#i didn't expect to be able to keep up like this i've been low energy for awhile

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | chapter thirteen preview

You expect Blue to be asleep when you open the decrepit door of the hunting cabin. Instead, she's sitting up by the barely-there fire with her legs stretched out, her eyes snapping up to yours the moment the door groans shut behind you. Surprise and relief pass through the blue irises, which are by far more expressive than her father's dark brown ones. And then, a flash of anger.

"You shouldn't have gone," is what she greets you with.

The tension in your shoulders lets go of its grip as you sink to the floor beside her, hands curling in the long sleeves of your new jacket. You're glad to hear more energy in her voice, even if it's backed by anger, and to see the freckles on her face more pronounced now that she has regained some color. 

"It was important."

"It was stupid," she mumbles, looking you over before shaking her head and redirecting her gaze to the fire. "You didn't tell me. You didn't even say goodbye."

"I didn't want to wake you this morning."

"That's a shitty excuse." There is a pause where you can hear the sound of boots shuffling outside as Ghost takes position to keep watch again. Then, Blue lifts up her arm, tapping her pointer finger over the bright, plastic beads that twist around her wrist. "You're my friend, remember? We're supposed to tell each other these things."

You shimmy your wrist out of the sleeve. You'd almost forgotten about the bracelet. Your eyes trail down from the burnt ends of your fingers, where the skin is red and bubbled with blisters, to the matching beads.

"You're right. I'm sorry," you tell her. A tinge of guilt finds you. You realize what is truly bothering her: if you had died and not returned, Blue wouldn't have gotten a goodbye from you. She wouldn't have been able to mentally prepare.

She grabs your hand and, with a soft sigh, gently inspects the burn. 

"Someone hurt you."

For a moment, you close your eyes. Your stomach twists. Cold fingers. A hungry gaze. Your exposed skin.

You reopen them and speak low. "No. I hurt them."

There's an exhale that puffs from her nose, and a small smile, before she lets go over your hand and stares back at the fire.

"You know, sometimes I secretly hope we will run into other people," she says, voice drifting in thought. "—just because I never get to meet any. We haven't met a lot, and the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except you."

"He kills them for a reason. To protect you. A lot of people are..." Fatigued, you struggle for the best word. Desperate? Selfish? Violent?

Before you can pick one, Blue says, "I know." She glances at the wound on her leg. Back in her jeans, which Ghost must have washed in the river, the bandage is hidden under the fabric. "I've never killed a person before," she adds, so quietly that you almost don't hear her. "Ghost says it's just like killing an animal or a Grey. How... how many have you killed?"

"I don't know anymore," you admit. Your eyes feel heavy, and you tuck your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them with a weighted sigh. "Not that many. It doesn't feel like killing anything else. But... it's necessary sometimes."

"I wish it wasn't."

"Me, too."

[ellephlox]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You try sparring with Matt because he wants you to learn self-defense. A minor bump to the head, as it turns out, opens up many doors.

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Warnings: Hit to the head, some physical intimacy (but no smut)

A/N: Haven't written in months because I've been working on a writing project of my own but here I am again!! I'm absolutely THRILLED to see the new photos of Born Again and I'm also dying to watch Kin season 2 (haven't been able to watch it yet unfortunately).

"Matt, I know it probably pains you to hear this, but I'm seriously going to be a waste of your time."

"You could never be a waste of my time."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but really, I don't think you understand just how bad this is going to go."

"It'll go fine. Just give it a shot." Matt was in a tee and shorts, an excited energy in the way he beckoned you forward. Training, he called it. Self-defense lessons.

It sounded more like a painful exercise to you.

"Besides," you continued. "Let's say I was walking down the street and some malicious guy approached me with a knife and was all, Give me your money or I'll kill you—"

Matt scowled. "If that ever happens, I'll kill him first."

"In that situation," you pressed on, "I guarantee that I would freeze. Any punches or flying kicks or whatever that you have tried to teach me would be sitting uselessly in the recesses of my mind. I'd be scared or disbelieving and I wouldn't even move. Really."

"It wouldn't hurt to try learning, sweetheart."

You sighed. "I'll try, for your sake, but don't think that I don't see through your motivations."

"My motivations?"

"You just want to kick my ass and then laugh as I succumb to your ninja skills."

"It might possibly be a contributing factor."

You gave him a light push. "Alright, then. So you really think you can teach me something?"

"Sure. Anyone can learn." Matt quickly pushed the sofa backwards and faced you, suddenly appearing much more imposing than he did when... well, when he wasn't about to spar with you. You lifted up your hands uncertainly, trying to mimic the boxing pose you'd seen him take on in Fogwell's.

"Okay. That's your first mistake," Matt said, stepping forward to grab your wrists and adjust them.

"How did I already screw up? I only lifted my hands."

"When you're assuming a defensive stance, you don't want to keep your hands that low. It's better to keep them up a bit higher to protect your ribs and face."

He moved your hands upward. "Good. You've got your thumbs right."

"See, I know what I'm doing," you said dryly. "Next time I get attacked on the street they'll be intimidated by my correct thumb placement."

"And you'll be grateful that your thumbs aren't broken after you throw a punch. I learned that the hard way." Matt paused for a moment. "I made the mistake of putting my thumb out. Stick didn't tell me. He said he thought it'd be a good way for the lesson to stick if there was a physical reminder."

"Bastard. Now I want to learn how to fight." You lifted up your fists. "Because if I ever get the chance to meet Stick, I assure you that he will be very familiar with my fists."

"I appreciate that support, but if that ever happens, I very vehemently would recommend against that." Matt held out his hands. "Attack me. I want to see what your fighting style is."

"You mean my fighting style or lack thereof?"

"Just go for it." Matt stood there confidently, his hands crossed in front of him casually and his eyes trained on your collarbone.

"I don't want to hurt you," you said uncertainly. "I mean, I know how dumb that sounds, because you're freaking Daredevil, but it feels wrong to just... throw a fist at you."

Matt only laughed. "Sweetheart, you won't hurt me."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Um." You considered your hands, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Don't judge me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Tentatively you sent a fist towards the left side of his abdomen. You expected him to just sidestep it, especially since it was a slow-moving punch — you didn't have the heart to put all of your strength into it, no matter what he said — but instead he blocked your arm, braced his other arm against your own, and forced you to twist around until your back was against his front and his arm was around your neck. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that."

He was taunting you, and it worked. "Fine," you said, and you tossed your elbow back with the intention of slamming it into him, but it hardly did anything at all; he took the blow as though you'd thrown a marshmallow at him.

"Go for the groin," he advised.

"Don't have to tell me twice," you said, lifting up your knee with the intention to nail him, but he took the opportunity to sweep your other leg out from under you. You fell to the floor, groaning. "I thought you wanted me to try getting you in the groin?"

"And I wanted to show you how that makes it easy for an assailant to knock you down. One foot on the ground is a surefire way to have zero feet on the ground."

"Come on, you kick all the time — flying kicks, spinning kicks, twirly-whirly kicks—"

"I don't do twirly-whirly kicks. And you can go for the groin, occasionally, but only when the timing is right and you won't get knocked down."

"I promise you that if I somehow manage to get in a fight with someone, the last thing I'll be doing is analyzing whether or not the timing is right for a groin kick, Matt."

"Okay. Try a heel palm strike." He took your arm and guided you through the movement, flexing your wrist and showing you how to pull your arm back quickly. "And go for the nose, or throat, if you can. That's effective. The ears are a good target, too. It's disorienting, even for someone who doesn't rely on their hearing to move around."

You gave him a look. "Please tell me that you don't get your ears boxed on a regular basis."

"Only twice." Matt kept going before you could say anything else. "There's several escapes I want to show you, in case you're ever being held against your will."

He proceeded to demonstrate to you the different ways you could free yourself, whether you were held in a headlock or your hands were tied; for his sake you tried to do as best as you could, though you felt fairly certain that each time you "freed" yourself, it was Matt letting you go, so you could experience the maneuver fully.

"Now get down," he said.

"On the floor?"

"For escaping while mounted. Lie on the floor, on your back."

"Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives?" you asked, smirking at him as you obeyed. He climbed on top of you and grabbed both of your wrists with a devious glint in his eyes.

"Never said I wouldn't enjoy myself," he said. He locked his legs around your waist and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to the floor. "So, if you ever find yourself in a position like this — God forbid — then what you're going to do is—"

"Panic and wait for the devilishly handsome Daredevil to show up and rescue this damsel in distress?" At Matt's expression, you backpedaled. "I'm kidding. Kidding. I'll fight back."

"Even though your wrists are pinned, your hands themselves are still free. Try to grab my wrist with your left hand."

You tugged, and Matt allowed you to pull your hand over so that you had your left hand securely locked around his wrist. "And what if my assailant is too strong and I can't do this?"

"Odds are that no matter how strong they are, if you can start kicking with your legs, spit in their face, or scream — anything to distract them — they're not going to be 100% focused on your one left wrist. They'll be contending with your flailing legs."

"Okay," you said doubtfully. "So I just grab your wrist... then—"

"Put your foot on my hip, push, and pull at my wrist simultaneously."

"But you've locked yourself around me," you said, struggling fruitlessly. "How am I supposed to move my legs?"

"Roll onto your hip. It'll create space. And if you can, reach up and grab the ear of the assailant, then pull them to the side."

"I'm not testing the ear move on you," you said firmly. "Nope."

"I second that," he admitted. "But try the hip roll."

To your surprise, it actually worked. And this time, you felt the natural shifting of your bodies, so that you could even slightly believe that it would work on your assailant no matter how big or strong they were. You rehearsed the move with Matt several times, swapping out which hand you used to reach up to him.

"Okay. Again, and faster. Real-time, if you can. And at the end, I want you to roll out all the way, and get out from under me," Matt said.

"Okay," you said, feeling that things wouldn't bode too well for you if Matt was going to put an ounce of effort in, but you got back in position. He grabbed both of your wrists, this time digging his knees painfully into your ribs, just enough for it to hurt without doing any real harm. You gasped, struggling for breath, and lunged forward to loosen yourself slightly, trying to roll over to no avail.

"Try again," Matt said, and you did, spontaneously leaning upwards as you jerked to the left and reached for his wrist. Once you had it, you pulled as hard as you could, pushing your knee against him. You could feel him yielding a bit, going easy on you — which slightly pissed you off even though you knew you'd have no chance against him otherwise — but at the same time it was still exhilarating.

Finally you freed yourself, and rolled out to the left and onto your knees, just as Matt followed through with your shove and lunged to block you.

"Keep going," he urged. "Get back on your feet."

You obeyed, adhering to his commands as he gave them, and it really was like a waltz once you got into the rhythm, dodging and learning to recognize which hand motions meant what.

"Now try dodging a new type of punch," he said, as a way of warning. "I'll be coming from this side over here."

"Which way do I go? To the left?"

"Right. And be ready, because this time I'm going to fight back more."

You weren't quite sure how it happened, though. The sweep of his arm, as you put all your weight to the left, resulted in you losing your balance and toppling over the follow-through of his leg, your arms to the side and unable to get forward quickly enough to brace yourself as your head made a beeline for the edge of the coffee table.

The impact it made felt as though someone had hammered a nail into the top of your forehead. You yelped, hand now free so that it could jump to the spot of impact.

Matt's reaction was visceral; like a TSA agent oddly eager to frisk, he had his hands out and seeking the exact spot where your forehead currently felt like the site of an excavation. "Dammit, I'm sorry — are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

"Why'd you go left?"

"You told me to go left."

"No, I said right."

You snorted despite yourself, closing your eyes against the ebbs of pain. "I interpreted 'right' as 'correct'. My bad."

"No, it's my bad, I should have—"

"Not your fault at all," you managed, brushing at your head. You expected blood, but it was dry. "Just a bump. I should have seen that coming."

"You probably have a concussion." Matt's tone was strangled, his left hand cupping the back of your head while his right grazed the bump. "I could call Claire, and have her come over—"

"Uh, no." The thought of having Matt's practically on-call nurse drop everything she was doing to come help you was mortifying. "I don't even think I have a concussion. Ask me my name. Bet I can ace any question you've got." Physically you pulled his hand away from your head. "Matt, really. It's okay."

"You're trying to mollify me."

"You're too worried," you said playfully. "It'll take more than a little bump to take me out. If you can get sliced up by the Yakuza, I think I can handle a love tap from the coffee table."

"That wasn't a love tap. I could hear the impact on your skull. And I can feel the heat already from the bruise forming."

"See, we don't need Claire. I'll never need to go to a hospital again with you around." You patted at your head and ignored the accompanying stab of pain that would otherwise have made you flinch if Matt wasn't there to detect it. "Can we go through the move again?"

"No."

"But you were the one who wanted me to learn in the first place."

"We'll go to Fogwell's another time," he said. "Someplace with floor mats and no sharp coffee table edges."

You rolled your eyes, but you could already see that his mind wasn't going to budge. He sat in a crouch, his head still tilted towards you as though he couldn't help keeping a constant monitor on your head, and it struck you, with the position he was currently in, how easy it would be to knock him over.

"Cow tipping!" you hollered at him, diving forward and throwing all of your weight against his side; from his crouched position on the tips of his feet, there was nowhere to go but sideways, and for one delicious microsecond, Matt Murdock, the same man you had seen balance precariously on fire escapes and jump nimbly from roof to roof, was forced to fumble his arms out in time to catch himself as he fell to his left. You leapt atop him, straddling his chest with your knees.

"You took down a blind man who was trying to help you," he mocked. "Shame on you. Were you faking the head pain, too?"

"I'm not that devious," you said. "Say mercy and I'll let you go."

Matt tipped his head back against the floor, his eyes reflecting the evening sunlight as it came out from behind the clouds. Without seeming to notice, his hands crept up the outside of your thighs, making goosebumps prickle on your skin. "You think that I need your acquiescence in order to get up?"

You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his shoulders. The muscles tensed under your fingertips, the biceps under your thumbs ready to spring into action at any moment. "As far as I'm concerned, right now I've conquered you, and if anyone were to see us then I think they'd agree with me."

"It's touching to see how much this means for you," he said. "I'll let you enjoy your victory for a bit longer."

"And then?"

"And then I get to win." His voice was lower, reminiscent of the devil, and your stomach dropped. Still you could feel the muscles poised under your hands, and you could feel your blood rising into your cheeks as his own hands crept lower.

You egged him on. "You can try," you said. "I'm warning you, though, that I could beat you whenever I want, easily. I just like to pretend I'm not as strong as I actually am. Wouldn't want to hurt the ego of Daredevil."

"Of course. How thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you know me."

"I'm guessing that was you who took down the trafficking ring a few nights ago, then? Left all those men unconscious in the alley?"

"Uh, obviously." You leaned in closer. "That's why you've got to play nice, Murdock. If I get mad, I might just go all Hulkish on you and you'll be begging for my mercy—"

Quickly enough that you jumped, startled, Matt rolled out from underneath you with even more ease than you would have expected, and with a swift grab of your wrists, he pinned you down beneath him, just like earlier when you sparred.

"You were saying?" he asked, grinning. Immediately you tried the move that had worked on him previously — he definitely was going easy on you earlier, then — but this time he blocked it. You scowled, and tried again; once more it yielded nothing.

"You're not getting up until you make some amendments to what you were saying, Y/N."

"Well, let me clarify," you began, and Matt's lips lifted upwards as he began to smirk.

Nope. He's not getting any satisfaction yet.

"I'm currently giving you the impression that you've won," you continued, and his expression shifted, as though he were trying not to laugh. "It's an important part of keeping your ego up, of course. Every so often I like to give you these little nuggets of delusion."

"Nuggets of delusion," Matt repeated.

"Sure. I'm selective with them. But when I feel like you need a bit of a self-esteem boost, then bam, you've got it. So right now, I'm giving you a nugget. It's all part of my strategy." You lay beneath him, the floor hard on your back, as he seemed to mull over what his response was going to be.

Instead, he simply took your wrists and moved them above your head, where he pinned both to the floor with his left hand and then moved his right hand down to your throat.

"What?" you managed. "You don't like delusion nuggets?"

"I want you to admit you're lying."

"But you already know I'm lying."

"I want the verbal confession."

"I confess to nothing," you said stubbornly, your heart picking up as his thumb brushed over the center of your throat.

"Try again, sweetheart. And remember that I know where you're most ticklish."

"Uh... you are by far the strongest man I've ever met and I could never compare to you?"

"And what else?"

"I love you?" you said, your voice higher than usual, because damn, Matt leaning directly above you was distracting.

"Better." He released your wrists and pulled you up into him.

You buried your head into his chest, sighing. "Can't believe you just tackled a concussed person to the floor."

"That was not a tackle. That was... one percent effort. Even half a percent." He paused a moment. "And you said the bump wasn't anything to be concerned about."

"Mm. Did I lie?" you asked him, kissing his hand.

"No," he admitted. "But I still don't trust you."

"You shouldn't. Because the next time you're tying your shoes, or cleaning out underneath the oven or something, I'm totally going to cow tip you again."

"Seriously? 'Cow tipping'? Did you make that up?"

"For a guy who knows everything, I'm appalled you don't know what cow tipping is."

"Please tell me you've never actually shoved a real cow over."

"You really do think poorly of me," you said, stretching. "Just you wait, Murdock. When you least expect it, you shall be cow tipped again. Just you wait."

[zaundump]

I've never actually posted my old SInco fics to Tumblr I think so I thought maybe people here might like it. It can be found on AO3 too. C:

Drowning -5/28/2022

A part of him felt like he was drowning again, however. Like he was floating in those endless murky waves, the sound drowned out around him to a quiet whisper he could only just perceive if he cleared his mind. If not for Jinx, he'd give himself up to it.

As his vision faded in and out, Silco knew one thing only: he was supposed to be dead, and this was clearly some cruel joke thrust upon him by the undercity itself. Something about how he'd never be able to fix what he spent his whole life working toward and he'd be stuck living in his failure forever.

Or something like that.

He didn't give much of a shit, truthfully. He'd do it willingly too if it saved his daughter.

A part of him felt like he was drowning again, however. Like he was floating in those endless murky waves, the sound drowned out around him to a quiet whisper he could only just perceive if he cleared his mind.

If not for Jinx, he'd give himself up to it.

His breath came in short gasps, chest tight and his lungs unable to expand. His body hurt in every possible way and if he remembered correctly–he really should be dead, what with all the bullets he'd been shot with.

He tried to open his eyes but couldn't muster up the energy. Someone undid the ropes binding him to a chair, jostled him, and he cried out in pain. His ears rang and he sank into unconsciousness, only to awaken again when he hit a cold surface that jolted every wound on his body and then some. He couldn't muster a cry of pain this time; he just whimpered.

Two strong hands held him down at the shoulders. Panic rose in his chest. When he opened his eyes they were too blurry, too teary-eyed from pain to register where he was and he couldn't stop shaking.

All he could recognize was the green neon lighting like a dense cloud of smog smeared in front of him. Two indistinguishable figures hovered around him, one taller than the other, the shorter of the two gesturing wildly in his direction

"Get out," a man said.

"Yeah. No shit," said the other, a deep feminine voice he almost recognized. "I don't want to hang around this place. Just fix him or I'll come for you next."

A door slammed shut.

He expected silence and his ears merely rang. He heard muttering he couldn't decipher, metal tools sliding across the surface of the table he laid on. Tremors shook his body and he felt cold.

"I didn't expect you back in my care so soon, Silco."

Shut up, he thought.

Silco braced against the table, shakily pulled himself up, and got shoved back down onto his back by those same strong hands. His skull rattled as it collided with the surface. His vest was discarded, torn shirt quickly cut through with a pair of scissors.

He either felt pain, or numb, or both.

The man's fingers prodding his sides and chest sent waves of pain through his body. More whimpers.

"Intriguing," the man muttered.

His soft voice comforted Silco; he understood now who he'd been dropped off to, but Corin's expertise didn't exactly strike confidence in Silco. Hell, he still didn't know what he did to Jinx because the days passed so fast.

Corin's bandaged hand brushed sweaty locks of hair out of Silco's eyes. A gesture of affection the man so rarely showed. Silco reached up to touch it, but his arm fell.

"Multiple bullet wounds. Possible lung damage." Corin shuffled his tools around. "Somehow, no arteries hit and you're still conscious, which I'll fix now."

Before Silco could say anything about how weird it was to dictate this, his shoulder was grabbed and a needle jabbed into his side.

-----

A tranquilizer.

Pain meds.

A low dose of shimmer– but not too much.

Enough to stabilize Silco.

To keep him alive.

Like a trial run, a test to see if he'd given Jinx too much or if her sudden descent into madness was related to her past.

Four bullet wounds, cracked ribs, a destroyed lung even he couldn't do anything with when he'd finally gotten deeper in there to find the source of Silco's staggered breathing.

His hands and bandages were covered Silco's blood and he took great care in working on him to ensure a somewhat decent recovery.

If it had been anyone but Silco, or–gods forbid–Viktor, he'd have merely sent them away to die on the streets.

He worked on the girl due to Silco's attachment to her; he understood, deeply. The loss of his own daughter still tugged at what remained of his heart similarly to how he felt seeing Jinx and now Silco, who should have been dead, laying in shock on his table.

Their goals were not the same. Silco was snappy, sometimes temperamental, focused on leadership and economy and 'Zaun'; Singed mostly stuck to himself, buried in studies, regardless of where he made his home at the time.

So with all his research he never understood what it was that made him care.

He didn't understand how they grew into a quiet relationship. First he was approached for a job; Silco heard about him from his time at the academy, and had a clear goal in mind that matched what Singed wanted to do, so he took it.

Somewhere along the way he didn't quite realize how close they'd gotten. Deep down, he gave Silco the best he could in fixing him up, because he didn't want to lose another person.

-----

Silco's eyes opened to a low hanging ceiling in a room that smelled like an overwhelming mixture of too many scents. It stung his nose but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly each smell was, only wishing that they'd go away.

His brain was fuzzy as he tried to recall how he got there. Or where he even was. He looked at his hands, unable to register how slow they moved and how hard it was to lift them, like some invisible force was working against him.

His bound chest hurt with every breath he took. It wouldn't expand, he couldn't get a deep enough breath. His breaths came quicker and quicker as he hyperventilated and the pain was so great on his bruised and tender chest he could almost cry.

Not almost, actually. He did.

"You're awake."

Panic shocked his body, but he couldn't move.

"You won't be able to move for a few days." Corin walked into the room with something in his hands. Silco couldn't tell if it was shimmer or something else with his shaky, teary vision. The sky was, terrifyingly, the limit for this man.

"Where am I?" Silco hissed quickly, breathless. His eyes squeezed shut.

"My home."

"Why?"

"Do you not remember? I didn't give you a high dose."

Corin sat down on the edge of the cot, fussing with whatever was in his hands. Silco bent his knees and tried to lay on his side. A thin blanket laid over him.

"It's all one blurry nightmare," he muttered.

"Sevika brought you here. She didn't say from where. Four bullet wounds, cracked ribs. I removed your lung because it was too far gone."

"What!"

Silco erupted in a coughing fit. His whole body shuddered and fought against him trying to curl up; his throat felt like sandpaper that rasped with every cough, his lung rattled as he inhaled. His nerves were on fire and he groped around to grab Corin by the arm.

"You'll live. If Sevika had waited longer to bring you here, you might not have. However, I'll have to figure out what to do about it quickly otherwise the undercity air will kill you."

He continued to cough.

His head spun with pain. His vision turned black and he could hardly hear.

Corin's ice cold hand gripped his, thin fingers curling around his palm. The motion strained Silco's shoulder and a whimper escaped his lips.

"This will help. It's a pain killer I made specifically for you, but it's still going to hurt. You'll need fluids soon."

Silco was injected with something and a few minutes later the pain all but subsided into a dull throb. Corin gently pulled him back down onto his back.

"I know you're stubborn, but if you don't rest, you'll die. Decide what you want to do because I did my part."

His body screamed at him to rest–he couldn't move anyway without searing pain. He didn't know how long he was going to be there, desperately wanting his own bed instead of this dingy cot in a storage closet. Sevika might be able to move him, though she wasn't gentle, and thinking about it already made Silco's body tremble.

As his eyes closed against his will, he realized Corin still held his hand. The last Silco remembered of that day was Corin setting it down against his midsection and staying seated at the edge of the cot, swearing he'd give a more detailed explanation when he was up and about.

[lunardeao3]

Hello, I need to talk to you

In addition to make me sound like a gf about to break up with you, it turns out I actually have something important to tell you.

For as long as I can remember, I've been dealing with severe depression which I don't really talk about because I don't really see the point in exposing myself like that. However, I know I have built myself a small community thanks to my fics on AO3 (yes, it's very small but still, you guys exist) and I'm incredibly thankful for your support but I also know it comes with expectations which, all in all, are more than legit. I have failed you guys a lot this year; my schedule is a mess (there's no schedule at all anymore), I haven't updated certain fics in forever and I take ages to reply when you comment when I used to answer fast before.

The reason to that is because I've been struggling a lot more than usual since last December with my mental health. I haven't posted as much as I'd like, as often as I'd like either. Hell, it's barely if I could write at all this year. I regularly receive comments and texts asking me when the next update is gonna be and although it makes me feel happy to see my content makes you craving for more, I'm not gonna lie, I feel bad reading these cause I'd love to give you more, so much more, but my health doesn't permit it.

Without giving too much details, I have been stuck in a hypersomnia phase since February/March on top of the rest of my usual symptoms which means I sleep around 13 up to 18h a day. I am in a constant low level of energy and tiredness which I don't seem to be able to get rid of for some reasons. And where I could write chapters and chapters while having insomnias, it's honestly impossible for me to produce anything good when I go through hypersomnia. It's like I'm constantly drowsy and nothing good can come out of this.

Honest, I even considered deleting the on-going fics I haven't updated in too long so you wouldn't be expecting another chapter soon. I would've obviously reuploaded them as soon as they were completed but I know some of you wouldn't have liked it to see them disappear so I kept them up despite the lack of updates.

I really didn't want to make that post, it's incredibly embarrassing for me and it sounds like I'm complaining, which I am not. I just thought that after over 6 months of struggles, it doesn't seem like it's going to get any better soon and so because I respect you, I think I needed to be honest about it. Thank you for your love and support through the years, I appreciate every single comments you guys leave on my works and feel grateful for the interactions we have and I'm deeply sorry these became more and more seldom.

I basically make this post to explain why there's a lack of updates but still expect them to come scarcely. I am not giving up on my fics, they all still mean a lot to me, but I can't tell when I'll post anymore cause it really depends on my energy which is not something I have control over.

The last chapter of the second year of Downfall should be coming soon by the way, I've been working on it for a little bit over a week (it makes me sick to say that when I used to do it in one day 💀). Keep an eye out for the update!

[genopaint]

The long awaited Week 10 of Daily Dragons! Like the last post, I just didn't really get the chance to post these cause my laptop was packed up and what not. But it's finally here for your viewing pleasure :)

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #63 - Seal Dragon

These large, semi aquatic dragons are often seen basking on rocky shores. When hungry, the largest in a pack will swim into the ocean, hunt large animals like whales, and bring them back to shore for the whole pack to eat

I had a concept for a walrus like dragon but ultimately this isn't exactly what I had in mind. However, I do kinda like it! So you can expect to see at least one more seal-esc dragon in the future i guess lol

Daily Dragon #64 - Flying Dragon

As the name suggests, these dragons are ALWAYS in flight! They only land when they need to sleep, but are actually able to go surprisingly long times without needing any rest at all. Sometimes even multiple days!

Up and early with dragons these last few days aha Another redraw! I keep seeing it while looking at the other dragons for a hot minute so I wanted to tackle it too! I think it's actually from 2011-2012 like the Ghouldrogon because... Well they were on the same sheet of paper!

Daily Dragon #65 - Magon

The first Wario dragon! There's actually quite a few in his series. Lately I've been thinking about Wario Land/World/MoD for a while now. They're some of my favorite games and it might honestly be time for me to replay them

I played all the Wario games back in highschool so it's been a hot hot minute. But I really do like them all. They're all good as hell even (especially) Master of Disguise which is so underappreciated

Daily Dragon #66 - Snoozozaur

This dragon lives and breathes for one thing and one this only: sleeping! Rarely ever waking up, only for occasional food and water, they can actually sleep walk and sleep fight using what scientists believe to be some type of psychic ability. Additionally, they can levitate! Meaning they can comfortably sleep ANYWHERE!

Daily Dragon #67 - Shrine Dragon

This dragon is frequently seen guiding heroes of all kinds to temples and shrines important to their quests. If you're looking for a secret dungeon in a large area and spot one flying in the sky, it's in your best interest to follow it!

Daily Dragon #68 - Green Dragon

Thank you for all your amazing monsters and characters over the years, Mr. Toriyama!!

The more I keep thinking about it the more it's making me sad. Chrono Trigger's character designs were SO influential on me growing up. And the design for Arasu is SO important to RPG protagonists that I had OCs inspired by him before I even saw the character. And yeah, of course, Blue Dragon has always been a very important game to me even when I was a tiny child who couldn't afford an Xbox 360.

Daily Dragon #69 - Cuddlodon

A dragon that just loves being friendly and playful! They have some very basic combat skills like small fire balls and teeth, but why would you ever want to fight one? Come on, don't be mean to them :(

Really really low energy today. I wanted to do a Super Mario RPG celebration dragon, but I have something big in mind for the SMRPG dragon so I want to save it for when I'm less busy. Instead, today I redrew this fella from 2012: The Cuddly Dragon!

And of course, in 2024 (that's 12 years later holy hell!!) they come in multiple colors :)

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

Hiii ✨️ I saw your idea for a character pep-talk and thought it was a wonderful idea! I've been having a hard time recently myself and I've been missing Dempsey like crazy..

My character is Primis Dempsey of course 🩷

Anyways, I'm a 20 y/o redhead. I'm fairly tall, which I'm kinda insecure about.. I tend to wear lots of frilly floral dresses. I like the cosy cottagecore vibe. I'm generally very shy and tend to keep quiet most of the time, but I can be very bubbly around people I'm comfortable with. I love to create, mostly writing, drawing, and painting, and I take pride in my work. However, I tend to worry that sometimes my will to be very quiet is such a negative thing as it often deters people from sticking around. Sometimes, I isolate myself when I'm feeling such low self-esteem as a way of keeping out of others' way, and I fear that my communication skills would only make it hard to explain it all...

Anyways I hope this is okay. Almost feel like I vented too much... Feel free to ignore this if I kinda got the idea wrong...

Hope you're well 🩷 I love your work. Keep it up!

I greatly appreciate this my friendly anon! I'm glad my writing brings you joy. Let’s get you and Tank Dempsey back on the road, shall we?💖💖💖

How could he not love such a darling?! Your cottagecore vibes are so refreshingly genuine. You’re beautiful in the way the sun melts a soft yet radiant glow over the horizon. The way flowers bloom after the coarse, blustery months of winter. An epiphany that there is still a beacon of hope in this world worth protecting. And that hope is you.

The balance between your bubbly persona and shyer self has him magnetically drawn towards you. He's always wanted someone like you in his life, yet worried he was too brutish and clumsy to be able to impress you. Once he confessed, he was pleasantly surprised to know that you felt the same way.

Tank didn't expect himself to have your gentleness grace his life in such a beautiful way. He's more appreciative of life because of you. He rarely ever talks about the things that keeps him up at night, but the little picnics you two had on a meadow have been so special to him. He hopes every soft kiss he plants on you shows appreciation for helping him ground more.

There's nothing wrong with being quiet at all! He finds your presence speaks more volume in a comforting way. You both work as an opposites attract dynamic. Others compare you as the sun and the moon, coming together to prepare a breathtaking eclipse.

Tank will respect if you ever need time to recharge energy in your own space. But he always finds ways to show you he cares. He's a patient man that loves you just the way you are. He will drop off gifts or try to call you on the telephone for check-ins.

If you two are living in together, he tells you that he would always welcome you in open arms if you ever need his strong arms to hold you close to him.

Believe me, Tank's highest valued trait is his loyalty. He's your ride or die for life. And he knows you're a very good woman who's there for him too. You've made such an effort to be there for him in his own hardships. Have peace in your heart knowing he loves you so much.

[fereldanwench]

(I feel the need to make a small disclaimer: I am going to be talking about my perceptions about the CP77 fandom culture, some of which might be critical in nature, but this is not a call-out post on an individual or community scale. This is just me sharing some personal reflections. I suspect I'm not totally alone in some of this, but as always, YMMV.

Also, pleasepleaseplease do not feel bad or guilty for reaching out to me or tagging me in stuff or whatever--It means a lot to me that folks wanna chat and connect, and normally I'm 100% down, but I just need to clear my head a bit.)

So I've been ruminating a lot over the past few weeks about my ability to maintain a certain level of activity when it comes to fandom stuff, and I've concluded that my fandom social battery is really, really low.

I'm having a hard time keeping up with DMs, I'm having a hard time keeping up with tag games, I'm having a hard time keeping up with asks, I'm having a hard time keeping up with all the awesome stuff y'all are making--I'm just burnt out socially. And normally I would just take a social media break, but I think this is coming from deeper personal issues that a week offline isn't going to fix.

I've never been in a fandom before where I felt like there was this expectation to keep up with just about every single person in the community. It might be a false expectation I'm putting on myself, but given that I've seen other people apologize for not being able to keep up with posts or apologize for not having the spoons to leave nice tags on reblogs, I don't think this is just a me problem.

The CP77 fandom is relatively small compared to many of my other fandoms, like Dragon Age or Mass Effect, which I think can make it feel like keeping up with a good chunk of the community is totally feasible. For instance, I knew I could never dream of seeing all the DA content on Tumblr, so I never even made the effort to, but I know I can probably get just about everyone who posts in the femvfriday hastag by a certain time. So I often felt like I should do that, especially if I posted in the tag that Friday, too.

But the CP77 fandom is also really active, I think in large part due to the accessibility of photomode and virtual photography. I hope it's clear that I'm not saying this to diminish the value of VP, and obviously, everyone's mileage may vary based on personal technique and other artistic experience, but from my perspective, it does in general seem to be a quicker medium than traditional art or fic. I love the creativity of this community, but I actually can't feasibly keep up with everything everyone is doing all the time.

I made sort of a similar post last fall about the self-imposed pressure of having to create new things on a regular basis. At the time, I was grappling with losing a lot of personal time and brain power after having COVID in September and then working overtime in October, and I wasn't able to make stuff at the rate I had previously. I knew it was ridiculous, I knew no one was like "omg wench didn't post today, shame on her," but there was still FOMO on my part. I also felt like I had lost something I had previously had (specifically the time and energy to create) on account of shitty circumstances, which compounded my frustration.

I've been trying to tell myself that feeling guilty for not having the energy to reply to DMs in a timely fashion or to reblog every femvfriday post is just as silly and self-imposed, and that I don't need to explain to anyone that I just don't have the energy to participate like that right now. I've always been a very strong advocate for people using Tumblr how they want, and while yes, doing things like reblogging posts is a great way to connect with other people and show appreciation to fellow creators and I do encourage people who want to be a part of a community to do these things, it should never feel like an obligation. (The commentary on this post absolutely nails it for me.)

But this guilt and anxiety are harder to shake. Even in my very early days in the CP77 fandom, I noticed that it seemed very transactional to me. And to a point that makes sense, and I think is at least somewhat the result of Tumblr's functionality: you are going to be more likely to notice people who notice you and by extension to support people who support you. I don't think it's inherently a bad thing, but I think it can become one if there's no deeper connection after a certain point, especially if people start to feel like there's an imbalance in the transaction.

The gossipy nature of this fandom can make that even worse--It can be pretty easy to notice a drop-off in activity from someone who might have previously been very supportive and then spiral from "it's just because they're busy, it's fine" to "they're not interacting with me anymore because they heard something bad about me and now they hate me." (I've been on both sides of that one.) There are also a lot of assumptions about cliques and friendships and who's interacting with whom because of fandom politics or whatever that add another layer of stress and confusion here.

So for the past few weeks, every time I go to reblog a post or reply to a comment or consider who to tag after doing a tag game, all of this is weighing on me. Even if it's stupid, even if it's self-imposed, this is what is on my mind.

And what that's been resulting in is largely just not wanting to interact at all. Sometimes it would even make me feel guilty about posting my own stuff if I hadn't interacted with anyone else's in a while, as if I need to support other people in order to earn the privilege to share my own work. And this is of course reflective of much deeper issues I have (read: eldest daughter syndrome) than just fandom nonsense--I'm not putting this one on fandom at all--But it's a thing I deal with.

At some point in the past six month or so, I really lost sight of what this blog is really for, and that's for me. I do generally like interacting with the fandom at large, and I like organizing things and sharing resources that I think can be helpful for folks (especially since I really struggled with how much knowledge was locked behind Discord servers), but my blog is not actually a space for the CP77 community. It is for me, first and foremost, and I need to make it for me again.

I don't know exactly what that's gonna look like. I still consider CP77 my main fandom, and I don't really have much inclination to create or engage in other fictional worlds right now so it might not really look that much different. And I'm hoping that by removing some of this stress, it'll actually recharge my social battery so I can be better at doing the fun stuff like chatting about OCs and shippy stuff with friends.

But my activity here will probably be a lot more erratic as I reclaim this as a happy space for myself.

So that's it. And as always, if you read all of my personal problems, thank you, lmao. I know I'm ridiculous, and it's not that serious, and blah blah blah but THIS IS HOW I WORK THROUGH SHIT OKAY thx

[argonianprince]

I've officially given up on trying to play Nancy Drew: Mystery of the Seven Keys.

I really wanted to like it, so badly. I tried not to have too many expectations. I bought it because I saw a lot of people saying it wasn't like the old ND games, but it was still "a step in the right direction."

Honestly it feels more like a cop-out, and a bland stab at keeping the company open. If it hadn't been an ND game I would have put it down after 20 minutes. I made it a couple hours in.

There were too many little problems and quality issues to list. The main issues though:

Nancy's new VA didn't do a good job. She sounds so bored and like she doesn't know why she bothered to come into the studio to record lines. She did a bad job in Midnight in Salem as well, and a bunch of fans were like, oh just give her time to adjust, she did better in another game, don't be discouraging, show her support. Well.. I think it's insulting that she brought such low energy and no enthusiasm or real skill to the second game in a row. She's obviously not a good fit for this role. Find someone who cares about bringing this beloved character to life and doing her justice.

The music is so generic and unfeeling. The music in older games was so beautiful, distinct, memorable, it gives me happy chemicals immediately when I hear the music from specific favorite games. Nothing like that to be found in KEY.

The hint system is BORING AS FUCK and doesn't even provide hints for half the confusing, counter-intuitive nonsense in this game. The recurring side characters insisting on being reached only by text and not being able to phone friends was cheap and boring and disappointing.

I hit a glitch 40 minutes into playing, which is SO unacceptable for a 30+ dollar game. If not for being able to switch movement types and then switch back, I would have had to start all over.

HerInteractive has apparently decided that there needed to be lots of non-interacteble NPCs all around. Which is a huge departure, but fine. Except that said NPCs were all obvious repeats of the same ~7 character models. So the opening plaza and cafe would have like 4 versions of the same very distinct human standing around. It was distracting and felt insulting to my observation skills.

The non-Nancy VAs did a good job, excluding the really bad fake accents, but the dialogue was so weird and boring and stilted that the talent couldn't make up for it.

The game didn't tell me directly that you could press the shift key to sprint, I learned that from a random loading screen, so I spent most of the time at a crawl.

I had to stop using the "classic" movement mode. It was poorly implemented and didn't allow me to actually look closely at everything I needed to. Then the new free-move mode is the exact kind that gives me motion sickness, which limited my play sessions drastically.

There are so many things that made the game seem poorly thought out, like they didn't bother finding professional writers to plot out events and conversations. It also seems like they didn't find outside beta testers, because again, the number of major and minor problems was just through the roof and it was not fun to play for me. Most of the separate components that make up the game feel almost amateurish.

This is one for the minor complaint category but it bothers me so much. Just.. The obvious lack of effort. A ton of the self space in this cafe/bookstore in the starting location was just EMPTY. Like a quarter of a shelves. Nothing. Not even small cute decorations to compensate for the absence of books.

I was happy to support the company when we got the game, but after experiencing it, I'm sorry to have wasted the money on a game company that doesn't deserve it.

As my girlfriend just pointed out: HerInteractive fired the voice actors (including Nancy's iconic VA), fired the writers, fired the artists and programmers that made the old games incredible and memorable and special. Is it REALLY HerInteractive as we knew it anymore? No.

I'm sad that fans are cutting this game so much slack. If it weren't a Nancy Drew property, there would be no question that it's a mid game at best, and definitely not worth 32$USD. I think it's okay not to support this company anymore. As long as the old (good) games are available to play, maybe it's time to admit that someone else would be a better fit for creating Nancy Drew PC mysteries. The HerInteractive we knew and loved is not around anymore. I'm going to try to come to terms with that, and mourn the loss.

This shell of a developer that still exists doesn't deserve our money, or our collective benefit of the doubt. They are trying to sell us sub par products, while wearing the mask of a game series that was, and still is, important and foundational and cherished by so many fans.

I'm really glad that the old games still exist so we can have an amazing time re-playing them, until someone who actually cares creates another top-tier point and click mystery series

[requiemofrebellion]

just a small lil update:

i've written this ooc post, backspaced and rewritten it like... 5 times now cause words are hard.

i wanted to give a small update on blog + ooc activity. i am feeling really overwhelmed, some stress with what i got to do here as i wasn't keeping up with stuff while i had visitors here in sep and i expected to bounce back early oct and that didn't happen due to just burnout with said visitors for the whole month of sep. but i am also having life stress outside of rp which is the main impact of my feeling of being overwhelmed. so... as things still progress slowly as i try to get caught up, my ooc communication is going to be barely present for this week and maybe next week- depending on where i am at mentally.

this means that i will be directing all my energy into catching up on blog stuff, so i can get a starter call out for new moots and reblog memes again once my numbers here have gone down and i feel back on my routine. i was trying to balance out ooc communication cause i love talking to you all! but i've been finding out i'm not really able to balance it out cause both blog stuff and ooc stuff takes my energy and i been very low on it. so i decided to put ooc things on hold, this doesn't mean you can't talk to me - just know i'm gonna be really slow or may not answer and it isn't cause i don't wanna talk, just trying to focus energy on other things... I don't know how to word this so i hope this all makes sense....

i am really sorry everyone about just like having to pick one or the other right now. if i didn't have the real life stress i wouldn't be having to do this x.x so i hope you all understand and i hope this didn't come off weird. i tried wording it in the best way possible.

JUST PLEASE KNOW I THINK YOU ALL ARE AMAZING BEANS AND I SEND YOU ALL THE GOOD VIBES AND STUFF. And once i get caught up with my blog, i will be back around again ooc wise!

[againstthegrainphoto]

man, I've been so busy I've hardly had time to process that the Kraken season is over...so buckle up, this gon be a long one...I'm so grateful to have found hockey, which has taken the place as my main source of serotonin since the music scene has become such a shit show and my favorite bands have become accumulating disappointments. I'm so grateful to have met the people I have because of this team. I'm grateful that I have personally grown as a photographer because of this team. I've never photoed sports of any kind prior to this....aside from my mom making me photo my sister when she did collage basketball....and it's such a completely different monster from concert photog, but also super fulfilling. Plus, I am literally just a fan with a camera, I have no obligation to share anything, I owe no one any of the shots, I take these photos for 127% of my own enjoyment. If there is a shot of my Favorite™ I want to keep for me, I can and will keep it for me and my close friends only. Which is surprisingly freeing and a good feeling. That considered.....I took a few minutes to throw together a photo summary of my Kraken encounters this season. I've been hoarding photos all season to hopefully get me through the off season with minimal withdrawals....so you can expect more photos to trickle through this account as the offseason wears on.

11/8/22: kraken v predators. lars doing lars things. unfortunately geeks was clearly caught in friendly fire. W 5-1.

11/9/22: Tanev at practice.

12/17/22: Geekie and Burky at practice.

1/16/23: Kraken v lightning. kraken ice is so pretty. L 1-4.

1/21/23: Eberly and Jones at practice....jonesy says gtfo.

1/22/23: Kraken Skills Challenge: Lars & Dunner. I just think they're neat.

2/20/23: Sharks v Kraken: McCann. Being able to visit my best fren and have her take me to see her team play my team in her city was the highlight of my year. The score, however, was not. L 0-4.

3/9/23: kraken v senators. I absolutely would not want to be that guy. lol. but it was such a frustrating game. L 5-4.

3/29/23: Gourde having a good time at practice.

4/1/23: My favorite Dunner doing my favorite Dunner things at practice.

4/3/23: Kraken v coyotes. After a team celly I some how caught Matty tripping over his own skates....don't worry, in the next shot he was laughing so hard about this. W 8-1.

4/6/23: Kraken v coyotes. Being at this game was memories I will never forget. From the people in front of me lifting an infant in my line of view, to the row of girls behind me who were there for I'm not sure what reason, but clearly had no idea hockey was even a sport before this day, to the dude on my right man sitting next to me, to the fact I was sick af and snotting in my mask(not covid, I tested like 80 times that week)....none of that hindered my joy of seeing the squid squad clinch a playoff spot. So much happy. big W 4-2.

4/13/22: The last practice this season I was able to go to. so you get some love for Gru.

4/24/23: kraken v avalanche game 4: I didn't think I'd ever be able to be able to go to a playoff game, but my haunting of the apps plus the fact I got an alaska check in april allowed me to be able to see this game in person. It was a wild ride. Seeing Canner get hurt was one of the worst things ever. Seeing Ebs score the ot winner one of the best things ever. By this time in the season I acknowledge that Sprong's absolute madman, cryptid, gremlin energies have grown on me like mold and I've become overly fond of him. I will be very Sad™ if they don't keep him. (and I wonder where that gum ended up....) W 3-2.

5/13/23: Kraken v stars game 6. I thought my personal season had ended and I wouldn't get to see them until next season. But because they lost the game prior it caused ticket prices to plummet and I was able to scoop one up for an insanely low price. I'm so very very very glad I did. It was probably my favorite game I went to this year. It was the win that forced game 7. It also ended up being the last home game of the entire season. So special. W 6-3.

I'm so thankful to the Kraken for giving everyone...the fans, the city, the team, the game, THEMSELVES....the season they did. Seeing them the first year while not even knowing what a power play was....but also knowing that those passes should probably connect to other kraken players.....to seeing them fucking dominating like they did this year has been one of the funnest things I've taken part of in the city of seattle in the past decade. Being able to roll out of bed and drive down the street to see (and photo) them practice is one of my favorite things to do. And the game skates.....also one of my favorite things. And buoy....boy did I have some questions and concerns when they first unveiled him....but now, I'm completely smitten. I adore him. He's perfect. A perfect ball of high strung anxiety that is just right for seattle.

And I'm thankful for all you kraken/hockey fans who have followed and interacted with me here. It was an awesome season and I can't wait for the next.

[leopardom]

i've been listening to everybody's waiting and best year of my life on loop since they got released last midnight and oh boy the feeling i get from both songs is quite heavy but also... liberating??

why heavy? well, last year was anything but the best year of my life. it pretty much started with me realising (with some help) that i had fallen in love and, long story short, i got my heart broken very badly. at the same time, my mental health was deteriorating and as a result i started closing up and also lost one of the closest people to me. we're in good terms now, but never talked about what happened and we drifted apart like that. and it's been almost a year ever since

while losing that close connection with my friend proved to be helpful, the road to accepting this along with other things was very painful and i had to mask any negative feeling i had in order to keep functioning somehow and not make the rest of the people close to me uncomfortable. and i also had to focus on my thesis in order to finally get my bachelor's. and i did. but along with the new lows i had reached mentally, i reached and passed the point of burnout

my close ones were supporting me through my rants and i'll always be gratefull for that. but at the same time they still were telling me how good it would be when i'd be done with uni and how i would be able to get a proper job and make my own money and maybe do a master's etc. they all were waiting for something, they were waiting for more than i was already doing. they had been waiting for more than 3 years actually, but last year i was a lot closer to the goal and the pressure grew a lot bigger. and all the support i had was coming from a distance, i was still all by myself most of the time

from April til the beginning of July i was breaking down on a very regular basis, the panic attacks also became more frequent and my mental health was at the very bottom. and i couldn't even go to therapy anymore because i didn't have any time or energy for that. in the span of three months i had changed so much both physically and mentally that it made my head hurt and i couldn't process it

all i wanted was a hug from someone and to be told that i'll be okay. i didn't want everyone to tell me how things will be as soon as i graduate and how free i will feel yada yada. i only wanted a fucking hug, which i never got

after defending my thesis and graduating i blacked out completely. i can't remember myself feeling anything for the next couple of months. i only had a brief break when i went to Helsinki in September, attended all three of the jo finnish gigs and got to spend time with my friends in Finland. and when i got back from that trip i blacked out again. now i have a job and i make some money, but mentally i haven't recovered from the burnout and the high pressure. and people are still expecting things from me, from my students to my family to my friends to myself

lately, however, i kind of have started feeling again. my feelings are not usually nice and i cry a lot, but now there are days when i think that maybe things will get better with time and maybe i'll get there. a few months ago i didn't want to do anything at all and i was acting like a robot. now i want to do things, i'm trying as much as i can to do things that give me a serotonin boost so i won't have to rely only on my meds

to conclude, i still haven't gotten that hug i wanted so bad all these months ago. i'm not gonna lie, i still want it. but these two songs feel like that hug now. everybody's waiting is telling me that i'm not alone in this, there are people like me out there and we manage one way or another. best year of my life is telling me that i may have been and still am a mess, but you never know. maybe something different and even better is yet to come. and i have to be here to see it

[clatterbane]

Having to forcibly remind myself again that eating some food is better than just not eating.

I am currently having more trouble than usual lately with swallowing in between throat Roto-Rooter appointments (next one is in a week 😬), so of course the ED Jerkbrain has been telling me pretty loudly today that it's a good opportunity to, you know, just not eat. I did get something light for lunch and one small snack of leftovers since then, where I didn't even need to grab any extra insulin to cover it.

Couldn't quite force myself to make what I had already planned for a shared supper, and sorta felt like crap about that even if nobody else has any firm expectation there these days. We have both mostly gotten used to foraging on our own, for various reasons. (Not least, my not being able to handle solid food at all for better than a year there. Which also kinda did my head in, yeah, but I have mostly clawed my way back both mentally and physically.)

But yeah, this is just plain ridiculous and I am actually pretty hungry at what I guess would translate to around 8-9 p.m. for most people on a more typicality diurnal schedule. I've had less than the equivalent of a "normal" meal all day.

So, I felt an urge--and had enough shreds of sanity left--to grab for one of my new standard very low spoons go-to meals that's easy to break down and swallow when I am having trouble. I frankly almost got turned completely off mashed potatoes, as much as I have always loved them, while purees were basically a best case nutritional scenario.

But, I did decide to go for a mug of basic instant taters with plenty of butter, with half a can of extremely soft and smooth-textured Swedish fish balls in a dill cream sauce.

"MADE FROM FINE FISH"

It's easy protein and energy, and I actually quite like them even if I have mainly been keeping a can on hand as Desperation Food. Another of those things that feels like comfort food, when I never tried it before moving here--and getting capable of eating even something that close to a puree again.

(Unlike this guy with his tasting series, trying all the different kinds of fish balls he could find in stores near him. Which was more than a few! Testing them all cold, straight out of the package. And more than a little "cat food" commentary ensues. As I recall, he did offer some to his kitty at one point.)

Where "mat" means food. I found his videos entertaining even before we got here and my listening comprehension picked up more.

Wasn't really expecting to need the backup supplies when the actually mostly competent and regular treatment has been keeping me able to eat better for a good while now. But yeah, it unfortunately still seems to occasionally turn relevant. And I am sure I will enjoy them when I do actually make myself eat.

I may still microwave some frozen broccoli or cauliflower pretty soft, and have that too. But, in spite of what Jerkbrain has been telling me? It is much better to go ahead and eat other stuff, with or without the non-potato vegetables.

[lavenderandlaurel]

lol I haven't posted in this tag since may but here we go. long rambling thoughts about 2022:

2022 was a big year for me, which is weird because it doesn't really feel that way. I started the year in a very different mental and emotional place than where I am now, and a lot of the goals I set and things I expected to change just haven't been as relevant as I anticipated. for better and for worse, I'm at the same job and in the same apartment I was a year ago. it seems likely that will be the case at the end of 2023, too.

but under the surface, a lot of things have changed. I started a major solo project at work (as opposed to juggling half a dozen smaller projects), and I got some accommodations that mean I'm a lot less worn out in all the other areas of my life. I completed my conversion to judaism. I started applying to phd programs, then changed my mind, decided to pursue independent research, and started a new creative nonfiction project that may or may not be a book someday. I've also taken on some new responsibilities, not all of them totally planned - team leader for an organization I started volunteering with last january, committee member for a professional organization I'm active in. I've been gradually getting better at being consistent and following through on some of the side projects I say yes to.

having more energy outside of work (relatively speaking) means I've been able to be more intentional with my hobbies, which I'm starting to have rather a lot of. I kept up bouldering from last year, more or less, and in the summer started looking for a kung fu gym to get back into martial arts, which I haven't done for years but have missed a lot. I am really loving the school and style (mantis) where I landed. at this point I am probably in the best shape I've been since sophomore year of high school, though it strikes me that I had to find solutions for my chronic fatigue before I could make regular exercise happen. I do think it contributes to me having more energy, but there's no way I could have been this active last year and still worked full time.

I didn't write as much fiction as I'd hoped this year - only about 50,000 words total, and I haven't posted at all. on the other hand, I'm still happily working on the same projects I was at the beginning of the year, which is truly unprecedented. the goal is definitely to finish at least one of them this year.

I did reach a lot of my language-learning goals, including finishing the chinese tree on duolingo, getting comfortable with the hebrew alphabet, and finding ways to keep up my spanish. on the other hand, I haven't been cooking or practicing piano much - possibly because I haven't been trying much in the way of new things and am getting a little bored.

I've read 64 books this year and will probably finish another two or three before the end of the year, exceeding my (low, for me) goal of 60. a lot of those books were lengthy nonfiction, which may be why the overall number isn't as high as it was a few years ago. I have also been watching a lot more TV, though. 2022 was really the year of the cdrama for me, but there were several other fantastic shows: the sandman, reservation dogs, a league of their own, killing eve. musically, the mountain goats have unsurprisingly stayed my #1 band, but I listened to a wider range of stuff compared to last year (shoutout to my habibi and ibibio sound machine kick of the last couple months). I also tried a couple of new video games, hades and control. I am not good at the third-person shooter format, but it keeps me from destroying things.

the one neglected area of my 2022 goals that I would really like to pick back up in the new year is improvements to my living space, like getting enough shelf space for my books and making sure the kitchen/dining areas stay functional.

[firestormdiaries]

I should be walking. I should. Should be focused on recovery and getting better....

All the anger I've had is coming back and I'm either going to blow up or become a murderer with no concerns given. I can't even begin to tell ppl how often we'll thought out plans have been created and erased in my mind from this anger.

Either I keep occupied, in a cathartic or copacetic state. Or at least humor....or in going to jail....yeah. laugh...but I wasn't joking.

I guess this is the part of coming down from surgery. I've kept positive...on my own. I mean my family is helping but I could do with more than bare minimum and yelling at me when I have an emergency instead of trying to help.

( I had a low sugar emergency and husband in his panic starts yelling at me instead of fucking listening and realizing I did indeed tell him what's wrong.you know why I started sobbing because I realized im STILL on my own, you are no help to me, STILL. A CHILD panics you're a grown ass person fucking use the brain God gave you.)

I SAID I'm cold even though bundled up

And can't get up

The fact that you can barely hear me on the phone is another fucking clue.

Right there, that means, cold, shivering, trouble sitting up,low voice which would mean low energy

Ok that means he needs to get home and assess the situation. See if he can get me to eat or drink etc.

Nope come home screamming what's going on what the hell you have to tell me what's wrong.

Like bitch didn't I just?

I start sobbing because I realize you ARE THAT stupid and I'm fucked. I have to help myself.

How the fuck am I supposed to just not have my emergency and be able to inform you like that.

Sure....how long have you known me....the fact that I trusted you enough to call for help and this is what you do!?

This is why I don't trust you. You're incapable. I still have to do it myself.

This is why I fell to depression before. Part of it

When I'm done healing you can go back to your family. I don't need you. Not if this is it.

14 years, I changed to be better but it is just me.

You had chances, you fucked up. Repeatedly.

You think I still care, yeah, bare minimum. Just like you gave me, bare minimum.

And I've been telling you what I expected you just don't listen

[dzpenumbra]

7/22/23

Geez, feels like July 4 was just yesterday... it's been over 2 weeks.

I don't really have a lot to write about today, honestly. I got a ton of sleep, I'm crediting a shower right before bed. I skipped coffee and went with green tea instead today, I still have a ton of tea... I'm just usually in the habit of making and drinking an entire pot of coffee every day to start my day. Because of that change... I've been much lower energy today. But I do feel much more tired at this point in the night, around 2:30AM, which is good. We'll see if I can keep that going, do like... 2 cups of tea instead of 3-4 cups of coffee.

I skipped yoga today. I'm not really sure why. I think I was just really hungry and just didn't want to wait. Changing one part of a complex ritual like starting my day can make a lot of it start to fall apart. I'm planning to do my yoga after this journal to make up for it.

I didn't really accomplish a ton today. But I did get the color finished on my grip-tape. The base color, that is. And... it's already affecting my grip. The raw grip tape has a much more grippy feel compared to the painted parts... and the whole board is going to be painted. I guess I don't really have a problem with it, I just need to get used to it... and it definitely won't be able to stand up to rain even a little bit. But I got the gold and the deep crimson done. Now, all I have to do is shading and start adding in detail.

I think its important for me to make art that is destined to be temporary. This grip tape art will deteriorate. I will "ruin" it. That's kinda... part of the deal. And that's expected. It's super counter-intuitive with today's materialistic society where we feel compelled to hoard every fleeting Tweet for decades... for some reason... So this piece is much more than just a pretty design. It's me deliberately making something beautiful that I know will eventually succumb to the elements over time. And to embrace and love that as an act of life and art within itself. An exercise in letting go of attachment.

I also fucked around with making shapes and mandala designs in Magic, the music visualizer program I use. I wanted to make it so that I had a mandala that mirrors each shape... the kaleidoscope effect and all that... but each shape can be individually controlled, with its mirrors changing as well. Separating the shapes and manually mirroring was really just a matter of math, so that wasn't the end of the world. What I've been struggling with is making organic shapes. All of the mandalas I make use organic kinda floral shapes. I'm not really sure how to make these shapes in the program I'm using.

It might be worth making assets in a different program - like Blender - then bringing them into Magic for the visualization process. That leads me to the thought... I could just make 3D shapes, modelled in Blender. That brings me back to an idea I've been tossing around for weeks - the idea of making a 3D mandala. I read that in certain practices and schools of spirituality, mandalas are depictions of the palaces of heaven from a bird's eye view. I don't know how widespread this is, but the idea did hit me to... make a mandala the way I usually do in Blender... then model it into a 3D structure. I think that could be cool.

Anyway, that's kinda where I'm at. Beads are on the backburner as I let their wood treatment cure. Just kinda... working on the grip tape and planning on doing clothes next.

Yep, that's it for today. No existential deep-dive. No venting about society or my neighbors. Just a quiet low-key day of watching/listening to YouTube videos and painting on the floor. Could use more of them, honestly.

[fortheakhirah]

☯

akhirah stood silently for a moment, watching minthara's grin, the familiar teasing spark in her eyes. her words swirled around him, a flurry of energy that only she could muster. he took a deep breath, eyes narrowing slightly, feeling the weight of the city press in from all sides. "i'm not one for exuberance, m'lady minty," he muttered dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching in the faintest of smiles. "but i suppose you wouldn't want me any other way. you always did enjoy riling me up." it was clear she was peering up and down his less than excitable greeting, and he looked upon her sideways as they begun to walk. he was not quite sure where to go, it had been some time since he had been in kings landing.

"where is the red keep? i intend on stretching my legs. you will join me." he asked, yet his question sounded more like a dull statement. he expected her to play guide and escort him back, whilst the wagons carried his belongings; he had not been able to stretch his legs on the decks of his vessel. "i've never been one for theatrics," he continued, speaking in his low, measured tone. "you know this. my face doesn't lie, but it doesn't exactly shout joy either." he looked over his shoulder at the bustling docks before turning back to her, his gaze steady and calculating.

minthara's jest about his business didn't escape him, and he gave a small nod, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between them. "it's important enough," he said quietly, his voice low, "but not something for now." the rest of his thoughts lingered, unspoken, but he had no intention of elaborating. some things had to remain veiled, and minthara, for all her sharp tongue, knew better than to press. she was right - if he was here, that meant something. her mention of estermont caught his attention, the brief flicker of discomfort in her tone not lost on him. he had known her long enough to recognize the deeper currents beneath her flippant words. he shifted slightly, his posture still formal, but his voice softened ever so slightly.

"i haven't heard anything," he said, his brow furrowing, "but i haven't heard of it being invaded either. the dornish are not seamen, you will be fine." he paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "you know how it is. people are too busy, too distracted, to write letters. they might be occupied with other matters." he looked at her, taking in the weight of her words, the strain in her eyes that belied her usual bravado. he did not understand why her family would not respond to her; such a thing seemed cruel. "you will manage."

he shifted his weight, his eyes narrowing slightly. "king's landing isn't for you, m'lady. i can see it on your face. but it won't be forever, will it?" he watched her carefully, his voice quiet but resolute. "you'll go back to estermont when you're able. until then, just hold tight. at least here you can try to find some poor unfortunate that will consider marrying you." he paused again, studying her face, his gaze unwavering. "i'll keep my ears open. if i hear anything, you'll be the first to know." he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "until then, stay steady, m'lady. i don't think i need to remind you how to handle yourself." his words were calm, deliberate, a simple reassurance wrapped in his usual no-nonsense manner.

minthara's head cocked to the side. despite his less than enthusiastic welcome, it had not seemed to dampen her joy at seeing him - if possible, it only made it greater. it would be a strange thing if akhirah decided to embrace her tight and wax poetry about how much he had missed her. it was simply not his way, and if he were truly unhappy to see her, she would know about it. "you could use a bit of exuberance. look at you, i've seen more cheerful faces at funerals."

she could hardly blame him. if there was one thing that was clear, it was that stormlanders were less than welcome in this city, unless they were paying for king jaehaerys' debts with their taxes or winning his wars with their blood. akhirah knew minthara had never taken to studies, that politics were beyond the remit of her skills, but even she could see it.

"and if i were any other way, you'd think i was sick," she pointed out, effortlessly brushing off any insult that could have been perceived in his words. "you don't need to say it out loud. i know you like me well enough as i am." and yet even as she spoke, her voice softened, coming down a little to his more sombre level. that was the thing about minthara - the more somebody tried to temper her, the more she resisted, but she was more than willing to meet the people she cared for at their level. she just had to choose to do so.

she said nothing for a beat, instead examining his expression as he spoke. with akhirah, so much often was left in the unsaid, and it took reading between the lines to see the heart of the matter. slowly, she nodded her head. "must be important business, if you saw fit to see to it yourself." and with that, she was playing his own game, letting him know that she understood it would be no trivial matter that brought him here. "don't tell me what it is. not here. i'd never understand it, anyway." her flippancy masked the fact she did, in fact, understand that akhirah could not, or did not want to, talk about it here.

she softened a fraction, mischievous grin becoming something far more genuine. "my gift? careful. that almost sounded like a compliment." though she continued to tease him, there was something like gratitude in her indigo eyes. she'd been forgetting who she was, here in king's landing, but if there were anything that could remind her, it was akhirah, with his m'lady mintys and the familiar stoicism that seemed to steer her from choppy waters to more even ground.

but when he turned the question back to her, some of that restlessness made itself plain, her smile dimming as she turned her gaze to the sea. "estermont's too close to dorne," she was unable to keep her bitterness from her tone. she was angry - angry at those who saw fit to start a war in the first place, and angry at her brothers and mother for deciding this would be the safest place for her. she was not sleeping well at night, afraid she would wake to the news that the worst had happened, and she and salaenna, the fifteen year old sister she was charged with looking after, were the only two left. "so i'm here until i'm allowed to go home. leaving ain't an option yet."

she shrugged, a move that was supposed to look nonchalant, but came off slightly stiff. "do you have any news? from estermont? i write, but i think everyone's been too busy to reply much."