things that make me feel alive and connected to my body and reality and humanity and life and the earth. They are the only outlets for me to let go, let go of myself fully and just be in my body, be totally present in the moment, feel music surround me and fill me, feel the energy of it all and all the people and the connection of that, let myself get absorbed into a crowd and all its vibes ,in complete and total anonymity and oneness. The experience always makes me feel such intense connection, actually feeling present and being present, and gratitude,,, and nothing else does that for me. These are such impossible feelings for me so I have to get it from concerts and clubs. And feeling connection/gratitude/presence is so essential, so I need to get my fix of them (reminder that I am still capable of feeling them) by concert-going and clubbing .

so going out at all is such a big deal for meeee it is so hard cuz I’m depressed as fuck and that’s exactly why I needed to go out to a concert because i absolutely need it for my depression right now. I need to be at a concert so bad I can’t take it anymore with my mental health. I need to be at a live show right now for my literal fucking health mental and physical. But I’m not :-(

[mcalhenwrites]

I am still alive but have no spoons to directly reply to anyone right now. I'm working on stuff with roommate and therapy, but... unless the money situation improves, my life won't. There are no good days to return to. The problem is, I have a collective 39 years that have added to nothing. And I have still tried to be optimistic. To work through the chronic pain to write, work, and be there for my friends when they need me. (But it all gets harder the more time that passes.) When people still say I'm a good friend, I'm baffled. I don't see it. My writing isn't working out. I need it to, or I will not survive financially, and it just seems a little cruel to ask me to hold out and hold out for something that's never going to happen - all so I can die the hardest possible way in the end, bc I fought like hell to still be at the bottom. I'm not currently suicidal, but I'm pretty much just going day-by-day, trying to find improvements and realizing it all comes down to the same issue: I have no money. And the issue isn't "fix health to work more at a job that isn't writing" - I can manage fibromyalgia and IBS, and the latter costs money to obtain the correct food to do so. I qualify for medicaid; I don't qualify for food assistance now that I work a job! I quit crochet and people threw a tantrum, and if you want to see my self-defensive "I CANNOT DO THIS AND WILL NOT AND FUCK OFF" as a tantrum... go ahead. I do not give a fuck. I love writing. I did it even when I knew it was awful, bc I figured the more I did it, the more I would improve. I worked hard. It just isn't good enough for the world. That's okay. I have always been a loser at everything. Everything ties back to writing: I need to do it for my comfort and therapy. I want my stories out there bc I want to be able to offer other people that comfort. Too many of us come from abusive households, and some of us had it shape our mental health and our sexualities. I need to publish to make money to survive, bc I can write while bedridden. I can write while most of my body is sore and my eyes are half-closed and I'm bored but unable to play games or read or clean or anything else due to physical pain/exhaustion. (And yes, there are times writing is also impossible, and I'm crying in bed bc of the pain intensity levels.) Unless you have a chronic pain issue coupled with comorbidities, I don't want your lectures or assumptions. I don't want to hear that there is "help" while I watched the system try to push my autistic brother into a goodwill job that falls below min wage, and when he wasn't able to handle the responsibilities, they've basically refused to help him otherwise. Even though my brother is capable of many things, he is "disabled" in the system, and they want to insert him into a fixed situation they put all disabled people. I'm doing better than him financially, but when my parents go, he has no one. And I can't be that person, ever. I can't even get my dog back right now. I can barely afford to visit him, but I'm going to anyway soon bc I need to hug him or I really will fucking off myself. I need a lot of support to get my writing off the ground, and I'm never going to deserve it. If I did, it would have happened by now. My roommate wants me to keep trying, but... I don't have hope it'll work out. Right now, I'm so overworked I can barely get any writing done. And I'm working about 15 hours a week. At a low-demand job where I sit most of the time, and cleaning maybe takes 40 minutes at its WORST. Yeah. I'm pathetic indeed. I can't help but feel that way. And when I give myself a little treat to survive the next day, it's at a steep cost to my future. I can buy a book and go to the library, but at the end of the day, that's all time and money that should have been spent on work and saving. Life is punishing, and I just don't know if I can keep being punished. I'm not even this kind of masochist lol

[mechwife]

Talking about life stuff ig

Married life has been wonderful so far. im so happy i can call my boyfriend my husband now and he’s so sweet and caring and protective. I know we’re happy and I feel incredibly blessed.

It’s been hard though. Not being married, but other stuff. My uncle passing away left a huge void in my chest and it still hurts, ive been thinking about him every day and I know my other family members have been too. It still feels surreal.

i think the news of his passing and stress kicked me over the edge. I threw up blackish stuff and my stomach hurts a lot when i experience even a little stress or anxiety.

i saw my doctor and she said it’s either a stomach ulcer or im pregnant. i kind of doubt im pregnant yet, but there’s nothing wrong with being mindful. im pretty sure it’s an ulcer though, ive read up on symptoms and they make a lot of sense with how ive been feeling physically.

im on some (more) meds and my doctor said they’re chemo grade painkillers. They taste awful. They do help my tummy though, which is nice.

i feel like im still picking up pieces from my uncles passing. i feel like im trying to learn how to accept that he’s gone and it’s so hard. ive never experienced the death of someone close to me before, so i guess im devastated. I’ve never felt like this in my life except for losing pets.

im remembering more traumatic crap from my horrific childhood. its hard trying to take care of adult responsibilities when both my mental and physical health isn’t the best right now. i know its not the worst thing ever to deal with, but i guess its new and unpleasant territory so navigating things has been difficult.

i really wanna make more art and create stuff. i sprained my left (non dominant) arm so i couldn’t even practice drawing with that arm lol.

On the upside, my cousin who went to art school was around for our uncles funeral said my left handed drawings are improving, and my sibling said im improving rapidly. so that’s cool. i kinda hope i can learn how to draw better with my left hand than i do my dominant hand. It would be funny.

anyways. it’s been a lot and busy.

[cryptidsurveys]

Saturday, November 2nd, 2024.

What do you hope you grow out of? Unwarranted self-doubt and feelings of inferiority, social awkwardness, and taking criticism or mistakes too much to heart. My mindset has changed a lot over the last year(ish), but I still have some work to do. Certain employees at the animal shelter (one past and one still present) really made me challenge those beliefs by being the externalized versions of my fears. It was either give in to what (I believed) they thought, or push back and recognize that their opinions might not be entirely accurate. And now, with the new cattery staff, it's about letting my guard down and allowing myself to feel valued by people who actually think well of me.

What is the healthiest and unhealthiest thing you do on a regular basis? The healthiest thing is probably volunteering. It's like a social, mental, and physical boot camp. It's forced me to prioritize other healthy habits in order to keep up with its demands (eating well, sleeping well, time management, keeping on top of my mental health/coping mechanisms, overall consistency/routine, etc). Without it, I don't think I would have grown as much as I have. Everything I learned up until that point was nothing more than "theory," whereas now it's grounded in practice and reality. As for the unhealthiest things, probably smoking and needless worrying/overthinking.

When looking for a SO, what three things are most important (besides looks)? Open and honest communication, the ability to trust each other, and respect for each other as individuals.

How much do you judge a person by their appearance? Not that much…? It's kind of a difficult thing to quantify. Like, it's not "zero," but it's definitely not the main factor. Especially after getting to know someone, I don't even really see their appearance, but their personality instead.

What is the most embarrassing thing you own? My old journals. I would die if anyone got their hands on those. Heck, I might even die if I read them…which makes me wonder why I bother keeping them around because it certainly isn't for the memories. ;D

What is the strangest habit you have? Maybe daydreaming about certain things/fictional people.

What movie made you cry the most? I never really cried over movies until relatively recently. Wild Robot made me tear up quite a bit.

What was one of the happiest moments of your childhood? I can't think of a stand-alone moment. It's more of a collection of vignettes - holidays, snow days, camping trips, sleepovers, pizza + movie nights, hanging out at the park or roaming the neighborhood on my bike…

What was the worst date that you’ve ever been on? I've never been on a particularly bad date.

What’s your favorite vacation memory from when you were a child? We really only went on one big vacation - a trip to California for my dad's best friend's wedding when I was 11. We stayed in San Francisco for a few days, then San Jose where the wedding was held, and on the last full day, we went to a beach (the name of which I have now forgotten). My favorite part was probably the beach.

What impression do you try to give when you first meet someone? These days, most of the people I meet are in the context of the animal shelter, so I try to come across as helpful, friendly, and easygoing. My shyness probably gets in the way of that, but hopefully I succeed to some extent.

Who or what inspires you to be a better person? Again, people at the shelter. I'm kind of rolling a handful of personalities into one here, but I admire their steadfastness, positive attitudes, leadership abilities, sense of humor, social savvy, etc. They don't know it, but in a lot of ways they're my model for how to become a "proper adult." Like, if so-and-so can get up and do this day after day, then there's no reason I can't learn how to do it too.

What’s the TLDR description of your last relationship? Unstable, unhealthy, very "on again/off again," very "hot and cold." Like a bonfire that would flare up only to die down just as quickly.

If you found out your current life has been just a dream, would you choose to wake up? (You don’t know if your real life would be better or worse.) Maaaybe… One thing about my dreams is that they're often a darker, more dramatic, and warped version of reality. Like my various "anxiety" dreams - almost nothing is that bad IRL. So, based on that, if I'm dreaming now, then my hypothesis would be that my true waking life would be somewhat better. But who knows. It's giving "portal" vibes and y'all know I'm not about to go through a portal.

What dumb thing did you believe for a really long time? It's a toss-up between certain conspiracy theories and characters like Santa and the Easter Bunny.

What are some things you would you like to achieve before you die? I don't really have any grand ambitions. I just want to be able to support myself and live a simple, comfortable life. I would also like to know what life is like without an eating disorder.

Where would you like to retire? I honestly haven't given much thought to my retirement.

What brings you the most joy in life? My loved ones (cats included), volunteering, nature, my favorite YouTubers/podcasters, delicious foods, creative expression, the whole holiday season, etc.

What is the best and worst part of your personality? Best - I'm fairly understanding and considerate, I have a good sense of humor, I like making other people feel good/feel seen, I'm helpful, etc. Worst - I can be irritable when stressed, tired, or hungry, I'm a little too drawn to drama/gossip, I can be selfish/needy, etc.

How would your perfect partner treat you? Ughhh. I'm gonna go make lunch now, lmao.

[mypsychoticmoodboard]

April 6th, 2024

I often think about the Ernest Hemingway quote, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a type writer and bleed." And I do think that is the easy part. It is when you get to the point where you are trying to make sense of all of that bleeding where it gets messy. The words will come out, but they do not always make sense. That is where I am at right now.

I am 375 pages into a novel that I have been working on for the better part of 9 years now. Since it was written throughout the years, some of the writing is out of touch with who I am now, and since I never took the time to really read it through in its entirety until now, I am finding that there are plot holes that need filling. This weekend was the perfect opportunity for me to take some time to fill those plot holes, but I just do not have the bandwidth right now.

And these changes are happening slowly. I am taking the time to write for maybe an hour or so a day, and over time it will get done. I took a step back to take the pressure off of myself, but I was just born with a 'too much' gene. I want to throw myself into it. Get lost. Do nothing but write, edit, and polish this thing. All the while, I am feeling like I need to stand back and get some perspective. So I am going with the original plan. Have fun. Take my time. It will be done when it is done.

I am trying to get better about trusting in the process too. I am just such a control freak. I want to know all of the pesky details, so I can try to micromanage them.

On another note, I am feeling the pressure at work. I hate my job, and there is no other way around it. I try to be nice and say that I like the people I work with. I do not. I would not be friends with any of them in my personal life. They make my job way more complicated than it needs to be with their inability to make decisions quickly. And it has been eating at me slowly for some years now. Years.

If I had it my way, my full time job would be writing. Just writing. I feel entitled to that too. Why am I not being given the opportunity to have that? And the thing is, that I will, just not now. But like I said, at my core I am an impatient control freak. I want it to happen on my time, and that time is now.

Me leaving this job has to be timed correctly too. I keep seeing videos of people being like "no job is worth your mental health". All the while that is true, I also need to make a living. I like living in a nice apartment, and I like being able to pay my bills. Hopefully I am teaching myself some grit by staying with this bogus job for the time being.

I am going on vacation at the end of May, so I am waiting for that to be over with, and then I am giving myself the permission to leave. That is when I will begin my quest into really looking into new jobs. My next frontier is out there, and I will find it. It is just looking a little stormy right now.

(***Self harm trigger warning***)

On a last and more morbid note, when I am finding that I am getting very sad, I am feeling the urge to hurt myself again. I used to cut myself for a few years, and it was a way that I could get my aggression and sadness out. And the worst part of it all, is that I liked it. I liked cleaning up the blood afterward, and I liked how the cuts burned in the shower afterward. It felt like the manifestation of my mental pain in the physical realm. It was putting a name to the face.

I will never, ever go back to that. And that I know for sure, but to have those urges come up makes me realize that those pesky thoughts will linger until the end of time. You never really officially get over anything; it just becomes easier to deal with.

And I have just been thinking about it more because I have been getting quite a few tattoos within the last 6 months, and the sensation is similar but not the same to cutting myself. And I like it. But at least with this, I am getting art on my body instead of scars that take years to fade, but never even go away completely.

This was long-winded, but it just feels like I am standing at the precipice of change. I am no longer fighting the winds of change. I am going to let them carry me--the best that I can.

[soildmud]

yalllll my gf just bought me bg3 today and i was so excited because its been on my wishlist for like ever and stuff so as soon as it allowed me to i started installing/downloading it—IT TOOK THREE FUCKING HOURS!!!!!! BECAUSE I’M POOR AND CAN’T GET SHIT TO OPTIMISE DOWNLOAD TIMES!!!!!!

but the worst part of it all….IT WON’T OPEN. it stopped responding every time i tried to open it up (i’m a mac user so i am already at a disadvantage) so i desperately look online as to what i have to do and according to steam i have to Verify File Integrity which i thought they were supposed to do after everything downloads, hence why it took 3 hours, because it took an extra hour to verify everything—but apparently there might be a file corruption or something idk i’m just a girl i know nothing about these things. BUT GET THIS: THE FILE VERIFICATION IS GOING TAKE OVER 24 HOURS TO COMPLETE. oh my god. why did i choose to quit my job and not save for a Real computer. why did i not ask for that for christmas. (no one had the money to buy one, that’s why—which is fine, i have never asked for anything expensive for christmas) WHY DID I HAVE TO GET ATTACHED TO BIG HUMONGOUS FUCKING GAMES THAT KILL MY LAPTOP!!!!!!!!!

i am usually a patient person yknow. i have willingly gone on 3 day nonstop car rides with my family of mentally unwell and untreated people. i have gone through almost 12 years of american public education without ever asking for accommodations to my crippling mental illnesses or deteriorating health. i have done hour long layovers while sick from anxiety and stress in airports full of stressful stimuli. i have gone thru a lot. but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back i think. as soon as i saw the number fluctuate between 22 to 1D 8hrs i just about cried. i felt defeated. i nearly threw a tantrum like a toddler because of this. i wanted to start pulling my hair out of my head and furiously scratch my skin until it bled out of pure and unbridled rage and frustration. (i am probably autistic and i think someone told me this could be a meltdown???) but i only merely grabbed my hair very harshly and started hyperventilating for a couple minutes before i sat down on my bed and started doing eye makeup. why??? idk.

all this is to say i am not happy with BG3 right now, even though the issue is not all with the game, but the fact that i am attempting to play it on a heavily aged macbook air that definitely was not made for playing anything above coolmathgames.com. my spring break is nearly over. i have like three days left. i just want to enjoy my freedom a little longer by making my little OC in this game and then putting them through The Horrors. i will update you all later, it is now 4:08AM and i have not slept for almost 24 hours. i feel sick to my stomach and my head hurts, but i think it’s because i made the foolish mistake of drinking about 20oz of coffee (which didn’t even taste good btw, because i had to make the coffee with a creamer that Wasnt my beloved oat milk creamer—i cannot enjoy my coffee if it is not made with the oat milk creamer. nothing else will suffice.) and then proceeded to make four different rainbow loom bracelets (i just bought the monstertail loom after debating whether or not i should) in rapid succession without breaks. i also watched eight episodes (maybe more) of the watcher podcast, because the coffee gave me extreme anxiety to the point where i had to carry scissors with me every time i left my bedroom because i was convinced there was someone in my apartment (but what would scissors have done??? i am incredibly out of shape and have never even fought another human being physically since i was under the age of 10) and the scissors were the only thing that would make me feel safer. and my phone in case i could hide and call 911.

sorry for the brain dump i am just incredibly sleep deprived and am waiting for my wife’s return from work—which should be soon! which means i’ll be okay and no longer anxious or stressed. SEE YOU LATER GUYS MIGHT DELETE THIS BUT IDK !!!!! SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON MY DOWNWARD SPIRAL!!!!!!!

[life-with-geo]

January 8th

Hi, I’m back (almost started with hi guys, then remembered I have no followers lmao). It's been a week since I posted last, and I think I'm going to start posting every Sunday at 9:30 PM, essentially right before I go to bed. To be honest I don't know how long I’m going to be able to keep that schedule up, I might be taking on too much, but hey, we shall see, things change all the time. 

In the week thats passed, not too much has happened. School started back up on the second, unfortunately, and I’m already drained. Ever since my visit to the hospital, everything is so much more draining than before. I hope eventually I’m able to pick myself back up from this burnout, but apparently, the time it takes to recover from burnout is about 3-5 years. I don't have 3-5 years to heal from all this lol. 

We had a project due the day after we came back to my AP Lit class, our personal portfolio. I had a lot of fun writing it over the semester, but I also hated it. It took me through a lot of emotions and lore related to my past. I talked about my mom, my most recent failed relationship, and my failed friendships, all of which made me sad. I also talked about my grandma though, and my wonderful stepmom, so I think overall it kinda works out in a way. I think the worst part was putting the pictures into the binder. Pictures of my biological mom (you'll hear about her eventually) as well as pictures of my grandma. I may have been a little petty and attacked my ex in the portfolio, which is funny considering hes in that class and everyone can read them. I wonder if he will approach me about it, I doubt it, he's kind of a coward. 

On a much more positive note, things have become slightly more serious with this guy I’m talking to. Some might say it is FAR too soon to be talking to another guy fresh out of a relationship, but it’s been over a month now since the last one, and I’m too much of an all-or-nothing person to be hurt by one guy for too long. Or girl. I just struggle with attachment stuff. ANYWAYS. He’s way different than any guy I've ever talked to, and tbh, its refreshing. He's kind and gentle, but also ambitious and driven. It's something I've always wanted in a partner. I really hope it goes somewhere because he is genuinely so amazing lol. 

This week in the mental health section we have…journaling. Now I know a lot of people just say journal to get your feelings out there but people don't actually talk about the psychology behind journaling, the benefits of it, and WHY it helps. I know this is a pretty basic thing to talk about but its my first post with this little section added so bear with me, it's fine. 

There are a lot of different ways to journal and different kinds of journaling, and it really doesn't matter which one you do, it varies on your needs and what you’re trying to prioritize. I personally bullet journal and have another separate journal for my thoughts and feelings. So a lot of people wonder how journaling can actually be beneficial and I did a lil bit of research and fouuuuund… depending on the kind of journaling you do, it can be either just a release of emotions, it can help track symptoms of mental illness (or physical illness if you suffer from medical conditions, you can track if it’s getting worse or not, especially helpful in cases of people with chronic illness, but again, it varies person to person). Journaling can even help to identify negative self-talk that you may do unknowingly, and you can put in the work to change those negative thoughts into something positive. (All of this information is from a study posted by the University of Rochester Medical Center).

So to focus on the benefits of regular (“regular”) journaling, I’m mostly just going to talk about how it can be done and what to recognize in your journal entries (ITS ALWAYS HELPFUL TO GO BACK AND REREAD THEM EVEN IF IT HURTS, you can see how far you've come, and see what’s changed and whats benefited you throughout your writing journey). Journaling can be instrumental in the progression towards certain goals, as it is an internal reflection, slightly different from a diary, which can be defined as writing about the events of a day, and is mostly a daily thing. Journaling doesn't have to be a daily thing, it can be something you do more often when you’re having a rough time, with long entries full of crossed-out words and scribbles, versus the times you’re doing okay and when the entries are shorter and the words are neater. Either way, journaling is very good for self-reflection, helping you identify triggers and other things that may cause you any amount of emotional stress.

I think my favorite kind of journaling is bullet journaling, which I’ve only been doing for a short while but it’s very different from my thoughts and feelings journal. My bullet journal is something I use to keep track of assignments and also my habits, my reading, and things I've watched, I might start using it to track screen time. I also use it to track the story I’ve begun and this blog as well. It’s becoming very helpful when it comes to the planning of my future and the progression of my goals. I personally never found my thoughts and feelings journal to be very helpful when it came to goal progression, but it’s different for everyone.

One of the best parts of a bullet journal is the creative freedom that comes with it, of course, that’s not for everyone, and some people may simply choose a more minimalistic setup, or they may just not bullet journal at all, but that’s seriously one of the most therapeutic parts. Its a very chill process, I personally stole my setup from a YouTuber who I like, so it’s not my own creativity, but thats something Id like to do someday. 

Anyway, that wraps up this week's post, we shall see how this does, I might mess around with the length of posts, as this one got pretty long. See you next Sunday :)

[iwishtobeastorm]

Cabur - Chapter 3

Alpha!Din Djarin/Omega!F!Reader

A/N: Hey babes! So, I've finally finished this chapter, I hope you'll like it. Please don't murder me for how long it is, I just couldn't control myself, I'm sorry. As always, let me know what you think! I luv uuuu 

Warnings: jealous Din hihi, matchmaker Omera (my favorite Omera)

Masterlist | Chapter 4 

Hardest week in your life. A living hell. An infinite misery. A nightmare. That's how you could describe your last heat.

Seven days of you squirming in the bed, rolling from side to side in the burning sheets, sleepless, exhausted and so so alone. You've never been hurting so bad in your whole life, no heat you've ever experienced before was this awful, this strong. And you knew too well why.

It was because of him. Because his Alpha lures in your Omega, because something pulls you to him like a magnet, because you got so used to his presence you feel like someone teared off a part of you when he's not with you. Because his presence created this illusion your Omega fell for instantly, that he might be something close to your mate, even thought it's not true. He left you here, he left you alone, because he doesn't want you, because he doesn't really care. And there's nothing you could do about it.

Omera kept taking care of you the whole time. She was the only person you allowed in the house during the whole time. She brought you food, bathed you, brought you clean sheets and cleaned up the mess you've managed to make. She also checked your health condition every single time she visited you, knowing well how hard this is for you especially when you wanted Din by your side and he refused. She comforted you while you cried in the moments of clarity and she made sure you had privacy when your heat reached its worst peaks. Just like your mother always did.

Little do you know that she talked to Din every single night through the com he initially gave her to contact him if anything went wrong. She was trying to persuade him to come back and spend at least half of your heat with you but he declined. He made sure he took enough bounties to keep him busy for almost two weeks.

Omera wished she could do more. More to ease the turmoil of your poor soul, more to ease your pain, both physical and mental but she couldn't. It was tearing her heart apart when she sat in your nest with you many times, your whole body curled up to ease the cramps, your head in her lap as you cried silently, while pouring your aching heart out to her. She wished she could drag Din back to you by the stupid scruffy cape of his and smack him with his riffle until he would finally realize what he's doing to both of you.

The last two days of your heat were more bearable. You even spent a few hours each day outside, talking to the kids or the elders in the village. It truly felt like home but you missed Din and the baby.

It took you about two more days to recover fully, before you were back to your usual self completely. You even began to participate in the daily life of the villagers. You took care of their kids just as you did at your village and you made a couple new friends. You learned more about the community and the lifestyle and you took a liking to all of that. But it couldn't overshadow the fact an hour didn't pass without you thinking about Din and the baby, about where they were now or when they were coming back. Omera refused to tell you. You thought she wanted to surprise you but the truth was she didn't know. Din wasn't able to tell her for sure, even though the amount of bounties he collected outnumbered those he had left to hunt down a long time ago. By now he was just hesitant to return to you, afraid to face his own regrets and fears.

He eventually decided to come even sooner than he wanted at first, mostly because of the baby. He was so restless and fussy without you. Din had never seen him like that. He wouldn't fall asleep until Din wrapped him in one of your old dresses, that still smelled like you, wouldn't eat without Din playing all those games you usually do with him - like pretending the spoon was a spaceship. He needed you more than Din did, even though that was debatable.

And so after two long weeks away, the Razor Crest lands on Sorgan again.

You're playing with the children by the river behind the village, building small houses for the dolls you've made for them with your new friend, Kaya. You collected some branches and rocks and you've made your own little village. It keeps the children busy and it'll give them more than one practical skill for life, which is always a win-win for you.

You're just finishing the doll you've been working on for about a week now, when you hear loud voices and cheering from the village. Even the kids notice, looking at you curiously, waiting for an explanation. Before you can do anything, your other friend, Zay, appears by the river, getting there from the direction of the village, panting from the running, his full cheeks flushed red. You look at him with silent question written in your eyes and he takes a deep breath before blurting out:

"The Mandalorian is back."

The kids start cheering, all of them immediately running past Zay to the village to greet their favorite knight and his child, and you don't wait a second before doing the same.

The closer you get the more you recognize the crowd that gathered around them.

When you get close enough, you can see Din talking to Omera, the baby in his arms, waving his little hands in the air. All that sadness and all that pain you've felt through the last two weeks seem to turn into ether, because all that matters now is, that they're back and hopefully, they won't leave you alone ever again.

You manage to make your way through the crowd, until you stand face to face with Din. Silence captures the whole space as everyone anticipates what's gonna happen. The villagers kind of know how the things are between you and Din and as Kaya told you, they began to make bets about how soon will the two of you finally get together. It made you flustered but it also kind of fed your hopes. If other people can see it, maybe Din will as well.

You stop in your tracks and you stare at Din, your chest raising and falling rapidly, your cheeks burning and it's not just from the running as your heart flutters in your chest, the sight of him and the realization he's finally back are making you euphoric.

The Mandalorian lost his breath the moment you stood in front of him. The light pink dress you wear are perfectly hugging your figure, accentuating your curves and making your skin look radiant. Your hair are reaching your back loosely, framing your pretty face. Your eyes are shining, looking at Din almost piously, which tugs on his heart more than he's willing to admit. You're just as beautiful as he remembers you and he has no idea what to do, what to say, how to make it up to you after all he's done, after all the pain he caused both you and the little one and so he stays quiet.

Lucky for both of you, the child saves the awkward moment by cooing loudly and raising his arms to be held by you. You take him without hesitation, pulling him as close as possible without hurting him anyhow and you pepper his face with kisses, murmuring to him about how much you missed him. Zay and Omera do you a favor and persuade the villagers to give you and Din more space, because they know you will need it.

When it's just the two of you, you take a small step towards Din and then another, until there's not much space dividing you. Just then you look up at him and you can't help but smile softly.

"Hi there," you murmur and Din's sure you'll never know how much he wanted to kiss you in this particular moment.

"Hey," he says, his voice so quiet the vocoder of his helmet almost doesn't pick it up.

"So- did you enjoy your time without me?" You ask and Din recognizes you're teasing him, the tension in his body and the heavy feeling on his chest start to disappear when he realizes what that means. You're in a good mood. You're not angry. That's an amazing place where to start.

"Not really. The womp rat was crazy without you," he states and you chuckle, cupping the baby's cheek and pressing your forehead against his.

"Is that true, darling?" You look into his big brown eyes and he rests his tiny hands on the sides of your face, cooing.

"Really? I'll tell you a secret. I was going crazy without you too," you say and the baby giggles. You press him against your chest, letting him nuzzle his face against your scent gland, your body immediately letting out calming pheromones for the child. Din could cry at the sight of the two of you, his Alpha screaming at him to claim you.

"And what about him, huh? Did papa go crazy?" You whisper to the baby and he coos, looking at Din from undreneath your chin, making smile tug on his lips.

"I thought he's gonna be insufferable," you say, scratching the baby's back. Din chuckles, resting his hands on his waist like he sometimes does.

"How are you, cyar'ika? Is- is everything alright?" He asks hesitantly. You've been waiting for him to ask.

"It- it wasn't always easy, but Omera really helped me. I feel well now," you say. Once again there's not even a hint in your tone, your words or your expression that you're blaming Din, that you're angry at him for the decision he made. You are looking at him the way you always do, the way that makes him feel like he's the only man that exists. You're too good.

"I'm sorry I left you alone," he lets out, clenching his jaw to prevent getting too emotional.

"It's okay, I understand," you say and Din lets out relieved sigh. Of course, you do. You always do.

But actually you don't. I mean you for sure think you understand, but for you the reason he left you here alone is that he simply doesn't love you, that he doesn't care about you the way you care about him. He doesn't want you to be his mate, he's just simply not interested.

Does it hurt?

More than anything.

But is there anything you can do?

No.

You can just hope all the feelings you have for your Mandalorian will one day vanish.

"Omera told me you've settled here pretty well," he states and you smile softly at that.

"It reminds me a lot of my home here," you explain and suddenly you remember the doll you've been working on and you take it out of the pocket of your dress. You've meant to give it to the baby once he comes back with Din. It's a figure of a Mandalorian, maybe a bit too similar to the one standing in front of you but you're sure no one will notice.

But Din does. Once he registers what is it in your hand that you are giving to the baby, he feels his heart doing a little flip in his chest. You've made a figure of him for the baby. He freaking abandons you on a foreign planet when you're at your most vulnerable and you make a doll of him for his foundling. He doesn't deserve you.

The baby immediately takes the doll from your hands, pulling away from your neck and bringing the little Mandalorian closer to take a good look at him, grin appearing on his face once he realizes what you gave to him and then he's showing it proudly to his father, cooing loudly.

"I've been making dolls for the kids here and I couldn't leave him out," you explain, your gaze lingering on the baby, your smile widening at how excited the child looks now. You take such a good care of him, better than Din could ever imagine.

"You'll spoil him, mesh'la," he says and you look at him with a grin.

"Let me spoil him then," you respond, kissing the baby's temple. You've missed him so much. Sleeping without his little form pressed against yours somehow felt wrong and unnatural and it made it hard for you to fall asleep even after your heat passed.

"How long will we stay here?" You ask, knowing Din doesn't really like to dwell on one place for more than necessary.

"We should set off tomorrow," he states and you nod.

"Omera assigned a house to me for my stay. You two could stay there with me, if you want to," you offer, hoping Din will agree to it.

"We will, cyar'ika. If that's okay with you," he responds and you grin, nodding.

"Follow me then."

You're preparing a small snack for you, the baby and Din, while you watch through the window as Winta plays with your little one outside the house, small smile on your face.

Din took a seat at the table, silently admiring you while you work. He offered to give you a helping hand, he's a master at preparing snacks, but you wanted to do it yourself. Din secretly wishes that's a sign your Omega wants to provide for his Alpha and your ad'ika, but there's no way to prove it. Maybe it's just your kindness.

He watches your gentle movements, the way you cut the vegetables a bit clumsily, the way you always wipe your hands on the apron you wrapped around your waist, he watches you as you hum some unknown melody under your breath, swinging your hips just a bit to the rhythm of it, the way you move through the space so naturally, making Din feel like the whole room got brighter than ever just by your bare presence. You might be the light of his life after all.

Just as you're about to cut the bread too, there's a knock on the outer wall and so you turn around to face it, Din's  head tilting its way as well.

"Can I come in?" There's a low male voice reaching your ears and Din watches a smile form at your lips. He unintentionally clenches his fists underneath the table, his Alpha not really comfortable with another man in the house with you.

"Sure. I'm just preparing some snacks," you respond and soon there's a tall young man appearing in the room. He smiles at you while sending a respectful nod Din's way and he reciprocates it, even though the scent of the other man is uncomfortably stinging in his nose, irritating him. An Alpha. It makes Din's blood boil, slowly but surely.

"It won't be long. I just came to invite you both to come to the celebration we've prepared for the Mandalorian's return," the man says and you beam up at him.

"We will come for sure. Thank you so much for letting us know," you say and Din can smell the pure happiness in your scent. He's not sure if it's because of the celebration or because of the stranger in your house and that makes him nervous.

"It's nothing. Omera was busy with preparations so she sent me. I should probably get going to help them too," the boy scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh, should I help as well? I- I'll just finish the snacks and I can be there in a few minutes," you offer and the man grins.

"That would be nice, (Y/N)," he states, making your smile widen. Din grits his teeth.

"See you there then, Bri," you say, following the boy all the way to the door where he says his goodbyes to you too.

You return to the kitchen, humming another unknown melody, soft smile still on your lips. You go back to preparing the snacks as if nothing really happened and Din feels like a volcano right before exploding.

"Your new friend?" He asks, trying to scold his voice to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah. He's really nice. He has a younger sister that I babysat while he worked at the krill farm. I think you'll like him. He's not really talkative, but he's really kind," you say and Din feels fed up with all the praises you let out about the other Alpha.

"He seemed talkative to me," he states, looking down at his still clenched fists and so he doesn't notice the way you glance at him over your shoulder.

"He was just being polite," you murmur, finally finishing the snacks. You put Din's on a plate before you lean out of the window, calling at Winta to bring in the baby.

Din watches your body bend over the kitchen counter, your ass being outlined now more prominently. He finds himself wishing he could come up to you, grasp your wide hips with his hands and press himself against you. He would roll your pretty skirt up around your waist, revealing your round cheeks, that he would gladly squeeze with his hands before leaning down to you, to whisper all the filth that ever went through his head because of you, how pretty you are, how kind, how amazing, how he can't get enough of you. He would claim you right there, pushing his cock into your heat, wrapping his body around yours and letting you cry out loudly while he'd pound into you from behind. Your moans and whimpers would let everyone know how good he can make you feel, how good you're making him feel, what a perfect little Omega you're being for him, his Omega, his, his, his.

But that's just another fantasy of his, one of the inappropriate ones and so he pushes those thoughts away as the kids enter the house. Winta smiles at him, before she heads to you. She hands you the little one and you immediately press him against your chest, giving Winta a portion of the snack you prepared, before you approach Din with a plate for him too, smile playing on your lips.

"Thank you, mesh'la," he clears his throat and you nod softly.

"I bet you didn't eat enough while I was away," you murmur, returning to the counter with the little one, to grab the soup you prepared for him. His favorite. Lots of meat and not enough vegetables for your liking, but that's how the baby loves it.

He coos excitedly at the smell and tries to snatch the bowl from you, but you adjust him in your arms to not let him until he's sitting at the table in the wooden highchair.

Din's eyes follow you through your every step, every movement, his mind replaying your words again and again. You really want to provide for him. Maybe you don't realize it, but you do. It makes his heart too warm.

"Enjoy your meals, I- I'll help with the preparations. You can have a nap later, if Winta would be so kind and played with the little one for a bit longer," you run your fingers through the girl's hair with small smile on your lips and she beams up at you, nodding, while Din feels his blood boiling again.

"You won't eat?" He asks, trying to not let you know what's actually going through his head just at the mere thought of you being there without him, with another Alpha. You even skipped your meal for him.

Din's mind is a mess. It's a cacophony of his want and affection for you mixed with all that jealousy and fear of leaving you alone once it's safe to be in your presence again.

"I'm not hungry. I- I just want to help," you murmur and your eyes are so sincere, that Din's heart almost aches. He gives you a little nod and before he knows it, you kiss the baby's forehead and you're out of the building, leaving him alone with the two kids and the little sandwich cut in the shape of a heart laying on the plate in front of him.

All of your excitement that Din mistaken for your fondness of the other Alpha, Bri, is actually connected to the promise Omera made you. She told you about her plan to prepare the celebration once Din comes back and she told you she has a gift for you as a thank you for your work at the village, which you initially refused to accept, but Omera was insistent. It turned out to be one of the prettiest dress you've ever seen. Apparently Kaya made them for you with a little help of one of the elders. Omera told you to wear them for the celebration and asked Kaya to do your hair for you, to make you the best version of yourself.

It's all part of Omera's secret plan how to make Din finally do something about the two of you. Sending Bri to invite you was just the first step.

You head to Kaya's house as Omera instructed you. You knock on the door and soon the melodic voice of your new friend reaches you, asking you to come in.

She comes to greet you, giving you a tight hug.

"How do you feel?" She asks as she leads you inside, smiling.

"Good. Very good actually," you grin, accepting her offer to sit down at the table in her kitchen. Her scent envelopes you, putting you at ease. It's like lemons and honey, warm and brisk.

"Your Mandalorian is back so there's no wonder," she teases, making your cheeks burn.

"Uhm- yeah. Did you meet him already?" You ask, looking at her as she starts preparing your favorite tea. You've spent enough afternoons with Kaya like this for her to act without even asking you. The familiarity feels nice.

"Many times. He's returtning here from time to time. Everybody loves him and Cara here," she states and you grin at the mention of the ex shock-trooper.

"I didn't know you are familiar with Cara too," you smile and Kaya smirks.

"Maybe more than you can imagine," she muses and you raise your eyebrows at her, giving her a curious look, even though you know too well what's your Omega friend talking about.

"Interesting," you murmur when she doesn't comment on the topic anymore.

Kaya brings the cup of tea to you and stands behind you, running her hand through your hair softly.

"Well, Omera tasked me with doing your hair. I have quite an idea about what I want to do. Do I have your full trust?" She asks, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders. You nod, already excited to see how's it gonna turn out.

"Let me surprise you then."

Din tried. He really really tried to take the nap you talked about but he kept tossing and turning in the sheets, thinking about you and the other Alpha. Not even your sweet scent that literally soaked through the comforter couldn't calm him down. And so eventually he gave up and putted his armor back on, before heading out.

He passes by the children playing with the dolls you've made, his heart thrumming faster in his chest at your everpresent kindness. He approaches the group of villagers preparing a bonfire for the upcoming evening, asking about you and Omera. They send him to search for the two of you at Omera's house, where the food is being prepared and so he thanks them with a nod and heads there.

Omera's in the kitchen, surrounded by maybe five other women and girls, Betas and Omegas, but none of them are you, which makes Din's nervousness grow, his veins burning.

"Where's (Y/N)?" He asks when Omera glances at him with a smile.

"I'm not sure. Why?" She asks, putting the pie on the counter, acting as if nothing was really going on, which is not really helping Din's inner struggle.

"She said she'll help you with preparations so I was hoping to find her here," he explains, keeping his tone calm.

"Well, she's probably out picking berries with others," Omera smiles at Din.

"Where?" He wants to know, clenching his fists at his sides in impatience. How could Omera let you leave the village without Din? Who's protecting you now? Bri?!

"I don't know for sure, Din. Maybe she's not there at all. Don't worry, (Y/N) is able to take care of herself on her own. Besides, I bet she's with Kaya, Zay and Bri, so there's no need to stress about her," she says, getting a taste of the sauce one of the girls has been preparing and she comments on lack of salt, her nonchalance driving Din crazy.

"If something happens to her-," he mumbles, cutting himself of when he realizes he's basically threatening his own friend.

"Nothing happened to her for the past two weeks. There's no reason why something should happen now," Omera states calmly, turning fully to Din finally, her comment making him clench his jaw.

"Why don't you sit down by the fire and wait? The celebration will start in a moment so she'll be back soon for sure," she says to him, trying to put him at ease, making him sigh. He eventually nods and hesitantly heads out of Omera house, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of your presence but he finds nothing. He would lie if he said he's not worried. It's getting dark already. Leaving you somewhere alone is dangerous. Anyone could show up and hurt you. Din would rather die than let them take you away from him. You and the baby are the only nice parts of his life, his redemption. He'd be lost without you.

He shakes those invasive thoughts away and decides to look for the baby before you appear, wanting to have at least one of you by his side, because that always makes him calmer. He circles the house you live in, but there's no one, neither Winta nor the baby.

But then Din's ears pick up a sound, full of happiness, excitement and life, a laughter. Yours and Winta's.

He follows it, until he finds himself standing in front of one of the houses. The door are open, which is like an invitation for Din to peak inside. But maybe he shouldn't, maybe you're there with the other Alpha. What if- no, no, definitely not. Winta wouldn't be there if you- Dank farrik.

Before Din is able to decide what to do, you're on the porch, the laughter dying on your lips as you stop in your tracks, when you register his presence.

Din's breathless. He's so lucky he's wearing the helmet that perfectly hides his awestruck expression.

You're so beautiful. You wear a white dress that perfectly hug your figure, accelerating your curves, making your skin look even more radiant. Your hair are braided around your head, creating a crown, small pink and purple flowers stuck in them. You look like the nature itself. Pure, gentle and mesmerizing.

"Oh, Din. There you are," you find your words first, smiling at him sweetly.

Before Din's able to say anything, Winta runs out of the house and bumps into you, the child in her arms, his hands extended forward, grabbing on your skirt now.

"The monster caught you!" Winta exclaims and you giggle, taking the kid into your arms and kissing his wrinkled forehead.

"Guess I've lost again," you murmur. Din feels like he's dreaming. You definitely look dreamy.

"What would you say to playing hide and seek after the dinner?" You turn to Winta, stroking her dark hair.

"Sure," she grins.

"Would you let other kids know, please?" You smile and she nods, squeezing baby's hand before running away to let her friends know about your plans for future.

When she's out of earshot, you turn to Din, who's been drinking in the sight of you like the finest spotchka.

You've never looked so beautiful. But he thinks that every time he sees you. You're too much for his old heart.

"I-I've been searching for you," he chokes out and your smile fades a bit. That's not what you've expected him to say. You hoped that maybe, just maybe he could compliment you this time. But it seems like there's nothing you could do to catch his interest. It makes you disappointed in yourself, but you decide to bury it deep, because you know Din might sense it in your scent otherwise.

"Oh, I- I've been with Kaya. She made these dress for me," you explain, doing a little spin to show him, holding the baby close, Din's heart jumping at the sight of you.

"They- they are pretty. You- you are," he says, scratching the back of his neck nervously, his cheeks burning. You look at him, surprised, as if no one ever told you that before.

"You think so?" You murmur, your cheeks warm.

"Yeah. Just- mesh'la," he states and you curve your brows in confusion.

"That's what it means?" You ask and Din wishes he could run away. You're too smart.

"Uh- yes," he nods, biting on the inner side of his cheek. The smile that spreads through your features is brighter than Tatooine suns and it warms Din heart more than anything ever did.

You rest the baby against your hip and you approach him step by step, until you stand about a feet away from him, your scent creeping in through his helmet, making his nerves tingle and his Alpha groan.

"I- I missed you while you were away, Din," you say, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours and he could faint.

"I missed you too, cyar'ika," he states and your smile grows a bit.

The child coos, raising his hand towards Din and so you let him take the little one and press him against his beskar covered chest. You look at the two of them with something so tender in your eyes, that makes Din want to say something really really stupid.

"I was worried you won't come back," you admit, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. Din's surprised by your words. How could you ever thought he'd be able to leave you?

"I'd never do that," he says, a hint of finality in his words, which reassures you.

"Din I- I have to tell you something," you start, but before you're able to say anything else and explain yourself, Kaya emerges from her house, wide smile on her lips.

"You two better hurry, the celebration is starting now," she states, tilting her head towards the bonfire, shining in the twilight of the late afternoon, the villagers already gathered around it.

"Sure," you smile at her and slowly follow her to the bonfire, grateful for the interruption. When you look at it now, it was stupid to want to confess to Din. Maybe this was a sign you shouldn't.

You feel his broad body behind you, like a shadow, the baby cooing in his arms. Kaya suddenly trails away to check out if her other friends are already by the bonfire too, leaving you and Din alone, which makes you anxious.

He catches up on you so you're now walking side by side and he clears his throat, your body stiffening in anticipation, your nervousness growing.

"What did you want to tell me, cyar'ika?" He asks, sensing the change in your scent, that confirms you want to share something very important.

"I- I- I don't know how to say it," you murmur, looking down at your bare feet, your hands tangled behind your back as you're trying to ease your panicking mind and find the words you are searching for.

"You know you don't have to be afraid to talk to me, right?" He says, trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible. You nod, biting on your lower lip.

Din's whole body is so tense, that you might thought he's actually a droid, not a person hidden behind the beskar armor.

He's afraid of what you're about to say, your nervousness making it even harder, since his Alpha keeps going crazy, begging Din to let him ease all your worries, to protect you and keep you safe. He's terrified. What if you want to stay here? What if you realized this Alpha, Bri, might be much better mate than Din could ever be? Would you leave him and the child for a life here?

Something in him screams no. That's not who you are. But could he blame you after all of what he's done?

He doesn't even know if you ever felt the same about him for Gods' sake. Even if you did, would he ever be able to let it out? To let you know what he truly feels? Would he be able to get over his worries and insecurities?

"I- I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're by my side. I can't imagine traveling with anyone else," you glance at him softly, small smile on your lips. It's not what you initially wanted to say, but it's a safe thing to say without having to lie to him.

It's too soon. Too soon to tell him the truth. Tell him how much you love him, how much you want him to be your mate. You've never met anyone like him. You know he's the right one. But you don't want to be the one confessing first. Not unless you have evident proof about his potential feelings for you. You don't want to mess it all up by pouring your heart out to him. What you two have, the partnership, is too precious to let your biology ruin it all.

"I'm glad to have you too, cyar'ika. We both are," he states and the little one coos as if to confirm his words, making you smile, your hand enveloping his.

You reach the crowd gathered around the bonfire like this, like a pretty little family. That's not what you really are, even though that's exactly what you want to be.

The older villagers sit on pelts or small blankets, all of them chatting, laughing and sharing meals that Omera prepared with the other girls. They all look so content and at peace that the homey atmosphere immediately puts you at ease, which calms Din as well.

There's a music playing, the melody so wild and rhythmic and freeing, making your toes curl as your body wishes to subdue to it and join the few young people dancing all together around the fire.

Gods seem to listen to you this time, because before you know it, there's a hand holding yours and you're dragged into the circle. You find out the one who took you there is Zay, flashing you a bright smile, before he turns his head forward to not bump into the girl holding his other hand. You try to follow their steps, laughter escaping you here and there when you either fail or succeed. Kaya soon joins, parting you and Zay.

"You're doing really well," she compliments, her voice louder than the music, otherwise you probably wouldn't hear her at all.

"Thank you," you grin.

It's so easy to laugh with Kaya by your side. She brings so much fun into the dancing, becoming the leading figure in the circle, adding steps and changing directions, making you all exchange positions, so you end up standing next to completely different people. You find so much delight in the dancing. You haven't been a part of something like this ever since you've left your village. It feels amazing.

Din found his place on one of the blankets, sitting down with the baby in his lap, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You fit here so well, even though you're standing out above all of them with your beauty and your grace. Your laughter makes Din's heart jump, your smile causes tingles in his chest, the swaying of your body fills him with want. He wishes he could be there and dance with you, share the pure joy that radiates off of you. But that's not where his place is. He should sit here like he does, with all the people his age and not even think about joining you, the younger generation. Just watching you brings him enough happiness anyways.

Until you end up standing next to Bri, you two exchanging small smiles, before the dancing continues. Din can't help but feel the stinging jealousy bloom in his chest, penetrating his heart mercilessly at the mere sight of the two of you together. He wishes you could be his mate, that he could have his mark on you, so everyone would know you're his and nobody would dare to even look your way. But these are nothing but wishes.

When the song is over, you let go of the people by your sides and you join them in the applause for those who play for you. You feel the bit of sweat that gathered on your back and your forehead and you wipe it away from your face, looking around to spot Din. You find him sitting on the blanket, Winta next to him, holding the baby in her arms, the two of them playing with the dolls you've made while it seems like she's talking to Din, his helmet facing her, so he doesn't even notice your lingering gaze.

You don't wait a second, before you head to them.

"Din, come! Come and dance," you're grinning at him, your hand gently grasping his and before he even knows what's going on, you're trying to get him to stand up, which is not really working.

"No, cyar'ika. I really shouldn't," he shakes his head and you stop with the tugging and you look at him with a pout.

"Please. I want to dance with you," you say, hoping your puppy eyes might help, but he shakes his head again, refusing your proposal.

"Why not?" You ask, kneeling down in front of him, completely ignoring the fact others began to dance without you as you are looking at him. The fire is mirroring on his armor, painting it all the pretty colors of orange, yellow and scarlet, except for the pitch black of his visor, that's now tilted towards you.

"I- I don't know how to dance," he admits and you smile softly.

"That's not a problem at all. I can teach you. What I know is not a lot but it should be enough," you offer, straightening up and extending your hand towards him once more in silent invitation.

"But not here," he states, raising his index finger at you, making you giggle.

"Of course," you smirk, accepting his condition if it means you get to dance with him.

"Would you watch the little one for us please?" You turn to Winta, who's smiling up at you, while the baby coos.

"We will, don't worry," Omera appears by your side with two bowls of food for the children, making you smile.

"Thank you," Din gives her a short nod when he stands up and Omera grins, returning the gesture. It seems like her plan works so far.

"Come on then," you murmur, grabbing Din's hand in yours and leading him away from the crowd, giggling. He trails behind you, indulging in your scent, the warmth of your hand that soaks through his glove and your excitement for something so small and simple like dancing with him. You really do enjoy his company, there's no second guessing about that.

You stop far enough from the crowd so they can't see you in the darkness but close enough to hear the music well. You turn to Din, smiling.

"We can start with something easy," you say and you make a step towards him, almost completely closing the gap between the two of you. You are closer than ever and your scent gets more intense, the combination making Din feel lightheaded.

"You put your hands on- on my waist, like this," you instruct, grabbing his hands gently and positioning them on the small of your back, before you rest your own on his shoulders, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, his knees getting weak. The music changes, the melody slower now, calmer, more suiting for the dance you want to teach Din. You start rocking your hips into the rhythm, stepping from one leg to the other and leading Din to dance in this small circle. He's so stiff and tensed, making you want to soothe his uneasiness.

"It's easy, just follow my lead," you murmur, trying to let out calming pheromones to help him relax. His body slowly melts against yours, his hands pulling you just a little closer, which you gladly allow, your chest now meeting his, your eyes never leaving his visor. You feel etheral, your muscles turning into mush because of his brisk scent that's now more perceptible than ever, feeling like a cold supress on burning wound, like a balsam for your nerves and his warmth, that you can feel even through his leather gloves. You're getting lost in him completely.

"You finally relaxed," you murmur, smiling at your own words, making him chuckle.

"And you were quiet for more than two minutes. Impressive," he states and you laugh.

"Oh, stop it! You know I can stay quiet for quite a long time," you oppose.

"No, I don't," Din smirks underneath the helmet, when he notices the death glare you gave him.

"I'll be quiet now then," you state stubbornly, making him chuckle.

You two then move into the rhythm together in complete silence, your expression slowly turning from the feigned offended pout, to something much softer until there's a smile on your lips that makes Din's heart do crazy things. He's holding you so delicately, as if you were precious, while also keeping his grip strong enough to assure you stay pressed against his body. Your cheeks burn at the intimacy of the moment. You've never thought this will ever happen, that you'll be like this with Din. It feels so good. So natural. As if it was meant to be since the beginning.

You look up at him, finding his visor already tilted to allow him to gaze at you, your smile widening at that.

"I'm so glad you let me to teach you how to dance," you say, making him scoff.

"I'm glad too, mesh'la," he states, the petname making you bite on your lower lip, when you now know what it means.

"I could teach you more, if you want to," you offer.

"This is fine for now," he says, swiping his thumbs over your back in soothing circles, making your heart clench.

"Din I- I have to tell you something," you blurt out, making him stiffen in anticipation, his attention all yours.

"I know I probably shouldn't but- I- I really like you," you whisper. Your throat got so tight, that your voice wasn't able to make it and maybe that's good, because you might've start crying if it did. You know you're putting yourself out with this, you know you didn't want to be the one to confess but this, this whole thing, how good it feels, how right, it must mean something.

He stops, freezing to the ground, not even sound leaving him, making you immediately regret your decision.

"I- I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have. I- sorry," you apologize, tears rising in your eyes as the burning pain in your chest hits hard, your hands sliding from his shoulders as you're about to run away, the heaviness of the moment getting too much to bear for you, until his hands envelope yours, keeping you in the place.

"Cyar'ika, there's no need to apologize. I- I feel the same," he admits quietly, your eyes widening at his words. You can't believe it. You stare at him, unable to do anything, say anything. It feels as if everything you've ever considered to be reality just blended and the only thing left is you and Din, standing in the middle of the darkness, looking into each other's eyes, your hearts beating in sync. He feels the same.

You feel the same. You feel what he feels. Is that even possible? Could you, this sweet perfect Omega, ever feel something so tender to someone like him? Could Din ever get so lucky?

He slowly raises his hand to cup your cheek and only once he feels the warmth of your skin against the leather of his gloves he believes that this is true, that it's real. You close your eyes at his touch, melting against him, into him, smile appearing on your pretty lips. Din lowers his head until his forehead meets yours, you gasp at the contact of your burning skin with the cold beskar. A Keldabe kiss. His first and hopefully not his last. You don't know how much it means to him, you don't fully understand the weight of Din's gesture, but you still feel it's something special, something, that makes the moment fragile and so you raise your hands to rest them on the sides of his helmet, holding him close to keep him like that for as long as possible. Just you and him.

You're not sure who speaks first but-

"Alpha."

"Omega."

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

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[thatnarcissisticfeel]

hi! so i don’t rlly know how to even phrase this but lately i’ve had a lot of stuff getting worse, none of the “basic” diagnoses i have (like depression and anxiety and stuff) describes it at all. so i’ve started questioning if i maybe have a personality disorder bc it’d all make sense, both the behaviors and how i see the world and why its only getting worse and more noticeable now etc.

i keep finding myself in cluster B PD traits and lately ive been reading more on NPD and i genuinely completely see myself in the description of the covert subtype. i always blame others for everything and am completely unable of accepting or feeling guilt. nothing is ever my fault, its always someone else doing something or provoking me or it’s the way i was raised or it’s because of the system etc. i’m deeply insecure but hate showing any kind of vulnerability. when i’m in a vulnerable position i get ashamed and angry bc i cant stand feeling weak. i often get so angry i do shit that could easily destroy all the relationships i have. i never apologize (unless it’s a situation where i have to in order to save the relationship but still never actually feel sorry) bc that’s showing vulnerability and admitting i’m wrong. i always compare myself with others, i used to think this doesnt apply to me bc i generally don’t care about typical things such as popularity and status as i’ve always been an outcast - and it’s kind of a major part of my identity that i feel different than everyone else (even though its most likely just how i was forced to learn to cope with being excluded), but i’ve come to realize i absolutely do always see myself as “the worst one” in terms of mental health. i can’t stand others talking about their issues bc no you don’t even have it that bad at all, i’m worse. i feel like no one will ever be able to truly understand me bc the majority of people are npcs anyway. no one thinks for themselves, they dont have any self awareness and just do what they’re told. i treat others like shit but still expect them to be nice to me because i deserve it because i’m sick. i deserve more attention from doctors because of how unwell i feel. i should be the one that gets treated first. i obviously never voice these feelings but it makes me so pissed off when i have to wait like i’m never important enough for anyone. like there was this one case when i had to wait longer for my appointment bc some girl came in due to an emergency and all i felt was angry and annoyed and like when is it my turn to get taken seriously?? i completely lack affective empathy and very rarely genuinely care about others. others being sad annoys me and others being happy makes me angry, sometimes even to the point of having homicidal thoughts. i’m envious of pretty much everyone who i consider better off than me. and again i dont mean shit like money or clothes but more like just the ability to be normal, having close friends, being in a relationship, all that stuff i know i’ll never be able to have bc of my mental illnesses. i’ve never been able to form genuine relationships, i do have a few friends but they all mean nothing to me and are just there so i’m not lonely. i’ve never been able to feel love or affection for anyone. and when i think abt it i dont even really want to be like them, i just want to make them suffer. i lie to everyone and only reveal my “true” self when im having a breakdown and basically cant control myself anymore as i have so much suppressed anger inside i sometimes feel like i have to genuinely put effort into stopping myself from physically attacking others; who cares abt words when im that far gone. and even then i later turn it around and make it seem like im just depressed and stuff (which is true, but theres also so much more no one knows about). everyone around me considers me a shy meek polite nice caring person and it just feels so ironic.

idk what to do at this point, genuinely. writing it all down like this makes me sound so fucked up even though i act relatively normal when i’m stable enough. but in reality i feel like on the inside i’m just breaking, i’ve had to turn to drug abuse as its literally the only thing that helps me cope with everything & prevent me from being even more destructive (towards both others and myself) and its making me even more short tempered when im sober and even more paranoid someone’s going to find out and get me in trouble. my therapist knows about it but doesnt do shit. ive been on so many psych meds before but its as if literally nothing ever works on me. like i would never normally seek advice on tumblr out of all places but i thought just maybe i would get understood here as i keep getting just either ignored or insulted on places like reddit (sure jan calling me a psycho is definitely going to help my issues when all i did was fucking ask how to cope with my issues).

sorry abt the wall of text. do you have any advice? ive been going to therapy for years but its all useless. i cant be honest with anyone for pretty obvious reasons. i just really dont feel like living for much longer. but even just acknowledging this ask and not judging me would mean a lot.

I obviously can’t diagnose you, but I will say a LOT of what you said is behaviors that and I other NPDs do, which makes me think that even if you don’t have it, advice and such that is geared towards pwNPD could help you. Unfortunately there isn’t much self-help geared towards pwNPD (I say self-help bc clearly your therapist is not a good therapist for you and I know it would probably be difficult to get a new one), but DBT workbooks are a good place to start. I think they’re technically geared more towards BPD, but they can definitely still help narcissists. Stuff like this is why I hate how much NPD is stigmatized, because we all DO deserve help and we all DON’T deserve to feel like this.

It sounds pretty basic, but are you a part of anything like online NPD/cluster B support groups, ie discord servers? Obviously they’re not a cure-all, but even just being around people who have the same thing and who you don’t have to mask around can help. If you don’t have any I could happily provide some if I can find a public one. Of course, communities like that can be a hit or miss, but it’s definitely at least worth a shot to try to find a group of people who are struggling with the same thing.

Another piece of advice, which might sound completely neurotypical on the surface, is to start journaling or writing down feelings. It might seem like just a small thing but having a place that only you can access where you can talk about things like vulnerability could be a good starting point, because at least you’re admitting it to yourself and getting it out there in some way. Lying to everyone and not being able to show your true self is really exhausting, so having one space that’s yours and yours only where you can learn to be comfortable with being vulnerable — even if it’s just to yourself — is a tiny thing that can work wonders. It doesn’t have to be some super dramatic “dear diary, woe is me” type thing, it can be something as simple as “Today I fucked up, and I know I fucked up, but I still blame xyz, I hate xyz.” That way you’re getting the vulnerable thoughts AND the angry thoughts out there without 1.) hurting others with the angry thoughts or 2.) having to show vulnerabity which would hurt you.

Of course the end goal might be to “unlearn” the behaviors, so to speak, but that can’t be done overnight, and until it is done, it’s better to have a few places to be open, even if it’s just amongst yourself or other pwNPD.

I hope this helped, lmk if you need more advice — and definitely know that you’re not alone, as cheesy as it sounds.

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[queerautism]

“It could be that, but it would be a good idea to rule out physical causes like iron deficiency, lack of vitamin D, etc. First.”

im anon for the exhaustion ask, ive gotten tested to see my iron levels n stuff, their high but not to like, a concerning degree, just above average. i dont believe it would be lack of vitamin d since ive been living similarly to as i do now in twrms of things that i’d get vitamin d from and never had as many problems with exhaustion.

depression seems more likely since my mental health has been dying for like, 2 years now, but i dont want to seek professional help even if i should because that would mean dealing with problems i dont want to deal with no matter what that i dont believe i can detail. self destruction, to keep it vague. but ive never had this much problems with exhaustion n shit til now in terms of mentally? its only really surrounded physical stuff which i thought died out awhile ago. and its not like… crushing sadness, really. mostly just numbness so?? hesitant to say it, i guess.

… honestly i kinda thought that i was just lazy, haha. might be too? might be making a big deal outta nothing in terms of what i was talking about with exhaustion.

You're not lazy, because lazyness is not an actual thing. You are not making a big deal out of it. You deserve to feel good, energetic and to enjoy stuff.

At the worst of my depression, numbness was absolutely all I felt. I was exhausted and didn't want to do nothing, couldn't be interested in nothing, and I couldn't see it ever changing in the future. But that's depression lying to you. You can get help and things can get better.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

Beloved, I hope you're doing splendid! Your visual art journey has been giving me such life, reinvigoration and renewed appreciation towards the craft as an artist myself ~

Sadly, it is with a heavy heart that I come to vent a little tonight, but I'm nonetheless glad I can whisper my bitter nothings into the safe nooks of your your blog's walls.

I was coerced into a field of study my parents found acceptible. I know they acted from a place of trauma and fear×of job insecurity; in their eyes they were trying to protect and guide me, but they wound up hurting me more than I ever anticipated.

When it comes to school my parents are very strict, relentless. I'd tried to fight them and exercise my autonomy on many occasions, only to end up with their grip on me tightened. That, along with developing mental health issues, left me mors isolated and dependant on them for survival.

At the beginning of last year I started the first year of the masters course on my reserves which left me totally unequipped to face a woman who was course coordinator, lecturer and my personal research supervisor. She saw something in me that she disliked and began a nesrly year long campaign of abuse, gaslighting, bullying and lies against me. She held so much power in the department that I had no reliable avenues through with to address the issue lest I incurred more of her wrath, retraumatised myself and possibly got blacklisted in the professional field (which she reminded me regularly she had the power to do). There was a time at which I was preparing to defend myself but the institution went to great lengths to protect her.

The who affair made me feel as though as I was going insane and the one thing stopping me from mercilessly blaming and gaslighting myself about what happened was that my classmates eventually started to take notice and validated all my concerns. They kindly tried to speak up for me but were also strategically silenced.

I got to a point where I was getting sick, having intense chest pains, my hair was falling out and the like. I told my parents I needed to stop. They sent me to a therapist thinking it would make the problem go away but after the therapist advised my parents that I take a break and be institutionalised for my health, they cut things off and held an intervention for me where they called the whole family in to pray over me and try to exorcize the negative influences and spirits that were "disrupting my education". At that point so many different circumstances had built up that I just wanted to die. I felt so cornered that I admitted it to them but it only angered them and I was dismissed as being difficult and selfish.

When there were 3 months left of the 1st year, the abuse reached a fever pitch and I secretly quit. I felt so relieved when I did and even though the woman tried to hound me for a short while after, my health started to improve. My plan was to find a job and get financially independent, so I could be free before telling my parents the truth, in order to lessen the blow and consequences of the expected massive fallout.

I didn't expect the trauma to start taking its full toll on me after a brief period of improvement. A couple of months passed and it felt like everything suddenly gave way. I spiraled into the worst depression I've ever lost myself in. I sought therapy and went consistently trying to put myself together as quickly as I could but I only seemed to fall apart worse than before each time. I could not function. I also had worsening of symptoms of a couple of mental illnesses that I didn't know I had until then.

I understand that healing isn't supposed to be linear or quick but now it's September and I've only just started getting some strength to live somewhat like a person again. I'm not sure what I can do or even have that capacity to do as the situation also affected my physical health irreparably to a degree. There's no direct solution and I'm very very tired of the only consolations being that everything will turn out okay somehow or that I'm strong and I'll get through it.

Last year I saw things not turn out okay. I was strong and durable until I wasn't anymore. None of the people that know I dropped out believed I would when I first started considering it. They all told me they understood it was hard but that I would be able to push through it like always.

At the moment I'm feeling quite unsupported, scared and exhausted. Confused too as I'm still trying to make sense of the past 2 years with a few other life altering events that I haven't processed enough to get into here. I also feel random surges of intense anger that leave me weeping and feeling powerless. I don't quite know what to do with those feelings and though therapy has helped a lot, progress feels slow and difficult. I'm really trying but I fear it's not enough and I find it hard not to blame myself. If only I'd known this or that, or had been more resilient or maybe I did do something to deserve this. I keep picking yself apart like a scab. Second guessing and wondering if this all is even something worth getting this grandly affected by. I'm frustrated by how seemingly irrational feelings like misplaced guilt, lowered self confidence and quiet hopelessness can have such sway and impact, despite how I've come to understand them for what they are in therapy.

Hopefully this isn't too much of a novel but I have been sitting with these feelings and I just wanted to express them somewhere where I wouldn't be told I just need to think more positively or told that I've been so strong before so that will get me to a peaceful resolution somehow. I don't want to pry at and rationalize these feelings as in therapy. I just want to communicate them as I feel them and leave it at that. Thank you for holding space for that.

I'm concluding now with a sigh of catharsis. Keep doing the lovely work that you do ~

I'm so sorry you were forced into this unfortunate situation. Your parents shouldn't have tried to choose your education for you. Your teacher shouldn't have bullied and abused you. And it's no wonder that both of those experiences messed severely with your mental health. That's not you failing - that's a healthy response to a very unhealthy situation.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

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[fishmongeringstudies]

opening scene, six am, scrambled eggs stuck to your economy class seat

the first thing i bought in america was a stick of deodorant. i'd left mine in singapore though i could've sworn i'd stuck it in my suitcase before i got on the plane, in the turquoise pouch with the chipped zipper beside the advil that would sit there, forgotten, for the next thirteen weeks and a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer that smelled like well-fermented ass. it turns out your memory fails you when you're getting ready to leave everything you've ever known behind, even if the place you're headed for has looked like a hammered michelangelo's impression of salvation for most of your life. it was that kind of time. i was out of my mind and found the space beneath my feet where one expects floor to be empty for most, if not all, of my waking moments. of course i forgot about the deodorant. the real surprise was that i thought i'd remember at all.

the first thing i bought when i got on campus was a bottle of mineral water. it took me two days to realize that the star trek-esque metal fitting built into the wall on the first floor of my dorm building was meant to dispense drinking water and not tiny silver men that would kill me in my sleep, and three to realize that none of the water coolers in this place were functional. jamming my thumb into the button while no longer expecting anything to happen, i was reminded, suddenly and abruptly, that we were in the middle of a pandemic. i resisted the urge to rub my eye with the back of my hand and went back up to my room, where already a small army of plastic bottles had begun to accumulate on an empty shelf.

the first person i spoke to here is not a good person, but not a particularly bad one either. he is selfish and has half-eaten dinner plates for eyes and thinks the world is the size of his fist, which is how most people are when they're eighteen, especially the boys, especially the ones who've never had to answer to the horrible, searching x-ray question, what are you? i only hope he grows out of it. i will not be the one to make him. perhaps he should make an appointment with god.

the first time i cried in america was when i was born (austin, texas, april 25th, 2001). it hasn't happened since.

today i cross the street from the campus bookstore to the bank, thumbing my passport in the pocket of my hoodie to make sure it hasn't fallen out, to make sure they'll be able to identify my body if i'm ever found somewhere wet and starless (behind a beat-up denny's would be good, though i'm not against the idea of waffle house). i spend five minutes standing awkwardly in front of the empty counter, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, before i notice the print-out saying something about online check-ins and virtual consultations. i ignore it. when i finally work up the courage to speak to someone the teller makes me scan the QR code with my phone anyway. eight hours later, long after i've opened my first bank account in america and gotten a bona fide american debit card, bright orange like they're afraid i'm going to drop it on the street if it's the color of slate (i will anyway, because god made me full of homosexuality and hubris and i intend to live up to his expectations), and discovered that i am, in fact, capable of holding a conversation with two strangers a decade my senior who both have wedding rings and big adult smiles and soft adult voices, i get a text back. good news, it says. we're ready to serve you now.

the spring semester ends today. when i was typing up my powerpoint on why i should be allowed to go to america for college at four a.m. last december i remember looking up the duration of the spring semester on the school website. look, i told my mom, while frantically clicking through fifteen pointless, but very cool animations on google slides with my other hand. it's only until may twenty-first. it's not that long. but it's long enough.

it isn't long enough. three months is barely enough time to get someone to trust you enough to tell you what they think about when they're lying awake in bed at three o'clock in the morning and they have to pee but they're starting to drift off and if they get up now they'll never fall asleep ever again in their life. and this is a country we're talking about. the worst one there is. the loudest, the proudest, the weirdest; the closest to the proverbial heart of man. the one that's the happiest to fuck the world up, over and over again. this is not your standard courtship ritual. this is a lifelong investmnet.

one time someone told me he'd always thought he was straight. but then i met you, he said, his brows scrunched together in a way that was both unattractive and made me want to pinch his cheeks together until there was nothing left in between. so what does that make me? imagine i'm standing in that room again but a little removed from the scene. i stare into the camera like i'm in the office. i don't have a fucking clue, i say blankly. why the fuck are you asking me?

there is something about people who have never been forced to consider the question of what constitutes their fundamental identity as a human being. they're so happy, but in the way that toddlers are before they realize that melted ice cream doesn't taste as good as the frozen stuff and things that die, like, actually don't come back to you even if you hold a funeral for the ant you accidentally squished and stop drinking soda for a week and make sure not to step on all the white tiles in the hallway outside your apartment. i imagine all of the happy cishets in the world poised on the edge of a very tall building. what's at the bottom of the drop? i dunno. you'll have to ask them.

recently i acquired seven bottles of nail polish from a friend who was trying to clear out her collection before leaving for the summer. i keep forgetting people are leaving for the summer, and now they've all left. reality hits you like a horse's ass across the cheek. it's warm. it's soft. it smells unpleasant but in a way that makes you want to keep smelling it even though at the back of your mind you know that this isn't going to improve your mental, physical, or spiritual health, and yet in the moment, in the moment that is the now that is the blood coursing through your veins all red and shimmery like glass, in this funny little moment all you can do is stand there, eyes squeezed shut, and inhale.

i convinced my mom to send me my favorite bomber jacket. the postage cost seventeen dollars and fifty cents in singapore dollars but true to form it only took thirteen days to get from one side of the globe to the other. it is not so appalling after all that we are connected by distances. geographically speaking, i am always beside you.

there is at least one working water cooler on this campus. in the basement of this whoozy, boozy freshman dorm, beside the laundry room with its clear glass door and clean, powdery lavender-lemon-jasmine smell, you will find a metal fixture with a thick rectangular button hidden under the lip of the bowl. if you jam your thumb into it, water will erupt from the fountain-head like god pouring life into the mouths of tiny clay-children or goldfish, depending on which version of history you're a fan of, depending on which natgeo subscription you have. and the water will be very sweet, very cold, nourishing the skin on your bones and furnishing the ground beneath your feet. but don't drink from it. we're in a pandemic, after all.

instead go back up, past the lounge with the flatscreen tv and the ratty green sofas, past the elevator that sounds like a soap opera crossed with a minecraft let's play, past the cubbyhole of a kitchen with the moldy sponges and the half-empty bottle of dish soap that smells like van gogh's impression of misery until you get to the room that, for the last three brilliant, battered months, has been yours. and let yourself in.

05.21.21