#it's extending into other parts of my life and i hope it's not another depressive low but you all don't need to know that

[bnpd]

Golden Boy ! ᡣ𐭩

"so this is gojo satoru."

you first heard of gojo when you were a freshman in high school, you first saw gojo when you were a junior, you first talked to him when you were a senior, and then you disliked him. but he first loved you when he first met you.

basketball player!gojo x photography/journalist!reader DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 3K

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : ᡣ𐭩 NAVIGATION : ꩜

NOTE: basketball gojo is rotting my brain btw! so here’s another AU of them, enjoy. not a fic, more of a really really long drabble. posting this while you guys wait for long shot part 3! okay sorry too much yap! not proof read sorry chat

high school: 2007

you grew up with a fascination for cameras–photography as a whole–, and the idea of perfectly capturing the moment.

when you first started high school you would bring your camera and a journal everywhere. it was a small camera your parents bought to allow you to explore your life-long interest. 

you were very much kept to yourself. if you didn’t have to talk to anyone, you didn’t choose to. you liked being alone, and there’s nothing depressing about that. you only had one friend, and her name was utahime. 

you were a geek! not in a bad way, but in a way where you had a passion for books, writing, games, photography, you name it.

if anyone asked about you, no one would know how to answer. no one really knew much about you. with that in mind, you were still approachable, and kind.

if anyone engaged in conversation with you, you didn’t shy away—you politely engaged back. 

now, things stayed like that for the entirety of freshman to spring semester of sophomore year because one day your graphics and design teacher, mr. mendez, caught you taking pictures of inanimate objects, offering you a position on the yearbook team.

your high school was huge, and names weren’t frequently known, especially not yours. but those rules didn’t apply to athletes. especially the golden boy—gojo satoru. 

gojo satoru was a well-known name—gojo, itself, was a well-known name—his family came from money and they funded the entire school. you never actually met, or saw him, considering your schedules were completely different. but, in your junior year that changed. when your teacher asks you to go to a basketball game to cover the athlete section since the boy who was initially covering it got sick. 

you’re frowning to yourself the entire day just thinking about having to stay after school to watch the game.

the time comes and you’re sitting at the back of the stands, holding onto your camera, waiting for the game to start. it’s a packed game. that doesn’t surprise you. what does surprise you, is how crazy everyone is going over a mere game of basketball before it even starts. 

you almost jolt out of your seat when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn to see someone sweetly smiling at you. a boy. “I think mr. mendez is trying to get your attention,” he extends his finger, pointing, and you follow the direction of it. and, indeed, your teacher was trying to get your attention. 

you sweetly mutter a quick ‘thank you’, to the boy before collecting your things, and walking towards mr. mendez. 

“so, i figured you’re new to this, but when you take pictures during sports events, you’re usually pretty close to the court, standing,” he motions to the court with his hands, and you give him a confused look even though you understood exactly what he was saying, in hopes of a different alternative. unfortunately he does not give you one.

so, now you’re standing next to the court. camera, in hand, when the lights dim down just a tiny bit and cheerleaders emerge from the sides to begin their routine.

you take this as your opportunity to snap a few pictures. you capture a picture of the captain smiling, a few others of flyers mid-air, and some of the perfect routine moments.

after they finish, you find an empty seat at the very front. you think of all the things that you could’ve been doing at the moment. like reading on your porch swing, watching the sun set. 

then the coach blows the whistle and finally the game is about to begin. the faster this goes, the faster you’ll be home, snuggled up in bed with your dog keeping your feet warm. 

you stand to take pictures, and watch as the players emerge from the locker room, one after the other, jogging down to their designated seating area. but you don’t have a particular reaction, until you see another figure emerge, and you’re a bit struck at how handsome he is. gorgeous, even. 

‘so, this is gojo satoru.’

he’s smiling, and you just know he thinks he’s hot shit with the way he jogs over to the rest of his teammates. ‘we’ll see about that’ you thought to yourself. 

and see you did. 

he was incredible on the court—professional level good—.

you took a great number of pictures, ones where he’s doing some kind of handshake with another star player, geto suguru, another set of pictures of other players, some of gojo by himself, but your favorite one, by far, had to be the one after he shoots the final shot, and almost as if he sensed the camera, looked your way, and smiled. a cute boyish smile. you looked at your camera in shock and disbelief.

you felt your face heat up by a billion degrees.

it was the most perfect picture you ever captured. and you don’t even think he noticed because he runs back to his teammates, as if nothing had happened. 

you went home that night in a bit of a daze. a new crush had developed. a very tiny, atom sized crush, but a crush nonetheless. 

the next day mr. mendez asked for the pictures you took at the basketball game, yet you found yourself not uploading the picture of gojo smiling directly at the camera to the USB drive. it felt wrong. 

so you kept it to yourself. 

you still didn’t see him much after that. he was like an enigma to you. everyone knew so much of him.

senior year rolls around and you’re now the head of the yearbook team. you’re applying to colleges/unis, and you’re really shooting high for this specific ivy league university because of the amazing combined photography–journalism program they offered, praying that they give you the full-ride you applied for. 

you’re sitting in the graphic and design room one day, editing some final touches of the yearbook, when mr. mendez calls your name, “we have a yearbook interview for the time capsule and photoshoot for the basketball team today, and i need you to be there to direct both, is that okay?” 

you nod and reply with a simple, “sure”. 

in reality your heart is pounding because you know you’ll have to see gojo again, and actually talk to him. 

it’s finally after school, and you’re setting up the equipment for, not only, the photos, but the interviews as well. 

you hear the ruffling of the setup behind you while you try to position the camera for the interviews at the right angle, you let out a small frustrated groan “mahito stop fucking around and help me–”

“mahito?” the voice asks you and you feel yourself still because that voice is not mahitos’s. you get up from your position, and you almost die in your spot when you see gojo standing there with an unreadable look on his face. 

an unreadable look that studies you.

“oh, im sorry i thought-”, he cuts you off before you can finish.

“hm,” he lets out in a rude manner and you almost reel back at how condescending he looked. (canon high school gojo i fear).

 ‘this can’t be the same guy that I had a crush on last year’

but it was. 

the worst part is, the entire time you took the team’s photos, he wasn’t outwardly mean. but he had an energy to him that put you off. one that told you he thought he was better than you. his mannerisms screamed arrogance, and carelessness.

you kept to yourself for the majority of the photoshoot, muttering occasional instructions. 

the rest of the team were really nice. they’d strike up a conversation, here and there. you, of course, responded politely and engaged in conversation, returning their enthusiasm. but the entire time you felt piercing blue eyes. 

you’d catch him whispering to geto, and even though you knew they weren’t talking about you, it left you paranoid. 

for the interviews, you kept it polite. until you got to gojo. you hit the record button on the camera, asked him the question, and listened to him as he talked about how great and amazing he was. you found yourself drifting off. 

‘there’s no way this guy is that full of himself.’

he was. 

you wrap up the interviews and go home. a bit caught off guard by his behavior. it wasn't that he was mean, but why would you willingly be in the presence of someone like this? and from that point on, you disliked gojo satoru.

college: 2013

in the end, you got accepted into the ivy league you had hoped for, got a full ride, and were accepted into the photography and journalist program. you looked completely different than how you did in college (you were grateful for this). things couldn’t get any better, but they could get worse. 

you found out you actually went to the same university as gojo. you didn’t realize it until you saw his huge basketball banner in the gymnasium one day. you’re not paranoid of bumping into him here. if you didn’t bump into him in high school, you definitely won’t here. 

but perhaps a party. 

let’s say, one of your friends invited you, and gojo definitely notices you because he finds you somehow familiar and attractive. still, he hasn’t recognized you because you’re not angled in a manner that he can see you.

so he goes to talk to you, and let’s say you don’t take it lightly. you're not rude or anything, but you reject him, and he’s shocked. 

you stare at him before walking away, leaving him standing there in bewilderment. 

he watches you leave, and it takes him a while as he’s standing there but it clicks. he can’t be upset that you just rejected him in front of people, nor can he be upset that you walked away from him. he’s just honestly elated to find you here. 

the only thought in his head is that you’re here and he finally has a chance again after realizing his attempt in high school was not it. he didn’t know you in high school, nor did he know you now, but he thought you were the most interesting person back then. and it looks to him that you still are. 

now’s his chance, and he’d be damned if he passed it up. 

so he kind of finds out where you work part-time, and goes to the campus diner around the corner (where you work). it’s a late evening, and the only customers around were the old couple who visited every friday, the frequent patrons (who were college students), were all at a party that’d been advertised all week. 

it was only you, the couple, and now gojo. 

you don’t look up when you hear the door bells jingle, only gently shouting a “welcome!”, while you’re too busy wiping down the milkshake bottle. 

gojo is a bit nervous, but he pushed forward. 

he sits on the barstool by the counter you're now wiping down, sensing a presence you look up are surprised to find gojo, “hi,” gojo starts, you narrow your eyes at him a little. 

“hello,” you reply back, “what can i get for you?” you ask him before reaching under the counter to grab a menu, placing it in front of him. he doesn’t touch the menu, nor look at it, he stares into you as he says, “i’d like to start off with the sweetest milkshake you have.” 

since that night at the diner he would often show up on fridays, sit on the same stool, and order the same thing. if he didn’t order the same thing, he’d ask you for any recommendations. whatever you told him to get, he’d get it and completely finish it. 

gradually you began to warm up to him. it blossomed into a sweet genuine friendship. after that checkpoint, he would wait for you to finish your shift, and walk you out. 

when your friendship developed into something deeper—something more—he knew he had it good. he was so smitten, anyone who saw you two could tell. 

your first date happened after he came to the diner one night. 

“what can i get for you?” you asked him with a cheeky smile, leaning over the counter with your elbows on the table. he takes it as his sign to also lean his elbows over the counter, mirroring your stance.

satoru’s head slightly tilts playfully, eyes briefly landing on your lips before landing on your eyes again. 

a pause. 

“a date.”

it took him only a single date to ask you out because he knew before the first one that you were the one. 

now

“daddy was mean to mommy?” your son asked, an extremely worried and shocked look on his face. 

you gently laugh before settling into a smile but satoru has a big frown on his face.

satoru puts his hand on top of your son's head, “well, daddy was an idiot, i was just trying to impress your mommy,” he explains.

“daddy is a jerk!” your daughter then speaks, and satoru’s jaw drops. you’re trying to contain your laughter as satoru stands up and grabs both of your kids off the couch, throwing them over his shoulders as they squeal. your daughter lets go of the scrapbook you made, but you catch it just before it hits the ground. 

you gently place it over the coffee table as you follow your husband up the stairs to the kids rooms. 

they’re both squealing when satoru puts them both in their respective beds. 

you watch silently from the door as he kneels between both beds to whisper something to the kids and your heart leaps as you watch their eyes light up. just like their father. he kisses them each on the forehead as he tucks them into their beds. 

“mommy! we want your kiss too,” your son says. you walk over and give them both loud forehead pecks. 

you’re so incredibly happy with your little family. 

satoru stands up from his kneeling position to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you. 

“goodnight my little angels. sleep well, you’ll need energy tomorrow for the aquarium,” he tells them sweetly. 

you turn on their night light before turning off the room light, “and don’t forget, mommy and daddy are here if you need anything,” you remind them. 

“okay mommy,” you hear your babies say. 

you shut the door and head to your room. 

satoru is on you in seconds. 

his hands move from your waist to your rear as he peppers kisses all over your face, and neck. you sigh happily into him as you wrap your arms around him. 

he gives you a squeeze, and he swallows the moan that releases out of you in a passionate, and longing kiss. 

“missed you so much,” he admits in between kisses. satoru had been away for two weeks for some out-of-state games, but he would call, text, and facetime you every chance he got. he’d call first thing in the morning as soon as he would wake up, while he was getting ready, during breaks at practice, before a game (always before a game), after a game (you watched every single game), on his way back to his hotel, right before bed, and even in his sleep he’d ask to stay on the phone. 

you’re a bit embarrassed to admit to how many times you two had phone sex during the away games that you couldn’t go to. 

before you had kids, he would take you everywhere with him, and while that is still somewhat the case. the children have school so it's a bit harder to manage to travel with him. 

“me too ‘toru,” you moaned, your tone earning a tiny whine from him.

“don’t do that," he starts "you know what calling me that does to me.”

he leans in to capture your lips again, but you’re leaning away. satoru pulls you closer in an attempt to kiss you again, but you refuse again.

you settle with a quick peck on the lips.

“we need to go to bed too because we have to be up earlier.” you remind him, and he’s smiling at you, “i know what’ll put you to sleep.”

you playfully push him off, “that's what you said right before i got pregnant with our second child,” you joke. 

he’s trailing after you like a puppy into the restroom as you ready yourself for bed, “maybe i want a third child,” he challenges and you look at him through the reflection in the mirror. 

you take in the serious look on his face, and you stand straighter at his admission. 

“'toru–” you start before he cuts in, “i’m retiring,” he starts, “i want to focus on our family. basketball is great, but it’s not my life. you are. after we win finals, im retiring.” 

you turn to him completely, and pull him into a strong hug. “I love you,” you gently admit. “I love you so much more, you have no idea,” he tells you, wrapping you in his arms. he engulfed you in his safety.

you share a moment of silence, before satoru ruins the moment. 

“I’m telling the kids you stalked me and secretly took pictures of me,” you pinch him. 

“Ow!”

BONUS ୭ ˚

your parents had convinced you to try out for the cheerleading team in high school. and you did. 

it was on a sunny afternoon, every school sports team imaginable was outside in the field. even the basketball team. they were doing their laps around the track field, which circled the current patch of grass that was hosting the cheerleader tryouts. 

“alright everyone, let's get ready for toe touches,” the captain announced enthusiastically. you’re a little distracted when you briefly make eye contact with a certain white-haired boy from across the field then you remember where you are and what was just said. you felt a little out of place, “i’m sorry,” you started, “what are toe tou–”

“ready? okay!” she shouted. 

you stand dumbfounded in the middle. however, you soon find out what a toe touch is as the girl beside you launches her foot into your face, knocking your head back from the force and collision. the impact is unexpected and the girls gasp. 

you’re too busy on the ground to realize a certain boy also created his own commotion on the track field when he collided with his best friend, sending them both to the ground because of his momentary distraction. 

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gojo and reader loser agenda

©2024 bnpd. All rights reserved to the copyrights owner. Do not share, plagiarize, or translate. I WILL FIND YOU.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 02

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, family drama, description of aggressive behavior

notes: somehow i just really love writing this. hope you enjoy this chapter!

series masterlist | next. the right husband

And so here comes the day of your wedding to Fushiguro Megumi.

The two of you stood before the shrine altar, surrounded by your extended families, as well as your clansmen, who were there to observe this union. You looked down at the white silk kimono you were wearing. The thought of being Megumi's wife was still surreal.

The sky was grey and cloudy too―just the perfect weather for some nice, depressing nuptials.

Megumi seemed to stand there with no expression, staring straight ahead, not really acknowledging what was happening despite the fact that this was his wedding. You wondered if he felt the same way you did.

At least he is a friend, you thought. Even if everyone here is against you, Megumi is in the same boat as you. The knowledge brought you comfort.

The priest stood at the altar, droning on about how your marriage was one of love and respect. Everything that proceeded afterwards became a blur―the purification rites, prayer, exchanging sake, wedding vows. Megumi was the one who recited the oath with clear voice, as your mind was tuning in and out, remembering the circumstances that had led you both here.

Have you done the right thing? By dragging a wholly innocent person into your mess?

You were having second thoughts about all of this right when you caught the sight of your mother, who was wiping her tear-streaked face at the forefront seat while watching you. And those doubts dissipated. Yeah, this is the right decision. Should you marry Naoya, you were sure as hell that he wouldn't allow you to see your mother ever again. Your father didn't really care which Zen'in you were marrying, and by dragging Megumi, you have dissolved your binding vow with him.

Everything should be fine and dandy now, isn't it?

You and Megumi had been asked to exchange rings as part of the ceremony. He stood there, staring down at the gold rings, and found his breathing to increase in intensity. He hated to admit it, but even though he found this whole ordeal tedious, he felt like he wouldn't do you justice if he fumbled this part. Your hand was soft and warm, and he tried ignoring the rush of emotions as he put the ring onto you.

His hand did hesitate for a brief moment though, wondering if he could just pull it back at the last second. You awkwardly slid the ring into his finger afterwards.

You are now husband and wife, as the priest said so.

With the ceremony over, came the reception party. Both of you took a seat at the main tables, surrounded by numerous guests.

You caught him stealing many glances at you throughout this ordeal, seemingly uncomfortable with being under the spotlight. Megumi was not one to show his emotions, but you could tell something was going on inside his head.

After a while, you excused yourself from the main table to the washroom, as greeting the well-wishers took out more of your energy than you initially thought.

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway wench.”

You stopped in your tracks as dread soaked you. Oh hells…

He flung his arms around your thick wedding garments and pulled you aside. You gave him the most offensive side eye. “Let go of me, Naoya.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, sister,” his tone was scathing, amused at how prickled you were. “We are family now, aren’t we? We should be cordial with each other.”

“No, we are not,” you gritted each word through your teeth. “You don’t get to do this on my wedding day, Zen’in Naoya.”

And suddenly his nails pierced the skin of your neck, and you gasped, almost letting out a yelp.

“You insolent whore!” he hissed in your right ear, and you really hoped no one would walk through this hallway anytime soon. “You think you can do this to me? Do you really think I won’t do anything but watch you and that bastard walk all over me?”

Of course you knew. Gojo Satoru had warned you. The very second Megumi put one foot in his ancestral home, Naoya would be after him, out for blood.

“Unhand me this instant,” you croaked out with steel. No, you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. “Or I’ll shout. Even your clansmen won’t take it too kindly if you murder me in front of them.”

Naoya spat at you, letting go of his hold. You immediately shoved him away, tried to control your trembling form, and took the chance to run.

“Enjoy this while it lasts, you wench!” he taunted as your thundering steps resounded throughout the halls. You shut the door of the restroom with a bang, trying to collect your bearings. You were so terrified. Even when you were the most overlooked daughter in Hara family that you hated, no one has ever manhandled you like that.

You wiped the trickling blood from your neck and washed it with the running water. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you took a deep breath and swallowed it. You can’t. You have gone too far now. You have to see this to the very end.

When you got back to the reception hall, your mother caught you and pulled you into her arms. Her embrace felt warm, and you sighed against her, finally finding peace. “Mom…”

“Sena,” she breathed out. “Oh, my baby, you are really beautiful today…” she pulled back to caress your face, and then she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”

You shook your head lightly, smiling at her. “No, don’t be, mom. It’s fine.”

“At least he seems to be a decent young man,” your mother dabbed her eyes with her kerchief, referring to Megumi who was sulking at his dais. “I’m still sorry, but at least I can rest easy, knowing that your husband isn’t someone who would treat you badly.”

Almost, you thought with a sigh, shuddering at the remainder of Naoya's hold against you earlier. Once again, this reminded you that you have made the right choice. Whatever it was that Naoya had planned, it was a problem for another chapter.

“Now I can visit you every time I want, mom,” you said heartily. “Father can’t get in the way between us anymore. We’re free.”

She shot you a scolding look. “You silly girl, you don’t have to focus on that. Even if he tried again, I would crawl my way back to see you.” You almost didn’t want to let go of her hand, as she finally untangled them from your hair. “Now go back to your husband. Poor him, I think he’s having a hard time there.”

Your mother was right. Megumi really seemed to be struggling with the inquiries of people who surrounded him. Reluctantly, you went back to your place at his side, and politely answered their queries.

Megumi was slightly relieved. With you back, he didn't have to speak as much. Soon it was time for the guests to have a chance to pour you drinks. A troublesome tradition, he sighed to himself.

"Honestly, it's the first time I've heard of her," an elderly woman said in a thoughtful manner behind the first line of crowd surrounding the two of you. "And doesn't Hara clan only have three daughters? Aren't all of them married already?"

"Hush, auntie!" the woman beside her rebuked in a whisper. "She's not the daughter from the main wife."

"Oh, really? A lesser daughter... How come she got the Zen'in with the Ten Shadows?"

Megumi blinked, the sake felt bad as it burned his throat. Did these guests just slight you right in front of your face? He found himself glancing at you to see your reaction.

But you kept smiling, tending to each praise of your grace and sipping the drink with positive attitude. You either paid those whispers no mind or just didn't hear it altogether. And as he wondered, he noticed the bruise on your neck.

He was sure that wasn't present up until just now.

When those two women who gossiped about you finally got the chance to pour you the drinks, Megumi suddenly felt the unbearable impulse to blurt this out. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my wife like that."

You were surprised. The two women were too. As they bowed in apology, you threw him a small smile―a silent thank you. He averted his gaze, ignoring the blush on his face.

And soon, it was Naoya's turn. He looked unpleasant and had this sneer on his face that made Megumi uncomfortable. But when he saw you tense and shrink back in alarm, he immediately connected the dots.

"Should I say it?" the elder Zen'in murmured with a low cackle, concealing it through the trickling sound of the sake he poured into his cup. "Why a bastard daughter can marry into my clan―because she is lucky to be legitimatized by her sorry excuse of a father.”

At this point, you really didn’t care a whit about what Naoya said—you just wanted him to leave. But Megumi took offense, clenching his jaw. "If you disrespect her one more time―"

"What? What can another bastard like you do, huh?" he challenged.

Megumi was this close to flipping this stupid table of drinks before him when Zen'in Naobito took a hold of Naoya's shoulder, silently admonishing him. Naoya grumbled under his breath and moved away in disgust.

"Well, that's that," Megumi grunted as the last person went back. There were murmurs among the guests, perhaps talking about your status or Naoya’s antics just now. He looked at you again, suddenly finding the atmosphere quite oppressing. "Should we go now? It isn't like we're bound to drink through the night anyway. I hate alcohol."

"Sure," you snorted quietly. Both of you moved away from the main table. For appearance's sake, his hand gripped yours―and he was taken aback by how clammy it was.

Many things ran through his mind, but one thing he knew was that he didn't like this at all.

"Did Naoya do that to you?" he released his grip as soon as you were secluded away in the gardens. His dark eyes seemed to gleam with something as he had a good look at your neck.

You let out a resigned sigh. "I’m alright. Please don't make a big deal out of this."

"Sena, if I see something like this again, I won't stay quiet, you understand?" He would take matters into his own hands. What in actual hell is this? Why should their lives be haunted by Zen'in Naoya in the background?

The very idea made him angry.

"Don't think about it that hard," you rebuked with a grin. You wanted to lighten things up really, with all that had happened during the course of today. "So we're friends already, eh? You’re concerned about me.”

He threw you a look. "I suppose we can call each other friends for today."

"Not just today. From now on. Because you're the only one I can trust now, amongst people with agendas within our clans."

It wasn't your intention to say that. Maybe the many cups they poured you loosened your tongue.

"You really trust me?" Megumi asked, amused, his arms folding across his hakama.

"Out of those Zen'in who see me as vile and people in my clan who clap their hands as they ship me away?” you squinted, sighing. “Yes.”

He barked a satire laugh. If he had doubted it before, then after tonight he was certain that this marriage thing with you was indeed doable. "Well, good, because I don't not trust you either."

Both of you were getting somewhere, and you could feel it. Your wedding day might not go as smooth as either of you wanted, but you couldn’t care less about that. As you walked in the same tempo with him, you shared a laugh and company.

"Don't you hear what they were saying earlier? They told me to have your child as soon as possible."

"Huh? We haven't even been married for a day and they're already pushing us to have a child?"

"They mostly whispered it to me. It's incessant."

It isn't so bad, each of you thought to yourselves, unaware of what life has got in store for this marriage that had started with duty, lies and betrayal.

next : the right husband

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[cissyenthusiast010155]

Take Me Back to Shore ~Broken!Wifey!Larissa Weems xComforting!Wifey!Alcina Dimitrescu(AlrissaAU)

Summary— AU where Larissa and Alcina are wives, in a long distance relationship where Larissa works to run Nevermore in Vermont and Alcina runs Castle Dimitrescu in Eastern Europe. They see each other as much as possible, but the distance starts to really take a toll on Larissa… Luckily, Alcina is there to comfort her wife.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: little angst, happy ending fluff, implied panic attack, anxiety, self-conscious, insecurity, crying, burn out, long distance relationships, comforting, loving wives, happy ending, etc.

Enjoy (;

Larissa sighed deeply as her bright screen strained her eyes to the point of incompetence. With a groan she shut her laptop, looking out her office window, she realized how late it was. The woman felt a pang of guilt as she pulled out her phone and hit the first contact on the screen. The phone dialed. The blonde hadn’t talked to her wife all week and it was Friday.

She had just been so busy, this time of year her workload tripled, the end of the school year coming near, or at least it felt like it. Running a school was not a feat for the weak. Plus, Larissa didn’t want to bug her partner too much, she knew that Alcina led a life of her own, and had her own responsibilities as well. The woman was pulled out of her thoughts by a familiar voice on speaker.

“My love?”

“Darling, Hello…!”

She heard Alcina expel a sigh across the phone.

“It is lovely to hear your voice, Draga Mea. I’ve had the longest day. How was your week?”

Larissa couldn’t help but wonder if she had interrupted the woman while doing something if she was so busy. Her mind nagged her, wondering if Alcina had even thought about her, missed her this past week. The two women only saw each other on the weekends or on breaks, due to the nature of their jobs.

The two of them had met each other while vacationing in Geneva. They had immediately hit it off, spending all of their time together by the end of the week. When the heavenly vacation eventually came to an end, Larissa and Alcina had to part ways, each going back home. But they vowed to keep in contact. Over the years, they chatted over the phone and would visit one another as much as they could. Five years later, they were married. But this long distance was starting to chip away at Larissa. Larissa groaned.

“Long. What about yours? I do hope I’m not interrupting anything…” The blonde breathed out.

“Oh Draga, I am sorry. And nonsense, you never interrupt. I am sure my day was nothing compared to yours. How close are you to being done? Will you be coming home tonight?” Alcina insisted.

That wasn’t true, Larissa interrupted all the time. She had called Alcina five times last week, that’s why she hadn’t called once before today this week. She felt like a burden. Alcina kept such a busy life, running her castle and village, Larissa never wanted to interfere with that. She felt that every call or text she made was a price to pay, a toll taken on her soul. Nevertheless, Alcina insisted that Larissa was a priority. It hadn’t always felt this way. Maybe it had just been a long week…

Spending extended time away from the love of her life never did Larissa any good. It was easy for the blonde to get inside her head and let her thoughts spiral her into a slippery slope of depression and anxiety. Larissa dragged her mind from the depths of the sea back to the shore, back to Alcina. She let out a pitiful sigh.

“Not done, no. Not even close… There is simply too much to do. Might have to stay the weekend to get it all done…” The blonde mumbled, bringing her hands to cover her face in shame of the words coming out of her mouth

“Oh ‘Rissa Mea… Please come home. Work from here if you must. You’ve been all on your own for so long, I can hear it in your voice.” Her raven haired wife cooed lovingly.

Larissa squeezed her head. She felt so conflicted, so overwhelmed. Should she go home? She had heard her wife’s plea for her to return, and part of her believed it. But another part of her mind was screaming at her that she didn’t deserve it, that Alcina was saying these things out of pity. Alcina didn’t want her. She could only stand to spend as little time with her as possible. She was a mere impediment, a nuisance in her wife’s life.

Larissa suddenly smacked herself in the head. She had to get these thoughts out, she couldn’t think properly. It was too overwhelming. She cringed to herself, gnawing at her teeth as she curled into a ball in her chair at her desk in her office. Alone, as always. She had remained quiet for too long. She had given herself away and now it was Alcina’s problem to deal with.

“ ‘Rissa? Draga? My love, please talk to me.” Alcina pleaded, concern and care lacing her entire tone of voice.

Larissa couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. I’m not wanted. I’m worthless. I’m useless. No one wants me. Her mind broadcasted those phrases over and over again, on a merciless loop. She was hyperventilating, shaking in her chair. Tears began to stream down her face. Her nails clawed at her skin, just wanting to feel something, anything rather than the pain radiating throughout her entire being. She was going to drown, she was being dragged back to the depths of the sea. But Alcina was her anchor.

“Take deep breaths for me, Draga Mea. Deep breaths. Find some peppermint and some water. Let us talk through it.” Alcina calmly instructed her wife.

Larissa nodded shakily, slowly untangling herself and doing as she was told. Once she popped a peppermint in her mouth, had a few sips of water, and did some deep breathing with Alcina, she sat back down with some sniffles. Alcina then proceeded to talk Larissa through it, debunking all of the blonde’s anxious thoughts with loving ease, until the blonde was calm and reassured that she was indeed loved, wanted, and worthy.

“I… I’m sorry” the blonde stammered after a period of silence.

“Nonsense, my love. Now, please come home. This week has obviously affected you more than you know or care to admit, and you have no one to take care of you over there. Come home and be with me.”

Larissa nodded and stifled a little, as a little tear of love escaped her right eye.

“I will, Alci, I promise. Thank you, I love you so much” the blonde breathed out.

“I love you too, Draga Mea. See you soon.” her raven haired wife hummed

All Larissa had to do was reach out; Alcina would always be there for her.

~~~

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[ownedbythescribe]

Kaveh | Over The Shattered Glass

ıllı Synopsis: Blood seeped through the ground, and Kaveh could only see red. Will he be able to mend the relationship he broke with his own hands?

ıllı Genre: Romance, Slight Angst

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader, Polyamorous Relationship

ıllı Warning: Blood, Depression

ıllı Parts: Behind The Stained Glass (Part 1), Under The Glistening Glass (Alternate Ending)

ıllı A/N: I finally finished the sequel! I enjoyed writing it, but explaining the perspective of each character was difficult! I hope I was able to give this justice. Enjoy!

Life had been hectic for you and Kaveh, barely seeing each other for days due to your busy schedules. The Akademiya had commissioned him to assist in constructing homes for desert people in Caravan Ribat and, hopefully, extending the project to Aaru Village and abled camps. On the other hand, you oversaw the talks between the Eremites and the Akademiya while taking on jobs from the Temple of Silence. Only recently were you able to get the vacation you deserved.

'And the best way to spend it is with Kaveh. I can't wait to see his surprised face once I visit him!' You giddily thought, excitement coursing through your veins as you held the small bouquet and briefcase in your arms.

It took half an hour to reach Alhaitham and Kaveh's shared home. Vendors greeted you as you walked past them, offering goods which you bantered to buy after your visit. Once you reached their house, you knocked on the door. Rustles and loud banging could be heard, and when the door opened, you saw Kaveh's disheveled look. Dread filled your being, and by the looks of the bites and kiss marks that littered his neck and chest, you were not far from the truth.

"I—“ The words you tried to form were stuck in your throat, and you could feel your eyes well up. Kaveh merely stood there, frozen. He was not expecting you to visit him. Just then, another figure appeared from behind. It was Alhaitham, and he was in a similar state as your lover. You put two and two together and forced a smile.

"I see. I-I just came to give you something. I'm sorry for intruding." You dropped your gifts on the ground and swiftly trudged away from the two. Kaveh strived to hold you for a moment and explain, but the moment he touched you, hydro energy surrounded you and whipped his hand away. Tears streamed down your cheeks, unable to hold them for long. The blond tried to stutter an explanation, but the betrayal you felt was immense.

"J-Just stop. Please just stop! I thought you were any different, but you—And with the roommate you hated too. Was this a fun game to you, Kaveh?" You joked, anger lacing your words. He was taken aback by your remarks, guilt catching up to him.

Kaveh was ashamed. He could not look you in the eyes. More like he did not want to. He was afraid to see you judge him any further, but it was also his fault for giving in to temptation. He could only do one thing to keep you both from hurting any further.

"It's my fault. I think this is where we should part ways, (Y/N). I... It means that we're not just for each other." He muttered. Your body shook in anger, but you took a deep breath and glared at Kaveh and Alhaitham.

"I hate you so much, Kaveh." You uttered, leaving him for good.

You failed to see Kaveh slump to the ground the moment you left. Tears poured down his eyes as he tried to reach for your disappearing figure. Alhaitham, finally out of his stupor, tried to pull his roommate back to their house. The Kshahrewar architect wanted to push him away, but the Scribe whispered that things would escalate if they did not leave the street soon.

Kaveh forced himself to stand, stumbling upon losing energy after what transpired. He noticed your gifts, a bouquet of birds of paradise and a familiar briefcase. He took them inside and opened the case, only to see new tools for his work. You were thinking of him, even from far away, when you were not together.

Kaveh lost it.

What happened days prior felt like a fever dream. Sharply, a distinct sound of glass shattering echoed inside the hut, and a broken flask laid before you. As you lifelessly picked up the fragments of the equipment, your mind failed to register the cuts it brought. The floor, the walls, and even the the person you were talking with were painted in dull colors. It made life unbearable, and it felt like fate was mocking you by the numbness you felt as blood dripped down the floor. It was hypnotizing.

Suddenly, your hand was pulled up, and a familiar shade of emerald green and earthy brown eyes stared at you. There was fear and worry etched in Tighnari’s eyes, but you were too exhausted to think about it. Fading away felt more compelling, heavenly even. It distracted your mind from the debilitating world.

“Don’t waste your life like this, (Y/N). It’s painful to see you like this, hiding away from everyone, from the world. Talk to us. Let us be your strength.” Tighnari whimpered, breaking at the sight of your lifeless eyes. It was easier said than done. Yet at the back of your mind, you wondered if you could truly bury all the memories and feelings you shared with him to move on.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Tighnari. I-It’s difficult to get up every day. Everything I do, see or feel reminds me of Kaveh. Even staying here pains me. I want to scream at him, punch him, and blame him, but he must have his reasons, right? Please tell me….” You cried, clutching his jacket.

The fennec fox gently pulled you toward him and carried you to his bed. He asked for your hand, which you obediently gave. The blood had already dried, but he made sure to clean the wound and bandage it properly. Once done, he cradled you in his arms and let his fingers run on your hair. His brotherly instincts were activated.

“Kaveh has been stressed ever since you left. There were times that he would drink his frustrations and sorrows away. He told me he did not wish to burden you, and— I’m not supposed to say this, but he’s been reflecting on his sexual interest.” Tighnari muttered, eyes glazing over to your figure for reaction. A hint of understanding was etched on your face as you leaned on his chest for comfort.

“He started liking Alhaitham but did not want to hurt me. Am I right?” You replied. The Forest Watcher nodded.

Kaveh was overly connected with his emotions, often running on them to make decisions. It was one of the traits you loved about him. Still, it did not erase the fact that what he did destroyed your trust in him. Every day felt like it was better to drown in misery. Cyno, Collei, and Tighnari did not let that happen. You were their precious friend (maybe family at this point).

“You have the right to be angry, hurt, and every negative emotion available. But, (Y/N), you must realize that there is more to life than him. If Sumeru City is suffocating you right now, how about going to the desert for a while with Cyno? He suggested this. Don’t worry, he will not let Kaveh near you while you’re there. You can get away for now, and when you’re ready to face it, we’re always here to support you.” He whispered. Shifting around, you gave Tighnari a hug, one that resembled the warmth they gave you. You might not heal completely, but you were now willing to take the step.

“Thank you.”

After completing his project for the Akademiya, Kaveh was left to his own devices. Every day, he would stare at the flowers in his vase and wallow in misery. When the moon rose, he would sit at Lambad’s Tavern, often at secluded tables. Drink after drink, he let himself drown in grief. His crimson eyes would be rimmed red, and passersby would hear him mutter apologies. It was pitiful, really.

“I’m sorry… P-Please come back, (Y/N)… I m-miss you… I’m sorry.” He muttered. It was one of the nights he did not go to Lambad’s Tavern to drink but instead spent his time under the solemn eyes of the forest. He grabbed another cup to down as he watched the sky where thousands of stars twinkled. It reminded him of the stargazing you two had done in the past.

Kaveh stared at the night sky, reminiscing about you. He did not bother to check the rustles from behind as he knew it was Alhaitham. The Scribe silently sat beside him, noting the unhealthy bottles beside the architect. He could see his swollen eyes and unkempt hair. Kaveh was once again spiraling, but he understood why. After all, it was partially his fault that the relationship between you three was in shambles. He wished to mend it, something unusual for him to do.

“(Y/N), what are they like? I only know a few about them from Tighnari and Cyno, not to mention the short visits they make at home.” He asked. It was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system that urged him to humor the scribe, but he did.

“They’re amazing. They loved with all their heart. I was charmed by their kindness, humility, and strange wit. If you don’t know, I met them after being scammed for mora again. They chased down the scammer and scolded them before guiding them to a place where they could get help. I got my money back, but they also reprimanded me for being blind to my compassion. Then, I met them again through Cyno. They fought with elegance and ferocity that they shined brightly.” Kaveh rambled, his eyes twinkling at every memory.

Alhaitham smiled at his stories. Kaveh was madly in love with you despite his confusion over his sexual interest. He admitted that he was partially jealous of how the blond glorified you, but the scribe realized that deep within him, he also found you lovely. The first time he met you was during your first visit to his—their house. You were unsure, fidgety under his stare because you thought you had the wrong place. Kaveh checked out the door and saw you. The blond scolded Alhaitham for scaring you, but you told him it was nothing to fuss over.

“It’s nice to finally meet his roommate. Thank you for tolerating Kaveh, Alhaitham. I… Did I pronounce your name right?” You asked. As strange as it was, the ashen-haired male was frozen in his spot, but he found his momentum and gave you a curt nod. You smiled again and raised your arms to gift them your special dish. It was a lovely day at that time.

“Do you regret what happened between us?” Alhaitham reluctantly asked. Kaveh took a deep breath before letting out a shaky sigh.

“No, never. I told you about everything that night, but I also love them. You both exist equally inside me.” Kaveh confessed. He poured wine into his cup and gave it to Alhaitham, who downed it. The sounds of night critters filled the silence between them. Slowly, Kaveh felt himself drift to dreamland. He welcomed it with open arms, especially since it was the only place he could see your smile and not the hateful words that haunted him at every turn of the day.

Once he was asleep, Alhaitham cleaned up after him and carried him home. He tucked him in his bed and was about to leave when he heard him mutter your name. It strengthened his resolve. That is why two days later, you found yourself in front of the scribe in Pardis Dhyai.

“What do you want from me, Alhaitham? I can’t believe you coaxed Cyno into meeting me.” You scoffed, crossing your arms at the audacity. His teal eyes stared at your form first, noting the exhaustion on your face. You must have also been mulling over this heartbreak for a long time.

“I’m grateful you accepted my invitation to discuss matters with me. I’m sure you’re already aware it’s about your relationship with Kaveh—“ He was prolonging the talk, unlike him. You sighed internally before taking a step to silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Relax, just get to the point.” It was ironic of him to suddenly feel nervous, but he did. He sat down and suggested that you do the same, as it might take a while. You obliged. A tense atmosphere enveloped you two, but you were ready to be civilized, even just for a little bit.

Alhaitham told you that Kaveh had been living his life in anguish, regretting the day he broke up with you. He recalled the amount of wine he consumed almost daily if not for him pulling it away from his hands. You listened intently to his words. Both of you were suffering, but Kaveh also needed time away from you. Time to truly understand what he wanted in his life.

“Alhaitham, that dummy is dear to you, right? Could you tell him this? ‘Let go. Find yourself first. Once you do, come back and tell us what you want.’ Both you and I know he’s the type to mull over his emotions. We need to let him figure it out first.” You commented. The scribe was silenced for once. He was aware of the budding relationship between you three, but nothing will happen with the vagueness lingering in the boundaries you all held up.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry.” Alhaitham muttered. You gave him a pained smile. His affair with Kaveh was still fresh, and how he let it happen was like a jab in your side.

“I understand that rationality must have left your minds in that spur of the moment, but it was still stupid of you, Alhaitham. Borderline insane. You are attractive, but why Kaveh? Why the person I gave my whole heart to?” You asked.

“Strange, right? I love him at the same time as you did. For the better lack of term, he was the mirror I envied, and you were the enigma that brought out the beautiful emotions I craved from him. The way he talked about you made me fall for you as well. I’m so messed up.” He confessed. This was the first time you saw his vulnerability. It was so out of character for an objective person like him. But he once said that emotions get the best of people. It was this one time he let himself embrace that fact.

The atmosphere was dead once again. Only the chirp from the birds could be heard against the wind. With a sigh, you stood up and walked towards Alhaitham.

“I… will be leaving for the desert for a while. I asked the Lesser Lord for time to sort out my problems. It may seem unprofessional to take this route, but I also want time for myself. Thank you for talking to me, Alhaitham. I appreciate it.” You were about to leave when he grabbed your wrist. He had a conflicted face before he pulled you down to whisper something.

“What…?”

As if waking up from a dream, you found yourself standing mindlessly in front of a mirror. There was only darkness around, but you were not afraid. Turning your attention back to the mirror, you saw its reflection. It was the ‘you’ from months ago. The one who found life dull and dying.

“It’s good that I finally found you, (Y/N). You buried your consciousness so far from the surface.” A soft voice uttered. There was Lesser Lord Kusanali behind you.

“My Lord, what do you mean?” Your memories were a bit muddled. After the barrage of memories, the present ones were fragmented. The Dendro Archon helped recall what occurred by pointing at the mirror.

An intense fight erupted between you and the Fatui during your trip to the Fane of Parvaje. Just before subjugating the leader, you were caught off guard by a poisoned arrow coming for Kaveh. You brought him down, but it hit your sides. As much as you hid it from him, the poison was too much to bear.

“I see. So, am I dead now?” You joked. Kusanali shook her head, but she said you were on the border of it. Tipping just a little, you would have lost your life. The flashback of memories now made sense.

“What are you going to do now, (Y/N)? Will you run away again, or will you face what made you leave Sumeru City in the first place?” She bluntly asked. It made you internally laugh at her unfiltered question.

“I found my answer, My Lord. Thank you for letting me see those for the last time.” You smiled. Kusanali grabbed your hand and guided you to the light.

“They’ve been waiting for you.” She commented, happy about your decision.

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh! Stop spacing, or you’ll lose them for good this time.”

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Follow me.”

‘Please, (Y/N). I haven’t told you what I want yet!’

That cruel memory lingered in Kaveh’s mind. He could still feel the amount of blood trickling down your side and the sight of the purplish skin that tainted the wound. It was a miracle that they got you to Bimarstan immediately before the poison could kill you. However, it had been a week, and you showed no sign of waking up. Considering the high poison dosage, the doctor assured him it would take time for your body to recover.

Kaveh remained by your side, not bothering to change his clothes stained with your blood. It was only when Alhaitham came and scolded him did he go home to shower. He came back to watch over your bedside, barely taking care of himself. He cradled your hand and prayed to the dendro archon for your recovery.

Alhaitham would come over after his shift, bringing food for Kaveh. He stayed not just for the architect but for you as well. The last conversation with you strengthened his resolve, and he wished to tell you that. As for Cyno and Tighnari, they visited the first week thrice. When the Forest Watcher saw the architect and the scribe, he felt anger bubble in his stomach. He would slip insults every time they struck up a conversation with him. It was until Tighnari had enough and confronted them. Guilt and shame flooded their senses, but they assured the fennec fox that they were there to correct their mistakes and tell you what they wanted.

“You better not fuck this up. They’d been nothing but considerate to the two of you. If I ever see them cry again, know that the forest will not be kind to you.” He threatened. Knowing Tighnari’s protective nature, he was dead serious about his warning.

A week and a half later, you finally woke up. The rattan ceiling of Bimarstan was recognizable, and you concluded that Kaveh and Cyno succeeded in carrying you here to get help. You tried to get up despite the weakness in your bones, only to feel a weight beside you. Kaveh was slumped on his chair, snoozing away. Heavy bags decorated the rim of his eyes.

‘He must have had sleepless nights. You dummy. You could have gone home, and they could send you a letter.’ You reached for his cheeks and caressed them lightly. It made you smile at the way his nose wrinkled. It was too cute to pass up.

“Hmm? What? (Y/N), you’re finally awake! I…” He was at a loss for words. You reached for his cheeks and stretched them.

“You could have gone home, Kaveh. It would have been more comfortable sleeping on your bed than here.” You nagged. Your eyes met his crimson eyes, which widened at the sight of tears streaming down them. He clutched your hands and thanked the archons. It must have been rough for him as it had been with you.

After his outburst, he gave you a glass of water to drink. Your throat had been parched for some time now, so his actions were greatly appreciated. He wanted to say something, but he fathomed that having the doctor check on you first was better.

“The wound is healing well. Yesterday, the results came back negative. The poison has been flushed out of your system, but your body will still need a few days to heal. We will keep you here for three more days before discharging you, Miss (Y/N).” The doctor said. You sighed in relief. You did not want to remain in the hospital anymore. You appreciated their work, but Bimarstan was just not your cup of tea.

The doctor left, and Kaveh was left under your gaze once again. He was fidgeting, unsure where to start. You wished to comfort him, but a sneeze abruptly escaped your lips. He blinked at the cute sound, making him chuckle. You blushed and covered your face at the embarrassment.

“That was too cute~ Hahaha! (Y/N), first of all, thank you. You saved my life back there, and you even made sure that everybody was safe. That was heroic of you, too kind even. I also… want to thank you for leaving those words. It gave me hope, so I strived to understand my feelings. I came to a conclusion during our travel. It made me realize that I still love you, but I also love Alhaitham. You’re both precious to me. Call me greedy, but that’s what I am right now. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings back then. I was perplexed and did not understand that liking him was normal. You know how aggravating Alhaitham can be. He’s an idiot, hardheaded, self-centered—“ He rambled. It made you smile internally.

“You’re going off the topic, Kaveh.” You interjected with a deadpan look. He blushed and coughed out the awkwardness.

“Ahem. I mean, he’s all that, yes. But then, I also saw a different side of him that people never got to see past his cold demeanor. He expresses his kindness and affection in strange ways. I slowly fell in love with that. I hope… I hope I could answer what you wished me to do back then.” Kaveh anticipated your answer.

It was nice to hear Kaveh’s honesty after months of separation. Despite the pain of the past, it was time to let that go. Holding his right hand, you tightly held it.

“I understand. I’m still unsure about this decision, but I will let us go, Kaveh.” You uttered with a solemn smile. The architect was frozen in his spot. He thought you would give him another chance, but he was too greedy. Unknowingly, he teared up at the thought of you leaving again. You were surprised, taken aback at his misery.

“Anyone would confuse your words for something else, (Y/N). You should clear that up quickly.” Alhaitham mused. You blinked at his sudden appearance before realizing that Kaveh got it all wrong. It made you laugh.

Kaveh wiped his eyes and looked at you two in confusion. The scribe merely shook his head before sitting on the other side of your bed. You told the blond about Alhaitham's suggestion months ago to enter a polyamorous relationship. It took you time to accept it, but you did not want to let the Kshahrewar graduate slip from your fingers again. Kaveh blushed at your words.

“So… you mean, you’re all right entering into a polyamorous relationship? With Alhaitham and me?” Kaveh asked, yearning to confirm if he was not dreaming about it.

You and Alhaitham lightly laughed at his relieved face. Suddenly, the scribe held your hand and asked you a question.

“Will you let me court you as well, (Y/N)?” His gentle smile made you flushed, while Kaveh whined that he was the first one who should court you. The scribe merely scoffed and pulled out bouquets of bird of paradise for the two of you.

“It looks like we will be courting each other. Hahaha! This is a bit amusing.” You grinned, eyes glazing lovingly at the flowers Alhaitham gave. What a beautiful meaning this flower carried.

“Then, I’ll be in your care, Kaveh, Alhaitham.” You voiced. They stopped their bickering and smiled at your beaming face. They held your hands and kissed them, a silent promise to keep this new relationship solid and undying.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[yuhi-san]

i was just hit by a thought during the second chapter of my fic.

part of the reason why vash canonically doesnt engages in sexual or romantic relationships is because he will outlive any partner

i made a post about it bevore but it might have taken teen/young adult vash a bit to figure that out. (after all he at first seemed to speedrun the human life circle and they didnt have another case of independants to compare him to)

and in stampede vash grew up on a ship with humans. all of them knew what he was. he traveled to settlements with brad to help plants and i think we can assume that people initially at least had an idea about it

so vash didn't always had to hide his nature and didn't know he had such an extended life span.

at least in stampede, vash probably genuinely made friends when he was younger. maybe he had a crush or two and actually egaged with it.

but time goes by. plants no longer need so much help from him. the human population grows. not everyone knows who or what vash is.

not everyone takes it well. sometimes they run away, sometimes they lash out. it hurts either way.

ship three is a save space but it is also a bit of a bubble.

once vash goes out in the world alone, he is bound to run into more random people than when he traveled with brad specifically to go help plants.

most people aren't evel. but there are going to be nasty people, bad ones, horrible ones. and 150 years is a long time to meet bad people

In stampede, vash was a little shy and weary of people after tesla and the rocky start on ship three. But him closing of the way he does must have been a process.

Over time it became harder for vash to let people know what he was, at some point it became dangerous. He met people that harmed him for little to no reason. People that met others on a whim. There was the first time, then there was one more, and one more and so on.

It never stopped vash from reaching out, even if he knew he could get bitten. But after time he just learned to brace himself for it and at least protect his more tender parts as well as he could.

My point is, wolfwood, meryl and Roberto probably aren’t vash first close and genuine friends. But it has likely been a very, very long time since the last time he had friends like that.

Im not sure what is more depressing. Never having had friends like that or having long since given up hope on it.

[currymanganese]

My take on what I've seen a lot of people commenting on whether or not Claire returns in S3 is that Claire Bear doesn't return in S3. For the simple reason that the character was not even developed, and she left the same way she appeared, abruptly and in a way that no one will miss her. I do think she will be mentioned if she appears it will be at most a farewell scene with carmy, but if not that she will never come back. She fulfilled her purpose. 🥸

Based take anon, I hope to God that you're right. I'll breathe such a sigh of relief if you are. If they bring Claire back to flesh out her character and her relationship with Carmy more, it'll feel like they'll be cutting into time that could be better used to explore characters and dynamics that we were already interested in since season 1 yet again.

For example, what's Ebra's last name? Has Ebra immigrated to the US alone, or has his family joined him? If he lives in the US alone, is his family in Somalia still alive, is he close to them? Do they depend on him for remittances? Did they die in war or civil unrest or some other tragedy? Does Manny have kids and a last name of his own? Is Angel in college part time (like I headcanon him to be) and does he see dish washing as just a temporary thing until he breaks into the career he actually wants?

Will Tina find out that Syd's mom is dead? Will that affect the way she interacts with Sydney? Will she develop a maternal bond with Syd? Are any of the restaurant's staff undocumented immigrants? Will they have to help each other secure documentation? How will Marcus's mom's death affect him? Will the restaurant's staff band together to support him emotionally? Will Carmy step up and become a true friend/ older brother figure to him? Will Syd, Marcus and possibly Carmy grow closer together over commiserating over each of them coping with the death of one parent (if Carmy's father is in fact dead)?

What was Syd and Carmy's childhood like? Does Syd still have friends from the CIA? What is Syd's extended family life like? If her Dad is second generation Nigerian American, has Syd ever visited her family in Nigeria? Is she close with her mother's family? Is Syd her grandparents' oldest granddaughter? Has she ever gotten a taste of the oldest daughter experience, despite being an only child, because of having to mind younger cousins at family get togethers?

What was her love life and business like? Does Syd do her own hair to save money? Will she start wearing her hair in different styles more regularly when she is more financially secure? Will Syd get a share of equity in the restaurant when the business becomes profitable? When will Mr. Adamu meet Carmy and what will he make of Syd and Carmy's relationship? Where does Mr. Adamu work? How does that impact on how much quality time he got to spend with Syd as she grew up, if he's still in the same field that he was in when Syd was a child? Did Syd have any behavioural struggles that she dealt with as a young child before she was old enough to understand her mother's death? Did Mr. Adamu ever have her referred to a clinical child psychologist when she was a little girl? Does Syd go to therapy, or does she want to herself? Is Syd depressed?

Has Carmy ever struggled with suicidal ideation before? Has he ever made an unsuccessful attempt on his own life before, perhaps as a child or an adolescent? In his dream in episode 1, why did Carmy tell the bear on the State Street Bridge where his brother killed himself, "I know, I know...." What secret pain does Carmy know about that even we, the audience, are not privy to? Why was cousin Michelle so worried about the impact of Donna's behaviour on Carmy's mental health in particular? Why did the older relative/ acquaintance at Cicero's kid's party so freely assume that Carmy was the one that killed himself and not Mikey? If Carmy has been suicidal himself before, in addition to his survivor's guilt and avoidance of Donna, was this another reason he could not bear to attend Mikey's funeral, if he had to attend and face his own mortality and the fact that his brother's body in the coffin, or ashes in the urn could have easily been him?

Was Carmy ever institutionalized before? If so, does it explain his apparent severe internalized stigma against mental illness ("I'm a fucking psycho!") and him seemingly having an aversion to seek out any mental health care beyond attending the Al-anon meetings? Will Carmy ever go to therapy? Will he ever learn to love himself? Will Syd and Carmy ever realize they have deeper feelings for one another? Will Carmy allow himself to accept Syd's feelings for him if she reciprocates his?

Will any of The Bear's new staff get deeper characterizations of their own? Will Tina's son, Louis, begin working at the restaurant after all in the future, perhaps as front of house staff, or maybe as a dish washer if Angel leaves for better things? Will Gary ever return to a sports related career, perhaps by getting certification to become a coach? What will Fak's job duties be going forward, besides being a general repair man?

Was the restaurant's storefront getting shot out in Season 1 a one-off incident, or was it a warning of things to come because of the Berzatto family's ties to Cicero? Will any of Richie and Mikey's old drug clients come by to raise hell at the restaurant because they can't get their fix anymore? Will they pay back Cicero in time? Will they win their Michelin star? Will the business go under?

Will Nat enjoy motherhood? Will it bring her closer to Donna, if Donna sobers up and joins a rehabilitation program, or will it be the final nail in the coffin for their relationship if loving her own child will allow Nat to fully understand the depths of Donna's cruelty towards her and just how much she was failed as a child? How will Pete navigate fatherhood? Will Carmy grow closer to him as he sees and admires the way that Pete cares for his niece or nephew, and his sister? Will Carmy ever have a desire for a family of his own?

Will Carmy repair his relationship with Syd and with Richie? Will Richie win over the respect of his ex-wife and daughter? Will Richie learn to mind proper boundaries between himself and the Berzattos? Will they kill Donna off in Season 3? Start the season off with a funeral that crushes Marcus (his mom's), but ultimately cements his found family's support for him and for each other, and end the season with a funeral (Donna's) that Carmy, Nat and Richie heartbreakingly find freeing?

There is so much rich material that has yet to be explored with this show and these characters and their interpersonal dynamics. However, if the showrunners wanted Claire to remain as a part of this tapestry in the long run, then imo they should have written her to be as compelling as possible from her introduction in order to match the rest of the show's energy, instead they wrote her like the odd one out.

[danidoesntdie]

One Year On Levothyroxine: Retrospective

Last year in October, I finally went to an endocrinologist and had my hypothyroidism officially diagnosed and was put on a small dose of levothyroxine. Two days later I cried because I could finally feel something other than empty and depressed. Now it's been almost one year since I started this life-changing medicine and I wanted to think back on all the ways it has impacted me in the long term.

During my Junior fall semester of college, I was barely able to move. I was not attending class, not doing my homework, and unable to concentrate. I was basically living with some of my friends in their dorm (which technically wasn't allowed) because I didn't think that I would be able to stay alive if I was on my own for so long (I did not tell them this). At this point, I had been diagnosed with MDD for 8 years. I was tired of good days meaning that I ate and bad days meaning that I'd stand on the side of the road.

Now I've been on medicine that works for a year and I feel like a completely different person. In fact, I feel like I never knew who I was before then. When I was younger, I assumed that I was going to die young and so had no ambitions. Now I can reasonably see myself living for another several years. This was so startling for me. I had all this time and I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. The past year has been a lot about self-discovery.

I started drawing comics last November as a way to cope with the several changes that were happening in my life: dropping out of college, moving into my first apartment alone, working two part-time jobs, and breaking up with my then-boyfriend. I know now that I love drawing comics, and that I don't want to stop anytime soon. I'm hoping that I can share my comics with more people to give them a sad chuckle when things are hard. I want to share what it is like to be depressed so that others can recognize it in themselves and in the ones close to them. This is the first aspiration that I have had for myself in a very long time.

I care more about my appearance. Granted, I'm still not the most hygienic. But I wear more than a T-shirt and khakis every day. I dress up for myself even when the only thing I'm doing that day is going to Walmart. I've learned that I love wearing bold and colorful eyeshadow.

I'm more likely to go out with friends. I'm more likely to make time for my friends. I'm more likely to care about my friends, what they like, their past, etc. That extends to my family as well. I have three different social circles which is way more than I've ever had in my entire life.

I don't shake as much at restaurants. Bright lights don't bother me as much. I eat when I'm hungry and have gained about fifteen pounds. I don't feel as lightheaded anymore. I poop every day (yeah, apparently you're supposed to? Didn't know that before). I have much more energy so I don't need to nap. I can count the number of days that I have spent in bed not moving on my fingers, whereas before I could go for weeks without leaving my room except for food.

I'm happier with myself and more forgiving. I'm moving forward with my life and am wondering still what I want out of it.

Thank you for being a part of it.

[trickstarbrave]

hey guys do u wanna see it so far. bc its breaking my heart and i am. suffering.

wip based on an au from @mulberrycafe, set in vivi’s story where a reincarnation of vivec is the dragonborn, but this one featuring nerevar and voryn’s reincarnations finding each other again

cw for depression and thoughts of suicide

Nerevar smiled as he finished another lecture at the temple, though the smile did not reach his eyes. 

He had walked as Nerevar so long as the Nerevarine that he became Nerevar in body as well. His dunmer skin faded, the curse of Azura being washed away to reveal stunning chimer gold once more. It was a great honor, one he thought that maybe, as the years went on, his people could enjoy as well. He fought hard for them, for their safety, and to reform Morrowind as the Hortator once more. No longer did anyone dare call him ‘outlander’ after his accent took on the full dunmeri accent and the truth was known across every corner of Morrowind. 

And then the Red Year came, ravaging across the land. Baar Dau came crashing down after Vivec suddenly vanished, and Red Mountain erupted. Most of mainland Morrowind was plagued with tidal waves and raging ash storms that destroyed villages, and barely anything remained of the former island of Vvardenfell. Refugees came to Mournhold, then pooled out into Solstheim after the empire gave it to Morrowind, and then further into Skyrim in desperation. 

Still, the people had hope so long as Nerevar was there, sun glinting off his skin and proclaiming their people were going to survive. Worship of the Good Daedra was reinstated, and slowly they began their recovery. Nerevar was a beacon of hope once more. 

And yet, Nerevar didn’t have it in him to be truly happy. 

He should be. His people survived and were slowly overcoming the challenges in front of them--first the Red Year and then the argonian invasion. Yet there was still an emptiness in his chest that haunted him, a pain that only grew, like a piece of him was missing. 

His memories of Nerevar no longer brought him comfort in the quiet of the night. Because in the end, he was alone. Almalexia and Sotha Sil were dead. Vivec was gone, likely dead himself given Baar Dau’s fall. And…

And Voryn was gone. He’d been gone for some time. 

He didn’t want to call Dagoth Ur by Voryn’s name. Dagoth Ur was certainly part of Voryn, but a twisted part of him that was driven mad by the heart. In truth, Voryn Dagoth had died in the days of Resdayn, shortly before Nerevar was killed in turn. Voryn’s body laid there in the heart chamber as Nerevar laid beside him, bleeding out after being stabbed while the tribunal mutilated his body. As much as he reached for Voryn, trying to find comfort in at least holding his dead friend’s hand as they killed him, the Tribunal never gave him the privilege, not even as his last dying wish. 

He never got a chance to tell Voryn how much he loved him. A fact that felt like it was slowly killing him every day. 

His movement had become stiff and robot as the years went on. He got up. He dressed. He ate. He went to meetings. He went to speak in front of the temple. He helped his people and tended to their needs. And then he retired to his room to stare up at the ceiling utterly and completely alone. 

Nerevar had even begun to resent Azura on some level, in the corner of his heart. It didn’t seem like an honor to be brought back to life and given an extended lifespan anymore. All he wanted was to at least join the man he loved in the afterlife, but he wasn’t allowed that either. There were days, particularly hard days where he could barely pull himself out of bed, where he debated just ending it all. But he knew he didn’t have it in him--how would the dunmer people react if they found out their hero and king had killed himself? They would fall into despair, lost in the world. 

As much as it was torture, Nerevar had to keep living, even as the light from his eyes began to fade and the world began to lose it’s color, even as the flowers began to lose their scent and his food became tasteless on his tongue, he persisted. He would live on for them and them alone. 

Voryn would want him to, after all. And he would do anything for Voryn--for his closest friend and the love of his life. He’d even live this hellish existence, if only for him. 

Most of the people filed out after his talk, taking a few rations or giving donations according to need or what they could give. Nerevar smiled and greeted the few brave dunmer who bowed their heads and thanked him for his services, as the temple began to get quiet. 

There was only one person remaining, a tall dunmer in the back with a masculine build, wearing a chitin helm and heavy, ragged cloak. He looked certainly worse for wear, but Nerevar had seen him come in regularly now, yet never take any rations. 

“Come here, stranger.” Nerevar motioned him over. The dunmer jumped before slowly and hesitantly approaching. “Are you hungry? We still have plenty of rations.” 

The dunmer paused, looking over at them before shaking his head no. 

Nerevar smiled again. “It’s no trouble. I’ve done this for our people, so you are more than welcome to take some.” Nerevar handed him a bundle, shoving it into his arms before the man had a chance to refuse again. “Do you have a family who needs some as well?” 

The dunmer slowly placed the rations into his bag before shaking his head again. 

“... Are you unable to speak?” Nerevar asked, raising an eyebrow. With all the injuries after the Red Year, it was quiet possible. Some people choked on ash so much they lost their voices completely, or assassination attempts gone wrong could have severed their vocal cords. At his question, the dunmer nodded his head. 

“Wait right here.” Nerevar turned to grab some parchment and a piece of charcoal, before handing it to the dunmer. “Here, you can write your responses. I see you come in here every day, so surely there must be something on your mind.”��

The dunmer looked at the paper for a long time, before sitting on one of the benches and began to write. Nerevar took a seat next to him, waiting patiently. 

“I only wanted to see you, Hortator.” The writing read, a bit messy but with a certain charm that tugged at Nerevar’s heart. The hortator chuckled softly.

“Well you’ve seen me. I’m always here to help my people, sera.” Nerevar smiled, trying to force it to follow up to his eyes. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do anything in my power to help you. All you need to do is write it down and I shall.” 

--

That was how the two of them met, the stranger in chitin armor and rags and hortator. At least it gave him something new to do, outside his usual routine. The dunmer asked him many questions about Azura and the good daedra, and Nerevar answered them the best he could. Sometimes Nerevar would sing hymns to Azura, sometimes they both would just sit and pray, and sometimes the stranger would ask him random questions about what meals he enjoyed eating. 

It was nice. At least as nice as it would get for Nerevar. He knew very well to uphold his duties as king and keep the dunmer at arms length, but it was nice to have someone he could talk to one on one. Someone who wasn’t a politician trying to get something from him, at least. They talked like that for weeks, and then weeks turned to months, before Nerevar finally pushed him into telling the chimer his name.

“It’s Ryn.” The parchment read, writing slightly smudged from the charcoal thoroughly embedded in his gloves. 

“Ryn, hm?” Nerevar smiled. “It’s a nice name. Very soft and yet strong.” 

Of course, Nerevar particularly enjoyed it since it was so similar to Voryn’s name, but that would be rude to say. The people of Morrowind were still getting used to the idea that House Dagoth should be mourned and honored, people coming out of the woodwork to admit their heritage and take up the house’s colors once more. A dunmer man with ragged clothes would probably not enjoy being compared to the man many, especially former Tribunal worshippers, cursed as the sharmat. And it wouldn’t be good for Nerevar’s heart if he thought too long about his old friend. 

“Thank you.” Came the reply. Nerevar smiled again, still not quite reaching his eyes which were growing to be a duller shade of blue every passing day. 

“No thanks is needed, Ryn. You should be thankful to your parents for giving you such a nice name.” He chuckled. 

“I don’t have any parents.”

Nerevar felt like smacking himself from how badly he put his foot in his mouth just then. 

“I’m very sorry, Ryn.” Nerevar apologized. “I shouldn’t have made such a careless comment with the Red Year and all.” He rubbed the back of his head, trying to figure out a way to save the conversation. 

“It wasn’t the Red Year.” Ryn wrote. “They disowned me shortly after I was born.” Nerevar looked even more horrified. 

“They disowned an infant?” 

“I was born a bit disfigured.” Ryn admitted. “They were looking out for themselves and wouldn’t have been able to provide for me. I hold no ill will towards them.”

“Well perhaps you should.” Nerevar felt anger in him. “How could they just carelessly abandon their own child for something he can’t help?” At least it explained why Ryn refused to remove his helm in front of anyone else. He probably grew up ashamed of how his face looked, even though he shouldn’t. “Look, don’t let that sort of thing harm you, Ryn. You deserved parents who loved you, no matter the circumstances. I’m so sorry you went through that.” 

There was a long pause, Ryn staring at him, before he wrote his reply. 

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart for those kind words, Hortator.”

--

Nerevar wasn’t sure if he should call them friends or not. 

Could they be? It seemed unlikely given he was the hortator and Ryn was a very poor dunmer who came to the temple seeking advice and solace. Yet, it seemed too weird to call them strangers, not when they’d known each other so long now, as the years passed. Acquaintances maybe? 

Yet, that too seemed like it was far too distant. 

Nerevar sighed as he prepared to enter the temple room again. 

There was still much pain and agony in his heart, an emptiness he couldn’t fill, but with Ryn around it was soothed somewhat. The edges were not longer rubbed raw, the wound no longer bleeding out like he was dying. Eating and sleeping were still chores, as was pulling himself out of bed in the morning, but it was slightly better. 

Ryn brought him some comfort. More than the other would ever know or understand, and more than Nerevar wanted to burden him with the knowledge of. His heart still ached him loneliness, from missing the man he loved more than anything, but he could continue on with a bit more ease remembering Ryn would likely worry about him if he was gone. After all, when Nerevar was ever called away from the temple Ryn would tell him he worried about the hortator every time. It even brought a genuine smile to his lips for the first time in years, however small of a smile it was. 

Maybe it was because, as much as he hated admitting it, Ryn’s little habits reminded him of Voryn. The little quirks, the way he held the charcoal in his gloved hand, the way he shrugged his shoulders… Little things that only Nerevar would ever remember. But it would be poison to indulge in them too much, after all. Ryn deserved to be cared for as his own person after all, not have Nerevar’s affections for Voryn shoved onto him against his will. Not to mention no one could ever replace Voryn and it would only be all the more painful if he deluded himself into thinking he could. 

He talked about Azura once more and told stories from the days of Resdayn, before the usual routine. People came, and collected their rations or gave donations, a few people gossiped in the back, and then once they were alone Ryn came to sit beside him. 

Nerevar was feeling tired and just wanted to retreat back to his room to lay in the comfort of his bed for the rest of the day, but he could push through it to speak to Ryn, at least. 

“How have you been?” Nerevar smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Your clothes seem to be in better condition at least.”

“I used the coin you gave me to patch them up better. Thank you.”

“Of course. I can’t have one of my most loyal followers suffering now can I?” Nerevar chuckled, but it still had a hallow tone. He was acting as usual, acting like the strong, joyful king who had nothing but love in his heart. But for everyone else they didn’t ever notice--how would they? 

Nerevar was more of a symbol than a person after all. If he acted well enough and did his duties well, they would believe his lie. And all of those little white lies would give them comfort and solace, which in turn meant Nerevar had the strength to wake up and do it all over again the next day. 

There was silence that followed as Ryn looked at the shrine of Azura for some time. Nerevar looked as well, letting the fake smile continue to grace his lips as he did so. 

“Did you want to pray?” Nerevar offered. “If you want to, I can also help you to write a petition. I’m sure Azura would reward you for your faithfulness.” It would be good if Ryn lived a better life after all. Even if it meant he no longer needed to come to the temple, Nerevar could find some joy in helping a poor dunmer find his place in the world. 

Nerevar couldn’t help Voryn, but he could help Ryn. And maybe that could be the next best thing for now. 

Ryn began writing on the parchment slowly, hesitating slightly. 

“Have you been alright, Hortator?” The question asked. Nerevar chuckled lightly, having long since forgotten how to make his laugh sound truly genuine. 

“Why yes I have.” Nerevar replied. “The Great House leaders have been squabbling less lately since we have gotten more trade coming into Morrowind. And I’ve heard some of our people have settled well in one of the holds of Skyrim, though I can’t say for certain how the conditions are…” Nerevar stroked his face, humming. “Perhaps one day I’ll have to go see for myself. Make sure everyone is doing well.” 

Ryn stared at him for some time, until even Nerevar could feel his eyes boring into him. 

“You just don’t seem happy.” The writing read. “There’s never been any light in your eyes whenever I visit.”

Nerevar’s jaw went tight as he read those words, a bitter taste filling his mouth as the false smile faded from his lips. 

Then, just as soon as it vanished, he replaced it once more. 

“I’m a man with worries of my own from time to time.” He explained. “My heart is always heavy since the Red Year, worrying about all of my people. But I know in time we will overcome this and the pain will fade from my heart.”

It was another lie, Nerevar’s index finger on his right hand tapping twice as he talked, a little quirk not many people knew was an obvious tell from Nerevar when he was being dishonest. But it was a good enough lie that couldn’t be challenged by someone like Ryn. After all, why wouldn’t Nerevar be saddened that his people were suffering? What else could possibly burden his heart? He was the hortator. Azura’s champion. A symbol of hope for the dunmer people. A leader. 

He was no longer Nerevar Mora, the childhood friend of Voryn Dagoth who eventually got adopted into House Indoril against his will. He was no longer Nerevar, the chimer hopelessly in love with Voryn. He was no longer a man who had any luxury of sharing his pain and grief. He was just the hortator, stripped down of every former identity he had. 

Ryn clenched the charcoal tightly. 

“You can share your troubles with me, always.” Ryn wrote back. Nerevar chuckled again like he wasn’t getting stabbed in the chest. Like he didn’t have to learn to fight back tears every day of this life. 

“Thank you for your kindness, Ryn. I appreciate you being willing to share my burdens.” He patted him on the shoulder. Now the light in his eyes had completely faded as the pain of Voryn’s death hit him again and again, somehow more painful than Vivec’s spear ramming itself through his chest or his face and feet being carved off. Part of him wanted to scream and weep--of course he wasn’t okay! He was a man who was missing part of himself, a man who was so painfully alone that every single day felt like his own personal torture. That he missed Voryn, the love of his life, the man he never got to confess his feelings for, more than anything. That he longed to see his face just one last time and got to tell Voryn how much he meant to Nerevar, how Nerevar lived for him and accomplished so much just so he could be worthy of standing at Voryn’s side. 

But he couldn’t. So Nerevar would lie, just as he always did. 

“If it ever gets unbearable, I will tell you about it.” Nerevar patted his shoulder to reassure him. “For now though the greatest comfort will be you living a nice, fulfilling life for me.”

Ryn’s shoulders were tense under his hand, before he stood up and briskly walked out. 

Nerevar watched him go, the pain in his heart only growing heavier.

[xplrvibes]

A week till Christmas, I feel he's gotta be planning to go back to his parents now/this coming week or at least have no obligations that include a camera.

Although I don't necessarily agree with you (and by extension Golbrock who I see has also been pushing the 'run to your family Colby' narrative) that going to his parents will automatically help him deal with his grief, different people deal differently with grief to one another. Plus going to his families risks being forced to become the rock for the parents grief whereas staying away at least gives time to figure himself out before he goes to them

I don't think this event was a bad thing to have taken part in for him, it was a fun distraction and sometimes you need distractions from the sad things. Especially when it is grief. I know this as it's how I deal with my own grief. If I don't find distractions I tend to wallow and just sink into a dangerous dark place.

It's how I dealt with the grief of my own Grandfather dying earlier this year, I found distractions like hang outs with friends, we did some escape rooms, I went to a concert, we did paint balling, bowling, among other things. basically I found staying away from my family more helpful in dealing with it than descending into grief with my family,who as much as I love them, being around them during that time I was more having to support my parents than deal with my own grief. (Adding here my family is extremely tight knit, many people thought I should be with them dealing with my grief because we're very close but it was so much worse being around them because I could not escape the grief even for a second which lead to bad depression things.... So staying away was so much better for me).

I healed much better when with supportive friends who would distract me and also allow me to talk to them about it all when I felt ready too or needed too. I kinda feel both Sam and Colby are similar to me in this regard. They love their families, but take more comfort in being around each other (I know on multiple occasions Colby has mentioned being closer to Sam than his own brother) and seem to cope with painful situations with distractions that prevent them wallowing.

The issue I see with them is the lack of talking about how they're feeling with anyone, so I hope if Colby does not go to his parents now that he at least has someone he can open up to about his grief even if it's just his best friend Sam.

The only issue I had in regards to Colby's grief with this event was because there were cameras he probably felt he had to put on a show though but as the stream went on it was obvious that he was actually having fun as he was grinning and laughing with Sam just out of shot a fair amount. At times it looked like he was having more fun than Sam was tbh, (maybe Sam's competitive nature was making him enjoy it slightly less I don't know, LOL)

Well, his original Christmas plans for this year was to spend them in Missouri where his brother and extended family (including his grandpa) live, so my guess was he was only a few days away from heading out that way and getting to see him, anyway.

In a sense, that makes this almost more tragic and is why I am a big proponent of him going home - he missed saying goodbye by a few days. He was supposed to go home and be there anyway, but this happened before he got there. Whether he knew it was coming or not, that's a horrible, horrible feeling to hold onto.

I have lost 3 of my 4 grandparents already in my life, and while I was in the room when 1 passed, and was able to get there in time to say goodbyes to the 2nd, the 3rd was a situation similar to what he's going through now. I was supposed to go over and visit, didn't get there in time because of work, thought, "Oh, I'll go tomorrow," and tomorrow never came.

That's a guilt that stays with you, even though it's not a guilt you should be carrying.

If he feels better being with friends than going home a few days early, than that's totally fine, and valid and absolutely his prerogative. I just don't think it's good for him to be hanging out with people with cameras/livestreams right now. I don't think he should be going on streams, worrying about work obligations, worrying about being camera ready or sucking it up for an audience and whatever else. I just feel like that has to be draining on him, whether he realizes it or not, especially when he lost a loved one so close to the holidays and was only days away from seeing them.

Now granted, to your point, he and Sam are a bonded pair of doves at this point and seem to find the maximum amount of strength in one another, so in that respect it's good that he's with him...but I don't know, I just worry that he'll just stay in LA and keep doing influencer shit when his heart clearly isn't in it because he wants to "be strong," and that I have an issue with. Just call it wraps and bump the flight up by a few days, go home and get some home cooking from the extended family and take a load off.

Or at least hole up in the air bnb and chill with Sam for a while, if that is not feasible or wanted.

He did seem to warm up to the stream activities by the end, and that's great, but they got out of there as soon as it ended so I'm wondering if he was reaching his limit for the day. He's a man that likes to have his time to recharge even on a good day, and this has been nothing resembling a good day, I'm sure. But if he truly enjoyed himself, then that's great for him.

And Sam was taking this shit so seriously, you'd have thought this man was about to win a Superbowl ring lol. That is one competitive human being right there!

(Also, sorry for your loss, anon).

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

First up, I wanted to thank all of you for running this blog. It’s such an important resource for as I’m sure it is to many others.

TW: Possible child abuse (emotional neglect / slight physical / overall unhealthy dynamic). LGBT-phobia. Ableism, perhaps? Mentioned disordered eating and suicidal ideation.

I’m looking for something more in the advice or reassurance vein, please? So, I come from a more traditional family: I constantly have to walk on eggshells around my dad, he and my mom rant about how LGBT is “corrupting” the world (which is so stressful for me because I’m genderfluid), my mom called me stupid for sobbing in front of her and saying I felt depressed… that type of stuff. Only last year did I realise that these aren’t healthy family traits. However, as I speak more and more with my recently-acquired mental health counselor, I’m getting unsure on if my parents are actually abusive or not. We’re practicing stuff like reframing (this mental health help is for a limited time only, though, so it’s not full-on therapy) and part of me agrees with what my counselor says, but another is angrier and insists they might be watering down my problems because of my miscommunication.

For example, I explained how my mom once told me that “family is the only you can trust” and how she “bets my friends are talking about me behind my back right now,” yet they say my mom is communicating poorly and that she’s right; friends can and will drop you, unlike family. They highlight that I’ll always see the worst in my family because my parents will come home tired from a work day and might just be stressed. Or whenever I explain stuff like my frequent skipping meals or suicidal ideation, their response is a “it happens to the best of us” and then moving on to the next topic (apart from things like that, they handle most other problems well.)

But as I’m writing this, I feel like it’s all my fault, you know? Like I’m antagonising my first and only therapist for the sake of it. Like I’m grappling onto the tiniest, pettiest moments in my life to announce “I’m an abuse victim!” and demand others pity me.

I’m sorry if this is a too long/a confusing ask, but I’d like to know whether this seems like I’m blowing it all out of proportions or if it’s justified? (If you don’t want to answer or don’t have a clear opinion, that’s completely fine! /gen)

Thank you,

— Void

Hello Void,

My sincere apologies for taking so long to reply to this - thank you so much for your kind words, we appreciate them <3

I am so sorry for the things you are experiencing, it sounds like there is a whole slew of issues and concerns to unpack, and I’m glad that there is some therapy in place already - though I hope the short term develops into something more concrete as you slowly peel back the layers. Just from the examples you shared in your ask, I personally feel you are living in an unsupportive, abusive home environment, and have unequal relationships with your friends who are dismissive of your mental health and attempts to speak your truth in vulnerable moments.

It is quite reasonable to me that you would feel anger, and several other emotions as well, surrounding all this, because you have been attempting to label, and advocate, for your needs, and (I assume) ask for the bare minimum: mutually respectful relationships. Because as much as several people keep trying to downplay what is being said/done to you, I wonder how they would feel if they were experiencing the same? Would they feel just as dismissed if they came to you sharing suicidal ideation and you replied with a “happens to the best of us?” I would feel sad if they felt this was the best standard to be found in friendships. And how would your mom feel if she were the one crying, sharing she’s depressed, and you replied by calling her “stupid”?

You have been working hard trying to see their perspective, but to me, by what you shared, they aren’t extending you the same courtesy, and you deserve mutually respectful relationships. We all do.

As for advice, I don’t think it’s as simple as “ghost everyone”, but perhaps tweaking how much you share with people whose track record is subpar at best when it comes to handling your truths of vulnerability?

Maybe an option to consider could be building your support system one step at a time - therapy is a fantastic start, because they can help work on a treatment plan with coping skills, as well as provide safe spaces to explore your feelings - but maybe also consider branching out where/how you meet people? Perhaps online groups of niche interests, or community volunteering programs, both can be a wonderful space where you might meet others on the LGBT+ spectrum who will honor your identity, and/or have connections to further mental health resources. There’s also support groups (both in person, and online) that might be an option as well?

I wouldn’t want anyone to spread themselves too thin between relationships, and potential commitments, and yet on the other hand, exploring your available options might be of service - in that the very least you can start building your own tribe, where you can let people in who are willing to extend you the same empathy and compassion you’ve been trying to do for yourself.

Regardless of what the next steps might be for you, I am so sorry for the things that have happened so far, and I hope that things improve <3

- Mod Kat

[silentmassacres]

sun, nov 3

nostalgia, jealousy, and neglect

i have an odd experience with dissociation, one that occurs again and again. not constant, but familiar enough. i can feel as my brain latches onto certain memories or ideas, trying to bring me back to them.

of course, i can't go back.

the christmas of 2012 at my grandparents' house won't return. my cousins are older now, no longer carrying around toys and a ds with games for me to explore. i got yelled at until i cried that night, for reasons i can't remember. i still miss the glowing lights of the tree that i helped decorate.

my elementary school library is, undoubtedly, different now. kids are no longer playing poptropica on the computers while i check out every i spy book. i miss the way they smelled.

—

many times, i find myself giving in. mentally living at least a decade ago. it's easier, i guess. i know it furthers my dissociation, to be solidly convinced i'm in another place and time. my brain is stuck there, and i don't feel there's much i can do.

i'd rather be there and disoriented than here and miserable

—

i didn't like school as a child. i found it boring and my peers frustrated me. many times, my teachers did as well. i was an easy target, i suppose.

yet, somehow, despite all of it, i miss it. i shouldn't. i don't know why i do.

i'd like to go home now.

—

i don't like calling myself disabled. i know that, realistically, i am. sometimes i'll use the word as if it proves anything, as if i am somehow more heard.

my body is deteriorating from the inside out. they don't know what's wrong with me, and nobody bothers to care or check. so i remain a mystery. of course, it's internal. there is never a moment i am without pain and i will try not to collapse when my body decides to give up on me — but that is unseen.

it feels like a cruel joke at times. if i were a character, it'd be some parallel or metaphor or other literacy device; a play on how, with all of my mental suffering internalized, i am now facing the same with physical issues

—

i'd like to hope there's something solid wrong with me. maybe they could do something.

for another day and another week and another month, i will ignore the concept of chronic pain and fatigue and what basically amounts to rotting internally being as a result of trauma. i will not receive help for that.

even if it is physical, i still don't receive help.

—

i dislike feeling jealous. it makes me feel like a bad person, in all of my misdirected anger. it's not the fault of those who have what i cannot, and they shouldn't be the target of my frustrations.

yet i can't help but compare myself.

maybe it's worse in some aspects for others, but i still find myself fighting to prove that i'm somehow more worthy. i begin to believe that worth means nothing if not recognized — worth is only built on recognition after all, is it not?

i keep it to myself, most times. no need to express it

—

it's not just hormones, i've decided. it's part of it, i guess. the hormones make me irritable with others. but they're not what's causing me to be miserable. suicidal ideation used to be reserved for the week or two before. we're past that now, and i still feel depression wrapping around me.

i don't know what i'm going to do. i'm told it's fine (of course, what else are you to say?), but i still worry.

it still lingers with me, having been abandoned during arguably the worst bout of depression in my life, and then claiming i was neglectful. i don't want to go through that again.

i'm not wonderful with being. openly caring. not in the way people want. it's easy for people to assume or say that i don't care and paint me in a negative light. and when the time comes in which i can barely care for myself, will i continue to extend that towards others?

i fear it only breeds resentment.

does it matter if i hurt myself, so long as i behave normal enough? so long as i'm caring?

i worry she'll be mad at me for it. i don't remember where that feeling comes from.

[jaitropdonglets]

You’re Not Bad at Time Management. You’re Doing Too Much.

So stop guilting yourself

8min read

Overwhelmed? Feeling scatterbrained? Missing deadlines? Do you feel like you’re constantly scrambling to catch up, but never getting anywhere? Is every day an uphill battle of chipping away at your inbox, chipping away at your chores, trying to make a dent in your to-do list, struggling to find time for the other things in life that matter (like exercise, cooking, socializing, hell, even having a hobby), and fighting against the massive tide of sadness, guilt, fear, and tiredness that’s always threatening to swallow you up?

Are the surfaces of your home covered in dust and crumbs? Are you wearing a sweatshirt that started getting funky two weeks ago, but you don’t have the energy to wash it, so you keep hitting it with Febreze? Did you miss the extended deadline to file your taxes? Have you been meaning to call your mom for a month, yet find that at the end of each week, you lack the energy and positivity necessary to update her on your life without making it sound depressing and scary?

Despite all of this, and despite all the horrors of the pandemic, does some part of you still suspect all this is your fault? Do you still labor under the belief that you’re uniquely bad at time management, particularly lazy and adrift? Have you hung all your hope on finding the right calendar app, or adopting the right “self-care” schedule, thinking that once you get it right, you’ll magically unlock all the productivity and mental clarity you seem to be missing? But when you do try to enact these time-managing, stress-reducing plans, do you find they immediately fall apart?

Maybe you aren’t bad at time management. Maybe you’re doing too much.Maybe there is no solution to all this stress that allows you to still be “productive.” Maybe the only way to move forward is to let some things drop.

About a year ago, at new-student orientation at the university where I teach, I sat on a panel with other faculty and some alumni to offer our new students advice on succeeding in school. In my department, most of our students are working adults with children, older parents, and full-time jobs, so naturally the question of work-life balance came up: How many hours per day should a student study?

“You should study four hours per night,” said one professor.

“I studied more like five hours a night,” said an alumnus, laughing. “Especially when I was taking math classes.”

“I set aside every weekend to focus entirely on studying,” said another graduate. “It was a sacrifice, but my husband and I made it work.”

How can a busy, working adult find that kind of time? we were asked. A chorus of advice rang out, the same stuff I hear at these panels every year:

You have to make the time for this. Get a babysitter. Stay up late after the children are asleep. Wake up early. Read on your lunch break. Stop going to the gym. Stop going to brunch. Practice good time-management skills. You have to be all in. You have to commit. It will be hard, but it will be over in four years. You’ll find the time. If it matters, you’ll find the time.

And then I, the annoying nonconformist that I am, spoke my piece:

“I don’t care how much time you spend studying,” I said. “We tend to moralize how hard someone is working, but I’d rather you guys work smart rather than hard. Spending five hours every night staring at a book while you’re absolutely exhausted doesn’t do you any good. I’d much rather you get enough sleep and spend one or two hours a week working on my class.”

What I didn’t add — what I’m always afraid to add at events like these — is that for many of my students, “finding the time” is actually impossible. Or will become impossible, eventually. One of their children will get sick. They’ll spend evenings with their aging parents in nursing homes or hospice. Their marriage will need work, or the small family business they run will have a crisis. They’ll get depressed. They will all miss assignment deadlines and occasionally flunk tests.

And all of that is actually okay. If they’re taking a class with me, I don’t give a shit if life gets in the way of managing a perfect, pristine schedule. They can make up work later. When somebody requests an extension or takes an incomplete, the world doesn’t end. So many things in life matter more. I trust my students to make a rational calculation about what in their lives matters most. Often, class is far from the top of the list. I wish we’d stop guilting them about that. I wish they’d stop guilting themselves.

Isee a lot of people trying to bargain with their own needs and limitations. Many of my friends and loved ones recognize their jobs are demanding too much of them, their bosses are setting expectations that were unrealistic even before the pandemic, let alone during it, and they know all this toil and stress is not tenable — but they want to find a way to make it work.

So they reach for the tools they’ve been taught will bring them work-life balance: They set timers before writing emails. They program stretch breaks into their smartwatches at 20-minute intervals. They eat more protein, drink coffee with butter in it for an extra energy boost. They journal. They try to force bread baking, jogging, and weekly virtual yoga into their schedules, and pencil in a rousing evening of bathroom cleaning to cap off the day.

This desperate, compensatory scheduling seems to fail them almost instantly. They find they lack the energy for those late-night bathroom cleanings, or that when the time to bullet journal comes around, they simply stare off into space. They don’t get enough emails written in the 15 minutes they’ve allotted themselves. Their “self-care” goals become yet another stressful thing to schedule, another infuriating digital box to click.

Because the problem was never a lack of smartwatch notifications and bread-baking time blocks. The problem was always that they were overwhelmed. More scheduling can’t fix that.

Iwould like to propose a new approach to understanding time and time management. It’s an approach rooted in radical self-acceptance and informed by my belief that whenever a person fails to meet a goal or seems “lazy,” it is because they are facing massive barriers and challenges that others can’t always see. At the heart of my approach to time is this core message:

Your time is already accounted for.

Your days are already full, no matter what your calendar says. You’re already trying to do too much, no matter how much guilt you feel about not doing “enough.” Your every waking moment is already filled with activities (both passive and active) that are essential to keeping you alive and functioning. So if you feel like you are failing to get things done, it’s because you’re discounting just how busy you truly are, and how essential all of your activities are to your current life.

Some of your daily activities have a very obvious impact. When you write emails to your boss, you’re doing clear, documentable work, which can help ensure you get paid, so you can buy food and pay rent. But procrastinating on a writing assignment by cleaning your kitchen can also be an essential life activity. That kitchen was gonna have to be cleaned eventually. And complex tasks like writing often require a long period of incubation before creativity can really happen. Maybe cleaning the kitchen is an essential part of the writing process for you!

Other activities are even more stealthy in their importance, like staring off into space. We need time to daydream. And our minds claim that time, whether we want them to or not.

Many of us have periods of the day where we just can’t focus or stay on task. For me, that’s every afternoon at around 3 p.m. when I become a total zombie. I can’t grade students’ quizzes or focus on my own writing. I’m cranky and spaced out in meetings. I can’t will myself to call the dentist and schedule an appointment. No matter how much coffee I drink, or how much I berate myself, I’m an unmotivated lump at this time of day.

I’m trying to stop resisting this fact. I want to accept it. Maybe I need to zone out for an hour or two in the afternoon. Perhaps my lack of motivation is my brain’s way of telling me I desperately need a break. Rather than seeing that time as “wasted,” I could learn to value it as a natural and necessary part of my schedule. My body schedules times for rest, even if my calendar doesn’t.

If you struggle with depression, anxiety, or complex trauma, “zoning out” is probably even more essential to your well-being. Fighting against mental illness symptoms is a full-time job, and a grueling one. But a lot of that work happens behind the scenes. It’s not showy. It doesn’t look “productive” in a conventional sense. But the time you spend sleeping, snacking, and escaping reality via video games may actually be essential to your well-being and functioning. Time spent coping and fighting to stay alive is not time wasted.

Imagine what would happen if we stopped blaming ourselves for needing time to sleep in, to pick at our chipped nail polish, to play, to eat popcorn, and cuddle with our cats. How might our lives change if we accepted that we were already busy, no matter how “idle” we looked to other people? What could we learn to say “no” to if we truly accepted ourselves? Which “shoulds” could we learn to let drop?

If you truly believe all your time is already accounted for, you won’t try to take on new responsibilities without first finding something to let go of. You won’t blame yourself for failing to “make time” out of nowhere. You’ll recognize your every waking moment is already budgeted. Your energy is already allocated. And you’ll recognize that if you’re repeatedly failing to meet an obligation, it’s because you’re already doing far too much.

This approach empowers us to be keen observers of our own lives; we can look to our feelings and impulses as important indicators of what we truly need. If a calendar invite from a colleague leaves me feeling frantic and irritable, maybe it’s not because I’m an antisocial asshole who’s too lazy to do more work. Maybe my day is already “full,” even if there is time available on my calendar. My calendar doesn’t know what my body needs.

Similarly, if I spend all morning refreshing my social media apps instead of prepping my next class, I can take that as a sign that I desperately need stimulation and social contact. I don’t have to beat myself up for being unfocused and “wasting” time. I can give my brain what it truly needs, instead of hating it for having needs. I view taking a long walk and chatting with a buddy as an essential part of being alive, as necessary as eating, breathing, and working to make rent. I can stop feeling like a slob for putting off doing my laundry.

If like me, you are struggling with stress, trying to cram too much into your days, I want you to know this: Your time is already fully accounted for. You are incredibly busy, and your every activity is valuable and important. If you want to throw a new obligation onto the pile, you should probably find something else to stop doing. Hell, you should find something to cut back on regardless. You deserve to feel at peace. You deserve to accept yourself as you are — with all your needs, impulsive habits, limitations, and flaws. You were not made for working.

You don’t have a time management problem. You’re just trying to do too much.

[evilbutcutetho]

To elaborate we were together, went on vacations together and she was literally everything I could ask for. We went on vacation together and neither of us wanted a label. We went to cute restaurants, planned museum dates, and other things we both enjoyed. Through all of it though I was still fighting PTSD I was hiding from my previous relationship. In that relationship I was verbally abused and caught in a living situation with the person.

They repeatedly invalidated my opinion. Put down my interests and made me really cater to their wants and likes. So at the end of that relationship feeling trapped I just lost myself to try and make myself perfect. She gaslit me and turns out she had been cheating for about half a year despite going after me about every little thing.

When I met this new girl everything was great, but slowly those fears crept in. Things felt too good and I ultimately let my fears of losing her take over. She was away and I hadn’t seen her for a month, and I felt depressed. I drank way too much and accused her of not loving me. Even though my insecurities really had nothing to do with her. She never even hinted she wanted to be with anyone else. In fact she wanted to have me in her life in an important way. Needless to say she thought I was different from any other guy she had been with. After that she pretty much pulled away and coupled it in with the negative experiences she had with others.

When she got back she wanted some space, we still saw each other and it was weird. My trained reaction was to try and be perfect and do only what she wanted to do and pursue what she liked. It backfired heavily because she liked I was passionate about my interests and I came off like I was simping and appeared bland. All in all I was afraid and held on way too tight. Unfortunately it happened with someone I never wanted to lose and she had voiced the same sentiment when we met. In the end I fought to try and fix things while needing to do a lot of work on myself.

The last conversation we had she kind of through the relationship that gave me PTSD in my face out of anger and questioned its validity and said if I smothered her like I was doing to her she understands why she left. I told her that wasn’t the case and I legitimately had trauma. She questioned if I could actually change and we haven’t talked since.

It wasn’t until I got the help I needed that I saw how big an effect my ex I was living with caused me. I saw how it affected my relationship and conditioned my responses. It legitimately took away the mix of things that made me who I am. The sad part is this girl I met saw all of my interests, hobbies and light and loved me for it. She wanted to engage in my interest and enjoy them with me. As I said I let my fears destroy me and what we had. She even told all of her family about me and wanted me to meet her extended family.

My friend wants to reach out to her to try and bridge the gap. To let her know I got help and that I perused the help I needed and made real changes and see if she’s opened to getting coffee with me.

I just wanted your input because I respect your opinion. I know I messed up. I own that and I really did conquer the pain I still had. I just hope I get another chance. Even if it’s just as friends.

Alright thank you! It's very good and important you've come to realize that you needed professional help and actually reached out for therapy.

So i think first of all you should be sure about your intentions of reaching out to her. Does it come from a place of feeling the need of making peace with yourself about this situation? do you project something onto her without really knowing her on a deep level (i couldn't tell whether you and her have been close for a very long time or if your time together only happened in a timeframe of a couple months) or does it come from genuinely wanting to be with her specifically?

Before i tell you what i personally would advise you from the information i have about the situation, i also wanna say this only applies if there has never been any form of abuse in the connection between you snd her. I just wanna mention this because coming from abusive relationships and/or abusive homes, sometimes the victims subconsciously start showing abusive behavior too or - the exact opposite - they often don't recognize more covert forms of abuse because they are so desensitized to mistreatment. So if there has been any abusive behavior from either her or you, i'd probably advise you to not reach out for the safety and wellbeing of both of you

Anyways, if you're 100% sure you love her and it's coming from a genuine place then i think it's worth a try to reach out to her. But you really need to be confident in the stability of your progress, don't expect yourself to be fully healed and free from unhealthy patterns if it's "only" been a couple months or a year of therapy. It takes a lot of time to not fall back into old habits and it also needs being confronted with your triggers again and again. You have to take in consideration that your healing process in theory will always be way ahead of your healing process in practice. Your head might have already changed and understood but your body's reaction to being triggered is another thing.

That's why oftentimes people feel calm and balanced while they are single but start feeling stressed and confused again when they get close to someone they like. That's nothing unusual or bad, it's just important to be aware of and prepared for. it's normal and you need confrontation to learn to cope healthily and get more secure. You can't fully heal without being in a situation where you need to actively put in work to stand on business while being triggered.

I don't know her side of the story and how she experienced all of it so i can't tell you how she feels about you reaching out to her. Just make sure to not pressure her and not guilt trip her into feeling like she owes you a conversation, make the step towards her but let her decide whether she wants to shut it off or keep it going. If she doesn't wanna talk, you'll be okay too. It might hurt but you'll know where you stand and you'll find peace in moving on.

But on the other hand, if you never tell her how you feel about her you'll probably always wonder how things between you and her could have been. It's better to tell her now then to wait forever and then be sad you never tried. Waiting too long also comes with the risk of the other person starting to move on, would be sad if maybe she's been secretly waiting for you to change and you'd miss out on your chance because she's done waiting and hoping

Either way, keep on finding back to yourself and the core of who you really are. Gaining back your true identity, your personality, your hobbies and interests and everything that defines you is beautiful

[journeydb]

April 24 2023 Boulder (continued)

Continuing Hobie's birthday retrospective with this photo of him with Bill, Katie, and Jack at Easter a few years ago. Some people may not realize that the reason we have Katie in our lives is that her older brother, Sam, attended Oakley for high school with Hobie. They were good friends and after they both graduated became even better friends because the Gambrells lived in Niwot at that time.

Sam introduced Hobie to his sister, Katie, and we will be eternally grateful to Sam for that. Sadly, we lost Sam in October 2013 when he took his life after losing hope that he could be delivered from the depression which was so deep and so pervasive. Sam was helped by many people attempting to counsel him and give him the support he needed and we'll never truly understand how much he suffered, but we are relieved that he has found peace. Sam was truly ADORED by many and will forever be missed by those whose lives he touched in such a profound way. He was one of the kindest, gentlest Souls I have ever known and I'm grateful to have had him in my life if even for such a short time.

A very big moment in Hobie's life was when he met his birth family for the first time. After we adopted Hobie when he was born we met his grandparents and his mother and we had hoped to have an open adoption and include them in our family, but his birth mother, Kori, wasn't comfortable with that so it never happened. She died when he was a teenager and we were all devastated that the opportunity to know her was lost to us.

This photo is of Kori on her wedding day two years before she died of cancer at age 31. She was such a beautiful person and Hobie looks a lot like her. I maintained a limited relationship with her and her mother, Laura, through writing, pictures, and phone calls since his birth so when Hobie returned to Boulder after graduating from high school in 2011 we began the process of Hobie getting to know his grandparents and his aunt. Since then they have created a very deep love and regard for one another and Laura, Jerry, and Taryn have become an integral part of our family.

Sadly, Laura's sister, Kori's aunt, died a few years after we first met her and we don't have contact with anyone else in the extended family but we are grateful to have Laura, Jerry, and Taryn in our lives now.

Hobie has been fortunate to be a surrogate uncle to many of his cousin's children and he REALLY likes Marshall, our niece Heather's son, see next to Hobie, wearing a tie, at Hobie's wedding.

The child who really seemed to be the catalyst for his paternal instincts being nudged was when his cousin, Aimey's son, Indigo, was born.

Because Aimey and her husband, Philip, live in Colorado we have a lot more contact with them than with our family in other parts of the country. Watching Indigo grow up has been a joy for all of us and we hope that he and Maple will have a close relationship as cousins the way Hobie had with his cousins.

The "babies" closest to Hobie's heart, after Maple, of course, are his and Katie's pups, Gilly, seen in the photo above, and Archer.

Archer, the black dog, in the photo above, was their first dog. He is ten years old now and has some health problems so we hope he'll keep going for awhile. He is sweet and loving. The other dog in the photo isn't Gilly, it's their dog, Lana, who looks a lot like Gilly. She died six years ago and it was traumatic for them to lose her. Adopting Gilly helped them and Archer to heal from Lana's loss.

Hobie has had two careers in his life. The first one started when he began working as an electronics tech and assembler at Electrom Instruments in Longmont. He worked there for six years and learned a LOT about computers and other electronic instruments, which was extremely helpful to him when he decided he really wanted to be an auto mechanic and began a year and a half program at Lincoln College of Automotive Engineering.

The class began with thirty students and only five graduated. It was a very tough curriculum. Hobie graduated and actually had a job with a Ford dealership before he graduated.

These are some of the tools of Hobie's trade. He is SO organized, at least at work! He has worked for a few dealerships now, getting experience with different kinds of companies and working with lots of different kinds of vehicles. His focus now is on becoming a master mechanic and he is apprenticing at the Ford dealership in Dacono where he currently works with a really nice young guy who is a master mechanic and works mostly on diesels, which is Hobie's area of interest.

Hobie has owned MANY vehicles, including cars, trucks, Jeeps, motorcycles, and a BIG diesel truck, which have given him lots of experience on his own. At one time his driveway looked like a used vehicle lot until the city of Longmont told him he had to get rid of some of them, so he sold a few. We are SO proud of our son that he found his passion for a career that pays well and will pay even better in the future when he becomes a master mechanic. He is doing something important because he's helping people stay on the road to go to school, work, shopping, you name it, all the things we use our transportation to do, in safe, well-maintained vehicles.

And then, the most wonderful thing to happen in Hobie's life, after meeting Katie, was the birth of little Maple. She has been from the very moment he first saw her the "apple of her Daddy's eye". He adores his daughter and he is a REALLY good dad.

Today we celebrated Hobie's 30th birthday with a takeout dinner at our house. It was the first time we had seen them since we got back a few days ago and it was WONDERFUL to be with them! We had gifts not only for him, but also for Maple from our travels and from friends in Barcelona. Maple particularly liked the wooden train with blocks on it. We also bought Maple a little cart like the one at their house so she could practice walking behind it. She did quite well. It was a lovely afternoon and evening and we were SO happy to be home with our family.

[longlivebatart]

Kalf’s Still Life with Ginger Pot and Porcelain Bowl

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Still Life with Ginger Pot and Porcelain Bowl by Willem Kalf. I hope you enjoy. 

Willem Kalf was born in 1619 in Rotterdam. His father died when he was six and he left Rotterdam in 1638 shortly after his mother died, leaving him an orphan at around 18. No one knows who he apprenticed under because any documents that might have alluded to or outright told people who he was trained by haven’t survived to today. He moved to Paris in around 1641 until late fall five years later. As you might expect, the paintings Kalf produced during his time there were said to be part of his French or Parisian period. 

Kalf lived in a house with several other Dutch painters in a house called La Chasse. His early paintings were mainly of exteriors, especially of farms. That was apparently very popular as a subject and his paintings were copied quite a few times. But he didn’t just paint exteriors- he was one of the pioneers of the still life genre later on.

Kalf returned to Rotterdam in October 1646 and he didn’t crop up in the records for another five years, when he resurfaces in Hoorn in a marriage record to Cornelia Pluvier. He and his wife moved to Amsterdam, which is where Kalf stayed. In 1654, he is a member of the Saint Luke’s Guild in that city. 

Kalf wasn’t solely a painter doing his own work, however- he was an art authenticator and dealer as well. He authenticated in Amsterdam in 1653, and the documents he provided to authenticate an artwork by Paulus Bril are part of the reason historians know he was in the city at that time. And it’s through his art dealing that he most likely gathered all the interesting, exotic, and exorbitantly expensive items he later used in his still lifes. Oddly enough, he painted very few paintings during his mature period where he created most of his still lifes for which he is now known. Art historians in the Netherlands call his still lifes a term that means “ostentatious still life” in English.

Kalf died on July 31, 1693. 23 of his works survive.

On to the painting.

The still life’s background is dark brown, so deep it’s actually hard to make out some details. The table the items are on is polished granite with a beveled edge. The granite is brown with gray and black veins running through it, mostly seen on the front left corner of the table, the only corner visible to the viewer. There’s an open faceted brass pocket watch on the corner of the table. Or maybe it’s a handheld compass or even a locket. It has a black ribbon threaded through the loop. The ribbon is draped over the corner of the table, and it’s dangling down. There’s a small brass key or something similar on the ribbon. It’s bent- the hole is threaded through the ribbon, and the body of the key is almost at a ninety degree angle. There’s a small piece of brass extending from the item, which is why I think it's a key.

Next to the pocket watch, there’s a silver tray. The edge of it is detailed and ornate, though you only see it in profile so you can’t tell what the details actually are. There’s a depression in the middle of the tray where items can sit. On the tray is a glass tube with a small orange and yellow swirl on one side. It looks like it’s connected to a small metal cup on the other side. It could be a snuffer for candles. Cocked on the tray is a white porcelain bowl with delicate blue designs on it. One design you see in full is the solid profile of a bird on a branch. The rest of the design in the concave side of the bowl is obscured by an eaten slice of melon. The green rind and a few pieces of the orange melon remain in the bowl. Also in the bowl is a hammered metal disc with holes in it, but I’m not quite sure what function that item serves. It looks almost like a loose-leaf tea steeper, but without a chain to pull it out of the water.

Behind the bowl and to the left is a large wine glass. The stem of the glass is very thick and it looks like it has those glass decorative pebbles on it, the ones with a flat back and a domed front. The glass is dark green, but the color is probably influenced by the dark background. The glass itself is half full with a colorless liquid, with a half-peeled lemon in it. The lemon’s rind has been peeled in a spiral, and most of the rind is dangling over the rim of the glass and hanging over the left side. 

Underneath the dangling lemon rind is an apple-like fruit with a stem with leaves coming out of the top and a much smaller fruit off to the left, still on the stem. The main fruit has a crack on the left side of it, in the middle of the lighter area. The right side and most of the bottom has a gentle shadow thrown on it by the objects next to it. 

To the right of the porcelain bowl is the green melon that the slice in the bowl was cut out of. It has a crackled rind and the inside is a yellow-orange. Close to the center of the melon you can see the slightly-green seeds running along the length of the exposed slice. Behind the melon is a large blue vase, which is the ginger pot the title references. The pot has white designs on it, but you can only clearly see one. That one is a floral-like design. The top of the pot has a horizontal single diamond design on it, like an elongated simple compass rose on a map. Behind the pot and to the left is another drinking glass. This one is a narrow triangle shape, with the point of the triangle at the bottom. It’s filled with a red liquid. To the right of the ginger pot, hardly able to be seen against the background, is a third drinking glass. You can only see the top part of the glass, where liquid would sit, and not its stem. The glass is wide and almost-floral in shape. The edges are wide flutes and the rim is also fluted. It looks like the cup of a flower seen in profile. 

Bunched around the right of the ginger pot and melon is a thick cloth. It’s mostly orange, with dark brown and white designs on it. The design closest to the viewer and the most distinct is shaped like a maple leaf. A fold in the fabric from how it’s laying splits the design in half. The cloth is also resting under the silver tray and has a fringed edge. 

Now for my thoughts.

I like the lived-in feel of the painting. It looks like the melon was freshly eaten and the person these items belong to just walked away and will be back to clear up later. I know Kalf likely staged the table himself to practice drawing and painting from real life, but it still has that human touch to it. It isn’t just a fruit bowl- Kalf chose these items for a reason. Maybe that reason is that he had it nearby, but I like to think that he chose them because they were challenging. And the design of the cloth and the ginger pot, even the marble table, are incredibly detailed and life-like. The liquids in the glasses are clear and the viewer can easily tell what they are. What I think is a loose leaf tea steeper is metal and reflects the design of the  bowl it’s resting in, albeit in a distorted way. The light coming through the vase with the glass pebble design on it reflecting off the ginger pot and the fact you can hardly see the glass on the right are such small details in reality but huge in theory.

Kalf might also have chosen the items in his still lifes as not-so-humble brags- his art dealing brought him a lot of spending money that he used to acquire items that the vast majority of his fellow Dutch couldn’t afford. It would be somewhat like an artist of today painting stacks of gold bars and cash, along with highly expensive items like Ming vases and designer clothing and accessories. Kalf’s paintings were incredibly popular with the elite in the Netherlands of that time, mostly because of a status symbol. But the pieces are still gorgeous. 

The hours this painting must have taken- hours sitting in one spot and painstakingly rendering every detail so that it was as good as Kalf was capable of making it must have been intense. It’s amazing that this is one of the works Kalf made that survived- I mentioned that there were 23. It’s a still life. And this is just one of the several by him that exist to this day, but still lifes don’t tend to survive because they’re seen as boring by most people who don’t have a background or at least a passing interest in art. They think- as I used to and still often do- why someone would paint a bunch of random things on a table. But they were more than just practice pieces for techniques and colors. They trained the artist’s eye. To see more than a first glance, to look deeper into the world and truly experience it. And yes, still lifes often trained the artist’s patience as well- the ability to sit still and stare at one scene for hours is a skill that must be practiced as much or even more so than any brushwork technique. 

Here’s my challenge for you, and don’t get scared that it’s to create your own still life. No, it’s to look around you, wherever you’re listening to this podcast. Whether you’re on your commute, in your room, or doing chores, there’s probably something you’ve seen a million times and passed by without looking at it.

So I challenge you to take a close look at that thing safely. In my experience, you can usually find something brand-new to see. Whether it’s a new kind of tree, an interesting shadow on the wall, or the pattern on a dish, everything can stand to be appreciated just a little more. And if you’re moved to do so, maybe take a picture of that thing. Your life deserves to be documented. It’s incredible what you see as ordinary now will turn out to be extraordinary later. You never know when the last time will be, so soak in your experiences. You never know when your experience will turn into a treasured memory. And memories are what make life so much better.

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art and tumblr at tumblr dot com forward slash Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in two weeks.

[samsaraandbeyond]

OC Introduction : Geist

Art by TehSquishyRay (NSFW)

Fatass wolf.

Dead Wolf Form, art by TehSquishyRay (NSFW)

First Life Geist, art by ImQuiteSleepy

Big Boss Geist, art by Squiddy62

Design

Art by me, drawn 1/11/2021

Inspired by the various wolf characters in Ray’s cast, I wanted to make one myself!

At first, the design only had the pants with the yellow belt. Thought he needed some kind of theme, so the beads and spirit followers were added at the last second

Then the spirits became the defining part of his character.

Abilities / Traits

Deus Ex Machina: Immortality(?)

Geist has lived many lives. No matter how his life seems to end, no matter how many times he’s been sealed away with no hope of release, his life begins anew elsewhere. Whether or not he has all of his memories, some, or none at all is up to chance. Geist has no control over this ability.

“I...live...again...” - Geist

ONE BIG-ASS COFFIN

Goldlewis (Guilty Gear Strive)

For no reason other than boredom, Geist decided to manifest a magical coffin for his personal use. It doubles as a weapon and a pocket dimension that can be summoned to Geist at will.

“Not every corpse is lucky enough to rest in one of these.” - Geist

Dark Magic Mastery

Shang Tsung (Mortal Kombat)

With centuries worth of knowledge in the arts of possession, resurrection of the dead, manipulation of souls, and curses; Geist has plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

“I toy with the world as it toys with me.” - Geist

Spirit Servants

The generic look for souls working under Geist.

Geist cannot recall the life he lived that gained him such loyal companions, but they’ve followed him from the end of one life to the beginning of another for as long as he can remember. With Geist’s natural abilities, they can maintain a physical form of their choice to assist the wolf through a variety of means.

Geist has an innumerable amount of souls in his service consisting of vanquished former foes, lost souls that serve him in exchange for resurrecting them from the dead, and the vast majority, souls that serve him for loyalty reasons alone.

“Thanks for the help.” - Geist

Adept Fighter

Bob (Tekken)

You wouldn’t expect it but Geist is quite the fighter. Being a smidge itty bit pudgy doesn’t stop him from being able to perform an axe kick.

“I didn’t expect you to be so flexible!” - Kana

Personality

Geist is tired.

In his current life, he has many memories of his past in his conscious. Loved ones lost, blood on his hands, reliving painful scenarios with new faces. As a result, Geist has developed a very jaded personality.

On the outside, at least. He still cares for people and their problems but has a hard time expressing himself. His subdued demeanor even extends to when he’s doing something he enjoys. Despite the many lives he’s lived, he believes that nihilism is ultimately for fools. Geist isn’t depressed or moping about his situation...

Right now, he’s simply a little tired.

“This is my happy face.” - Geist

Backstory

On that fateful day, Geist met his demise...

Then he returned.

It occurred once more. Then again. And again.

This kept occurring with no explanation, like he was stuck in some sort of cycle. Over and over would he live a full life, meet his end, and then begin another with the memories of his past lives fading in and out of his mind. In one of those lives, he had acquired an army of souls that follow his every command. No matter how Geist revived, his personal army would eventually find him.

He has no memory of that life, only the souls by his side informing him of his past actions.

His latest death landed him in the world of Nomura, where his first impressions of the locals was being threatened with assault. Effortlessly dispatching of them in a way unseen in the world before, he learned that Nomura was a world of predator and prey. Those designated as Predators were invincible (or at least thought to be until Geist arrived) and did as they pleased with their quarry. Prey were simply that; those designated as such could only evade their pursuers as resistance was futile. Prey that meet their deaths would simply return, ready to play the game again.

Geist hated this. He decided right then and there that he was going to visit whoever was in charge and kill them.

Thus began an adventure throughout Nomura that ended with him being declared its Overseer and eventual god (a position he wasn’t exactly looking for).

“What? Are you today’s pain in the ass?” - Geist