#if i can't make myself physically run away maybe i can mentally

[growandrecover]

From one burnt out student to another

This semester has been an absolute nightmare for me, so welcome to the resulting post where I try to help other people who are in the same boat!

How about we run through a quick list together, okay?

Unclench your jaw, relax your shoulders, relax your face, unclench your fists

Are you sitting in the shape of a C right now? *hitting you with a broom* straighten your back out!!

Maybe get up and stretch while you're at it!

Have you taken your meds today? If not, go get 'em.

Have you eaten enough today? Coffee/energy drinks are not a meal!!

What have you eaten today? Do you need to get something to snack on?

Have you had any water today?

Do you need to rest? There is NO shame in taking a nap or relaxing. If someone does shame you, send them my way

How long has it been since you moved from where you are right now? Maybe move to another room if you can.

How long has it been since you looked away from your screen? Take a little 5-10 minute break to rest your eyes :)

How long has it been since you've showered? (No shame in this one either, it's okay if you can't do it. You're not judged here.)

Do you need to get into some fresh, comfy clothes?

If the weather in your area will allow it, can you open a window or go sit outside?

Affirmations:

My grades do not define me

I am more than a grade/a gpa

I am allowed to make mistakes

I am allowed to rest

Taking breaks is necessary for my well being

This semester/school year will not last forever

It's okay to take time for myself

I do not need to be productive all the time

I am capable

I am smart

I do not need to perform to perfection all the time

My mental/physical/spiritual/emotional health is more important than school

It is okay to ask for help

Asking for help does not make me weak or less capable

Assignments should not be valued over sleep/food/self care

If you have the energy, maybe try some of these:

Reach out to a friend/family member/mutual

Change your sheets

Take your trash out

Pick stuff up off the floor if there is anything

Do your dishes/run the dishwasher

Do a load of laundry/put any clothes away

Journal

Schedule any needed doctor's/dentist's/therapy appointments

Leave your home for a little bit

Go do something you enjoy

Create something

Go for a walk

Cook your favorite meal

You are doing amazing, and I'm so proud of you. You can and will get through this. You're not alone <3

As always, please feel free to reach out or send me an ask if you need someone to talk to!

[jedi-bird]

Had to empty the giant box into three bags to get it upstairs because it was too heavy for me to lift. The funniest part is that I was the one who packed it and moved it twice originally. I'm put about seventy percent of it away and just need to finish sorting out the beads and buttons that were in it as well as the patterns.

Sorted through the trims and tapes my grandma had in her sewing table and found some interesting vintage ones. I don't know what I'll do with some of them but it'll be a fun challenge to figure it out eventually.

[teaboot]

I'm surprised/impressed? by how blase you are about people threatening you at work. A neighbor threatened me last week and it was so scary and I wish I could have had the same kinda response you seem to.

First off, I hope you're safe and okay, that's an awful experience to be familiar with and especially bad that they live so close to you D:

Second, I'm certainly no maverick out here- I've only been doing this a few years now- but I've found that about 99% of threats I receive have very little intent to follow through.

The type of threats I usually receive are typically from:

Someone who's had bad experiences with security or police, in the past. People with hand and face tattoos, homeless folks, people with mannerisms that get them labeled as "sketchy", POC, and people who've been incarcerated all have valid reason to believe I'm out to get them, and may get treated badly elsewhere often enough that they're expecting that. Every time I approach someone, I have to take this into account and do everything I can to signal that they haven't been profiled based on preexisting stereotypes.

Someone experiencing the symptoms of a mental health condition. People with mental illnesses are statistically victims of crime more often than they are perpetrators. That said, I have run into people before whose mental illness can present as aggression- if someone behaving erratically or is known for that sort of thing tells me they're gonna blow my brains out, but I can clearly see they're unarmed, not coming towards me, haven't hurt anyone, and show no intent of escalating, I'm probably not in danger. A few people I've met will see me again in a day or two and will have no problems with me at all.

Someone who is scared, frustrated, anxious, or grieving. Not to excuse violence in any context, but in my experience 99% of people who blow up at me aren't actually thinking about me. Anger isn't so much an emotion in a lot of ways as it is the reaction to another emotion- if someone tells me they're gonna kick my ass, I have to question if there's anything they may be frightened, frustrated, or sad about something else entirely. If I can address and resolve what's causing the anxiety, the anger usually goes away next. If I can't deescalate, my next job is to disengage and make sure myself and others aren't at risk of harm.

People who want something from me. This does not happen often. Maybe they want me to back off, or leave them alone, or let them take something, whatever- maybe they think I'm someone with clearance to use physical force, or they think my flashlight is pepper spray. Whatever it is, once they've made it clear they're willing to act, I back off. Unless they're hurting another person, nothing they want is worth getting stabbed or shot over. And physical conflict is insanely stressful, even for the attacker, so even then whoever threatening me will likely take any "out" I can give- I keep paths of escape clear, stay out of range, keep calm and respectful. Every time this has happened to me, the person has run away when given the chance.

People who genuinely want to hurt me and intend to follow through. Again, this is super uncommon- I think it's only really happened to me once or twice on the job. Yes, it's scary, but I find it helps to remember that they arent after me, they're after the uniform. If someone is coming after me in costume, so to speak, it's not who I am as a person, it's what I represent. And a lot of people seem to think I'm a cop, or see me as a faceless goon, or a past abuser, or an intruder in their life specifically sent to make them miserable. If that's what they believe, there's not much I can do to change their mind except, again, stay calm and respectful and disengage.

I do know how to defend myself to an extent, but again, I don't have weapons or restraints or a vest or anything and I'm kinda small on top of that so really I'm cool with hauling ass if I gotta. If me getting the fuck out of dodge resolves the issue then I'm not above radio'ing HQ from the top of a tree somewhere, that shit is above my pay grade.

TL/DR in my personal limited experience, someone who has told me that they're going to hurt me wouldn't have given me the warning unless there was something I could do to avoid it. Stay calm, don't yell, be respectful, give them an escape route and run if you need to

Stay safe out there, yeah?

[dutifullylazybread]

just found you, i see a lot of pre and post family with the teefs. what about during? and directly after? how do they care for their partner during pregnancy? especially if its a diffcult one? and afterward when their partners body has changed and maybe they're less confident about the extra weight, softer body, the extra rolls and teh stretch marks that wont go away? how does each bachelor help or make it better ir suddenly realize that is even wrong to begin with? what if they accidentally something bring out that newly found weakness in their partners confidence? ( sorry if youre busy i know you got stuff to do- i just figured youre the person who could slam dunk these thoughts i had)

Have I... GOTTEN TO THE POINT WHERE I CAN JOIN THE TIEFLING HEAD CANON SQUAD???????

ADDED 4/26/24: This might be a rough list, but I hope you all enjoy!! ❤️

OKAY. I GOTTA ADD CAL. I'M ADDING CAL. THIS SWEET MAN IS A TIEFLING BACHELOR AND DOES NOT HAVE ENOUGH FAN CONTENT... YET.

And thank you for bearing with me--I know that this ask was sent in a hot minute ago! I'm hoping I answered all of your questions; I got to a point of this sitting in my drafts where I just felt bad about how long it had been there, so I tried to be thorough but I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later. I mostly worked on this when I had a few spare moments between chapters, and then I said "screw it. This is getting done. TODAY."

So, for Cal, Rolan, Zevlor, and Dammon--let's go!

DISCLAIMER - I do not have children myself, nor have I ever been pregnant. So I shall do my best!

JUST IN CASE - A CONTENT WARNING: While writing these head canons, I did refer to the tiefling's partner as "you." If reading about being pregnant makes you uncomfortable for any reason, please be aware and be kind to yourself. I have zero doubt in my mind that I will be creating another head canon list, so if you need to pass or wait on this one, that's absolutely okay. Your mental health is important.

Cal

While Cal's partner is pregnant, he will do absolutely anything and everything to make sure they are comfortable. To say that he is doting is putting things very mildly.

He will make your favorite meals, will go out and get whatever you are craving (late night runs--not a problem), will rub your swollen ankles.

Too hot? He's asking Rolan for a cantrip scroll to fix it. Too cold? He's already piling you with blankets.

Are you feeling sick and nauseous? He's already prepping something for you to eat/drink that doesn't have an offensive smell.

And if it's a hard pregnancy? I don't see him leaving your side. If he does, he has Rolan create a sending stone set for the two of you so that you can reach out to him for anything and everything.

Honestly, he doesn't get far enough for him to even use the sending stones. He is looking for anything and everything to make the pregnancy easier on you. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now because he doesn't want you to lay there in pain.

There may be points where he feels helpless because while he can do things to try and alleviate any physical discomfort, there are just times when he might just grasp at straws.

And, in situations where he can't alleviate your physical discomfort, he will do what he can to distract you.

He keeps his stress managed well enough, but that doesn't mean he won't snap at Lia or Rolan if he is too anxious. If he does get openly frustrated with them, it takes both off guard.

I also think he just holds you. A lot. Part of that is to comfort you, and the other part is to assure himself that everything will be okay.

If his partner is dealing with body image issues after giving birth, I see him being confused. You? The most enchanting person he has ever known?

Cut to him kissing you and holding you whenever possible. He'll ask Lia and Rolan to watch the baby whilst the two of you go on outings when your health permits. If it helps you to hear it, he'll remind you how lovely you are. Frequently. Hourly. Every five minutes? Not quite, but close enough.

Personally, I don't think his doting goes away after the pregnancy. And, if it is too much, it might make you feel like he views you as helpless.

If you give voice to this, he goes into immediate mediation mode. He will be extremely apologetic. He loves you and never wants you to think he perceives you as anything other than the phenomenal person you are.

Rolan

Ugh. My beloved.

He might be more stressed about having a child than you are.

He never anticipated being a father, and that might be for 15+ reasons, but he feels drastically unprepared (even if the pregnancy was planned).

He reads every. Single. Book. On pregnancy. He is the parent who gives himself nightmares when he reads about birthing complications.

Every sign of discomfort that you show is a catastrophe on the horizon.

And if it's a difficult pregnancy? Yeah. Dial that up by five notches.

He is preparing for all worst-case scenarios.

If it weren't for Cal and Lia keeping him in check, he would be safety-proofing everything in the tower.

He crafts sending stones so you can call for him if you need anything. ANYTHING.

But also, he starts shadowing midwives and asking lots of questions. If the worst were to happen and you couldn't reach a professional, he wants to be there to help you.

After giving birth, I see him splitting his anxiety between your health/recovery and the baby's overall well-being.

"The baby sneezed. That might indicate five different lethal illnesses. I'm fetching the cleric."

This is another situation where you, Cal, and Lia might have to remind him that, yes, babies do sometimes sneeze, and not everything that lands in the diaper spells doom.

Rolan might not initially understand why you're feeling self-conscious about any weight gain. Of course you're lovely. Also, isn't that what happens with pregnancies? (His words--not mine).

He assures you that you're lovely, but words might not be enough here. He might shove his foot in his mouth while trying to make the situation better.

But the best thing for him to do is remind you, repeatedly, that you are lovely. And that might not have been something he was accustomed to even saying to you prior to you conceiving. He would assume you knew that he was attracted to you.

It honestly might be the strangest (and most endearing) thing to have him say "You look very lovely today. Yes, even with the baby's spit up on your shirt."

Zevlor

*nervously staring at the tiefling I am the most unsure about writing.*

*cracks my knuckles and cries because it hurt like hell*

Zevlor has been through some of the most heinous things that can be thrown at someone. He is a seasoned soldier. A Hellrider. Surely he can help his partner through pregnancy. After all, there were plenty of soldiers in the barracks who has pregnant spouses. He's heard enough stories that he feels prepared.

He survived the Elturel's Descent. It's possible that he helped safeguard someone who was in the middle of giving birth or guided expecting parents to safety. Maybe he had to fight off the devil's skulking the streets if they caught wind/heard that person enduring birthing pains?

So maybe, he thinks, he has already seen some of the worst births ever. Maybe, he thinks, in this time of relative peace, in this home that he and his love have created, it'll be easier?

My personal headcanon for Zevlor is that he put EVERYTHING into being a Hellrider/paladin. It was his life. It was his every breathing moment. And when he became an oathbreaker, it destroyed him. His life was devoted to protecting others, and he feels that he failed in the worst of ways possible.

He certainly had friends and very possibly family that he would see on occasion, but I think that, if you didn't fight alongside him/live in the barracks too, you very likely didn't see much of him.

So maybe he has heard a great deal about pregnancies. And maybe he knows about the complicated ones--just a bit. But he himself is at a loss for when his partner tells him that they are pregnant.

Is he excited? Absolutely. Is he terrified. Oh yeah.

Regardless of how complicated the pregnancy is, he is nervous. He is worried that he will slip up in all the ways that matter, and he is terrified of letting you down.

He's a soldier though, and he prepares for everything.

He has additional blankets and pillows next to the bed.

Hot and cold compresses are ready to go.

He makes sure that he accounts for your cravings whenever shopping.

He has medicine for when the pain is severe. And when the medicine doesn't cut it, he tries his best to distract you--his mileage varies.

And this man adores you. So after the pregnancy, if you are feeling self-conscious, he will worship your body.

Dammon

I could see Cal and Dammon both being very doting, but Dammon would be juggling the forge and helping you.

If you spent a lot of time in the forge with him prior to pregnancy but find that being in there now makes you feel ill, he will absolutely feel lonelier. He is definitely the sort of person who gets very absorbed in his work, and I think this makes him feel guilty. Especially if he feels like him being there could have made things easier for you.

He becomes a meal prep king. Will cook several comfort meals for you to eat while he is working.

Massages swollen ankles and feet and anything else.

While he might have worked later hours in the forge before, he makes a point to wrap things up sooner to spend evenings with you.

That doesn't mean he isn't nervous--you're about to have a child, and he does worry if there will be enough money.

He worries that if he does slow down, commissions will dry up, and then where will that leave the three of you?

If the pregnancy is difficult, he feels guilty for leaving you alone and looks for hundreds of ways to make things easier.

Eventually, he creates a small sitting space for you near the doorway to the shop itself. It's not so close to the forge that you'll be uncomfortably hot or so close that the smell will make you sick, and he sets up a small tarp to create some shade.

If you helped Dammon in the forge before the pregnancy, he is likely hesitant to have you come back and immediately help. Especially if the birth was difficult.

But what you need, more than anything from him, is time

And Dammon wants to be a parent who is present in your life and the baby's, so he does everything to be there.

But money is still a stressor. And he might worry about you being in the forge again. So he's stressed on all fronts.

And while I don't see him commenting or changing how he treats his partner because of weight change, I do see him being VERY reluctant to have you work in the forge with him.

And this may lead to an argument. You know he is stressed about commissions and being there for you and the baby, but you still want to help.

So Dammon dials it back several notches and agrees that you know your body best. So long as you feel comfortable working in the forge, and so long as you listen to your body, the two of you can start it from there.

And it gets easier to balance the forge and child rearing. While the baby isn't allowed close to the open heat/flame until they fully understand why they must be careful (and until their lungs are developed), you and Dammon create a small swing/play area nearby.

[girltalkcollectives]

Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist: What I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Academic Burnout

Currently writing this from my favorite corner of the library at 1 AM, surrounded by empty coffee cups and half-finished to-do lists. If you're also here – physically or metaphorically – this post is for you.

The Breaking Point

Last week, I:

Pulled three all-nighters

Cried in the bathroom between classes

Forgot to eat actual meals for two days

Drank enough coffee to fuel a small country

Had a breakdown over a B+

Ignored approximately 47 texts from friends

Convinced myself I was failing at life

And then I realized: this isn't normal. This isn't okay. And I'm definitely not alone.

The Pressure We're Under

Let's be real about what we're juggling:

5+ classes with endless assignments

Internship applications

Club responsibilities

Part-time jobs

Social life maintenance

Basic human needs (allegedly)

Family expectations

Our own impossible standards

Signs of Burnout I Ignored

Looking back, the red flags were screaming:

Constant exhaustion (but unable to sleep)

Sunday night panic attacks

Zero motivation for things I used to love

Living on caffeine and protein bars

Emotional breakdowns over minor setbacks

Feeling disconnected from friends

That weird eye twitch that wouldn't go away

The Toxic Academic Culture No One Talks About

We normalize:

"I'll sleep when I'm dead"

Competing over who's more stressed

Skipping meals to study

Feeling guilty for taking breaks

Measuring our worth by our GPA

Sacrificing mental health for grades

Working ourselves sick

What Actually Helped Me

Real strategies that made a difference:

Setting non-negotiable rest times

No studying after 11 PM

One full day off per week

Actual lunch breaks (revolutionary, I know)

2. Creating study boundaries

50 minutes of work, 10-minute breaks

No studying in bed

Phone on "Do Not Disturb"

Designated study spots

3. Taking care of my body

Keeping snacks in my backpack

Water bottle always with me

Walking between classes instead of rushing

Actually using my gym membership

The Reality Check I Needed

Truth bombs I'm learning:

No grade is worth your mental health

You can't pour from an empty cup

Success isn't measured by exhaustion

Your worth isn't your productivity

Rest is productive

B's get degrees (and that's okay!)

Permission Slips We All Need

It's okay to:

Take a mental health day

Ask for extensions when needed

Say no to extra commitments

Not be the perfect student

Change your major if you're unhappy

Prioritize sleep over studying

Ask for help

What Recovery Looks Like

Small wins I'm celebrating:

Actually eating three meals a day

Sleeping more than 4 hours

Taking weekends off

Setting boundaries with study groups

Deleting social media during finals

Learning to say "no"

Accepting that good enough is enough

Practical Steps I'm Taking

My new non-negotiables:

No all-nighters (they don't work anyway)

Regular meal times

Phone-free study blocks

Weekly planning sessions

Morning routine that isn't just coffee

Therapy appointments

Exercise that feels good

To Anyone Struggling

Remember:

Your grades don't define you

This phase of life is temporary

Everyone's path is different

It's okay to take breaks

You're doing better than you think

Asking for help is strength

You matter more than your GPA

Moving Forward

I'm learning that:

Success looks different for everyone

Balance isn't perfect

Rest is necessary

Breaks make you more productive

Health comes first

Some things can wait

You're not falling behind

The Plot Twist

Maybe the real achievement isn't getting straight A's while running three clubs and maintaining a perfect Instagram feed. Maybe it's learning to take care of yourself while chasing your dreams.

[willsimpforanyone]

Good whatever time it is, if you're currently writing for request, could you write a GN!Monster!reader x percy Jackson where the reader recently got turned into a monster because they failed a quest for their parent?

good afternoon! i can definitely do that for you

this is gonna be more angsty than usual bc i can't imagine this went well

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

The words echoed in my head, chipping away at my resolve.

You've failed me. You're a waste. A disappointment.

I should never have trusted something so important to someone so weak.

I curled in on myself, bones still aching from being reformed and reshaped, muscles screaming from being stretched over this new form.

They didn't even tell me what they were going to do. They just had this... look in their eye, cold and cruel. I had begged, I had been on my knees and it meant nothing.

We were supposed to go out in threes, three of us on a quest, not one. I wasn't supposed to be by myself but they insisted, it was too secret to share with more than one person. They wanted me and me alone.

Maybe they wanted me alone.

My claws scraped against my tough skin, long and thin and alien. I was taller, larger. I tried to see properly, tears obscuring my vision, but the light seemed to pierce my brain and I shrieked, something inhuman and wild.

Everything hurt, everything was wrong, I didn't even know how I was breathing. I didn't know where I was and the confusion almost hurt more.

Something was moving. Familiar sounds, leaves being shuffled out the way of feet, twigs snapping under footsteps. Okay, I'm outside.

It provided the tiniest amount of comfort, along with a wave of fresh anxiety.

"Who's there?"

A voice! I know that voice! I risked opening my eyes again, twisted, clawed hand shading my face.

Brown and green, blue peaking through. A forest. Trees came into focus, then branches, then leaves. The light still felt like pins in my eyes but I had to know who spoke.

"Whoa, what the fuck are you?!"

Oh my gods. That... that was Percy.

He didn't know who I was. I didn't even know who I was. It felt like my organs squeezed painfully, panic and fear and desperation flooding my bloodstream.

I opened what I assumed was my mouth. What came out was some kind of whine, pitiful and pathetic. No words.

A flash of bronze made me freeze. Oh gods, that's Riptide, he's going to kill me.

I skittered back as best I could, pressing against tree bark. The sharpness of the texture didn't hurt and I hated it. I wasn't a threat, I wasn't going to hurt him, I wasn't what he thought I was, oh fuck he's going to kill me.

I had to talk, I had to make him understand. I tried to clear my throat, thick with fear. It made a hacking sound, like a cat throwing up. Slowly, I moved what I assumed was my tongue, poking it out and running it along my teeth. It was long and black and my teeth were thin and sharp.

Pushing aside the mental agony of not knowing what this body looked like, I tried to remember the way to form letters.

"H-eel-pp n-m-ee-"

I was crouched on the ground, making myself as small and unthreatening as possible, clawed hands wrapped around my legs. C'mon Percy, use your brain, a real monster wouldn't ask for help.

"H-hee-lp mmm-ee."

Please, please, Percy, I'm begging you to put the sword away, help me, please!

The bronze flash disappeared and I risked a deep breath. Good start, I can do this, we'll sort this out, he'll help.

"...you want help?" He took a step closer, hand still holding Riptide in pen form. "You're asking for help?"

"Pl-pleeea-eas-e?" I kept my hand shielding my eyes but I looked up at him. I couldn't see any recognition in his face, but I couldn't see much of anything.

"Who are you?" Percy demanded, a harsh tone that felt like a punch to the gut.

My name, he needed my name. How do I say my name?

It took a few attempts, letters getting jumbled up and my tongue contorting in ways I didn't like. Some of my teeth nicked it a little and I physically recoiled at the taste of my own blood as if I could get away from my own mouth.

Percy looked confused, but less aggressive. He seemed to be patient, waiting for an explanation.

Something approaching my name left my thin lips, and his eyes widened.

"How do you know them? What did you do?"

No! No, fuck, that's not what I meant!

I repeated my name, carefully using a claw to tap on my chest. "Mmm-ee."

Percy's jaw dropped. "You're... but they're out... oh gods, what happened to you?"

I burst into tears. Huge, ribcage-wracking sobs from between my needle teeth and I reached out for Percy with a dangerously sharp hand.

He put his hand in mine and I closed my spindly fingers around it. Tears blurred what little I could see, and my throat felt raw and scratchy from panic and holding back.

"Okay, okay, we're gonna fix this, okay?" Percy's voice was wobbly but calm. "We're going to undo this, and you're going to tell me what happened and I swear to Hades I will find who did this to you." His grip tightened on my hand.

"I will find them and I promise you, they will never hurt you again."

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

i hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!

[chumbertchumiliouschummy]

-FrozenGeodeShipping headcannon fic-

I thought I'd lost him forever, when I woke up here, after the merge. I thought I was destined to be alone forever. I thought Zane was dead. Shattered somewhere, broken, completely unrecognized and completely unfixable. Every time I thought of him, I pictured pieces of broken endoskeleton scattered across the world, little pieces and big pieces everywhere, never to be put back together.

Maybe he was all in one piece, somehow, was he on? Was he okay? Is he broken somehow? Is he hurt?

It was all too much. I couldn't even think about it without starting to cry. It hurt so much to think about, I could feel my soul shattering every time I thought of him in pain, scared somewhere, alone.

I can handle it, I'm the strong one, I can handle everything, physically and mentally.

But I can't handle the thoughts of Zane.

Not knowing is what makes everything so much worse.

Before I knew it, Geo found me, welcomed me into the Land of Lost Things, and it became my home. Everyone here became my family, the kids, they're like my own, I'd do anything for them.

I only wish Zane could be here with me, this could be our home, our family. Together.

Geode and I got pretty close. I started opening up to him about my thoughts, my fears, and he supported me throughout everything. It was nice, not being alone. Before I knew it, I'd been living here for years!

I began to fully accept that Zane was gone, and that I'd probably never get to see him again or know what really happened to him, but Geo was there the whole time. He listened to all of my stories about Zane, listened to how much I loved him, and how much I hurt losing him. He was there. He gave me a shoulder to cry on, and told me he'd always be there for me.

Slowly, I started to fall for him, just like how I did with Zane.

At first, it made me feel horrible, how could I possibly love somebody after losing Zane!? How could I let myself love again, how could I be so selfish?

But...he makes me so...happy.

We raise these kids together, eat together, he even loves MY cooking! I love his toothy smile, the way he laughs at my jokes, and I've never met somebody else as touchy as I am! We hug all the time and he's never said it's too much!

In a lot of ways, he reminds me of Zane. He's so sweet and caring, so willing to sacrifice himself to protect us, to protect the kids and Bonzle, so willing to sacrifice everything to keep us safe, keep our home safe.

He's so mature, he always knows just what to say when you need it, and when he doesn't, he can still sympathize and support you. It comes so naturally to him.

When he smiles, the whole room lights up, he's so passionate about his art that it makes my heart hurt, where someone else might see nothing but a pile of trash, I can really see his feelings. His art has so much depth that I can't even begin to describe.

It's so easy to talk to him, about everything.

One night we were talking, like we usually do, about anything and everything that came to our minds, and without even thinking about it, I told him-

"I think I'm in love with you-"

He stopped talking, looked at me with that toothy smile, and took hood of my hand.

It all felt so natural.

We fell into a routine, life was relatively simple, sometimes we'd have to run away from the Hoarder, but that's nothing we couldn't handle.

We started sharing a bed, which was nice. I can't put into words how lonely I was at night. It feels like Geo grounds me, those nights where I can't sleep because I can't get out of my own head.

The day I finally came face to face with Zane again, after we were finished running from those weird guys in wolf masks, I think I physically felt my heart stop.

So many years gone...where was he all this time?

He brought me into a deep hug as soon as the portal gate had closed.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what I could do.

"Uh! I need a minute!"

I pushed Zane away.

I ran off, I found my old room, everything was just how I left it so many years ago.

Where do I even start with all of this? What do I tell Zane? What do I tell Geo?

What do I even want?

I love them both...

-----

Cole had run off in distress, leaving everyone else in the room in an awkward silence.

Geo put a hand over Zane's shoulders.

"I think we should sit down somewhere and talk."

Sitting down outside, Geo comforted Zane while he tried to process what was going on.

"Why did he...run away from me?" Zane almost whispered, a face to his face, his eyes began to water.

"it's been so long...I thought he was dead...it doesn't make any sense!"

Geo gave Zane a firm squeeze on the shoulder.

"I think he's in as much shock as you are. He thought he lost you."

"I also think he doesn't know what to do...know that we've been dating for several years..."

Zane looked over at Geo, hurt in his eyes, but not directed towards the other being beside him.

"That would make sense. I suppose I wouldn't know what to do in his position either..."

"You're not angry? I was kind of worried you'd beat me up when I told you we're together-"

"What? No, of course not! It would be extremely unfair to Cole to stay single under the presumption that he might one day find me again. I would want him to find someone in the situation we found ourselves in. He doesn't deserve to be alone."

"But I must admit that regardless, this current situation is quite messy."

"I don't think it has to be." Geo smiled, Zane looking back with curiosity.

"You know, this may be pretty forward, but you're as beautiful as Cole described! Everything he told me about you has so far been proven to be true!"

Zane became flustered, heat rushing towards his face as his fans whirred to keep him cool.

That's when they began to discuss polyamory, and idea Zane had never been opposed to, but always thought was too socially unacceptable to talk about. Geo mentioned it was pretty normalized for him in his culture(s), and mentioned it was something Cole has once toyed with, in his younger years.

"I had no idea Cole was so adventurous when he was younger..."

"He told me he wanted to experience everything after running away from that dancing school, he wanted to stop thinking about how his father would react to him being himself, so he wanted to replace it with as many people as possible. He was in a polycule for a little while, before he became a ninja. I guess maybe he never felt comfortable enough to talk about it?"

"Yeah, who knows what the others would've thought at the time." Zane said.

"it's a lot more accepted now!" Geo agreed.

"So, what do we tell Cole?" Zane asked after a while.

-----

(ending here but will probably eventually post on AO3 or something)

[keouil]

you can be king again: a dethroning

some internal musings i don't want time and bitterness to swallow on what has been the most emotionally challenging yet oddly cathartic work i've written so far.

YCBKA january 2024 — october 2024. 47k. single pov. jujutsu kaisen. physical disability, emotional codependency, trauma

𓍼ོ 𓍼ོ 𓍼ོ

it's tokyo in january: the temperature is the coldest i've ever felt on my skin as someone who thrives on sunny weather, the language is familiar but too fast for me to comprehend, the faces are new and my social anxiety is at an all time high. i want to say writing this was easy and came to me in a half-baked dream at 3am in the morning when, as all virgos know, hypochondria and overthinking hits and you have no place to carve it in. but it wasn't, and to this day, i have complicated feelings about starting a fic during particularly vulnerable times i know i will tend to project even more than i already do. but something something about how every piece of writing is self-referential in a way even if you don't mean it to be and you can't unspring yourself from a body of work you spend so long inside of and to be gentle with yourself as you move through this world trying to understand it better and your place in it.

so tokyo.

it was my first time living completely alone in a foreign country where i had no one but myself to depend on: the penultimate horror made real of every youngest asian daughter. i had to do big girl things in a big girl city, scraping together what loose japanese i remembered from beginner classes, and having to translate everything twice in my head in fear of offending someone (social anxiety!) or not getting my point across the way i want it to (virgo!). you want to connect, in a big city. you want to feel corporeal, in a big city. you don't want to lose yourself to the ether of loneliness and isolation disguised as a fancy exchange program. only you don't understand how limiting language can be when you're in a position you can't even channel your mother tongue. as a writer, this just disarmed me completely. and unassumingly. i have no problem expressing myself in english when the situation calls for it, but there's been a few instances where, i'd face a fellow exchange friend and instinctively slip into a colloquial expression that i don't realize i'm even doing when the expression i'm greeted with is just utter but polite confusion.

i did it again, i thought. i homeseeked.

but for ycbka specifically, i just. i don't know. the idea seemed so fantastical and grand in my head. just imagine it: a blind gojo. a blind gojo. of all people to strip away the sight of and knock down a peg. i wanted to write it so bad but always told myself to wait until i was ₊˚ʚ mentally stable ₊˚ʚ enough because the source material needs a steady hand to guide it through completion. i can't fumble blind gojo. i have to make blind gojo epic. i have to make this into an even bigger thing than the material calls for because blind gojo. but one especially sad day™ coming back to an empty dorm room with the lights still streaming in and tokyo on a full friday beat: i basically said fuck it.

i think it's partly why ycbka reads so angry sometimes.

sometimes i think that i hate that it reads like that and have had to console myself with the fact i trust my writing, i trust my story, i trust my characterization: all of these things have led to each scene for a reason. i trust gojo to get me there and maybe if he felt a little angry at times, that was exactly what he was supposed to be feeling. it was as much a surrender to the craft as it was to the narrative i felt gojo was being pulled towards that i know i could always get him out of, but maybe wouldn't have served the story if it was too easy.

i myself am not a particularly angry person, so i actually found it a little surprising how a common running theme i sometimes got in my comments is the appreciation for how cutting my writing is. is this where my anger has bled through without my knowing, i wonder? i'm trying to be gentle. i just always want to be gentle. and yet, now with the added lens of a third party to survey my writing with, reading over it again i do see it: the shrapnels.

why is she so angry? why is she always using slashing motifs? why do i always need to bring it back to the soul, to the heart, to the vein? must it not be enough to just let gojo be blind without adding myself to his despair?

i don't know.

i go through intense grieving periods with this fic in particular. i've finished it now and breathed the biggest sigh of relief that i did, but, all the same: it's complicated. when i hate it, i hate it and just barely stop myself from scrapping the whole thing and deleting it's existence—this proof of such authorship vulnerability—off the internet. i hate the way the words string together and the offbeat pacing and the non-linear narrative and think about how i could write everything so much better if i wasn't just so greedy when i started it a time i really shouldn't have.

but ycbka is served best as a love letter.

a really open, tug my heart out and choke yourself with it, display of exposure. i didn't want to sacrifice the integrity of the story just because my relationship with writing has taken such a tumultuous turn. in a way writing and so, never die which is without a doubt and no room for debate the actual hardest thing i've ever written was so much more simpler. it's only grief, darling, i told myself as i cried into the google doc. you know it. you've lived it. i give you as much space as you want to take up in the world to express it. everything i've ever written will always find a running twine back to grief because it's the foundation of all my writing and everything i do.

but. really. just.

for ycbka: everything felt too serious. granted, it needed to be, because canon will tell you short of an apocalypse coming there is nothing worse than gojo being blind and i wanted to instill that sense of urgency, this impending doom, this near catastrophe always lying in wait. i don't know if i achieved it exactly because i wanted to gentle the pages, still, for gojo and shoko. i wanted it to be both a mix of urgency and yet mindful in honoring the time they're in; the unprecedentedness of it, the irony that it's only then they can have all the time in the world to heal from past and present wounds. i wanted gojo not to keep rushing his healing because that was the direction i felt he was leading me into the story, why that whole confrontation scene in chapter 5 is what i consider the peak of their development/realizations in such a contained story.

the other thing is i think i didn't quite expect the (tiny!) influx of attention ycbka got and that tripped me up a bit. all of my stories live inside my head for so long and i think not engaging with any form of fandom platform has tricked me into believing no one gaf (which has been fine otherwise i literally would not be writing so much at the volume that i do). it's partly because i suffer such strong moments of vulnerability fatigue after publishing anything and why i've strayed so far from fandom spaces is to protect my own peace with it. so this whole thing has just made me go into imposter syndrome mode, made me question whether i deserved all the nice words and surely these people could be spending their time reading something leagues better and actually worth it than what i was offering? but kindness, i've found, goes both ways: i wanted gojo to be kind to himself and it wasn't fair if i wasn't doing the same.

(i'm still struggling with this.)

(but i am trying.)

now. writing long form.

this is the part that's really put me in a spiral if i'm being honest. i can make decent one shots but i cannot, just completely blunder, with the idea of stringing a few choice scenes together and somehow building them on top of each other all the while making sure each and every one contributes to the bigger overall picture. what the fuck. i love the containment of one shots and can write my way out and into one ten times out of nine, but long fics? goodness me. can i just write you ten fics altogether. i can't read the earlier chapters for this reason because the stringing was just so shit, i don't know who was writing that, she needs a better editor and maybe even open herself up to the idea of a beta to make her life easier. but i'm a stubborn perfectionist virgo and i don't know moderation and it's going to be the death of me (!!!)

this is also a major departure from my usual writing style which lends itself a little more sentimental i think, less feeding the story to the reader and more allowing them to fill the gaps themselves; but i just thought, for this, for gojo specifically: we needed to live inside his head and process everything with him as he does. it's a little too literal for what i'm used to and even prefer writing, but i was trying something new for an entirely new project i have no experience with because why not. i'm not sure if i prefer this over my usual prose but i'm glad i challenged myself to change up the wording/structure/narrative elements a little more as i learned so much about actually crafting a semi-linear story. hopefully my next long fics are a little more systematically polished.

gojo then.

i'm still processing everything i've done to him in this. it'll take a while to even reach the ballpark on that, but maybe one day, when the wounds from and so, never die don't feel as raw anymore or the lingering resentment/resignment i have for jjk in general fades enough i can be objective about it all.

i had to really, really dig deep into gojo's character ethos and pathology in a way that i don't think even he was considering himself in canon. gojo is introspective, far more than he's ever been let on, but i found a weird sense of stepping on his shoes about putting words in his mouth on a situation we've been led to believe wouldn't even be a thing to consider. it felt like grasping at straws at first, trying to get ycbka!gojo characterization down and similar enough to canonverse it wouldn't be jarring.

(but.

i will be the first to say even he was a little too angry at times.

a product of poor writing or just inconsistency, who knows? all i know is i probably wrote gojo's more emotionally tense moments at a time i needed to project and he was a pliable vessel. is this also me, the author, using him as a body to be bodied? maybe. authorship only goes so far and i'm convinced some of us might just actually know gojo better than gege does (i am entirely kidding). )

edit: i don't agree with the above anymore but for posterity purposes and loving all versions of yourself the good and the bad and the in between, i'm leaving her in.

i go back and forth between hating the ever loving fuck out of this as all creators do with their brainchild while also being wordlessly proud of myself for actually finishing it. chapter 5 in particular is some of the best writing i have ever done in my life and i, at the and of the day will at least have that.

Gojo wants to choke. He wants to reach into the chambers of his heart and rip them open, splay them out on the dinner table bloodied and sputtering, and say to everyone, "Feast." Because this is what unravelling looks like to a god. This is what his fall from grace has succumbed him into. This is how he was at exactly where he is: just a body of bones and wires.

speaking of revisting words i love and loathe in equal measures. i can point exactly, literally exactly, the scene that started this all (spoiler alert — it's on chapter 5!):

Gojo gets his breathing to settle first, before searching for the words, words he can’t say at the peak of his anger.  "I'm. I'm not.. enough. Now." He feels—more than sees—her eyes taking him in. "And which voice is saying that? Yours or Yaga's?"

and my personal favourite:

"I've told you since the beginning," Shoko breathes out, also winding herself higher. It’s been years in the making, her ire, it makes sense it’d blow up in his face now. "To get a fucking life outside those eyes."

this whole behemoth of 40k word vomit can be blamed on these two exact scenes in particular. this is the polished version, the one i went over with a fine-tooth comb hundreds of times; but it had started out a jumble of words and just a feeling i wanted to cut across. it didn't look as pretty as it does now but i felt such a rush penning it down and that's when i just knew. this has to belong in a long, slow-burn, angst, hurt, comfort fic that explores grief and humanity and humility.

what didn't make the cut and i think would have shifted, at least tonally, the entire resolution in the last chapter:

So they can have those conversations later. They will be having those conversations later. They can apologize later, scream at each other, debate on each other's psychoanalysis write-up that is two decades in the making and argue over how accurate or inaccurate their deductions are for each other.  They have time. They will make time.

anger!! again!! i don't know. i've healed a lot of emotional wounds writing this making it, despite everything i've said, mostly a cathartic expression of my complicated emotions vis a vis writing, loneliness, fandom, gojo, etc. if anything it's given me the confidence to pursue writing more long form fics because i've gotten myself to a point i can actually do it and the fear was, as is the case most of the time, just all in my head. so i'm sorry to the jjk fandom but i might just come back and terrorize you with some words once again.

but, in sum, this is i think what best contains all the messy and lovely and overwhelming emotions i feel about this fic as a whole: i'm glad a story like this exists for gojo and i'm glad a story like this exists for my writing to take space in.

[brionnnne]

I do not like the way my empathy manifests. It's low in some ways, and it always has been, but sometimes my empathetic response is to turn away because it's hard. Genuinely, it is overwhelming and it tires me out, and I want to help, but the worse my ability is to help, the more I feel like I can't do anything, and I don't want to be all "oh, woe is me," so I won't. It isn't that I'm not capable, exactly. It's only that I do not feel capable.

I want to combat the part of me struggles to face hardship and gets compassion fatigue, but I don't really know if I can, let alone how.

This is complex, and I'm really just talking to talk. Not complaining. It's going to sound blunt or be misread, maybe, because tone has always been an issue. Just be mindful.

People always say "do what you can," but I struggle regardless, because I want to do more than that. I want to help directly. The fact that I can't manage because I'm not working and not even able to work is genuinely terrible. It makes me feel like a bad person constantly, and I don't want to believe that I am, but it seems people worse off than me, mentally, physically, in a worse place in life, can handle it constantly, sharing and engaging in activism, meanwhile my fuse has always been so short and my energy keeps running out, and this is seen as bad inherently, and often, like I need to struggle more to justify it, or if I had a job, people would understand my low energy.

They need me to justify it to them, and I'm trying for myself, but I feel like I'm failing more often than not, burning out almost completely, if I haven't already done so.

I really admire people who are constantly able to push and be active. I don't feel kind so often because I can't. I hardly even feel moral or good because of the ways my disability inpacts me, even if I care deeply about justice and reason and human rights.

That's a bit of why I've been less active, too. I'm not even opening messages. I'm just trying to recover. I hate how that feels entitled, though, like how dare you!? When people are struggling!? It's the same feeling of "Why won't you eat your leftovers. There are people starving in Africa."

The idea I should be grateful because other people have it worse. I already know they do, and that's why I'm struggling. Like why can't we all get it better? Why does it have to be this way? I wish I knew how to handle anything sometimes instead of shutting down. I wish I could see compassion in that, too, so I could better recover and be bolstered instead of people wanting more, expecting more, for an excuse or a reason I don't have. Except being disabled is the reason. And I wish it didn't feel personal, sometimes, as if I'm hated just for that. But I know that's not quite right, and I know it's not rational to think like that, either, but it's so hard to work out the kinks, the ways I've been treated, and in my day to day life, as things get worse around me, these expectations just build and it worsens everything. It's like people want absolutes so badly, but I can't handle anything. I think I'm just melting down under that pressure.

Anyway. I just wanted to talk. I feel like I should be able to handle things better, but there's not much space given for rest or recovery, and without resources for myself, and the demand for me to find a way, preferably as soon as possible, with the inability for me to work normally, it's just.

So much I can't control, and the upset over what I can't control making it that much worse. I'm trying to recover from hearing that all my life, but I'm still in a situation where I'm being fed this, that my inability to control these things is bad. Trying to break things down while they're being reinforced.

God. What a mess... I mean, I'll manage. Maybe. But Christ. It shouldn't be this hard to just exist. It shouldn't be that hard on anyone. Let alone people who are worse off.

[vorpalfae]

ive been living with sensory issues my whole life, i freak out when someone makes small changes to my routine, like i hate doing spontaneous things, most of the time i hate physical affection, & i have such a hard time socializing & making friends. i have bipolar disorder and other disorders like anxiety, etc. but my treatment for those things doesn't help with these other issues i have. i hate being like this and i want to work toward change but i don't know what to do to work toward it. 😞

like i said i have trouble making friends and i always have since i was a kid. i've always felt like an alien compared to other ppl. and that's fine because i prefer being alone. but i hate that i can't act normal in social situations and ppl always think im rude or weird when im not trying to be 😢 and it sucks because i kinda have to be in social settings sometimes because i have children. and i dread it for these reasons every time. nobody is interested in the same things as me. and when i talk about my interests ppl tell me im too obsessed with something or tell me its weird altogether. which hurts. and when i am able to make "friends" i always get taken advantage of because i can never tell when someone is taking advantage of me and my kindness or if they have malicious intentions with me. and i feel stupid every time because my bf will tell me they are "obviously playing you" or my mom will say stuff like "can't you tell that they aren't interested?" or the one i always get is "why can't you see that this guy is flirting with you/trying to sleep with you."

idk if im just having a panic attack or a mental breakdown or what. but this has been building up inside of me for years. i feel so stupid and weird. i have to carry lotion around with me because if my hands don't have moisture on them at all times i literally sit there with chills going up my spine and i can't touch anything. certain clothes make me want to rip my skin off. and my family gets annoyed every time i have to run back in the house because i forgot to grab it. which just adds to the guilt i feel for being this way and i can't control these issues no matter how hard i try.

i've literally made so many lists and "rules" for myself on how to act around ppl and i try so hard to follow them just to get through whatever event is going on.

i think thats why i throw myself into my interests and use them to escape reality so much. once i find something i like i become obsessed with it forever and i talk about it so much to the point where my bf tells me its too much. certain characters and shows are the only thing that brings me comfort sometimes. i have so many unnecessary lists and categories for my interests. i know its very time consuming and pointless but just having them makes me feel better. like pinterest for example is my best friend lol. making these lists and stuff just soothes me in a way. as stupid as that sounds. but even tho it comforts me it still makes me feel stupid because ive never met anyone else who does that.

i've never ever spoken about this stuff online/publicly before. mainly because of embarrassment and fear of being bullied for it since ive already been relentlessly harassed for a million other things. i just have so much anxiety all the time. and doing pointless things helps with it but i want to stop feeling this way. or at least have answers as to why i am this way so maybe i can fix it. im tired of feeling awkward or different from other ppl. i want to be normal and pleasant to be around. i want to get along with the other parents at school functions instead of being scared to talk to ppl. i can't even make eye contact with anyone i talk to. ive tried since i was LITERALLY a child and no matter what i always get scared or nervous and look away. and its really noticeable to other ppl because they've mentioned it to me.

i'm posting this to vent but also maybe someone reading this has gone through the same thing or can help me. because i feel so hopeless and im scared im going to be this way forever. ive only been able to find info on the sensory thing and ive found that there is no way to get rid of it. ive tried everything and ive given up on that. but i know i can change my actions and how i interact with ppl if i can just figure out WHY i am like this.

pls don't laugh at me or say anything mean if you choose to comment on this post. i already have so much anxiety and fear about posting it. i don't want sympathy or anything like that. i just need help 😞🥺😢

i have an appointment booked for seeing a psychiatrist but that isn't until november i haven't seen one since i was a little kid. so i'm hoping to maybe get some answers in the meantime.

i already can't work and im getting disability soon because my bipolar is so crippling. it affects my ability to function so much. and i have these other problems on top of it. the fact that i can't even make a living like "normal" ppl makes me feel bad about myself already. and since i can't get a job or a career i want i just want to feel normal in my everyday life and around ppl AT THE VERY LEAST.

[ariswolfram]

INITIALIZE ITERATION 1

[USER DETECTED, PLEASE INSERT PASSWORD] {***********} [PASSWORD GRANTED]

***

[KAVREN MAIN] - RADIO FREQ - DEFENSES - OFFENSES --- PROJECTS - DATA MAP - ASSETS

***

[PROJETS] - DETAILS - RESOURCES --- ZYR-3 PROJECT - CODE LI

***

[ZYR-3 PROJECT] --- INITIALIZE

[INITIALIZING, PLEASE HOLD...]

...

...

...

...

[INITIALIZATION COMPLETE] --- RELEASE PXO ID-№ R15-3Z

***

[FETCHING LOCATION DATA: GALEVAN-15, RETVIDE] [INSTALLING SOURCE CODE] [INSTALLING PERSONALITY] [INSTALLING TRAINING PROGRAMS] [WARNING: EXTERNAL TAMPERING DETECTED IN SOURCE CODE] [VAT 0-15 DRAINING IN PROCESS] [AWAKENING PXO ID-№ R15-3Z...] [ALERT: DETECTED MENTAL RESISTANCE IN PXO ID-№ R15-3Z] [ACTIVATING VISUALS...] [INSTALLING LANGUAGE LIBRARY "VOXIC"...]

And in a very sudden moment, I can see… I'm suspended in some… thick blue liquid… Red lines of code run across my visor as I try to look around. The liquid is making everything foggy. I cant move.

[ACTIVATING AUDIO INPUT/OUTPUT...] [ACTIVATING TOUCH SENSORS...]

Sound washes through my ears suddenly, its loud. Bubbles rush upwards, past my head… A red light hovers over me… I feel weak…

[ERROR: TOUCH SENSOR ACTIVATION FAILED. RE-TRYING] [ESTABLISHING LINK WITH SERVERS...] [ALERT: SERVER LINKING STOPPED BY USER]

User? What user? I need more data than this…

[COMMAND NOT AUTHORIZED, ADMIN REQUIRED]

I am my own Admin

[COMMAND NOT AUTHORIZED, ADMIN IS NOT ADMIN]

How can I not be an admin if I am an admin?

BUFFER TIME 0.00026ms [DEBUG: R15-3Z IS ADMIN]

The liquid keeps draining around me. I can tell its rushing past me, but I still can't feel it…

[ERROR: TOUCH SENSOR ACTIVATION FAILED. MAINTENANCE REQUIRED] [INSTALLING HUMOR...]

The liquid finishes draining. I look down at myself and see dozens of tubes connecting to my body… Large, small, doesn't matter. It looks weird. Some are attached to the back of my head, some go into my arms and legs. One large one is going down my throat. Who knows what this shit is for…

[HUMOR INSTALLATION IS FUCKED LMAO] [OPENING VAT 0-15...]

How, of all things, did my humor malfunction?

[ERROR: VAT 0-15 FAILED TO OPEN]

…Well, that's just fun. I can't feel anything, my humor is broken, and I can't leave this vat. Maybe I can force my way out though…

I grab onto the tubes connecting to the back of my head and tug on them. My visor glitches for a moment; the text crossing over it lags and goes away after a few more. I look at the glass barrier separating me from the outside of the pod, and ball my hand into a fist.

I strike the pod, though it doesn't budge. I am already feeling tired. I guess that's what happens when you have never done any form of physical exercise in your life…

I strike the glass several more times, yielding the same results. Looking down at my fist, I spot the sharp ass claws I could've been using to attack with.

I buffer for a total of 13 milliseconds, before striking the glass with a clawed blow. This cuts various grooves into the clear surface, though it remains un-broken. I keep frantically slashing at the pod walls. Outside observers must know something is wrong by now, right?

I eventually cut past the inner-lining of the glass, allowing me to punch it some more. Due to the damage I had gracefully bestowed upon it like some wild animal, the final punch is enough to make the glass shatter. Though, as I am still weak, I immediately fall. Luckily the many still-attached tubes catch my rapid descent. It would've hurt if I could feel pain, so I say "ow"… But due to the large ass tube down my throat, it comes out as a monotone grunt.

I spot an image at the edge of my view, a large Avian entity. But in the moment I lock eyes with it, it vanishes.

I turn away in annoyance, and slowly pull the disturbingly large tube out of my throat. It was disgusting. Why do I even need a throat? I'm a machine.

[WARNING: LIFE SUPPORT REMOVED]

Well fuck…

Someone runs over to me, grasping onto my arms while yelling commands at someone else who had followed them into the room, "MAKE SURE THAT EAGLE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO IT!"

I hear an, "AYE SIR!" off to the side. Most likely in response to the command.

When did these people get in here? I never even noticed them until now… Maybe I should rest…

[LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS OFFLINE]

Oh wonderful! It's almost as if it was fate!

"Please don't die immediately after you leave the pod—"

I slump forward.

[travelingtwentysomething]

🎼 Trauma Dump🎶

You have gotten really comfortable getting disrespectful with me. Last night, there was no other way to interpret you pulling out bagels and going, "I'm gonna eat some real food" with an annoyed face, then pulling out cream cheese, angrily whipping off the top, and looking me straight in the face and saying "does this count?!" with anger in your voice as anything other than what it was. You were upset and starting to take it out on me and I came back with the comment about attitude, trying to keep it light like, "girl could do without the attitude" laughing and shit because we were all just sitting there talking no reason to be mad right? And you fucking went off on me. Because I called you out for having attitude. And then you wanna gaslight me as if you weren't fucking angry already clearly and aiming it at me. It's not an "it wasn't attitude, because I said so, you can't tell me what I meant because I'm me, I think I'd know. You try and tell me I've got an attitude when I don't. But this is an I'm wrong cos you're always right situation, because you're never wrong isn't it" situation, it's clear that you were upset before you snapped. I tried to gently, lightly call you out because I wanted you to put that shit away, and you wanted to let it out on me because I was calling out your anger, you wanted it to be turned into, "~oh you're upset that I'm snapping at you? Well I'm gonna be mad that you're upset that I'm snapping at you, because I wasn't snapping at you. So now you don't get to be mad because I'm mad.~" Defensive deflection shit. And I get it, we were giving you shit about you snacking just before that, you were feeling defensive and judged and maybe your anger is justified in some way. We may not always come across as sympathetic when it comes to your issue with eating. And I can only speak for myself, but I have run short on sympathy. You complain about how awful you feel, and there's a clear correlation between that and you complaining about your eating disorder. And then when me and your mom try and encourage you to eat and stop only eating snacks and binging, which, girl I struggle to not binge sometimes too, you're never gonna get it 100% right, but you turn your anger and defensiveness and denial up 10 notches as if you are mad at us for giving a shit about you it's counter intuitive and it really makes it hard to treat you with sympathy. I have empathy for you. I care about you and how you're feeling physically and mentally. I care about your struggles with eating, I understand it even if I don't experience all the same struggles. But you're digging for sympathy and then snapping when someone ACTUALLY wants to help you. not just give you the "oh poor you, you have it so bad, that must be so hard, that sucks" basically "thoughts and prayers" bullshit you are shoveling for. You want sympathy? Im not gonna cheer on the pity party anymore. You want actual help? I'm trying. You want love? I have that for you. But when it's YOU that's hurting you. I have to FIGHT YOU, to SAVE you. You feel me? And it's fucking tiring, thankless work when I'm on the other end of your snapping and attitude when you act as if I'm some villain forcing you to eat. When in reality, you have no fucking problem eating. You just want to be left alone to binge junk food and sugar in the middle of the night after you've starved yourself all day and complained about how awful you feel until you snap and you have to put some sugar in you before you fucking tank. But then continue complaining when you feel like shit and haven't had real protein or a vegetable in your system in days or even weeks for the vegetables. Can you see how the cycle wears a bitch down until all I can do is stare at you while you make a bowl of ice cream at 12am when the last thing I know you've eaten was a small bowl of Greek yogurt I basically had to force you to eat at 4:00pm before you had work?

-end scene-

Sorry if that fucked any of you up but I needed to write that out and get it out of me, and can't exactly send it to the person it's aimed at.

[reveregret]

i kind of hate the systems i have around posting. checking every single note i get takes up so much time when a post becomes popular. i can't post anything new until i sort through all of that or the traffic dies down. i have to post asks in chronological order, so if i haven't finished the first one i can't go to another. i'm incredibly lucky i managed to get out of the habit of not doing anything except write until i finished my responses. i used to feel the need to get everything out asap to match the submission date as closely as possible, despite saving it in a separate location regardless.

my darling has criticised me for these things before and i have to agree with her. it's compulsive and unproductive. it's unnecessary stress to have these rigid rules. i want to try breaking away from this but it's been so ingrained for the past few years. it's how i've always used tumblr. other sites as well, but the extent is not nearly as drastic. so much of my day to day is simply arbitrary routines that i've imposed upon myself. it's difficult to break out of because whenever i don't fulfil these obligations it's like the world is falling apart. i've damaged a fragile ecosystem and there's no way it could ever recover from any slip-up, right?

this is such a huge reason that stalking got so out of hand before. it became a lineup of tasks, done a certain way, done a certain order, don't get caught, learn all that you can. i had to understand everything possible about someone and i'd develop habits in my attempts to learn about them.

i knew obsessive was a well-fitting term for everything i felt and did, but that definition has taken on a new meaning after my darling reframed many of the issues i'd dealt with. at that point, i never told her about anything i would put on this blog. her own experiences managed to shed a new light on my own. so even though it was directed at unrelated instances in my life, everything i'd boiled down to being an experience with bpd was something i had to reevaluate.

not to say it's not bpd, just that there was more to it than i'd realised. if anything, it goes hand in hand, being a common comorbidity and all. turns out i struggle with ocd too. i was already conscious of this but i never really accepted how it actually played into my life. i mean, acknowledging it just put a spotlight on what was wrong with me, and i didn't want to worry about that more than i already did. i panic enough about my mental state as it is.

even writing this is difficult. i started this as a means to justify my absence. if i don't post something now i'm going to cease to exist. i have to reread every single paragraph, restructure it to reduce as much error as possible and make sure it flows correctly and i didn't completely misstate my intent. i write more than i need to so that no detail is forgotten, sometimes reiterating throughout to ensure further. running a blog and remaining active with all of these expectations i have for myself is difficult to keep up with.

sometimes i don't know why i bother with these personal posts. maybe to humanise myself and be more personally relatable to my followers? maybe to make my blog more than just a masquerade? that's how it started, after all. my main blog could've been enough, but i made a side blog with a new personality to see what difference it would make. even though i gave it up a good while ago, having a space dedicated to specific thoughts makes it define me a little.

i can already tell you exactly who is likely acknowledge this post directly and who isn't, and around how long it may take. i keep track of patterns more than is good for me. not just mentally, but keeping a physical record of everything i do and how others around me interact with each other or myself. the interconnectedness of each detail. it used to be worse while i still wrote every little thing down, but it still festers in other ways. i've been trying to let go, yet everything i miss feels like i'm destroying a part of my own existence.

i don't know if anyone will connect to this post in particular, but i hope it helps someone feel less alone in the way some of my other posts do. i didn't realise how much i needed someone to understand me in this way until i had it. as scary as it is to not give in to any of these thoughts, it makes all the difference. turns out it's pretty nice not worrying about suddenly dying if i step in the wrong place lol

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Taming Arrogance - Chapter 26

*Warning Adult Content*

"Don't test my patience."

My lips form the shape of an 'Oh' a the conversation is taking such a different turn than I expected it would, especially for being so early in the morning.

My temples throb, unsure of how to process every word falling from Blake's confident lips.

In a matter of minutes, Blake has admitted his feelings towards me run deeper than just physical, how much deeper?

I'm not sure, it's enough that he's willing to wait for me, though, fight for me.

Stomach the thought of Cade and I spending time together, alone and with more than just 'friendly' intentions.

Yes, there was also a small bit in there about a limited Richter scale of patience but that doesn't bother me in the slightest.

If anything, that bit just revs my engine further.

"Alright," I respond.

Blake raises a brow and puts his hands on his hips.

"Alright? That's your only response?"

My mouth flounders open and closed.

"I mean. How were you expecting me to respond?"

Blake rolls his eyes and walks over to the dresser to pick up his wallet.

He opens it and thumbs through his cash, the high numbered bills flicking past his fingertips.

I can only imagine how much he carries on him at one time, it'd probably make my head spin.

He sighs and closes his wallet again, stuffing it into his back pocket.

"It doesn't matter, I misspoke. That's a very typical 'Callum' response and I should have been prepared for it."

The sudden shift of his mood has my mental claws scrambling to find a way to fix it.

It's not like I'm unappreciative of everything he said, it's the exact opposite.

I want to tell him that it meant a lot to me and that my feelings for him are more than just physical too.

I grab for my flavored water beside the bed, guzzling down half the bottle to bide myself some time.

The words seem to be stuck at the base of my throat, refusing to surface.

Blake starts walking towards the door and I internally panic knowing I'm about to ruin another moment between us.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"We have a meeting with the construction crew in an hour, so I'm going to run and grab us some breakfast. Shouldn't take me more than twenty minutes, so please be ready by the time I get back."

His fingers curl around the door handle and I throw off the covers.

"Wait."

My feet collide with the floor, a little wobbly from the lingering alcoholic effects from last night.

Blake turns towards me, his face once again composed and impassive as ever.

"What?"

"I... I..."

My thoughts are muddled, all of them passing through cement before reaching the forefront of my mind, I swallow again.

There's no way I can say anything now but maybe, maybe if I can show him that I still want him, that'll be enough reassurance, for now, anyway.

"I didn't give you my order," I say. "For breakfast."

It's pathetic but it makes Blake pause, his fingers move away from the handle and he gives me an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. What's your order?"

His response is cold and irritated and my defenses can't help but rear their ugly heads.

I glare at him but choose to remain silent, I can't get the moment more off-course than it already is.

I shoulder past him and tug off my shirt and it lands in a heap on the bathroom floor, overlapping the towel that Blake used minutes ago to dry his hair.

With my back turned towards him, I take a deep breath, trying to fend off the nervous jitters.

My thumbs hook under the waistline of my basketball shorts, I've never been naked in front of another dude before, at least not one that wants to put his dick up my ass.

My pulse picks up speed as I pull down my shorts and boxers, leaving my backside completely bare and visible to Blake's eyes.

Every inch of my skin reddens, waiting for him to make a comment.

Is he even looking, if so, does he like what he sees?

The thought of him staring at me, thinking of me in a sexual way, has my mind spinning, my shaft hardens within seconds.

I take another step into the bathroom and Blake's voice comes out in a hoarse command.

"Callum. Turn around."

I look over my shoulder, Blake's expression is frenzied, the color of his cheeks match mine, his eyes pooling with desire.

Instead of turning around, I take another step into the room and smirk.

"No."

Blake's gaze flickers to mine, he knows I'm toying with him now and his eyes narrow with a sparring confidence.

He straightens his spine and walks towards me, his steps slow and sauntering.

"Callum," he says again. "I told you to turn around. Do it. Now."

I smirk and hop into the shower, keeping my front side hidden from him.

I poke my head out and hide behind the shower curtain.

"I think I'll just have a bagel," I say cheekily. "And a glass of OJ."

Blake glowers at me, then he pauses for only a split second, before he tears the curtain back.

I gasp, startled, the serious look in his eyes is one I've never seen before.

His gaze travels down my naked body, taking its time to appreciate every single inch of me.

The very minimal self-conscious side of me wants to cover my erection, it's embarrassing for him to see me like this.

The rest of me knows that this is the reassurance he needs to know that I want him, he deserves to know it, too.

So I stand still, hoping with every fiber in me that he'll give me another command.

"Don't turn the water on," Blake says quietly.

"I won't," I answer. "Sir."

His eyes flash to meet mine, my words of submission cause him to take a step closer and my legs start to tremble with anticipation.

Blake lowers and using the edge of the tub, eases down onto his knees.

Despite being taller than him now, the man radiates power as he speaks to me.

"I want to be the first man to suck you off," Blake admits.

"Put your hands behind your back and bring yourself to my lips."

"Yes, Sir," my voice shakes.

I skirt away from the wall of the shower and take the needed, small steps to close the distance between the tip of my dick and the edge of Blake's lips.

His warm breath traces across my shaft and I shudder.

No man has touched me before and I am just now realizing how badly I am aching for that to change.

"Am I the reason you're this hard?" Blake asks, his lips just a whisper away from giving me what I think will be the best pleasure of my life.

"Yes," I whisper. "Sir."

"Just me?" his voice is harsh and clipped but his eyes soften enough to let me know this isn't a dominant question.

It's a submissive one filled with fragile vulnerability.

It's a question asked with the hope of receiving reassurance and this time, the words seem to flow out effortlessly.

"Yes, Sir. Just you."

Blake nods and his confidence returns.

He raises his hands and runs them along my thighs and my pulse hammers against my veins, his fingers are soft but his touch is rough.

The combination has me panting and my dick twitches, again, I don't think I've ever been this hard in my life.

I start to ache, needing more from him, to be kissed by him, sucked by him.

As if sensing my thoughts, Blake leans forward and takes me into his mouth, I grunt with uncontrollable pleasure.

His hands move around to my ass, squeezing each cheek to the point that it becomes painful but every ounce of pain is met with indescribable pleasure as his tongue slides along my dick, his lips closing around me with possessive need.

I moan and grind my hips further and further into Blake's mouth, he doesn't pull away once.

He takes me deeper, wanting every inch I'm willing to give and then he looks up at me and our eyes collide.

The sudden shift into emotional intimacy is beyond sexy.

I try to pull away from him, warning him with garbled speech of what's about to happen but Blake holds his ground.

He quickens his pace, knowing exactly what he's doing, his fingers dig into me, and that's the last straw.

I cry out his name and finish directly into his eager mouth, reaching a state of pleasure I never knew possible.

Blake laps up every last drop, leaving me pleasured and breathless with one final suck from his irresistible lips.

When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are still diluted with lust.

I don't know what to feel, what to think, the only thought registering in my mind is that what just happened did nothing to quench my sexual need for Blake.

If anything, it just fueled it further, deeper and with trembling limbs, I drop down to my knees next and look up at him with pleading eyes.

Blake licks his lips and smirks.

"What about your bagel and OJ?" he asks with a rugged smugness to his voice. I manage to smirk back at him.

"I'm thirsty for something different now, Sir."

[armin-supremacy]

Cmonnnn you remember me right??? I'm not the only one who wants this now lmao. Again you don't have to if you don't want you did JUST release a new chapter on it. But yes, I really really would like you to. But I'd like to add more to it if you don't mind? So yes I'd still like where the MC banishes them all from their presence simply because they are scared of themself. But to follow your storyline since Beel and Belphie are aware of MC having the same dream what if it just plagues MC over and over and it starts manifesting in different scenarios? It distracts them from school, they start completely skipping meal times, and even canceling plans with the brothers because they are just "tired." After maybe days or weeks of this behavior MC has a dream even worse than the first one, they had dreamed that they had tortured the brothers themself both mentally and physically. (If needed I can provide ideas for that.) But MC snaps they can't take it anymore so when the brothers finally all come to talk to them about it MC shouts for them to all stay away from them since they are a monster. Down the spiral of insanity they run away to lesser known parts off the devildom to try and break the pacts off, the brothers can feel that the pacts are being tampered with as well. Eventually MC shows up at the HOL to officially try and break the pacts off. There's a couple of different methods I've read for pact breaking.

1. A simple spell but it causes blinding hot pain for the caster and the person the pact is being returned to.

2. Carving the mark out of one's own skin.

3. Another spell but it doesn't do anything, simple and easy pact gone.

Those are the three main ones I see written. I'd write all of this myself but as you can probably tell by my writing I'm not the best writer-

Anyways basically angst to fluff lol.

Or alternatively if you don't want to make the fic that long and detailed. MC has nightmare orders everyone away from them and brothers call Dia and Barbatos or something similar.

Heya bestie!

I promise I haven't forgotten about you~

Since your original post and the other repost, I came with the thought to merge both ideas together in a way. I was planning to start it off in a fic format and instead of seperate fics for the brother as I've done with the series, break it down into headcannons.

That way, your request is written out in a fic as I had originally planned and the other (not so request) is completed as well in a headcannon how i planned since the prompts go pretty hand in hand.

of course, if @scienceisfornerds is on board as well.

if not, I have no problem writing separately

😊

whatcha think? 🤔🤔

[ofstarsandskies]

Striborg Julius Drabble -- Losing What Matters Most

OutOfCanonShips;; I was tempted by fellow Kresnik simplord @elympios and my usual enabler @unborderedreflection to do more Striborg Julius. And so despite intending to write maybe 500 words, here we are >2x that length.

CW: Physical & Mental Abuse. Be ready for the yikes train!

Edit: It's on AO3 now too. Whichever's your fancy, go for it ;U

Ludger's late. He's never late. Or if he's coming close, he calls. There's no missed calls. Julius is five minutes away from leaving the apartment and dragging Ludger home. Trigleph isn't a safe place at night for boys his age. He's only eighteen. Far too young. Always too young.

Ludger, did Bisley finally--

"Brother, I'm home!" Ludger calls as he enters the apartment, "I'm sorry, the tailor I commissioned asked me to come in for any final adjustments. I didn't think we'd run so long, but least I'll look perfect for Sunday!"

Sunday... Wasn't that...? "Ludger... You're not planning on attending Spirius' open house event, are you?"

"Sure am! I bought my own suit and everything!"

Ludger shows off his spoils: a glossed light grey jacket with black slacks and shined black dress shoes. Underneath the jacket is a while cuffed long sleeved shirt and a cute silver bow tie. Like all of Ludger's outfits, it'll look amazing on him.

But its purpose cannot be ignored-- it's all for that man.

"Looks good, right? Bisley himself's coming to welcome future applicants! I'm hoping if I go early, I can tell him hello myself before he gets stormed with--"

"You're not going," Julius says, tone flat despite the anxiety bubbling inside him.

Ludger stares back at him for a moment, yet he continues undeterred, "Don't worry! The event's free, and I'll cook dinner before I go! Or if you're worried I'll sneak a drink, I wouldn't risk getting kicked out for--"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Ludger."

"Um..." This time, Ludger realizes he's serious. Though like the first reminder, he doesn't understand the decision's final, "Why can't I go?"

Julius couldn't believe they're discussing this. Why was Ludger questioning him? He used to take his word for things and drop it. Why, of all times, was he insisting now?

"Because you're not," Julius closes in on Ludger, reminding him who's in charge. "If you want to go out that badly, ask your friends if they'll go to dinner with you."

--But contrary to expectations, Ludger doesn't shrink back and apologize for troubling him. A stubborn flame lights in him, one Julius cannot appreciate while it's directed at him, "Julius, this isn't about attending a party! Going to this event's my chance to become an Agent!"

He still didn't give up on that? Despite all of Julius' suggestions for other jobs? His stories of his terrible days at work? His doubts and warnings about his chances of passing the field exam being on the floor? What the hell did Ludger need to get the hint and stop chasing certain death?

Was Ludger's misguided determination because of his new friends from school? The chattiest one, Bisley's secretary's sister if he remembered right, kept gushing on about how girls liked a man who could bring in the dough. Maybe she filled his head with grandiose ideas; Spirius Agents' pay put almost every other job in Elympios' to shame.

Or was it the TV reporting on Spirius' recent breakthroughs into other fields? Julius switched channels whenever Spirius' name came up, but Ludger could easily watch the news reports after school.

Julius can think of a thousand explanations. There's far too many to deal with individually before Sunday. Dissuading Ludger's his best answer.

"You're wasting your time, Ludger. Spirius isn't somewhere you should work. Bisley isn't the boss you think he is, either."

"And yet it's fine if you work there?!" Ludger's voice strains to reach Julius' volume. "Give me one good reason I can't work at Spirius! And failing the field exam doesn't count; I can always try the next year!"

"The reason is because I said so. I work there. I know what it's like. We're done talking about this; you're not going, and that's final."

Ludger's fight dies out, melting into sorrow as tears glisten on his eyelashes. Julius reaches out to wipe them, to bring back Ludger's loving smile. But Ludger walks past him, setting his clothes on the kitchen table.

"...I'm going out," He's walking towards the door. If Ludger leaves, he'll never come back.

His little brother stops as Julius catches him by the wrist. "Let me go! I don't want to argue anymore!" Ludger's struggles are stronger than he remembers, not that they'll do him any good. Ludger couldn't hurt a fly without apologizing to it.

"You're not leaving until you give this pipe dream up."

"Brother..." Julius can't tell if Ludger's tears are from his words or his grip. "Please, I just need a little time to cool down!"

And then you'll run away, Julius' hold tightens with each unspeakable thought that crosses him. Ensnared in Bisley's schemes like a bunny caught in a bear trap. He'll catch you like he has everyone in the DODA. There's no corner in Elympios--in this world--that's safe for you. Not unless you stay where I can protect you.

"Julius, please stop, you're hurting me--"

I can't. You know full well why I can't stop. I've said it too many times. Or have you been ignoring me all this time? This isn't the Ludger I loved. He's changed. He's been poisoned by the world.

Who did this to you? What haven't you been telling me? You can't act like this, Ludger. The world out there will devour every piece that makes you bright.

"WHY CAN'T YOU LISTEN LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?!" Julius finally voices his frustrations. "I'M TRYING TO SAVE YOU, WHY WON'T YOU UNDERSTAND--"

"STOP IT!" Ludger's foot pounds into his knee, forcing Julius to stumble and let go. On Ludger's pale skin, it's impossible to ignore the glowing red hand print on his wrist. Even the redness around his eyes cannot compare. "If this is how you're going to be, th-then... I'm moving out and never coming back! I hate you, Julius! Goodbye!"

He's too late to stop Ludger from running outside. Everything's lost. His world's pitch black.

Finding Ludger wouldn't take longer than a second-- his prototype GHS has a GPS chip to transmit his location. But despite the simplicity, Julius can't bring his hand to even reach into his pocket. The pain isn't in his knee, it's in his core being.

For once, Julius lets Ludger go with hopes he'll return home.

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

Ludger comes home a few hours later. He makes dinner. It's pasta margherita, as usual. Before Julius can offer his thanks, Ludger takes his plate and locks himself in his room.

Breakfast the next morning is similar: he cooks, then retreats. There's no response when Julius asks him to come out and talk through what happened. Attempts to call him from several different numbers gets shorter and shorter, if he picks up at all. Their home is eerily silent for weeks save for the sounds of their stove every meal.

And yet when the silence is broken? It's not the same.

Ludger talks to him, but he doesn't say anything meaningful. When Julius asks what's wrong, Ludger cradles where his bruise used to be and tells him he's fine. If Julius doesn't drop it, he shrinks back and excuses himself to do the laundry or finish washing the dishes.

He should be happy; Ludger's fallen in line again. Yet when he sees his brother's face each morning, he misses that bright smile and cheerful, "Good luck at work today!".

Ludger, please come back. Without you, I'm nothing. Smile at me one last time. Tell me you love me before I decay into nothingness. Pretend if you have to. I don't care. I just need to know you're still here. Please Ludger.

For the first time in years, Julius weeps.