#dopamine but GOD at what cost

[thatbitchery]

BTW I tell y'all I have severe ADHD once every ten seconds because i want you to know I'm a low performer. I procrastinate on important matters for months and sometimes, most times really, it costs me opportunities and relationships and peace of mind because I'll know I'm supposed to do X but have no willpower whatever to do X. I want you ladies to know that's sometimes I hyperfixate on things with no importance whatsoever and that takes away my energy from things that are important. Hell, just last week I spent 8 hours on my laptop reading on bears and watching beat videos when I had work to do. That I have time blindness and sometimes am extremely late or extremely early or just get days mixed up and do Thursday things on Wednesday because I thought it's Thursday or forget it's Friday and not do Friday things and it costs me, dearly. Expensively. That I am inconsistent as they come and even a machine gun to my head can't get me to do something that my brain rejects. That sometimes I cry for hours because I feel pathetic and sad and too small with dreams too big. That somedays I wake up with the energy of a thousand Suns and start 58868 projects, create a brand new goals list for things I'll do in my life and go strong for three days then just- dump it after the energy falls. Then hate the hell out of myself because what the hell. That everytime I want to pick a new hobby or buy something or make a decision I hesitate because , do I really want this or is it dopamine and I'll dump it after 6 working days, because I have too many WIPs that Im yet to complete but can't bring myself to. That I need 168979 watches with alarms and a digital to do list and a manual to do list and sometimes I'll still get nothing done. That I try, so hard, and sometimes, just can't. And everyone that's supposed to help has the same recycled tips that just will not work for me. That I had medication for a while that worked but my body got used to it and overpowered it, so now even the option for medication is out of the picture - so I have to live like this for the rest of my life. That sometimes I run purely on ego because my self esteem is on the floor. That everytime I get a new opportunity I panic a little because what if I give up midpoint and ruin my reputation?? What if? That I self isolate because when I have too much energy I can't sit still and I interrupt everyone and need to run or I'll combust. That I self isolate because I have low social awareness and could easily say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Because I'm not normal and that feels shameful sometimes. That even CBT hasn't been able to set me straight, but I worked so hard to make money for therapy and medication and it's not working so I've also lost my will to work because what is it even for?????

I could Grammarly and AI my posts and have them professional looking but I want the ADHD girls with a brain faster than their hands to know it's okay to leave some words out because your brain is 6 words ahead of your hand and you're trying to keep up. I want the dyslexia girlies to know you can still write even when you're not sure if that thing makes sense, the people that mind do not matter and the people that matter do not mind. Because I want the 'english is not my first language' girls like me that struggle with adverbs and nouns and tenses and spelling to know hey it's okay, just write. You want to write, write. Do it for you. Forget the rest. I could polish all my posts, I do it for my work and official documents but if I do what will the girlies that need to know they're not stupid, English is just a language and spellings don't matter that much and you can communicate outside perfection see to reinforce their desire?? What will the autistics that want to try blogging but feel scared because they can't arrange their thoughts in a comprehensive manner and get lost in side stories sometimes look at and go oh my god- we exist and it's okay because we can still influence.

I tell you ladies every three seconds that I am a dark skinned black 5'4 slim immigrant in a white supremacist country because I want the girls that fit neither the beauty standards or the stereotypical standards to know they can chase their dreams and it doesn't matter. So the girlies of color that watch news and movies and social media and see people that look like them being murdered and disrespected and read the comments to know yeah, you can still do it, get on that plane. If I don't what will the girls that know for a fact that was unfair treatment look at when they need to know they can still rise above and make it??? If I dont tell you that actually I'm not where I am because I'm the hardest working in the room- I'm actually hella lazy- I'm where I am because I manipulate cheat claw gaslight blackmail my way how will the girls that work hard and still not achieve know that it's not because them it's because the world is unfair and you win by being unfair. I could play good girl , I could, I could tell you just work hard and go for it but then what will the girls that did all that and still failed look at to make sense of the world around them? Justify how things got here when they did everything they were supposed to? I say be a bitch so the girls that are demonized for not taking it lying down can be bitchier. I say learn the patriarchy and fit the beauty standards as much as you can and cosplay what's likeable not to conform but to cosplay and manipulate so that the girls that know it's wrong realize that you should just play them the way they play you - that's real feminism. That's real equality, learning the game to learn how to cheat and win because you were born to lose, the rules aren't made with you in mind so why would you stick to them, and fighting them is futile, you'll lose. I say being feared >> than being loved for the girls that got manipulated used trashed in the name of love. I tell you people are animals that survive by low balling each other so you can make a little sense of your trauma and forgive yourself for what you had to become to survive.

This blog is for the outsiders, actually. The girls that do not see content made that make sense for them, the girls that are born into a world that has no space for them and couldn't fit in if they tried because it's impossible. I'm here as proof you can make it. Autistic dyslexic ADHD black female , ticking all the wrong boxes and still making it. That's why I'm here, to show you how. To show you, you can. It's okay, you're okay. In fact, you're- better.

[imaginedreamwrite]

#3 with WD Bucky please

The picture was sent, fired off to Steve & Bucky while the dress you chose for their awards night was tucked back in the dust bag ready for Saturday night. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and it likely wouldn’t cost as many as some of the other football players’ girlfriends’ dresses, but it fit you well.

The dress was short and sparkly, black in colour, with billowing sleeves that capped at your wrists. The body of the dress was form fitting and short enough to cut off at your lower thighs, and the straight cut neckline was enhanced by a single gold clasp above a small cutout above the valley of your breasts added a delicate detail.

It was by no means exuberant or awe-inspiring, however it made you feel good and you thought it looked good on you.

Oh my god im dating you - the first text was from Bucky, the blatant firing off of a compliment without being outright had warmed your belly.

Like ur mine - the second had also come from Bucky, an interlude before Steve’s text came through after Bucky’s.

Holy fuck - the ping of Steve’s message was sent with a shocked emoji, one with blushing cheeks and wide eyes.

Wow - immediately following the first of his had come the single text, one with fireworks and a flame.

Your confidence and arousal had skyrocketed, immediately heightened by your alphas overwhelming approval of your dress and the picture you sent them. Innately knowing they loved you beyond all reason was enough for you to be rendered amazed and endeared, however receiving this kind of complimentary approval was a whole other thing.

Can you believe how lucky we are? - Bucky and Steve were in agreement, and with their approval came and overwhelming boost of dopamine that flooded your whole body. You fell back onto your bed and turned onto your side, lifting a corner of the blanket they’d given you days before to your nose, inhaling softly as you revelled in their praise.

Saturday can’t come fast enough - Bucky

Fuck, I can’t cum fast enough - Steve

Give us five minutes - Bucky

Your legs quaked and you drew your thoughts together, already anticipating what was to come. You and Steve and Bucky were about to make a mess of your dorm room.

[she-karev]

A Day at the Station (Alex Karev's Sister Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Station 19

Canon Episode: Season 3 Episode 12

Summary: Amber and Jackson help Ben operate on someone inside the PRT. Afterwards she and Jackson have a drink on the rooftop where he reminisces about Mark Sloan.

Words: 2449

Jackson and Amber open the doors as soon as Hughes called in a patient with smoke inhalation and severe burns from the storage unit fire they are at. Vic helps lift the gurney up to the truck as Amber and Jackson glove up.

“I got a crispy one for you.”

“Was this guy living in there?” Ben asks.

“Apparently. I got to get back in there and help the team.” Vic closes one door.

“You just carried a dude out of a burning building.” Jackson states the obvious, “Are you not getting a break or something?”

Vic grins smug, “Breaks are for the weak.”

“All right, look, another ground rule, you cannot be this heroic.”

“Oh, it's like your face. Can't control it.” Vic teases before running back to the fire with Jackson looking on with a grin that makes Amber nauseous. She rolls her eyes at Jackson before slamming the second door inside the sterile truck. Amber gets supplies out while Jackson expresses his worries.

“I do not know how Bailey does this. Watching someone she cares about run into burning buildings.”

Ben hooks up the patient to the rigs air supply, “Yeah, well, she, uh she worried. And didn't sleep. And, uh, then she had a heart attack. I thought you two broke up.”

Amber puts a blanket on the patient, “So did I but I guess their genitals didn’t.”

“We did, but that doesn't mean I want to see her die in a fire.”

“Well right now I kind of want to see my ex die in a fire.” Amber bitterly admits before their patient wheezes heavily waking up. They try to calm him down.

“Where am I? Everything hurts!”

“Sir, you were badly burned in a fire, but we're taking care of you. Karev give him 5 ml of morphine now.”

Amber does so while the man talks, “My wife…”

“What, is she inside?” Ben asks.

“No. No…She died five years ago. She would be so mad at me now. I lost my house. I've been living out of a storage unit.” They look at him in sympathy as they work, “She would say, ‘Luke, God can only do so much for you. You have to help Him help you.’ She would tell me to stop being so proud. She would…”

Luke coughs and Jackson adjusts his mask, “Deep breaths.”

Suddenly the monitor shows his heart rate dropping, “Yeah, his BP's dropping. Start dopamine.”

Amber administers the drug while Jackson listens to his chest, “Got muffled heart sounds here. And JVD. Damn it.”

“Yeah, he's definitely got fluid around his heart. He'll die if we don't drain it. Tube him. I'll get the ultrasound.”

Jackson grabs the laryngoscope but finds it difficult as Ben and Amber can see, “Problem?”

Jackson keeps trying, “Uh, no, it's just been a while. Usually, all my patients are intubated by the time I get them into the OR.”

Amber steps around to Jackson’s spot, “Okay give it to me I did three last week.” Jackson moves so she can hold the laryngoscope and successfully intubates, “Got it!”

Jackson attaches the tubes to the rigs air supply looking bashful, “Sorry it’s just…it's kind of like having a Lamborghini mechanic tune up a pickup truck, you know?”

Amber narrows her eyes at the comparison as does Ben who calls him out, “So…you're a Lamborghini?”

“Don't.” Jackson tells them regretfully, “I-I heard it as soon as I said it. Please do not tell Vic I just said that.”

Ben grins, “No promises.”

Amber grins as well, “I can promise but it’s gonna cost you buddy.”

Jackson sighs while he preps Luke for the drain output, “How much?”

Amber grabs the aspiration needle for Warren, “Next weekend with Harriet all the diapers are yours.”

“Fine.”

“And the spit ups.”

“All right deal.” While Jackson waves the ultrasound wand around Luke’s chest Ben inserts the needle in to drain the fluid. Amber debrides the burns on Luke’s face before applying topical antimicrobial applications so he doesn’t get infected before they take him to the burn unit, “Careful not to pierce the heart.”

“I'm in the pericardial sac.” Ben and Jackson look at the ultrasound in shock with Amber noticing as she applies the dressing.

“What is it?”

“There's no fluid coming out at all.”

Amber sees the ultrasound confirms that, “So what you were wrong about the fluid around his heart?”

Ben shakes his head, “There is definitely fluid around the heart. I can see it.”

“Too thick for the needle, maybe? There is something, something's off here.”

“Pre-existing conditions?”

“Like lung cancer or HIV? Uh, lupus, I guess?”

Amber applies the last dressing, “It would make sense he was living on the streets for years who knows what he was exposed to before that storage unit. Can we check the hospitals or free clinics?”

Jackson groans, “I mean, we don't have time to get his real records, so what are we supposed to do in this situation?”

Ben takes out the needle and turns to them, “We got to open him up.”

Amber and Jackson look at him surprised with Jackson speaking for both of them, “What do you mean? Here?”

“We're in an OR, Avery and Karev.” Ben hands them both surgical gowns in packaged bags, “Get used to it.” Jackson and Amber look at each other in shock before tearing off the bags.

Later

Amber suctions while Jackson and Ben view the heart that is shown from the ribcage spreader. She looks around the small space still shocked by them operating open heart surgery inside a truck.

“I don’t think were in Kansas anymore Toto.”

“Of course you would be Dorothy. Does that make Warren the lion or Glinda the good witch?” Jackson quips back.

“Okay, so we're through the linea alba and into the retrosternal space.”

“I'm telling you; this patient needs a cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“I already told you, I'm on it.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jackson asks Ben, “Are we going to Grey-Sloan now?”

“No, he could die during transport.” Ben turns to the tablet pressing buttons, “And the whole point of the PRT is to render treatment immediately. So, if you can't bring the patient to the surgeon…you bring the surgeon to the patient.”

Maggie’s face pops up on one of the screens above and she smiles, “Hi! Oh, you guys look so cool.”

The idea of Jackson running into both of his exes in one day causes Amber to laugh out loud. The comical coincidence makes her forget about Andrew refusing to take her calls while he is God knows where. She sees that her friend doesn’t find this funny though even with Warren chuckling. Jackson glares at her, finding his predicament funny but she keeps laughing and smiling.

“What? You wanted me to laugh so…” Amber keeps snickering behind her mask with Maggie looking at Jackson confused.

Ben answers for him, “Don’t ask.”

Later

They are at the end stages of their open-heart surgery with Maggie on the screen guiding Ben and Jackson while Amber suctions, “Okay, there's the diaphragm, so retract downwards.” Jackson does so, “See the pericardium?”

All three of them answer at the same time, “Yep.”

“Make a small incision.” They do so, “Okay, now suction everything out.” Amber suctions the fluid out, “And leave a tunneled catheter in the sac, and you're done.”

Jackson looks at the screen pleased with the results, “Ah, look at that. Pressure's going up. Heart's increased contractility. Very nice.”

Maggie smiles holding a mug on the screen, “And I didn't even have to get my hands dirty.”

“Thank you, Maggie.”

“Next time, I'm doing it in real life. That truck looks so cool!”

Amber chuckles, “It is, and I’m speaking as someone with claustrophobia.” Maggie signs off and they get back to work.

“Okay, let's, uh let's finish up.” Ben notices a look on Jackson’s face, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Jackson chuckles, “Yeah. It uh I guess it just feels, um…”

“Like maybe you were asleep and now you're awake?”

Amber nods in agreement with Ben and Jackson speaks out giddy, “It's intoxicating.”

“Jackson, I have to say with everything going on in my life this rush of adrenaline was just what the doctor ordered.” Amber admits while she sterilizes the tools handing suction to Jackson who grins, “I mean for five hours I didn’t feel like yelling at the sky or punching the walls or lying in bed and eating cereal out of a box while I play online poker. Nope today I was a surgeon and not a pissed off ex-girlfriend…and that makes me feel like I beat DeLuca even without a confrontation.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Jackson grins, “And you know if you ever want to talk about DeLuca, I am more than willing to lend an ear. I have my own messy history with April and Maggie and Vic so I can relate.”

“Thank you…And I guess I was a little hard on your ex back there at the station.”

“You have a lot of rage and rightfully so.” Amber nods at Jackson’s analysis, “Maybe don’t take them out on a girl I care about who you know doesn’t deserve a verbal beatdown. You of all people know how hurtful those can be.”

“Yeah there’s only one person I want to rage at and he’s not here…he doesn’t want to be here and he doesn’t want me there.” Amber admits sad.

Jackson looks up at Amber in sympathy, “Then he is the biggest idiot in the world. You deserve a good guy Karev and you’ll find one. Screw DeLuca and if it will make you feel better and let you purge, I can give you your phone back and you can leave him a message that tells him what he has made you feel for a while now.”

Amber inhales as she suctions, “I think about it after we get this guy to a hospital.”

Ben nods, “Yeah let me radio the captain and let her know were transporting.” He presses the screen, “Bishop, my patient is stable. We are headed to Grey-Sloan for further treatment.” There’s no response for a few seconds causing Ben to worry, “Bishop?”

The radio fizzes and Maya’s voice is heard, “Copy, Warren.”

The tone of her voice puzzles Warren, “Is something wrong?”

Maya answers back, “Cap…Captain Herrera is on the roof.”

Ben looks shocked before turning to Amber and Jackson who look at him confused, “Finish closing and get him to the hospital.” Jackson nods and they work on Luke while Warren steps out of the truck. Amber and Jackson look at each other in worry over Captain Herrera but put their emotions aside so they can work Luke and transport him.

That Night

Amber sits back in an Adirondack chair on the roof of the station overlooking the city view in the nightlife. She is still in her PRT jumpsuit not having the strength to take it off, instead going to the roof as soon as she and Jackson got back. She looks on in sadness over Captain Herrera’s death and how much in grief the firefighters are over a man she met this morning. It makes her feel guilty that she was angry enough to wish a man she loved dead while a daughter is grieving her father.

She hears a sound to her left and looks to see Jackson standing by the chairs also in his black jumpsuit. He puts a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the small wooden table next to her. He looks sad as well while he pours them both a glass silently before sitting in the chair next to her. He exhales tiredly holding the glass and Amber takes hers. Jackson holds his up to toast and she does as well.

“To the great hero Captain Pruitt Herrera.” Jackson toasts.

“To Captain Herrera.” They clink their glasses and take a sip to honor him. Amber exhales at the burning whiskey going down her throat, “How is everyone?”

“Their quiet, most of them went off on their own when the shift ended. I think they’re just waiting for the dam to burst so they can swim through it together.” Jackson sips his whiskey, “Is it weird that I feel guilty for being sad about his death?”

“Not really, I feel the same too.” Amber admits and elaborates, “We only knew the man for a day and they’ve known him for years hell even Warren has more right to grieve than us and he came last. He was their captain, their mentor, their role model…I don’t think we can comprehend what their feeling right now.”

“…I can actually.” Jackson admits, “When I was a resident, I had this mentor who took me under his wing and helped me find my passion in plastics. Mark Sloan was the chief of plastics and before Richard Webber the closest thing to a father figure I had.”

Amber nods knowing who he is talking about, “Mark Sloan was a legend taken from us too soon.”

“Damn straight.” Jackson sips his drink before chuckling, “You know he had this nickname for us that I thought was dorky but now I think is cool. We were the Plastics Posse.” Amber chuckles at that with Jackson grinning nostalgically, “Kicking surgical ass and taking names, that was us. He really did treat me like a son, everything he knew he passed on to me. I think he would have been proud to see me operating on a call inside a truck. And he would have been jealous and pouty that he didn’t get to do it first.”

Amber laughs, “He sounds like a great guy.”

Jackson grins to himself, “Yeah, he was…and when he died, I felt exactly how Warren, Vic, Montgomery, Bishop and Andy feel right now. Like I lost someone who made me who I am today…I wonder if I make a big enough impact for someone to feel that way about me.”

Amber looks at him solemnly, “I would feel that way with you. If you died…I don’t know if I would go on this life without you.”

“You would have.” Jackson tells her, “I did with Sloan and you are the strongest of us both. I know you would keep going, because if you didn’t, I would haunt your ass.”

Amber grins at him, “I appreciate that and I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too.” They clink their glasses again and look at the beautiful night sky mourning for Captain Herrera and Mark Sloan knowing that no matter what they would have each other to get through the storm of their lives.

[starstarfishbone]

i been alternating between stability and insecurity. been panicking at the thought of losing feelings, of getting hurt, and at the idea that there is no meaning to this. been seeing the crushes are crutches, are a way for the meaning barred from entering any other area of my life to find fufilment at the cost of realism. getting serious about redistributing the emotional meaning to a more sensical and balanced system, where my creative process doesn't feel so shallow and bleak, where my vanity is allowed to exist, where i am allowed to feel love without designating it as the One True Purpose (at the detriment of my own stability - obviously this is not sustainable), and where i'm allowed to just kind of explore how i feel without the panic of feeling "the wrong thing". it is hard to let go of the immediate dopamine hits from fantasizing about a romance that might be a little forced in my mind but it became much easier when i realized that my feelings, this time, didn't exist in that fantasy, but instead in the reality of this connection and this person who i feel genuine love for. and this really solves a lot of the rushing, panicking, worrying.. this decision that i really don't need a label for this, as cliche as that sounds. this accepting of cliche moments.

i was really distraught at the idea that maybe i dont want romance, mayb i just wanted to get closer to him. but like, then what is my definition of romance? do i even know what this distinction between types of love is? and was there not a time i sat next to him wishing he was the other one, the one i took so long to let go of? i look back and can't fathom how i could be so stupid, so blind to the love i have for jacob. but my mind was a different world. and it scares me, the certainty of this world changing again and again and again. but right now at this moment, things are going well, and my heart is open. i am scared of not actually wanting this, of not actually feeling this. but those videos are just videos.

there are things about jacob that live in my mind, and i'm not sure exactly how true to the real person they are. i suppose that's a really hard thing to know, especially now that we live so far apart. i miss him. i wonder if he misses me, too. i wonder if sometimes he doesn't but he engages cuz he feels kind of bad, he seems sweet that way. i just hope we feel the same, whatever that is. and i hope i can be okay with the truth, whatever that is. i just love being near him, i love when we hold each other. who wouldnt? we definitely have something beautiful between us, at least. i'm overthinking it. i dont need to know what that is. im only thinking so hard cuz i want that dopamine hit, i wanna feel desire. ohhh the dooooom the doom of human emotion!! i wanna feel love but not fear. i wanna see him OH i wanna see him again but WHY and WHY do i NEED to KNOW ok why cant i c=just CHILL lmaoo this is so STUPID GOD ok!! okokokok i JEEz ok i am HUMAN ok there i said IT

whatever

[xsoldier]

So, this type of weird is actually HUGELY important for a reason that's hard to articulate but it has to do with the collective environment in which the modern corporatized Internet forces us to exist.

There're two videos that summarize this pretty well. The first is this one of Hank Green working through the cognitive logic of how we handle some of these things and why things FEEL a way about the Internet that aren't how they actually work:

The second is an interview with Yanis Varoufakis where he talks about the functional mechanics of what this system actually IS and how it's an evolution of Capitalism that he refers to as Techno Feudalism.

Tumblr remains a space that is distinctly… very much not that sort of thing in many important ways because it doesn't really work for that model because it's such a weird hellsite, because of HOW things spread here.

While short form repetitive dopamine mines of old looping Flash videos or YTMND became the algorithmically driven things like TikTok, those old sites were centralized repositories where awareness of them made you aware of what happened on them. While everyone's TikTok feed is so algorithmically different you may never see the same things, Tumblr has EVENTS that the whole site is just sort of passively aware of because they're what that thing IS.

The dissolution of YouTube Rewind represents a moment where that was more distinct for that form of video social media. When the space itself is sufficiently dissected from its inherent cultural weirdness, what remains is just the structure of the thing as a corporate tool, which is what businesses are interested in, but people aren't.

To borrow a famous quote, tumblr is just… “One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.” which is why we need to preserve it at all costs.

Dear Neil. Sometimes I think about the strength you must have to answer the fans' questions, I know that a lot has to do with marketing, but it must be tedious, and it must demotivate you a little from your work. Not only you but also the actors. Thanks for the patience.

It's really not about marketing. That's why I like Tumblr, I think. It's too small for marketing. It only works if it's for fun.

[letsgosisyphus]

Understanding The Nature Of God

God has declared I will never get away with low vibrational sexual exploration. If I scroll for porn, if I do anything sexual with anyone, if I watch porn, I absolutely will not escape Gods wrath. I tested my luck, such as the perils of hubris. Relapsing twice is result. God is genuinely always watching me.

I need to sacrifice a better offering to the volcano. No amount of effort will be adequate once the valve has been turned. It will always end in absolute destruction and squalor. I now believe I understand that this means I must be careful with all parties, there is no more room for hope or flirtation- I can see how it all creates an introverted weakling. I refuse to stop talking to women. I grinded to get here. I know this is the year I stop masturbation and porn addiction within myself for good and become a successful person. I refuse to give up my soul. I refuse to lower my vibration. I am built in the image of the omnipotent. I can achieve any task I decide is worth my action. I am better than you. I am nothing. I am everything. I am imbedded in the awesomeness of existence. I can not be commanded by such a feeble maze.

God as my witness I will succeed where 99% will fail and I will create a product to help them reach my fucking echelon. God is always in my corner and so is he in yours. Pride isn’t the answer, it’s just a defense mechanism. But the real answer is love. Your love for God and his creations and abilities must raise your vibration and realize that porn and masturbation are tools of the devil and they are always going to monitor you and test your loyalty. I am loyal to God at all times. That is my final answer. Even on the matter of not showing up for work I will not escape Gods Wrath. I will balance my excitement like a real adult and stop leaning on extremes. This is just a normal day.

I am grateful for this lesson God so that I may understand your true nature. I wont even so much as hug a woman outside of my family. I am so grateful to be humbled by the most high. How I do one thing is how I do everything and that means I must become a thorough person that doesn’t give anything an inch lest it take a mile. Me and procrastination are destined to wage war and I will have to win every time. I atleast know now how to get 8 hours of sleep so I have a plethora of tools to help me on this purging journey. I will reclaim my honor, mid January to early March 44 days in the navy of no fap and then may-August 92 days of no fap. On January 1st I will be at 288 days out of 365 of no fap. Maybe this is the problem with me. Im doing this thing with pride. I don’t know how else to be. Let me think. I recant my declaration’s…if I take pride I will check the streak and feel dopamine.

This dopamine will fuel the turning of the valve because accomplishment fuels pride and pride fuels confidence and confidence fuels overconfidence and then we’ve reached the sun. I simply need to trust that God will protect me as I would protect myself from all threats to my conscientiousness. I wonder what will become of this hatred I have for it all. I must transmute it into love. This is how you raise your vibration. I believe I know this to be true. God please continue to guid me and help my stupid observer maze trap brain to get unstuck and get free from these silly little mini issues, my IQ is too high to be stuck in a fever dream. I uphold high moral virtue at all times even when Im not seen. That’s all for today slimes, do not procrastinate.

Attack procrastination with vigilance and reap what you sow, you are Batman and every moment if procrastination is a bad guy/evil doer. Protect Gotham at all costs! As a matter of fact attacking areas of procrastination before you even procrastinate is like earning stronger and higher potent jing.

I will not be talking to anyone from OPS nor my highschool friendgroup until 2023. So from August 2nd- January 2nd. I will communicate with coworkers and family til next year. It has to be a punishment for relapsing. It’s not free. So that’s my last point. Slimes will understand that there is even less and less realm for distraction. Retract anything I said before. Im not feminine Ni’ing this. Im not watching Netflix for any reason. I am just getting some of the junk out of my way so that I can actually be a better person. The amount of help I can be today is nothing compared to next year.

If anyone has issue with this so be it, I do not care and I am right about this. This is how you discipline yourself. Blast is rubbish. Im no longer gonna talk about anything or release any content teaching shit at all. Not until I have my own place, good credit and sustainable life. I may evolve in such a way that I no longer even want to blast through YouTube who knows. But yeah that’s all I got. Even this space will be only utilized every now and then by me, if that. I would say take care slimes but it’s delusion, no one is here because I’m not him yet. Tis fine. I’ll just work wiser. If Im not living outside of my families house by next year August 1st, 2024 I am going to record me ordering my people to beat the shit out of me and then having the shit beat out of me. This is because I must lead by example and if not I must be disciplined. The clock begins ticking now.

Actually never mind I am overreacting. This doesn’t actually solve the core issue of my low conscientiousness.

-Slime

[lhazaar]

i hated rock climbing as a kid, which i know is a very specific thing to hate. it was hard and made me feel bad about myself and i didn’t like everyone staring at me suspended in the air. it also hit 70 degrees today and i’ve been going to the beach a lot more, which is great because it’s close and quiet, but not great because i live in the pacific northwest and in order to reach the water along most of the nearby shore i have to climb down, up, then back down a very steep drop-off of very sharp rocks

turns out that the things i hated about rock climbing were 1) dislocating my wrists and knees 2) being stared at and 3) having boobs. it is so much easier to climb shit when i’m not catching Ye Olde Fleshbag Of Holding on the wall every time i try to hoist myself up—and i think i’ve talked about this before, but it also turns out that the kinds of collagen i have mutations in are affected by progesterone levels in your body. going on hrt has made me dislocate way less often (but made chronic pain way worse lol ANYWAYS)

i went up and down the side of a cliff for like an hour the other day just looking at tide pools. there are so many weird things in the ocean. yesterday i climbed out of the water and onto a big rock shelf so i could take a nap and read comics. it’s really fun and i’m really glad that it’s something near enough to me that i can do but i’m also pretty sure it’s activating some primal part of my ape brain that finds climbing around on shit inherently rewarding. a ghost of a little caveman in there just going absolutely wild over using its hands to change elevation. like damn buddy i’m glad we’ve found something to tame the adhd “if i don’t move around right now i will literally explode and die” feeling but it’s sharp rocks over the ocean and i’m pretty sure we shouldn’t actually be doing this because if we slip we're gonna drop like forty feet into the ocean and break all of our asses

[a-traveling-void-human]

Leona to me, is much like me- just meaner and smarter.. So this, THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!! like man.. I want to ruffle his hair- tell him that I love him- I'm so- I AM SO EFMEGEKGKKRT I cannot- HE USED TO NOT BE MY FAVORITE BUT SOMEHOW THIS LION CRAWLED AND HAD A TIGHT DEAD GRIP ON MY HEART- AND NOW I AM BUT A HUMBLE SLAVE THAT JUST WORSHIPS THE GROUND THAT HE WALK- okay I'm going too much, I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT!! I am becoming my inner Rook- Oh mon amour- Holy shit I'm becoming Rook-

In all honesty I really, REALLY love this interpretation of Leona!! Like- YES KING BETTER YOURSELF!!! Even if it's just a small step I will be SCREAMING AND BE A BELIEVER!! You- YOU LAZY MAJESTIC LION MAKES MY HEART SING! IT SPEW WORDS THAT I could never say out loud because I'm fucking stupid and cannot talk without twisting my tongue..

AGAIN- Leona- In this fanfic at least just- MAKES ME SO HAPPY?!?! I'm about to go to college, sleep deprived and then this Lion (and your writing) comes to my house, BARGE IN LESS and gave me DOPAMINE?!?! FOR FREE?!?!? IN THIS ECONOMI?!?!? LIKE BRO- qidkekrkr I AM AT LOST FOR WORDS!!- HE HE- HEHEEEEEEEEEE-

Man.. Why didn't I fall for this man sooner?.. He's so pretty.. (I was distracted with the others- I love them still though-) He's just like me fr fr/in denial..

Good god why is college keeping me away from TUMBLR?!?!? I NEED TO LOOK AT THIS FORSAKEN APP SO I CAN BE HAPPY!! LEONAAAAAAAA i want a plushie of him now..

How much is a plushie of him cost- hold on let me check

God- that's not what I wanted.. It's cheap yes but,

I like em like THESE!! (Ignore the balls)

OH FIND IT! THAT'S THE BITCH!!!!

Now-

I just- need the money.. Broke college student.. fuck.

Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

[graff1980]

Once upon a time the lemons made wine and soured our mind to the inner divine.

When the media sold lies that the children couldn't recognize, sugary selfishness shelved and dressed it up in a cartoon disguise.

Easy distractions, digital satisfactions, video game tv screens for preteen dopamine fiends, the catalysts that capture this ever growing trend.

Separating to a devastating degree and hardly anyone could see cause the static was blinding, shining so brightly that it scorched our spirits nightly.

Wrongly or rightly, inviting voyeurs to sight see whilst severely distracting from the bad acting of the powers that be,

and all that it cost was the wisdom we lost, knowledge grounded to dust because what we loved was getting more stuff;

Life signed away for green paper that says in God we trust, but that’s just a trick made to play and separates us from one another.

-2022

[yandere--stuck]

AHHH HIHI i ship with that clown version of springtrap!!! is there any chance i could get some sweet sweet hcs for the yan clown bunny?

I have literally been thinking about this all night!! It isn't hcs but. I hope it's still good úwù

Also i knows he's not fluffy but. The clown skin looks like it is,, let me have this

---

Special Delivery - Yandere!Clown Springtrap x Reader

It was an interesting idea - being able to order an actual, official Fazbear Entertainment animatronic and send it straight to your house. Apparently, it was for entertainment, company, decoration, or, as the website had stated: "Fun, fun, fun!" 

It was obviously too good to be true, looking back on it now.

And it sure is too bad that hindsight is always 20/20.

It was an impulse purchase, you admit. The thought of owning an actual Freddy Fazbear robot was too tempting to turn up, especially because it was oddly cheap, considering you were buying a fully operational animatronic. Perhaps they had gotten enough customers that they didn't really need to make it too pricey? Or maybe the original cost was always that cheap as a way as to attract a larger consumer audience?

Either way, you had decided on ordering it to get some of that sweet, sweet dopamine. The Freddy Fazbear franchise had always been close to your heart, and it was nice to see them expanding their business outside of restaurants. 

Your eyes lit up as you looked through their catalog, spotting SpringBonnie! Oh, he had always been your favorite! Though, he,wasn't around for long in the franchise - for some reason, they had permanently discontinued the SpringBonnie model, along with FredBear. Seeing him as a purchasable model made you grin, eyes crinkling as you figured this was a way to reintroduce the older models back into the franchise - and what better way to support such an effort than to order one yourself?

Clicking on SpringBonnie, you were taken to a second page. Alongside the origin model, there were other different "skins" you could order. A purple, "toxic" skin, a "flaming" skin, and… The newest one, marked as a "special delivery", for some reason making it cheaper - a Clown SpringBonnie. You certainly weren't expecting this, but… Ah, what the hell. The model was admittedly rather cute, cheaper than the others, and you were treating yourself! So, you added it to your cart and checked out.

The next few days past just as expected - You waited patiently for your package to arrive, going through the motions, thinking back on your purchase and trying not to regret it. God, you hoped it was at least somewhat intelligent, or otherwise you'd really have nothing to do with it and would most likely get bored of it in a few minutes… Oh, God, you hoped you wouldn't regret this.

So, perhaps that's why you were so hesitant to bring the large box placed at your stoop inside - that, and it was rather heavy. As you set it down inside your living room, a feel of foreboding washes over you. You had assumed that it was a gut-feeling of confirmation, that this purchase was stupid, you knew you'd regret it, this was a stupid idea-

Your forcibly dragged out of your train of thought when a large, fluffy arm bursts forth from within side the box. A scream rips from your throat, your legs turning to jelly as the box falls apart, revealing…

Exactly what you ordered. An oddly fluffy, spotted SpringBonnie model that towered over you. It looked around the room, as though it was taking in it's surroundings. It's head tilted down, lifting up it's arms and moving it's fingers, as if to study itself. Its eyes held a light within them, making it appear oddly intelligent.

"Heh, not bad." Oh. You hadn't expected it to speak - especially not in a gravelly, British accent. "Vanny has good taste."

Your mouth dropped open, horror washing over you. What the fuck?

"What the fuck…?" You choked out in a hoarse whisper, almost too scared to find your voice.

It's(?) eyes settle on you, and the machine appears to grin even wider. "Scared, are you?" It asked.

All you could do was whimper in response, too afraid to actually speak. A chuckle emanated from the robot(?)

"There's no need to be afraid, darling," THe SpringBonnie cooed, raising a hand to pet at the fluff of his chest. "Aren't I so cute and fluffy?"

It laughed darkly at it's own joke, but all you could do in reply was tremble with fear, legs just about to finally give up on you.

"So, you're supposed to be my "owner", huh? Cute." The SpringBonnie let out an amused scoff, slowly stalking toward you. You, however, were frozen, too scared to move. "I think I'll keep you."

The thing eventually stood mere inches away, towering over you. Grinning.

It (he?) rasped. "Do you know why they call me "Springtrap?""

You blinked. Your heart pounded in your chest. 

You shook your head no.

"Because I get'cha!" You screamed as Springtrap suddenly lunged forward, taking you into his arms and- … Pressing you flush against him. And as much as you waited for the end, it never came.

Above you, Springtrap chuckled. An odd purring sound emanated from within him as he spoke, voice much softer as he pet at your hair. "And when I do, I never let you go."

[onlyhereforangst]

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by @indestinatus 💕

tagging whoever wants to go thru this journey with me & see their accomplishments in this terrible terrible year!

1. List of works published this year:

Oh god there’s a lot, like 70 total in just 2020. I’ll try to categorize them so this doesn’t get too long 😅but here’s a cut for aesthetic on your dash.

Sequels/Partner Fics: Risk It All (for @hellokaelyn), Finally Home (to Come Back), They Always Do & Could She?, Lucky Day & Completely Yours, Fiery Trance (Two Can Play series), Obsessed (Particular Taste), Soul (to Ignited)

Smut: My Turn (sequel to My Pleasure), Worth It, Maybe We Should, Make it a Double (also a fic request), Shall We (AU)

Fic Requests: Coffee Run, Hold Still, Typical, Deal, Needed It, I’m Home, For Science, Cry Me A River, From Your Dreams (AU), Crystal Clear, Tempt Me, Your Fault, Prove It, Silent Proclamation, A Hundred Suns (angst smut), Duly Noted

Stand Alones: No More, Never Let Her Go, Life is Fragile, Pandemics & Peach Drinks, To Need and Be Needed, Never Let Go, Coming Home, Priceless, Behind The Mask, Need a Hand?

Angst: My Daisy, Status Quo, Can I Stay, I Refuse, Deal

Series/Multi-chaptered: Back Off (Better Apart, Missed The Mark, Change Her Mind, But You Do, Layered Love), Electrified (Don’t Stop (Senorita)), Here By Faith, Forgive & Forget, Angstober ‘20 (Never Has & Never Will, Only In My Head, Long, Long Gone, Do Something, Take Care, Waiting to Burn, Survive the Hell, Find Her, Never Ended Well, At All Costs, One Thing Right, Stay Away, Echoed Back, Smart Man, Not Interested, Flake Again, Release, Slipping Away)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Here By Faith mainly because of the topic. Pregnancy & Infant loss has been such a taboo topic for so long and something I have personal experience with so writing this was very therapeutic. 

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Shall We and only because I truly wanted way more plot in this and it turned out to be essentially just straight smut with a tiny bit of plot. But it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ok I had 70 fics to choose from not breaking down chapters so I’m sure I’m missing something, BUT I do love - omg typing this out I realized it’s from a fic in 2019 so I can’t use iiiiiit 😩 ok so here’s a couple excerpts. I loved typing out this stream of conscious partner fics (They Always Do & Could She?):

They Always Do:

Yet this time, this time she didn’t have the chance to rebuild. Like a Trojan horse, he waltzed right up to her and slowly dismantled her defense. Joke by joke, smirk by smirk—Nick took each brick down with care. The worst part? It was so subtle, so thoughtfully done, she didn’t even notice it was happening. Didn’t see her chest being pried open, beating heart on display for him to see, and take. Never realized her greatest defenses were missing until it was too late.

That love- precious, fragile, delicate love- had managed to grow again. In her desolate, cold heart, Nick managed to bring to life an emotion she had long given up on. An emotion she was too afraid to ever feel again. Because with it came agony.

They leave, and you’re abandoned- picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.

When you love, you lose. Always.

Could She?:

But-

Even if that was love, even if he loved Ellie with his whole heart, his entire being. Was that enough? Was Nick enough? Was he deserving?

A resounding no clanged around his skull like a church bell in a Southern town on Sunday morning. He wanted to silence it, stop the shrill metal sound that started any time he pictured forever. Any time he truly thought he might deserve to love, even after all he’d done. After all the unimaginable things he’d done, the horrors he’d seen, the pain he’d caused. That bell sounded, loud and clear.

How did he deserve love when he couldn’t bear to love himself?

[...]

Could she love him despite all his misgivings? Could she love him even when he didn’t love himself? Could she love him when there was a risk he’d be taken from her too soon?

Could she?

Please love me.

But please be sure.

There’s been a couple of other inner monologues that I have absolutely loved (I like to think it’s semi my speciality? But maybe that’s super arrogant of myself?) but that’s a different post for another time.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I said it recently but I *love* when people pick out specific line(s) from my fic and choose to comment on those. More often than not it’s a line I was so proud of either prose-wise or foreshadowing-wise or whatever and I get literally giddy with excitement that someone not only noticed it but also loved it enough to comment on it 🥰but truly any kind of comment is dopamine-inducing 😉

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

As some people may have noticed (& maybe not because I did still semi-run the other main ellick blog despite it) I was somewhat absent for most of the summer/fall. I struggled for the first time in my life with mental health issues, borderline depression after being in a shit work environment, an essential worker with a company that claimed to “care” about us, a community that I once loved but showed their true colors in the midst of the pandemic & election, add in a rough pregnancy & it was a recipe for disaster. I didn’t want to even move from the couch most days let alone write. 

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I had a lot of fun writing short excerpts from different characters’ perspectives (Jimmy, Kasie, McGee & Gibbs) in my Angstober series & honestly wouldn’t mind doing that again!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

Honestly not sure, I think I’ve just generally grown as a writer - better descriptions & descriptors, better dialogue, better plots. But that could all be me seeing things 😂

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I’d love to look into writing more seriously. My husband is convinced I could write an episode script or a novel, so I may look into trying my hand at that (even though I feel I’d be god-awful at it 😅)

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Hmmmm I always appreciate the support I’ve gotten from the ellick fandom despite it being rough this year for us, wonderful people like @erinchristmaselvis, @thekeyboardninja, @hellokaelyn & @wanna-be-bold are always there to either hear me vent or cheer me on ☺️

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Haaaaah yes. Lots of it (but I bet you can’t tell because I only add mini snippets so have fun finding those easter eggs 😏)

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Always, always, always write for YOU. Not for anyone else, the kudos, hits, comments, none of it. Write for YOU. And I say this as a reminder to myself as well, it’s so hard to get bogged down in that dopamine-induced craze we search for in recognition but it’s so important to not externally validate yourself rather internally validate yourself on baby steps of growth & accomplishment. 

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

LOL how about all my WIPs? All of those stories I started forever ago that people call me out on not finishing months later when I swear they’ve forgotten about them 😬

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

Hmmmm lemme pick one from each category because I’m indecisive 😉

Sequel/Partner Fics: Lucky Day & Completely Yours (the aaaaangst)

Smut: a tie between Maybe We Should & Make it a Double

Fic Request: A Hundred Suns (because I love me some angst smut)

Stand Alones: Pandemics & Peach Drinks (hahahaha because this was in an Insider news article at the start of the pandemic hahaha so on brand #2020)

Angst: My Daisy (I looooooove this one, but also all of the angst category lol)

Series/Multi-chaptered: literally not one of these is finished and they’re all heavy angst so take your pick 😂

15. Year word count: 103,050 in 2020 which seems like so little 😅

Here’s to 2021 being the year I finish WIPs! she says knowing she’s lying

[jayslashthem]

well, seeing as my first post got a lot more attention than i was expecting (shoutout to the 7ish people who started following me because of that post, you guys rock!) i should probably follow up on my promise to infodump, huh? the current title of my W.I.P is Destiny Defied, here's the long, rambley pitch:

The land of Myinth is ruled over by 11 god-like beings known as Deities. These Deities claim ownership of that which makes up the world, everything from death to the arts, prophecy to the skies above. The Deities occasionally mortals with a speck of their power, in exchange for a favor, of course. These empowered mortals, known as Disciples, used to be extremely rare but, as time has marched on, they've gone from "lucky if you ever meet just one once" rare, to "you probably see 5 a year" rare. These Disciples gather themselves into factions and fight other groups of Disciples, for teritory, power, or simply because the other group dared to choose another Deity to fight for. These battles cause catastrophic damage to the land around them, and, if the battle is feirce enough, end up creating Beasts, bestial creatures that are essentially slices of the Deities raw power given form. These battles keep continuing to ramp up in scale, and their consequences threaten to tear Myinth apart.

Enter The Eleven. A long time ago, back before all this current conflict, Myinth was a lot bigger place. Unfortunately, having such a large swath of land to rule over had the Deities streached thin, leading to hundreds upon hundreds of Beasts ravaging the land. Many thought that these Beasts would bring an end to the world, but those people were wrong. Instead, the Deities, apparently realizing what was happening, formed The Eleven, a group of eleven Disciples, one of each Deitiy, whom had been gifted especially strong powers. By working together, The Eleven did manage to prevent the Beasts from destroying Myinth, but it came at a cost. All of Myinth, bar a U.S. sized coastal chunk was rendered basically uninhabitable. Now refered to as the Wanderer's Wastes, the abandoned land is still ruled over by Beasts to this day.

With the world yet again threatening to end, the Deities issued a prophecy foretelling the coming of a second group of incredibly powerful Disciples, The Second Eleven.

so, yeah, as you can see above, Destiny Defied is a high fantasy chosen one story. generic, i know, but im hoping to set it apart from the crowd by focusing more on the interpersonal relationships of my main cast than on having epic fight scenes. not saying that there won't be any epic fight scene, but its gonna be rarer than i believe is normal in high fantasy stories. another thing thats unusual is that i don't really have an overarching Big Bad? oh and 0 of the characters are straight. not even the villians.

so, i was originally gonna put bios for my 3 mcs in this post, but i believe i'll leave that for a later post because 1. writing character bios is hard and 2. then i can include my major side characters in the same post.

well, i hope you all enjoyed this ramble/summary of my w.i.p. ill try and get more out about it soon because i really do enjoy sharing my creativity with the world. thank you all for the attention and dopamine, ill see y'all in another post

[person who asked to be tagged in my infodump: @garcamirigis ]

[obutsuwrites]

A Little Wicked (overhaul x reader)

Summary:  “Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited.

warnings: non-con~!

word count: 3,460 xxx basically a self-indulgent overhaul smut fic~! oops,,

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ask box is also always open 4 requests or wateva

Notes: 

numinous (adj.) - describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted--the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired

nemophilist (n.) - a haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude

The young adventurer navigated through the overgrown forest, screeches of owls echoed over head; sounds of nature after dark. Thick trees obscured the woman’s vision. Mother nature was finally reclaiming lost land. However, this particular forest held a secret as precious as new life. A powerful sorcerer was said to inhabit this jungle of trees and predators. She knew man-eating animals roamed this land. The woman had grown up on heroic tales of would-be heroes besting creatures of the night. Heroism. Adventure. Glory. Tales she idolized. Titans of old seemed almost god-like to her. Abilities she had prayed for every night. However, her pleas fell upon deaf ears. 

After enduring this for years, she realized she must manifest her own destiny. The allure of magicks too tempting for her quest. She knew it was wrong. No respectable explorer had stood on the back of giants. No. They started small; stories eventually amassing to celebrity. Folk tales repeated for generations. The ultimate means of being remembered, she acknowledged. Mortality no longer applied to them. They gained immortality through legends. 

The young woman sighed. The lantern was her only light source in the decrepit grove. Thick roots ran along the leaf scattered earth. She had already tripped once, her lantern almost shattering. Tonight, even the moon hid. Just like the predators. The hoot of owls were the only sound in the moonlight. She wondered if the fabled Sorcerer of the Forest even existed. The tales of him on par with legends of heroics. Was it possible the man didn’t exist? The land showed no sign of recent travel. Untamed earth. 

She stopped. The sudden thirst hit her senses. Her mouth was like the desert. Quickly, slender hands grasped the gourd that sat upon a leather belt. The woman drank deeply; water trickling down exposed flesh. After a swallow, oxygen-starved lungs greedily inhaled. Earth and pine wafted through her nostrils. 

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. The rhythmic pounding of her heart threatened to leap out from her bosom. Primal fear seeped into her body. Goosebumps painted into her skin. The dame paused, her hand at her side, clutching the gourd. 

Breathe, she told herself, You are brave.

“Who is t-there?” The explorer called, her tone momentarily faulting. Anxiety ridden eyes waited. Could be a rabbit, right?

A gruff voice broke their silence, “Filthy mortal. You have been searching for me, haven’t you?” The man sounded perturbed. As if her very presence was a nuisance. “Well, here I am.” Ungrateful.

The woman blinked. Surely, this wasn’t the Sorcerer of the Forest? The male sounded no older than her. Far too youthful to be such a myth. 

“I don’t t-think you’re him,” she replied, slowly turning to face the owner of the voice. 

Foreign eyes observed her, his nose crunched with disdain. The young man was adorned in black; a pulled hood and avian mask blurring his features. A pristine cloak hung around his wiry frame. Leather gloved hands fidgeted. His posture betrayed his voice, uncomfortability spread throughout his spine.

“A sorcerer. You mortals ask for such frivolous things,” the masked man replied. Despite his age, the Sorcerer of the Forest never quite understood mortals. Useless stories amused them. Inspired them. This caused a problem for him. Rarely the man would receive dim-witted guests to his side of nature. Naive mortals that didn’t understand his terms. They would agree to his services, not realizing the peril. 

A laugh escaped from the woman, a nervous habit. Clearly, this man was mortal, too. Just has a little superiority complex. It wasn’t unexpected. Such a talented display of magic was too prideful. Like a secret to be shared. 

“...okay. Wait. You know what I need?” 

The words hung in the dusk. Disgusted eyes still trained upon her, memorizing her. He looked almost pensive. A leather gloved hand rested against a clothed elbow. The masked man’s dark brows furrowed together.

“Moronic girl,” he chastised, “you desire a strength potion. It’s rather bold to assume I’d stoop to such a vile practice.” The man was a sorcerer, not a desperate apothecary.

Another laugh bubbled from her. Genuine sounds. “You’re a sorcerer. Surely, you mix potions?” 

The woman’s tone was immature. Naive wonder spread across her face. She prayed he would remove the formerly intimidating birdlike mask. It’s shape provoked a primal fear within her. As if she should run as far as her legs would carry her. Instincts screaming.

The man stepped forward, dead leaves crunched under his boots.  

He scoffed, his eyes darting from her. The mysterious man smoothed invisible hairs along auburn hair. His hair looks soft, the woman noted. Perhaps he was an Adonis underneath the beak. With the distance between them shortened, she noticed brass goggles upon gilded orbs. The same contempt within them. 

“Do you even carry a sword? Perhaps a dagger. Oh, I know. You don’t do you?” he quizzed. The man clearly taking delight in her vulnerable form. 

The maiden softly gasped and dropped her gourd to the ground. Her hands now wrung in doubt. No legend about the Sorcerer of the Forest told of his scorn. He was the un-sung hero; the powerful force that provided the hero a winner’s edge. 

She didn’t reply. Horror locked the adventurer in place. Her eyes trained on the man before her. 

He closed the gap between them, the linen of his cloak brushed against the woman’s shirt. “What you desire will cost you.”

Xx

The young explorer had followed the mysterious, angry man to his hut. The design was simple, but presistine. Not a single ingredient or amulet out of place. His shack reminded her of the shaman huts in her village. The after smell of incense a permanent fixture. 

The two discussed their deal. An insistent voice spouted a word vomit of myths. Her eyes alight with passion. The possibility within her hands now. 

“...and that’s why I need this potion, talented Sorcerer of the Forest! I don’t care about t-the consequences.” The maiden stuttered, her excitement had gotten the best of her. 

“I have told you, mortal. I am Overhaul. This fantasy of the ‘Sorcerer of the Forest’ doesn’t exist. Merely stupid childish stories,” the man corrected. His tone stern. 

Overhaul.

Instantly, the woman realized the mistake she had made. The man before her was not the great Sorcerer of the Forest, but his antithesis; Chisaki Kai. A rumored lesser demon in fables. Overhaul being his preferred title. His deals the catalyst for despair in his epics. The being a play on devil’s advocate. A strong occultist that dealt in absolutes. In his parables, the heroes would receive their most intimate desires, but at the grievous cost of their humanity. Their soul.

Her features were clouded by concentration. The temptation mulled over in her mind. Is… Is it immortal to sell my humanity for the greater good? Surely, heroism cancels out sins.

She offered her hand in a show of solidarity. “Please.”

A good handshake was the cornerstone for any business transaction. Even the resident smithy had a crushing grip. A truth the maiden had learned early, the concept of goodwill familiar to her. 

Golden eyes stared at her. His indifferent glare almost seeing through her. 

“Handshakes are informal. If you weren’t so naive, you would know.” Naive laced with venom. Ignorance was a sin to him. Cretins were beneath a messiah. 

Stand tall. Make your demand known.

The nervous woman straightened her back. Eyes meeting Overhaul.

“Sorcerer or lesser demon; I humbly request the potion. Please,” she asked, her hands clasped in prayer. Stubborn hands with steadfast faith. Illusions of adventure plagued her. The poison deep in her bones. She could taste her immortality in fiction. 

Overhaul almost pitied the woman before him. Feminine graces for deceit. The ghost of a smile stretched across his features.

“As you desire.”

Xx

The aspiring adventurer had inquired about a strength potion. A rudimentary task that would only require several days work for Overhaul. The reply caused a grin to break out upon the young woman’s face. Her face… almost cute. 

While working, Overhaul caught flashes of the maiden’s frightened expressions. A sick delight taking root into him. His psyche was a chasm of perverse thoughts. The mixture of worry and dread intoxicated him. Like an inch he couldn’t scratch. 

He felt on fire. 

Xx

She wandered aimlessly, soft footsteps echoed through the abyss of trees. This was her ritual now. Naively calling for Overhaul. The beaked man was behind on his promise. The confident woman’s belief in him wavered. A gourd still hung from her belt; a failed lesson. 

“You can be so damn loud. Do you realize that?”

The naive mortal’s expression tightened; the intimate reaction caused a flush to scatter across him. Foreign anxiety and a rush of dopamine through his body. Hot breath huffed against the hollow of his beak. The fervor burned like a wildfire. 

She averted her eyes; the earthen ground her chosen subject. Overhaul’s aura engulfed the young woman in anxiety. Instincts feral. 

The nemophilist beamed; fangs bared for prey. Sadistic glee painted into his face. Amber eyes studied her. Victim no match for an apex predator. 

“Sorry… I’m happy I found you, I think. You’re behind schedule, Overhaul, but it’s for good reason, right? Maybe you ran into a lack of ingredients?” the woman hoped, her heart unable to conjure the alternative. Panic surged through her nerves. A feeling she couldn’t ignore. Body hot with anxiety.

“Follow.”

Xx

Yet again, the young maiden found herself in the wooden cabin of the occultist. A scent of wood and flowers assaulted her nose. The smell less pleasant than before. 

Overhaul held the vial; gloved hands gingerly guarding her desire. She felt a pang in her bosom. The promise of immortality dangled before her. Breath caught in an eager throat, words cramped. 

“Please. I have money. Gold. I can pay you.” Desperation covered her tone. The zealous woman features pulled tight. Eyes glued to the vial. The key to her quest. 

The masked man laughed, placing the vial on the wooden table between them. His eyes stuck to her. Selfish eyes fixated. Overhaul’s chest hitched; the anticipation of her fear tantalizing. He felt drunk from her presence. 

“No… No money. As Overhaul we both know I’ll claim my due. For someone that prides themselves on mythos; you genuinely are stupid,” he sneered. His words overrun with acid. The man was merely prodding for her adorably fearful visage. An image that haunted him. Perhaps, he could coax the emotion out of the meek woman via insults. Overhaul knew the power he held. His veins burned with it. 

The woman nodded. Distinct horrible stories flooded her. The sparks of misery burning into her psyche. A terror she prayed to avoid. “Whatever, Overhaul. We made the deal. So drop the act. It’s embarrassing.” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth; the ignorant mortal understood the weight of them. The nervousness in her back. 

“Take it before I change my mind.” 

An empty threat, or so she thought.

Xx

A week passed. The young explorer still felt as before. No obvious strength stockpiled within her. It took her three days to deduce that the willowy man she met had been a pretender. Merely a man fascinated with Overhaul. She was familiar with the insanity of it. The very same thing motivated her to find the Sorcerer of the Forest. A pretend man. 

Life for her was stagnant as before, too. No excitement lived in the heart of the village. Routine a sacred theme. Mundane. 

Despite this, the steadfast mortal had continued her prayer. Feverish belief burned in her chest. Perhaps faith was the secret to immortality in mythos. 

Xx

Soft knocks echoed through the woman’s door. A late night visitor. Panicky fear settled in her bones. After dusk visits only brought tragedy. Slowly, she rose from bed. Anxiety flowed through her muscles; simple movements a struggle. 

Delicate feet dragged across wooden floors. Tired eyes in a haze. She reached for the door knob, the brass cold against her. The young explorer cautiously opened the door. A sheepish plastered. One must be strong in misery. 

The exhausted mortal’s eyes dropped; Overhaul curiously before her. The man barely an inch from her. Just as before. The kindling of a blush erupted across her face. Pink, squeezable cheeks.

Overhaul’s urge to touch such a filthy creature was almost overwhelming. And yet, he restrained himself. A promise of fulfilling her desire fueled him. He ached to see her afraid again.

“What are you doing here?” She was unprepared for the gravity of her choice. No soul was worth heroics. Not even a naive mortal’s. Humanity was the last shred of chaos the woman had. Every aspect of her life routine. 

A smirk took root. “Moronic girl. I’m fulfilling your greatest desire. Follow.” 

A phantom hand guided the woman’s numb body through the village and into the forest. Overhaul only a few paces ahead. A haze developed over her; the extent of her actions a mystery. 

Xx

She had no memory of adventuring to the occultist Overhaul’s hut, yet, here she was. A dressing gown clad body sat across from gold eyes. The ghost of a smirk still lingered on his face. Her distressed frame was the source for his perverse joy. A sick knot settled into his stomach. 

“Do I give you my soul?” she inquired, a sniffle in her tone. Tears building inside her chest.The reality of her agreement attacked her. 

Overhaul stifled a chorkle. An unrealistic expectation mortals held. So side-eyed. He assumed nothing less from her. Naivety was an illness. “No, idiot. Strip.”

Her mind glazed over. Robotic limbs carried out the sorcerer’s demand. Dark magicks at work. 

“Please… stop. I don’t desire t-this.” The maiden stood before him; horror in wide eyes. She cowered. No memory of disrobing; her heart in her ears. Had he drugged her? Was the vial a love potion? 

Gently, gloved hands removed the avian mask and goggles; Overhaul’s face on display. She did not expect him to be handsome. His features carved from stone by da Vinci. The ironic nature not lost. How could a vile man be so beautiful? 

“Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited. 

He licked his lips. Pining yellow eyes burned into her. The man known as Overhaul drank from her vulnerability. The woman’s soft body was a treat. Only for him. 

The mortal blushed. Crimson obvious in the moonlight. “Not like t-this.” She was attracted to him, but every instinct screamed at her to flee. The man was suffocating. 

Overhaul reached out, pinching her flesh between his fingers. Tense skin responded to his touch. She shivered. 

“A brat like you doesn’t deserve to use my title, don’t you agree? Refer to me as Kai.”

The woman felt helpless beneath him. Even his thin frame towered over her. The height difference only incited Chisaki Kai. Her vulnerability was a luxury. A privilege. She shifted, a futile attempt to escape him. 

Kai suddenly grasp the woman; his hands finding purchase around her wrists. Her skin was a map of goosebumps. He pulled her to him; the heat of her body melted into him. A delicate form for him to break. He shuddered at the thought. A tapestry of bruises. Lilac suits you.

“O-Kai. Kai, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. It hurts,” she pleaded, as purple blossomed on her wrists. The beginning of a bruise. Gloved hands ignored her cries. The filthy mortal’s request only riled up Kai. A throbbing ache formed between his thighs. An urge to bury himself inside her crawled from the back of his psyche. 

Lecherous eyes scanned her body. Kai’s body snug against the frightened woman. Clean linens. A faint bouquet of clean linens drifted to him. This must be the essence of the disrobed body before him. Simple fabric separated Kai from eden. The garments weren’t flattering, he convinced himself. That’s why a gloved hand detached from her wrist; her arm falling limp as the sorcerer examined dull cloth between disinterested fingers. Florcets of pink rested twisted into pure horror. Traces of anxiety now settled in her ribs; the woman’s throat choked shut. The lack of sound a disappointment to Kai. The inch on fire with arousal for terrified looks. 

“You don’t need this,” Kai whispered, his breath hot against the woman’s exposed skin. Unceremoniously, Kai ripped the brassiere. Fabric ripping the only sound between them. Quick, short breaths followed. The occultist felt overwhelmed. His fantasy before him. Saliva pooled; the man’s mouth flooded. 

Delicate skin winced in the biting chill. A free arm shot up in a frantic attempt to cover shame. Chisaki Kai frowned. Adonis features twisted. Fangs threatened in a snarl. “Show me.” 

She held steadfast, a lilac now settled into her wrists. The naive explorer refused to allow an erratic man the pleasure of her stripped bosom. A right reserved for lovers. Not a cruel con man. 

Gloved hands swiftly detached from her. He harshly pulled off the leather gloves and pathetically tossed them behind him. Kai was finally able to feel her. Feverish hands returned to exposed flesh. Sadistic hands roughly grabbed the numinous woman. A yelp sounded from her, his impatient touch a cause for surprise. In her nerves, she felt a spark.

Yellow eyes marveled at the beauty before him. Inspiration. 

“On your knees.” 

The mortal woman before him obeyed. Dread flowed through her body. Images of violence danced before her. Promises of Chisaki Kai’s power.

“Not such a bitch, now are we?” Kai teased, a cruel smirk upon his face. Satisfaction from her blind devotion. Warmth tightened against his pants. The compassion he held for her. A little gift for not misbehaving. Kai couldn’t spell his excitement; his chest heaved in anticipation. 

“Isn’t t-this enough? I’m begging you; please stop.” A chorus of no’s followed after as Kai pressed the dame’s face against his crotch. His throbbing need now stimulated by the friction. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural. Animalistic. 

Satisfied, Kai released her face. Feverish hands unbuttoned his pants. The furor caused slender hands to shake. “I don’t care. You desired this, wicked girl.”

The scared woman audibly gulped, terror and arousal swirled in her mind. Gentle hands found his hard cock. Length throbbed in her palm. The man’s very body craved her touch. She began to tenderly stroke him; her hand exploring veins. 

Kai growled, instinctively bucked into her. No time for shame. He could chastise the adventurer later. Her hands were heaven sent. Curiosity mingled with lust. A free hand snaked to her panties. The woman teasing herself. A whine fell from her lips. The syrupy sound encouraged Kai; the sorcerer’s sentence spilling out. 

“Suck my cock.”

She stopped pumping him, her hand poised around his head, foreskin pulled down. Innocent eyes viewed the brown haired man. A meek air engulfed the woman. Moist hands now covered the grove of rose upon her cheeks. The heat devouring her. Was she on fire?

Breathe.

Plump lips wrapped around his cock, veins pulsating. Kai’s pleasure was obvious. The flustered woman began to swirl her tongue around him; her hands caressing his manhood. He melted into her touch. The man’s bucking now at a  sweltering pace. An idea presented itself. 

He knew he had to be quick. Otherwise, she could bite him. A degloved hand shoved her head down him. The wet chasm of her mouth coupled with gagged sent Kai into ecstasy. The knot branded into his stomach, working its way to his chest. An orgasm approaching. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” the auburn man mewled. Spit spewed from the asphyxiated woman; droplets decorating his hips. She needed to breathe, he reasoned. Hands clawed at thighs in a vain attempt for air. He released her.

Hungry lungs inhaled; the aroma of wood and flower heaven sent. 

“No more…” she rasped. Voice hoarse from the man’s violent bucking. Snot leaked from her nose, eyes brimmed with tears. 

She looked so broken, Kai realized. The fire within him a roaring blaze. A dire need exploded in his chest. The man roughly grabbed the woman’s face, shoving her against him again. 

An anxiety fueled mouth played with his length. Muffled cries juxtaposed against moans. Tiny streaks of fear now displayed down her cheeks. Pink cheeks shining. 

Orgasic euphoria burst from Kai. The abrupt event caused her to gag; a sloppy spray of hot cum and saliva ran from the woman’s chin, the final droplets resting against her bosom.

[cakesexuality]

I've been switching over from my dose of Seroquel being entirely immediate release to being mostly extended release and I'm having to?? Not entirely rely on my brain being sapped of dopamine and serotonin to fall asleep?? I have to lay there for a bit?? Like a normal person??

I feel more stable with this formulation but GOD at what cost

[triclopsrabbit]

what shared trauma do they have??

so okay along with the abandonment and guilt issues bc of venom (written here), they left the sewers and attempted to live in the city on their own, they end up coerced/kidnapped into tel-kars (god rest his canon soul) crime family, because do you know how much baby klyntar cost on the black market?? these things are killing machines and we found two just wandering around!

more art by @freedomconvicted​, tel-kar dresses them up so they are Classy (penguin shaped child sleeper gives me so much dopamine)

tel-kar pretty much treats them like shit and like tools, forcing them into dangerous situations for heists and shit, and does a bunch of fucked up shit to them like throwing red into a soundproof metal room w no light for a week as punishment for misbehaving and its dark in there like the sewer and she reverts to her feral goo form... and then he makes sleeper think that he’ll let her out if sleeper does everything he tells him to perfectly, like, stand in a corner for 12 hours and dont move a muscle, and now sleeper is a perfectionist and red is afraid of the dark, amongst even more emotional and verbal abuse into their adulthood

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 134

Embryonic Stem Cells: What Do They Hold in Store?: Part 2

Miraculous differentiation

As the techniques for producing and feeding stem cells got easier, researchers aimed at growing and forming tissues and organs. A connective tissue or an outer covering like the skin that lacks a shape but takes the shape of the underlying muscles and bones can be produced even in a Petri dish and then transplanted to a burned or missing area of the skin. The present aim is the production of organs such as the kidney or the heart that has a particular shape and is made up of a number of different tissues. If the correct signal molecules responsible for cell division and differentiation can be identified and readily used where necessary and at the right amount, then organs including any type of tissue can be produced. Researchers like James Wells at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital in Ohio have tested the damage of drugs on intestines by using the partial intestines they developed from stem cells rather than administer them to normal humans, thereby hailing the imminent age of intestine transplants.

In 2004, the doctors who did tube baby experiments for a patient in Chicago known to have a genetic disorder started to produce a series of stem cells from generated embryos. They made models at the cellular level of the emergence of such genetic disorders as thalassemia, Huntington’s disease, Marfan syndrome, and muscle dystrophy. In 2007, they used embryonic stem cells to suppress molecular changes that trigger mental disorders caused by a genetic disorder called fragile X syndrome.

Research shows that multipotent (mesenchymal) cells stimulated at the outset of tissues are even more promising than embryonic cells with respect to diseases because it is easier to repair damaged or missing tissue by guiding them. However, it is essential in a genetic disorder that cells derived at the beginning of the embryonic stage should be used in order to replace faulty genes with healthy ones and address the disorder at its outset.

Experiments are underway that aim to treat disorders by activating stem cells stored in the body that have not yet differentiated through the help of proper stimulating molecules. In this way, as many as ten illnesses are likely to be treated, some of which include diabetes, macular degeneration in the eye, and neurodegenerative diseases such as Parkinson’s.

Douglas Melton from Harvard Stem Cell Institute in Cambridge has worked for fifteen years to transform embryonic stem cells into insulin-producing β-cells. He has produced pancreatic cells that sense glucose and produce insulin and he hopes to transplant them to end the dependence of patients of diabetes type-1 on insulin shots. The last obstacle remains to be the introduction of these cells to the system so that they are not destroyed by the patient’s immune system.

Clinically, it is believed that stimulated multipotent cells have a greater advantage than embryonic cells because the produced cells and tissues have the same DNA as the patient and thus do not cause any immune reaction when they are transplanted. The problem for many genetic disorders including type-1 diabetes is that the patient has the same mutation in his or her genes, and a method should be devised for cleaning and replacing these cells.

Another problem is the cost. It is reported that preparation of a series of multipotent cells will cost about one million dollars. However, the cost is expected to decrease and cells will be developed for the treatment of Parkinson’s disease, which is caused by a loss of neurotransmitter substance, which enable communication between nerves, and dopamine.

Treatment of macular degeneration is a popular target in this field. Patients gained the ability to read, though slowly, one year after the transplantation of part of stimulated multipotent cells to a damaged retina.

Such research studies normally cause some opposition. Playing with genes and embryos involve certain ethical and health risks. Yet, as reported in a Prophetic tradition, with all our God-given abilities like intelligence, curiosity, and willpower, humans can, and hopefully will, find cures for all diseases. Research into stem cells has the potential to provide many breakthroughs in these efforts to find healing for every human. Scientists and ethicists have to work together to determine our direction not to cause any unintended harm to any single soul while moving forward with this research.