#making a list of all the people with depression would be way harder for me tho i have not kept track of that

[chronicbeans]

Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

[fate-motif]

list of voyager characters ranked by least to most done dirty by the writers

10. tom paris: this boy got everything he could have ever wanted from a trip to the delta quadrant. he got a bestie who’s way too good for him, a wife he refuses to cherish and yet she married him and had his child!!! and authorities who refuse to punish him most of the time because he’s a pretty talented flyboy. even modern day trek writers cannot start lavishing praise on this douche and like, okay, he’s not all bad, but compared to what other voyager characters had for story potential and performances it’s crazy how good he got it. the only true indignity this bitch got was threshold.

9. neelix: i feel like neelix lovers are gonna brawl with me about this but i’m still steadfast that neelix was one of the characters least done dirty in voyager, but only comparatively. like, if neelix were on ds9 or on tng he would absolutely be considered an insane waste of story potential with his sad clown complex and his weird little relationship with tuvok but lbr. if they had gone even harder on neelix’s tragedies it would have felt less like he’s a sad clown and his sad all the time and that takes away the appeal of the character. also the mere fact he got to date kes when he never would have deserved her in a million years is already too huge a win for him. i mean it. 

8. the emh: he gets to be a step above neelix because the writers are so fucking bad at writing about hologram rights that it’s a serious disservice to him when the whole of the show star trek voyager bends over backwards over this guy and i cannot stand him. he gets all the screentime, all the tragic episodes, everyone is forced to be sympathetic about him, but at the same time the show makes everything so much worse for him by letting him engineer hologram characters on the holodeck to be his toys (when there’s a whole episode where we realize yes the holodeck characters are real and do not like being murdered, so maybe having two hawaiian babes or your white blond 50s housewife fawning over you is horrifying???) the writers of voyager suck so hard they can’t even write their golden boy well enough to actually make the core of his very character ideologically consistent. depressing.

7. seven of nine: i know people want me to put her over janeway, and i refuse. i’ve made no secret of this, i resent seven, i resent her so hard for taking over everybody’s screentime, i find how serious and untouchable and perfect she’s supposed to be among the voyager cast, the show writers absolutely screwed over every other character save for the emh for her sake and i resent that!!! i will never forgive her, even if it’s not her fault!!! but i’m gonna be realistic. it’s the catsuit. it’s the catsuit, it’s the obsession of putting her in the most stereotypically feminine storylines as an extension of finding her humanity, it’s the mere extension of being a woman written by mostly men. she was screwed over, hard, but i’m serious when i say: not compared to everyone else above her.

6. janeway: oh boy. i know, i know, how dare i put janeway over seven when janeway wasn’t forced to wear shrink wrap, but she’s up this high because the writers could not agree over anything she ever did and it shows. god bless kate mulgrew for making a consistent character out of that mess, but if it weren’t for her sheer talent and professionalism, janeway would be up there with archer in the list of captains with the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. the rest of the shows lavish love on their captains. they talk about their backstory in-depth. they let them have romantic adventures every once in a while. janeway gets to be almost solely defined by her mission to bring her crew home and considering how multidimensional characters like picard and sisko are, that’s…depressing. to say nothing of how kate mulgrew was being forced out of spending time with her family for a show that in the later seasons started to edge her out in favor of the bouncier, sexier girl they brought in. like. as a captain, janeway was done SO dirty by the writers. it’s crazy. we should talk about this more. 

5. tuvok: why is he above janeway? … aside from the fact that after they introduced seven his screentime went to the chopping block. to put it simply, waste of potential. so many of tuvok’s episodes rehash his insistence on staying steadfast to traditional vulcan values, which is great, except for the fact that we don’t need that story told over and over and over again when they could follow more interesting avenues that several tuvok-centric episodes pointed towards. we could have seen more of his relationship with janeway in the past. we could have seen him truly come to terms with trusting the maquis with his life in the earlier seasons. we even had a planned episode where we met his family! imagine if we had actually seen t’pel and have her be an actual character instead of a representation of why we’re not seeing tuvok fuck! it’s tragic. it’s absolutely tragic. 

4. b’elanna: ending up with tom paris the way he treats her should make this one a no-brainer, but i’m going to keep going, because there’s a lot more to be done here. the white male writers have no idea what they’re doing writing this character, and yet, much like janeway, roxann just barely claws out a cohesive character from the mess she was given, but that doesn’t mean that the process was graceful. so she hates herself because she thinks her klingon traits make her unlovable, then why make the other voyager characters berate her on her temper incessantly and with no room for argument and make them in the right? are we also supposed to see her as hindered by her klingon ancestry? yes. the answer is yes. the writers are racist. the writers are so goddamn racist it’s nit even a joke b’elanna i’m so sorry they did this to you you deserved so much better. 

3. kes: yes she’s in third place. nobody wants to talk about kes, because her writing was weird, and jennifer lien wasn’t as successful in sculpting an engaging character out of the garbage writing she was given, i say that if b’elanna had been taken out of voyager in s4, the same could be said for her. everything that the writers do to disrespect janeway and seven is triplicated in her, even more so magnified because she’s not a tough boss ass bitch who uses guns, but a lowly nurse, which means the writers are completely disinterested in exploring her inner life. i cannot stress this enough. kes left her homeworld when they are going to lose all support making it in a desert planet frequently raided by slavers, and we never talk about it again. it is galling how little the writers ever give a fuck about her and nobody mentions it, because again. she’s the most feminine of the female characters, which means not even the fans who understand how misogynistic the voyager writers are care about interrogating her inner life and that is the most depressing thing of them all. that’s why she’s the female character done dirtiest by the writers.

2 and 1. harry and chakotay: they’re tied. they’re tied because the racism is just inescapable in both their characters and it’s so ever-present, so impossible to ignore, so repellent that most people give up on even looking at them as characters because they so often end up channelling the writers’ naked, unabashed racism you want to avert your eyes. i mean it. i mute most early voyager episodes when chakotay is onscreen because i hate that fucking pan flute. if you fuck up writing a character of color this hard, you automatically owe reparations. and that’s why i’m fine with that insufferable republican freak robert beltran having been on prodigy because look at me in the eye and tell me paramount did not owe him from everything they put him through while working on voyager. and that’s also why i’m demanding harry be rescued the same way in the future. it’s just reparations. garrett wang is owed so hard i’m not even joking. i don’t care about debates about the other spots on this list so long as you admit that in first place rightfully goes to harry and chakotay. 

[stationintern]

Hello my friends! I am late, but we won't mention it. April was a very busy month, but I managed to read way more than I've been able to the last few months, so I have a good selection for you. There's a couple rereads, a couple fics I put off reading for far too long, and a few that I found at the perfect time and devoured on sight.

Let's go!

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites for H/D Bodice Ripper Fest 2022 M, 14.8k

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

I read this fic about a year ago, and I am so glad that I chose to revisit it this month. It is just so, so good. Endlessly hilarious, with a solid plot that is resolved neatly in 14 thousand words. I really love Harry here. His letters are so adorable. This aspect comes in later in this list as well, but I love when Draco is kind of a mysterious figure for a good chunk of a fic. The wondering, the anticipation. What kind of Draco will we meet this time? It's all very delicious.

Seeker's High by @corvuscrowned M, 40k

Harry Potter doesn’t expect to take up running years after the war ends; it just sort of happens. He also doesn’t expect that — as he fights tooth and nail to climb out of a post-war depression he didn’t realize he’d fallen into — he’ll end up running right into the arms of Draco Malfoy. A half angsty drama, half romcom of Harry working on himself, learning how to accept help from his friends, and falling in love with his childhood nemesis.

Another reread. This is one of those fics I've found myself periodically thinking about, mostly because it just feels so right. Harry's characterization in this is fascinating, and I really enjoyed watching his slow evolution as his relationships grow, both with running and with Draco. A unique premise that I really enjoyed and know I will revisit again.

Turn by Saras_Girl E, 306k

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Okay, so, I'm not even gonna say anything. I put off reading this for way too long, and not knowing a single thing about this fic was probably the reason I devoured every chapter the way I did. Just know I was clawing at the walls.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu E, 75.3k

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Oh my fucking god. I have never in my life laughed out loud this many times while reading a fic. Truly, two dumb, horny assholes just trying to crack the case. But, behind all the side-splitting humor (and searingly hot sex) is a deep understanding of both characters that shines through and makes every moment hit so much harder. As in, they would fucking say that. Every single follow-up in the series is a banger, too. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for pointing those out to me!

Make This Leap by @oflights M, 118k

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

I relived four years of my life reading this fic. Both the good and the bad. Truly, a wonderful portrayal of the epic highs and lows of restaurant work. From personal drama to work-related catastrophes, this fic has it all. Like I said before, I love having to wait a bit to see Draco. I love hearing about him through the grapevine. I had so much fun reading this, and it was a treat to see these characters in an environment that I hadn't really envisioned them in before. Lovable (and punchable) side characters, a very stressed out Harry Potter, and a solid amount of health code infractions. Amazing.

See you at the end of May! xx, Moon.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader, Angel Dust x female reader (platonic) Summary: You tried to distract yourself on the dancefloor after Alastor caught you with Selena, but the memory still clings to your mind. Feeling both embarrassed and guilty, you find yourself at the bar again, reflecting on your complicated relationship with the Radio Demon while seeking advice from Angel. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, reader is bisexual, jealous Alastor, comfort, deep talk with Angel Dust, frustrated reader, doctor Angel gives you advice Wordcount: 3.8k A/N: As promised, here is Part 2! I have to admit, though, that I made a slight change to the plan. While I initially said the story would be split into two parts, it has now expanded to three. I did this for the sake of the plot and to make you all squirm. Everyone who’s been tagged in this part will automatically be tagged in the next. If you aren’t part of the tag list for this story but want to be added, let me know in the comments! Part three will be online in September. Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   You sat at the bar with another drink in your hands. It was your second since you left Alastor alone in the hallway and returned to the party. You had tried to enjoy the rest of the evening, danced and threw yourself into the music in a way that belied your inner turmoil but despite all the effort you couldn’t shake off the unease that’s been following you around ever since. The moment Alastor caught you and Selena making out replayed over and over again in your head, and you couldn’t even tell what was worse: that he was the one who caught you, or his extremely weird behavior towards you. It was obvious he was tense. He died in the 1930’s, so he probably found it extremely uncomfortable to be witness to such an intimate moment. But besides his discomfort he radiated something else you couldn’t quite decipher. He’s always been someone who liked to tease others and pushed their boundaries for his own amusement. Yet, this time, it felt different. Personal. Maybe it was just your twisted and lovestruck mind that made you see things that weren’t actually there but you could swear that he appeared bitter. Almost… jealous…?

   No. Alastor? Jealous? Never, you thought and let out a dismissive huff before taking another sip from your drink, this time a much larger one than before. Alastor kept everyone at a respectable distance, ensuring he never got too close to others, especially on a personal level. Alastor couldn’t be jealous. What a laughable idea. Yet, there was still that perplexing push and pull between you two – those fleeting moments of tenderness when he seemed to open up, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual, his touch almost soft and delicate. His words, laced with teasing, could be taken as either jokes or flirtations, only for him to push you away again an hour or a day later. It was depressing, nerve-wrecking and most of all, infuriating. Why did he always have to be such an enigma? Could it be that he didn’t understand his own feelings? Why was he so complicated, so emotionally incompetent, so… sadistic…?!

   You would’ve screamed if you weren’t surrounded by a huge crowd of dancing and laughing people. That goddamn Radio Demon left you a complete mess, and you couldn’t even tell if he did that on purpose or if he was just oblivious. He was unpredictable and that made it even harder for you to comprehend the situation and his odd reaction to finding you in a stranger’s embrace.

   A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Angel, his face etched with concern as he looked at you.

   “Hey, toots, you’ve been away for quite some time and ya look anythin’ but happy. Is everythin’ alright?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together. His usual teasing tone was replaced by one that was soft and genuinely concerned.

   You forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yes, I’m fine… Just needed a drink,” you explained with a quick glance at the cocktail in your hands before you looked back at Angel who raised an eyebrow, not buying a single one of the words you just uttered. He shook his head and clicked his tongue repeatedly against the roof of his mouth, emitting a sound you barely registered.

   “You’ve always been a bad liar, toots,” he responded and wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders. “Come on, tell doctor Angel what’s wrong.”

   You snickered at his antics and shook your head in amusement, your hair brushing lightly against your skin. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar redhead with antlers and possibly the fluffiest ears in the entire Pride Ring, just to ensure he wasn’t within earshot. When you didn’t spot him, you let out a deep sigh, your smile fading to match the heaviness you felt inside. “Well, it’s just that–”

   “Wait, let me get a drink first!” Angel interrupted you and turned towards the barkeeper.

   You chuckled and shook your head again, rolling your eyes in the process. Barely a minute later, Angel Dust spun back around, now holding a maxi cocktail in one of his four hands, a wide grin spreading across his face, showing off the golden tooth in his upper front row.

   “What?”, he exhaled, noticing the way you stared at his drink. “I must be prepared for whatever ya ‘bout to tell me!”

   “You’re unbelievable…” you snickered with a wide grin, your heart feeling much lighter than just seconds before. It was a mystery how Angel managed to lift your spirits within seconds just by being himself, but you certainly couldn’t complain.

   “Well, come on. Spill!” Angel exclaimed with a flourish of his arms, almost knocking out another guest with his drink.

   Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for a brief moment before finally beginning to share your troubles with him, “You know, I met this girl today. Selena is her name.”

   “Ah, that dark-haired knockout, huh? I saw ya two getting pretty cozy on the dance floor,” Angel quipped with a mischievous grin, taking a playful sip from his cocktail. "Ya two were practically makin' out with your eyes! Can’t blame ya, though,” he added before you could continue your story. “If I was into chicks, I'd be all over that action myself. But you, darlin’ Y/N, sure know how to pick 'em!”

   “Angel!” you exclaimed with an aghast expression and jabbed him in the ribs with your elbow, feeling your cheeks flush with heat almost immediately.

   “Hey, don’t play coy with me. I know you way too well to fall for any of your lame excuses!”

   A sigh slipped from your lips as you took a few sips, your expression shifting to one of resignation. “You’re right,” you mumbled, twirling the straw with your finger while your gaze fixed on an invisible point in the distance. Finally, you admitted with a weak voice, “Honestly, that’s exactly where this story is headed…”

   “Now you’ve got me intrigued!” Angel chimed in with a mischievous grin. Despite sneaking a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you chose to ignore his playful curiosity.

   “Well, let’s just say we had a good time…” You continued nervously twirling the straw in your drink. “And before you ask, yes, we made out,” you added, glancing back at Angel and noticing his sly grin widening almost devilishly. “Right over there in the hallway!” You pointed toward the door leading to the dimly lit corridor separating the main floor from the bathrooms and outdoor area.

   Angel laughed suggestively. “I knew you had it in ya,” he teased you, nudging your side with his lower elbow two times. “Did you just kiss or did you also…”

   You immediately raised your hands and interrupted Angel with a harsh ‘No’ before he could finish his sentence.

   The spider demon let out a disappointed huff and raised his glass to his lips again.

   “Alastor caught us before anything could turn serious,” you deadpanned, your voice tinged with bitterness. While a deep shadow crossed your expression, and your cheeks flushed a bright red as the memory replayed, Angel choked on his drink. His eyes widened in surprise as he began to cough violently. He leaned forward, desperately pounding his chest fluff with his fists in a frantic attempt to dislodge the liquid from the wrong pipe. The commotion drew curious glances from those nearby, and you turned to face him, a mix of amusement and concern etched across your face. The scene was both entertaining and troubling, as you watched him struggle, trying not to burst into laughter while simultaneously wincing at the memory that had caused this reaction. The recollection hung over you like a heavy fog, each detail feeling as vivid and mortifying as the moment it occurred.

   Angel took a moment to steady himself, his breathing finally returning to normal. Once he felt composed, he raised his glass and took a long, deliberate sip from his cocktail, as though he hadn’t just nearly choked on it in a hilariously awkward fashion. With a wry smile, he remarked, “Damn, I can see why that’s a real mood killer.”

   “A mood killer?!” you retorted with disbelief, squeezing your eyebrows together. “That was absolutely embarrassing! The absolute most mortifying experience I’ve had in the last ten years! And now I can’t stop thinking about it…” The blush on your cheeks got even redder, almost rivalring the dancefloor’s RGB lights.

   Angel Dust placed a comforting hand on your arm. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. Alastor’s a big boy. He can handle it. Besides, he's probably more upset about ya makin’ out with someone else than the actual scene.”

   You looked up at him, tilting your head before your eyes widened as his words sank in. Did Angel just confirm the very same assumption you dismissed only mere minutes ago? Unsure whether you understood him correctly, you asked, “What do you mean?”

   Angel rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon now, toots. It’s obvious ya have a crush on him and from what I’ve seen, he’s definitely got a thing for ya too. He’s just too much of a stick in the mud to admit it.”

   You held your breath, your heart skipping a beat, but instead of showing hope, you furrowed your brows. “And what makes you think that?”

   “It’s the way he looks at ya,” Angel said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s been starin’ at ya all night – and not just tonight, but for a while now. Ya seriously tellin’ me ya never noticed? His gaze is like daggers. Ya can’t miss it. Also, ya never noticed the way he handles ya? Caressin’ ya cheek like silk, toots. That guy’s all over you. And you never noticed?!”

   “No! I mean– yes! Urgh, I don’t know–,” you stumbled over your words, overwhelmed by Angel’s blunt confirmation, your inner turmoil, and that humiliating encounter in the hallway. “He’s sending mixed signals, Angel, and it’s driving me crazy!” you finally blurted out, hiding your flushed face behind your free hand. Slightly hunched forward like an embarrassed shrimp, you grabbed the straw of your drink with your lips and took a long sip, draining the glass almost completely except for a few ice cubes and the slices of lemon floating at the bottom.

   “He’s a jerk, Y/N. Probs in denial ‘cause of his o’ so scary reputation,” Angel said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and pulled you into his chest. The proximity of your friend immediately eased your nerves, and after a moment, you lowered your hand, glaring up at the spider demon. Angel might come off as a bit of a clown, but he’s always been a good friend to you. He offered invaluable advice whenever you needed it and comforted you in a way no one else could.

   “And what do you suggest I should do?” you asked, a surge of sadness suddenly welling up inside of you.

   Angel noticed the change in your demeanor and hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest and soothing you like a purring cat. “I think it’s time for the both of ya to stop dancin’ around each other and get into some action.”

   “Funny…” you growled, disappointment lacing your voice, but Angel didn’t seem affected by your frustration. He simply sipped his drink nonchalantly.

   “Hey, I wasn’t jokin’, kitten,” he shot back, his eyes scanning the club as if searching for something. Spotting the lounge area, he grinned and added, “I’ve been watchin’ ya and Mister All-Creepy flirtin’ for what feels like forever. It’s gettin' unbearable. Not that I don’t enjoy the show, but seriously, why don’t ya just get a room already?”

   You followed Angel's gaze and immediately regretted it. There was Alastor, seated cross-legged on the same couch he’d occupied earlier, his smile tight and strained. He must’ve returned to his seat during your conversation with Angel.

   You bit your lip so hard it nearly drew blood, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart at the sight of him. Despite your discomfort, you kept your gaze fixed on him and exhaled a long, deep breath. “Because he’s fucking complicated,” you muttered, fidgeting with the straw of your empty drink, pushing the ice cubes and lemon slices back and forth.

   “We’re in hell,” Angel clarified, “Everything’s complicated.”

   “Yeah, but Alastor’s a whole other level of complicated,” you said, letting the words hang in the air. You lifted your glass, swallowed some ice cubes, and pulled out the lemon slices to munch on. After a moment of contemplation, you continued, “He seemed tense when he caught us. Acted really off – cracked jokes just to make me uncomfortable once Selena fled the scene.”

   “Sounds like somethin’ Smiles would do,” Angel shrugged.

   You huffed, frustration clear in your voice. “I know, but… either he’s been playing games with me, or maybe you’re onto something and he is jealous.”

   “What’s wrong with both?” Angel raised an eyebrow.

   You tilted your head, averting your gaze from Alastor and glancing at Angel. The spider demon, however, kept his eyes locked on the deer demon as he continued, “What I mean is, I’m pretty sure he’s been testin’ ya limits. Rilin’ ya up to distract himself from the betrayal he must’ve felt when he saw you and Selena together.”

   You just hummed, your mind occupied with a whirlwind of thoughts, your emotions running into complicated territory. After a moment of silence you asked, your voice filled with desperation, “Please just tell me what I’m supposed to do. I can’t just march up to him and lay it all out there like ‘Hey, Al, you know, I’m in love with you. Would be cool if you reciprocated my feelings.’” You roll your eyes, your voice tinged with sarcasm. “That sounds like a one-way ticket to heartbreak.”

   “I know this ain’t easy, toots. But sometimes ya gotta take a leap. If you’re tired of the games and the mixed signals, it’s time to confront it head-on. It might not fix everything, but at least you’ll get some answers.”

   “I’m pretty sure he'll reject me even if he might reciprocate my feelings. I mean, you know how he is.”

   “Then it’s his loss. He doesn’t deserve you if he can’t see your value.”

   You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, still unsure about this advice though deep down you knew that Angel was right and that there was no other way for you to get clarity than confronting Alastor head on. That smiling bastard definitely wouldn’t come at you first. He was way too… well, Alastor, for this.

   With a groan you buried your face in your hand, massaging your temples with your thumb and index. “Why me.. why him…? Why out of all of Hell’s denizens him, Angel…” you whined quietly, cursing yourself for falling for a sociopathic serial killer. This couldn’t end well. This wouldn’t end well. Yet, there was nothing else you could do. It was either jumping right into the cold water or getting burned alive by that damn uncertain feeling in your chest. “You know, I wanted him to come with us in hopes I could resolve things between us. Get closer and spend some time with him. But instead I didn’t give him any attention and made everything worse. What if he’s angry at me for dragging him here? What if– wha–”

   “Now you’re overthinkin’, toots,” Angel interrupted you and placed one of his hands on your head, slowly caressing your hair in a soothing manner. “The alcohol is makin’ ya emotional. Maybe ya should wait a few more days before ya talk to him,” he suggested with a soft voice, the motion of his hand in your hair calming you down a little, your breathing slowly got less ragged and more composed. “Let me make one thing clear,” Angel continued, stopping his petting of your head and instead lifting your chin with two of his furry fingers to make you look at him.

   You held your breath as you looked up at him, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, and waited for him to continue with a forced smile on your lips.

   “Al would’ve never agreed to join if he doesn’t care about you.”

   You stayed silent, only the bass of the loud music pulsing in your ears. He was right. Alastor was very stubborn and selfish. So the fact alone that you managed to convince him – which was surprisingly easy – had to mean something. Biting your lip you let your gaze return to the red demon in the back of the club, your eyes lingering on him for a moment in which you contemplated your next move. A deep breath, then you looked back at Angel. “I think I need to get some fresh air,” you said, your voice suddenly tinged with exhaustion.

   “Would ya like my company?” Angel asked but you shook your head.

   “No. I need a few minutes just for myself.”

   With that, you left Angel at the bar and made your way across the grand room, heading toward the very same door that led to the cursed hallway. As you weaved through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. The unsettling sensation of being watched sent a shiver down your spine and you didn’t need to look up to know exactly whose gaze was following you. Ignoring his stare, you left the room and stepped into the outdoor area. The fresh breeze of Hell’s night air enveloped you with a soothing embrace. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes, allowing the calm of the night to settle over you. The music from the party was barely audible; only the deep bass vibrated through the closed door, a distant reminder of the revelry still going on inside, though the songs themselves were almost indecipherable.

   You didn’t know how long you'd been standing there, focusing on your breath and ignoring the few people around you, but a presence stepped into your field of vision and you looked up, your gaze meeting Selena who met you with a kind smile.

   “Hey,” she greeted you, breaking the comforting silence. “I’m really sorry for leaving you like that. It’s just… I was really embarrassed when he caught us and knowing he’s the Radio Demon made me very nervous and my flight instincts kicked in…” she explained herself with a soft voice, regret visible on her face as she met you with a weak but apologetic smile. “It was egoistic. I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

   You just shrugged your shoulders. “It’s okay,” you retorted genuinely, “I understand you. Alastor can be very intimidating. Especially if you don’t know him.” 

   Selena hummed and fell silent for a brief moment, before she continued, “I didn’t know you’re acquainted with him.” Her words sounded more like a question than a statement, and a slight hue of red spread across your cheeks. “I was confused that you know each other. I mean, he’s a much-feared overlord…”

   "Yeah, his reputation precedes him," you retorted, glancing at the door thoughtfully, as if he stood right behind it.

   Selena nodded, though her expression still held a hint of confusion.

   You continued, "We work together at the hotel. Honestly, he's not that bad once you get to know him personally."

   Selena raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

   You nodded, a small smile forming. "He's actually quite the charming gentleman and can be really funny at times. If you don’t mind his… well, complicated personality."

   Another moment of silence lingered between you in which Selena visibly processed your words. Then she asked, with a curious tone, “Are you close?”

You turned your gaze back to her, caught off guard by her sudden questions. A heavy feeling tugged at your heart and twisted your insides, but you pushed the discomfort aside. For a few seconds, you pondered whether to reveal the complications you were having with Alastor, carefully weighing what information to share and what to keep to yourself. Though something told you that Selena might be trustworthy, you had only known her for a few hours. Maybe one day you'd open up more, but for tonight, it was better to keep things brief.

   “Let’s just say we are quite close, but it’s… complicated. He… well, he’s complicated. It’s something between a loose friendship and professional coworkership,” you explained, keeping the romantic details out of it. Even if you told Selena, you were not in the mood for additional advice. Angel Dust’s words had been helpful, but you still felt unsure and, to be honest, terrified about what to do next.

   You swallowed hard, your shoulders tensing as you recalled Angel Dust’s advice to talk to Alastor but avoid doing it today. He had said that the alcohol made you too emotional – which was true; everything felt more intense and overwhelming than it probably was. Yet, you worried you might not find the courage to confront him another day. You were already intoxicated, had embarrassed yourself in front of him, and were struggling with inner turmoil that left you frustrated and somewhat angry. Given all this, you sarcastically questioned what a little more heartbreak could possibly add.

   “You really care about him, huh?” Selena suddenly broke your train of thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

   Shit, you thought. Was it that obvious? Maybe you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

   “Guess I do,” you responded with a deep sigh, giving in, and Selena’s eyes softened with understanding, as she offered you a heartwarming smile.

   “Well, he can consider himself lucky to have someone like you in his afterlife,” she retorted, her voice laced with genuine admiration. There was something reassuring in her words, a reflection of kindness that you hadn’t expected.

   “Thank you, Selena…” you said, your voice carrying a tone of heartfelt gratitude. “This really means a lot to me.”

   “Well, I think I’m heading home for tonight,” Selena changed the topic, her expression shifting to one of thoughtful weariness. “I’m pretty wasted and need a good amount of sleep to keep my hangover from being too brutal. You have my number, right?”

   You nodded, and Selena’s smile turned into a satisfied grin, as if she was pleased with the connection you had made.

   “Perfect. Just send me a text when you’re home,” she instructed, her tone friendly and casual. “We should definitely meet up again sometime. There’s a lovely little café not far from here that I think you’d enjoy. And if you ever need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to reach out.” She gave you a reassuring wink before finishing her drink.

   You returned her smile and nodded. “Sounds great.”

   As Selena made her way out, you felt a small but comforting spark of hope. Maybe, despite the chaos of the night, you had found a new friend. And with that newfound strength, you decided it was time to step out of your shadow and confront Alastor. Better to do it tonight than to keep waiting. After all, you asked yourself again, what could a little more heartbreak possibly add to the drama?

Part three will (hopefully) be out in September October!

Everyone who’s been tagged in this part will automatically be tagged in the next. If you aren’t part of the tag list of this story but want to be added, let me know in the comments!

*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@diffidentphantom, @notsoaverageguy-1997, @the-autistic-moth, @n0tmentallystable, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @alastorsgirl48, @ratsematary, @night-lol, @divineknightmare, @musiclover059, @bitter-rabittt, @milkissesx, @florist-of-the-valley, @fantasyhopperhea

[twst-hottest-takes]

OKAY TRAUMA OLYMPICS TIME!

Ranking every Overblotter based on how sad their backstory makes me: THAT MEANS IT’S VERY BIASED AND SUBJECTIVE!

Waves hands in a manic gesture towards the disclaimer* (Now is your chance to turn around!)

7: Azul Ashengrotto-Got picked on for being different. The thing that takes me out about Azul’s backstory and its connection to his overblot is how basic it feels. I’m not here to invalidate his feelings, I understand those insecurities, but apparently the only thing stopping more people from overblotting is that they can’t accumulate blot at the same rate because of lower magic output. If you ask me, the real tragedy of his character is his inability to acknowledge his own achievements. He says, “I’ll show them!” and, yes, hon, you did. Calm down. You are 17, nothing is stopping you from becoming the person you say you are (unlike half the other people on this list). (0/10 He tried to take advantage of my compassion and took my home away. He can cry harder into his money for all I care. Also bottom tier Overblot design.)

(Slight edit: changed Azul's age to 17 because I put 15 before. That would have been his age before turning human to go to NRC, but that might have been confusing and seemed inaccurate. Thanks to the person who pointed that out! The rest of the statement remains the same.)

6: Vil Schoenheit—Hates being typecast and treated like number two. Bro’s real crime is checking his socials too much and letting it get to him. I feel nothing for Vil and he’s only above Azul because his situation is a little less common as a one in a million super celebrity which can come with outlandish amounts of stress I can't comprehend. Again, the tragedy is his inability to be satisfied with his current state of his career and acknowledge his success because someone’s always above him. YOU ARE 18! YOU HAVE YOUR WHOLE CAREER AHEAD OF YOU! Give yourself some space to breath. He’s the one character you’d think would know and see a therapist. He’s so perfectly managed about every other element of his life it seems almost out of character for him not to be considering his mental health. If you consider he's even taking time away from his career to go to school and have "normal teen experiences" I don't know why I should feel bad. (0/10 Attempted murder. Jealous biotch. Probably, less sympathetic than Azul actually.)

5: Leona Kingscholar—Also hates his life situation and being treated like second fiddle. Leona is above Vil because he DOESN’T have a way out of being “typecast.” Time and talent can't save him. He was born into a situation where he can’t be anything other than the second prince and when he finally got a chance to be number one at something (Spelldrive at NRC) Malleus shows up to put him back down to second place again. Life seems to have a karmic way of making Leona nothing more and I feel that. Honestly, Leona’s state makes me cry but I can’t rank him higher because the canon content for his character is sparse. Most of the elements about Leona are things you have to look into and read out of his actions and backstory and while that’s not bad, it’s frustrating that a lot of people overlook them because they aren’t as explicit as the other characters. Leona’s depression is very real, but because the symptoms manifest as less sad-boy and more tired jackass a lot of people overlook his failing mental health. He’s badly written and I feel like the first iteration of his backstory (Book 2 in game) does the worst job about making you feel anything for him considering his actions. (4/10 Smart character with lots of potential but written like an idiot where it counted. Also attempted murder.)

4: Malleus Draconia (TENTATIVE)—Doesn’t want to be alone. After all, what’s the point of being so powerful when it’s so lonely? Loneliness is a feeling that I think doesn’t get explored enough in the media I consume (maybe I need to look harder), so Malleus can be a little higher for what I currently perceive as his reasons for overblotting. He’s an immortal being constantly ostracized by the position he was born into and suffers from the classic conundrum of having to watch everyone he cares about go before him. For all intents and purposes he’s an orphan. He doesn’t have a lot of people he’s related to and can really consider close, so it hits him extra hard when they can’t be around anymore, and for all of his age, as a fae he’s really very young, immature, and inexperienced. The game is doing its darndest to make sure that he gets as thorough an explanation as possible and actively wants you to understand where he’s coming from and feel bad. So he gets the halfway point because as much as I love this kind of thing, favoritism and getting the longest time to explore his feelings only gets him so high. (6/10 I like that the MC has a personal stake in this one, and he's not actively trying to kill anyone.) (Since Book 8 isn’t over yet, his position is subject to change later.)

3: Riddle Rosehearts—Anal retentive to the extreme. Riddle’s mom is so hated by the fandom she is never getting a face reveal. Is now the time to express how bad I feel about Riddle being traumatized by strictness and rules to the point where he honestly believes that bending the most absurd rules will result in disastrous consequences? Maybe. I appreciate that we saw exactly the inciting incident that made Riddle the way he is now. So much of his character falls back on that one time he broke the rules as a kid, and it HAS SO MUCH IMPACT. He gets a lot of props for being one of the few overblotters to actually have character growth post-featured book. Riddle is a contender for second place, but his potential ability to grow beyond his circumstances makes him less tragic. (7/10 Riddle is a surprisingly strong first antagonist in the main story. Almost killed someone, but that was notably AFTER he broke down and turned into a rampaging monster.)

2: Jamil Viper—Can never be his true self. Jamil is another guy who was born into his lifestyle and has no feasible way out of what’s driving him up the wall. It’s not just about Kalim being naïve and sheltered, it’s about how Jamil himself can’t ever use the gifts he has or escape from that fate. He is better than Kalim at a lot of things, but has to act like an amateur so he doesn’t outshine the guy he’s been sworn to protect and serve. He has expectations set on him, and duties to fulfill, and his best route in life as presented to him is just to be as average and boring as possible despite his innate talent and potential. I don’t know if there’s supposed to be a way for Jamil to get out of his family’s servitude to the Al-Asims that causes him to be so bitter, so at this point I kind of assume he’s stuck and that makes it extra sad. The fact that he really just wants to go on vacation makes it hit harder that he’s not even that bad for a guy at a villains’ school. Book 5 giving him a chance to break out of that shadow is great, honestly. (8/10 I can't hate him. He just wants a break, man. He wasn't even trying to hurt anyone, but loses a point for dragging Yuu/MC into his scheme. [Don't y'all dare throw Kalim hate in here. That's not what this is about. I will fight you.])

1: Idia Shroud—Survivor’s Guilt. Book 6 really went there and we are going to talk about it. He did something he shouldn’t have as a kid and now he has to live with the fact that his kid brother is dead. He wanted so badly to undo what he did that he built a new version of him even though he knew deep down he could never replace Ortho. No. I’m sorry. You’re not beating that. That’s not event including the fact that he’s also stuck as a fracking guardian of the underworld in a family that is supposed to be incapable of overblotting in the first place. Idia has textbook depression, and that’s not a bad thing. He feels just as trapped as everyone else and doesn’t see a point to doing anything the conventional way if he doesn’t have to. Idia is NOT a perfect person or character, but as far as his writing for why he ends up doing what he does, I think he easily takes the cake. (10/10 Will weep again. Character writing, with a little dash of hope that he can find some bright spots in life. Extra points for Ortho telling him to keep living. Also, he has the coolest Overblot design. 100/10 for Technopunk Hades.)

This is a super abridged version of what I have to say regarding each of these characters, so I may have to write out actual essays and character analysis for them eventually. I tried to get out the gist of my rankings in as short a form as possible, but that might not be good enough for some people. Feel free to tell me how I misunderstand and mischaracterize your fave.

[copperbadge]

Hello, Mr. Badge, I seem to remember that you once posted about your processes and systems for staying organized in life with Excel spreadsheets etc. I’ve been struggling a lot with depression and executive dysfunction issues and don’t want it to impact my work.

Do you use the same processes at work? I get overwhelmed with the amount of documentation we have and the exceptions to the rules in our processes.

I'm so sorry you're struggling! It's really rough, and the more complicated the task feels, the more fraught it seems, the harder it is to even get a start. I feel that hard.

As for organizing work like my home life....well, it's sort of the same. I don't make a strong distinction between life and work simply because a lot of what needs organizing in my life IS my work, so it's tough to talk about them separately.

For example, I use Google Tasks to build a to-do list each day, but that to-do list starts with "stuff I'll do before work" then "shower" then all my work stuff, then "evening" and then all the stuff to do after work, ending with "7pm chores" (because I have a lot of stuff to do right around 7pm, which I need to post about elsewhere). Then the stuff I've pushed off to next day is below that, and that just bumps up the next morning. What's important isn't really how I keep the list, but that I keep it in a way that is constantly accessible, and I've trained myself to 1. put everything on it, even stuff like "grocery shop" and 2. check it whenever I feel lost. I don't find google calendars very helpful, however, so while work makes me use one for meetings, everything else goes on a calendar I made in Google Sheets that I'm just super used to by now.

It sounds like you're having a fairly specific issue, which may not even be related to your mental health (though assuredly the mental health issues aren't helping). If you have a lot of confusing documentation and exceptions in the stuff you do at work, that can be legit stressful even for someone who isn't dealing with other stuff, so I just want you to know that this may not only be a You Problem. My problem is usually the opposite, in that I'm often the first person doing something, or the only person who's done it in a while, so there's no documentation at all. But when I do have documentation I often will simply rewrite it.

After all, just because you have a handbook doesn't mean you have to use it. You can copy it over into another document and make yourself a step-by-step guide and/or a checklist. Like, I do our holiday cards every year, and my "HOLIDAY CARDS" document says "Here's the first thing you do, here's the second, do this before going past that, check this before asking for that". Literally at one point the document says "Stop. Before you go any further, do this step. Even if you don't understand why, do this step" because in the past I've disregarded that instruction ("Why on earth would I do it this way?") and lived to regret it.

Making the guide really, really sucks. Often it will take me four or five passes at a project before my guide is comprehensive (this is my fifth year doing the holiday card project and the document still has some steps missing at the end). But once you have it, it's invaluable, and often in the past I've found other people want my guides because they're fairly clear and precise about what needs doing when. For example, you might say, "Open the file and move column B to in front of column A. NOTE: THERE IS ONE EXCEPTION, THIS IS THE EXCEPTION." Or "Once you've saved the file, save a second copy to your backup folder so you can go back to it if you delete something you shouldn't. Stop and check: is this file from before or after October? If after, remember, you have to also rename it." If you find that there's a mistake you make frequently, figure out what would stop you from making it and add that in.

(We had a guy at work whose last name was VERY long and Italian, and so when I was working phones he got a special entry in the directory document I made -- the first line was all his directory info and the second line was just the phonetic pronunciation of his last name. He found out, which I had never intended him to do, and lost his shit laughing. "No wonder you're the only one who gets it right!")

So my recommendation to you is to create your own handbook, your own templates, and your own way of doing things and just slip that back into the system you have at work. Draw a diagram by hand if you need a flow chart. My approach to all my organizational issues has always been "What would make me do this correctly / prevent me from doing that thing wrong / remind me what to do / make it easier for me to start".

I think of this nowadays as the "Take the cupboard doors off" school of organizing, because to really make full use of my kitchen in a way that I liked, I had to take some of the cupboard doors off. It looks messier and kind of cheap, but it's actually a much more organized system now, and who's in my kitchen other than me?

[hearts4golbach]

Get the Angles Right!

chapter 4.

masterlist.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

mentions of death and cancer.

"What's next on your list?" Johnnie adjusted his shirt as you walked out of the cafe.

you looked up at the sky. dark storm clouds were starting to come in. "There's this old park that no one goes to anymore. it's rusty as shit, but it's where I go whenever I need it to be quiet. I guess you could say I go here to think." You sighed, "I'm not sure if we should go, though. it's about to rain. I don't want you to catch a cold."

"I don't mind the rain, don't worry. Lead the way." he glanced up at the sky before turning to you. "You know what's funny?"

you hummed, "What?"

"I haven't seen a single fucking child the couple days I've been here. like, anywhere." he had a small smile on his face as he turned his attention back to the sidewalk.

"damn. i never really thought about that. I guess this city is so bad that parents don't want their kids out. I mean, I see them, but not often." You smirked. "they're going extinct in NYC. the last ones left are a tourist attraction."

Johnnie let out a giggle. "What, do people throw bananas at them or some shit?"

"probably." you shook your head. "anyway, I used to always play in the rain as a kid. it's so fucking cheesy." you laughed. "My mom would drag me inside by my ear and make me take a shot of nyquil 'just to be safe.' I hated that shit. I mean, I guess it worked." he giggled.

a few minutes later, you made it to the park. you took a seat on one of the swings and Johnnie set next to you.

"I wanna show you something." you said, slipping your bag off of your shoulder and setting it in the wood chips.

he looked down and watched as you pulled a small notebook out of your bag. "What is it?"

"it's my mom's. this was the very last sketch book she used before she passed." You stared at the civer before hanging it to Johnnie.

"Can I look through it?" his eyebrows were furrowed together anxiously.

"Yeah, go ahead." You gently pushed yourself on the swing. "she was on her death bed, still sketching away. I came to visit and check on her. I mean, she knew she was dying, and she was okay with it. I think that's what makes her death even more devastating to me. anyway, she knew she didn't have much left, so she gave me it and told me to make her proud. I've never cried harder than I did that night." You rubbed your eye, trying to prevent tears from spilling out of your eyes. "Anyway, sorry for being depressing. I think there are some really fucking cool designs in there."

"you don't have to be sorry for that, y/n." he muttered as he slowly flipped through the pages. "I see where you get your talent from."

you blushed, "i- thank you."

he looked at you and smiled. "she sounds like a great person. I'm sorry you had to lose her."

you tried to shrug it off. you didn't want to cry in front of him. "cancers a bitch." you laughed quietly.

he set the book in his lap and took your hand. he continued to flip through it with one hand. "My dad had cancer, too."

"Really?" You finally looked at him. you admired his features as he looked at the notebook.

he never looked back at you. "Yeah. that's not how he went out, though. he actually went out with a bang." he laughed softly.

"Oh, oh." You hesitated, realizing what he meant. "I mean, that's a way to go out."

he nodded. "I make jokes about my dad all the time. it still hurts sometimes, but it's okay now."

"Thank you for telling me. I mean, really. we met like, two days ago and were telling each other our life stories."

his eyes met yours. he smiled. "I've never really been able to open up to someone this much." his hand squeezed yours.

"Yeah, me either. honestly, I don't talk to anyone. I have a couple of friends around town, but we don't talk." You scratched your neck.

"that sucks, I'm really fucking sorry." he handed the book back to you. you shoved it back in your bag.

you felt a drop of rain hit your nose. "it's starting to rain. we should probably go. the next place I want to show you is just up the street. we shouldn't be out long."

he nodded. "Okay." his hand left yours, and you stood up. you lit your cigarette, taking a puff before passing it to Johnnie. "Wow, you didn't forget your lighter this time." he teased

"Yeah, whatever." You rolled your eyes. "There's this thrift store, and then we can head back. does that sound good?"

he nodded, "Yeah, whatever you wanna do."

"im sorry, has this been boring?" you asked him, turning your head to face him.

"No, no." he shook his head. "im having a lot of fun. these places are really interesting."

"okay, just checking. sorry. anyway, this is where I usually get my fabric and shit from. I always find the cutest patterns."

"thats sick." he responded.

"What do you miss about LA?" you asked, taking a step closer to him.

"My guitar." he answered. "I play it almost every day. i kinda just get trapped in it, you know?"

"You play guitar?" you asked, amused. "that's sexy as fuck. I've always wanted to learn." You tried to ignore the compliment you let slip.

he stuttered. "I- uhm, thank you." his face turned red. "Maybe come visit me in LA, and I'll teach you."

"Maybe I will." You nudged his shoulder. "I've wanted to travel to LA for a while now, I just have been focusing on my business."

"im sure there are just as many opportunities in LA as there are here, but I don't know." he laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind." You opened the door of the shop and walked in. "you know, we should probably get an umbrella." you mentioned.

"good idea."

you scanned through the racks and found a fluffy zebra print jacket. your head started flooding with ideas for johnnie. you held it up to his body. the white and black complimented his eyes and all. "what do you think? I mean, about the pattern. not the ugly ass jacket itself." you clarified.

"I've never really worn zebra print." he felt the soft fabric.

"you'll look so fucking good, oh my god." you gushed before regaining your composure. "I have an idea. I think you'll like it."

"if you make it, I will." he smiled.

you hummed. "I'll keep that in mind."

[c-ptsdrecovery]

I've been meaning to make this post for months, but I'm lazy :P

This year, I got diagnosed with bipolar 2, and going on mood stabilizers has been LIFE-CHANGING. (In the way they always told me going on antidepressants would be, only it wasn't.) I have discovered that I had a lot of (common) misconceptions about what bipolar disorder was like, which was why I struggled for at least 15 years with it and didn't get diagnosed until now. So I wanted to share a little bit about what I've learned about what bipolar disorder is REALLY like, in the hopes that other people in the same boat as me might recognize their own symptoms.

Disclaimers: I am not a mental health professional or an expert in bipolar disorder, and this is drawn from my personal experiences, which may be different from what another person with bipolar experiences.

--There are different levels of depression and of mania. Low mania, for instance, is called hypomania. While people with Bipolar 1 experience a range of emotions from mania to depression, people with Bipolar 2 experience mostly depression with occasional hypomania.

--People have a very extreme and stereotyped idea of what mania looks like, so it can be harder to recognize hypomania in particular. Things that mania/hypomania can look like:

anxiety

restlessness

insomnia

constant fidgeting

huge excitement or joy

intense creativity

intense sensory experience (colors are brighter, handsoap smells AMAZING, etc)

rage

less inhibited behavior

more spending

more risky behavior

feeling like you're finally yourself for the first time in years

--You will notice in that list that manic doesn't just mean happy. Mania is a high-energy state. That can mean high-energy happiness, high-energy anger, high-energy anxiety, etc. Depression is the low-energy side of the equation.

--You don't have to be JUST manic or JUST depressed. It's very common to have "mixed episodes" where you are both at one time. I was diagnosed years ago with "anxiety and depression"--and it turns out that that was probably actually a bipolar mixed state. A lot of people with classic depression talk about having no energy, having trouble getting out of bed, etc, but I always had the kind of depression where I felt despairing but also high-energy. I was restless and anxious--and sometimes had bursts of happiness and enjoyment in the middle and then went back to being depressed again.

--Bipolar can feel like mood swings. Your moods are intense and they can change quickly. I have had a psychiatrist tell me that you know it's bipolar when your mood changes for no reason. This may be true for some people, but for me, I could almost always attribute my mood change to SOMETHING. "I feel bad because of that thing somebody said to me" or "I feel bad because I'm lonely" or "I feel anxious because my stomach is upset". So that wasn't a helpful indicator for me, but the presence of the mood swings was. Some people also try to say that you have to be in a manic or depressive state for a certain number of days in order to qualify as bipolar--but if you're having mixed episodes like I was, all bets are off as to how long a mood is going to last.

--It's very common for people with bipolar disorder to have sleep problems: sleeping too much, sleeping too little, or both. I go right to sleep at bedtime, but then I wake up in the middle of the night, lie awake for an hour, and then go back to sleep. I have done this regularly for literally 15 years.

--A really good sign of having bipolar disorder is if trying a new antidepressant makes you manic/hypomanic. This doesn't always happen to people with bipolar disorder trying an antidepressant, but it certainly can.

My experience with antidepressants is that sometimes they seemed to work a bit for awhile, but in the long run, they really didn't work. One antidepressant that I tried made me FURIOUSLY ANGRY, so much so that it scared me and I had to get off the med after a week (the rage was a hypomanic state). One antidepressant that I tried made me so unbearably anxious that I took it ONCE and never again (that anxiety was also a hypomanic state). I took an antidepressant once that worked PERFECTLY for two months, and then suddenly stopped, and never worked again (happy hypomania, mood-swinging back to depressed again). What finally tipped us off that my problem was bipolar disorder was when I tried a new antidepressant and it made me feel AMAZING and then it wore off and I got super-depressed again... and then we raised the dose and I felt AMAZING and then it wore off, and... Meanwhile, I was happier than I had ever been before, I started a new hobby of collecting bonkers earrings, I started dressing in eye-burning rainbow colors, I was far more confident than I had ever been, I spent more (not way too much, but more) than usual... That is the kind of hypomanic/manic state that most people recognize as such, which is how I finally got diagnosed.

I will add on tomorrow or so with some stories about episodes that I recognize in retrospect were from my bipolar disorder, but I don't want to make this post longer than it already is! I will just add: If any of this sounds like you, I strongly encourage you to talk to a doctor about trying mood stabilizers. Maybe they won't do anything for you--but then at least you'll KNOW. I have a sneaking suspicion that just like C-PTSD is wildly underdiagnosed, bipolar disorder probably is, too.

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 2-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,663 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Moderately strong language

A/n: This is the chapter giving more context and backstory to the Hewitts and the rude farmhand. Things pick up from here and will continue to keep on that exciting trajectory but remind yourself that I am the lord of the slow burn lol, I like building up to the fleshy bits. The artwork is what's keeping these chapters from coming out so quickly, I didn't want to go full flat color this time but goddamn my ADHD symptoms are making shit a lot harder to focus on so please have patience, I assure you all it is worth it. Please enjoy and keep an eye on the masterlist linked above for updates.

tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 2

The next day came with less heat than the first, the sun was frequently blocked out by thick white clouds that rolled against its light causing brief shadows to lay on the land. You started unpacking more and more things from the container you shipped to the house before you moved, making sure that everything that you needed was properly put away. Eventually it was time to head over to Luda Mae’s house and you wanted to make sure to look presentable for tea time. Thoughts of what her family was like raced through your head, you especially wanted to know who the mysterious masked man was. You slipped on a nice pink sundress that you made yourself, you covered your shoulders with a white cropped cardigan and some white sandals that were comfortable to walk in.

You decide to visit the farmhand again in an attempt to make friends so he wouldn’t be so hostile, you grab your things and head down before you make your way to Luda Mae’s home. You spot him tending to a peach tree and you walk over.

“Hey there, I don’t mean to bug you when you’re busy but I just wanted to see if you would take a break and chat for a bit?” you tried to use your friendliest smile.

“Ya can’t see I’m busy girl? Why don’t you go screw off with your riches and leave the farm to the only person caring for it all these years!” his words were so needlessly callous, but you continue,

“I know you’re busy but why don’t you tell me what I can do to help? It doesn’t have to all land on your shoulders anymore”

 He laughs to himself and says “Why? So, ya can just fire me when ya get the hang o’ things? Women can’t do this kinda labor, why dontcha just sit there and look pretty”

The sexism was shocking but you didn’t want to let that garbage stop you “I understand you are upset from the change but I assure you I just want to be friendly and helpful”

He turns to you with a smug look “What kinda friendly we talkin’ ‘bout here?”

You get creeped out as he stops his work and looks at you in a more predatory way, but you persist,

“I just mean you don’t have to worry about doing all the work by yourself, I can help you, and by friendly... I just want to have a civil professional relationship with you, nothing more”

“Thinkin’ ya deserve some kinda good treatment huh? How ‘bout me? Don’t I deserve compensation for the work I did all these years? I ain’t talkin’ bout wages neither”

You wonder what he means by that, so you try offering solutions “What do you need? Maybe I can get you a better living situation or more tools to make the work easier?”

He didn’t like anything you had to say, “Ya think it’s just that simple? I like where I live, I like being left ALONE!”

You feel a knot forming in your throat, being treated like this was so hurtful “Ok, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good rest of the day”

He made you feel like shit, all the memories of people bullying you and your old friend were coming back and you just wanted to get away. Your heart was racing with anger and the familiar feeling of an old depression started to creep back in.

You start making your way towards Luda Mae’s home and hope that the walk calms your nerves and lifts your spirits enough to enjoy the rest of your day. The sun was peeking out from behind the thick clouds and brightened the dry road before you, tiny little white flowers sparsely lined the sides of the road and made you smile. You closed your eyes and made your mind blank, only listening to the gentle wisps of the wind rustling the tall wheatgrass, and the crunch of dry dirt with every step you took, some birds could be heard in the distance chirping cheerfully. You felt like you were in a different universe where time stood still and it was just you and the earth around you.

Shortly, you arrive at Luda Mae’s property, she had a wire fence blocking the four grazing cows in and there were a lot of cars sitting in a lot near the main house, it seemed odd but you just assumed maybe one of them was a mechanic. You walk up toward the barn and hope to see that mysterious masked man but the barn is empty minus some clucking chickens strutting around. You make your way up to the door and knock, an older man answers it, he looks you up and down and smiles,

“Well now, I didn’t know it was my birthday” he says. You can hear Luda Mae yell at him to shut up and let you in. He drops the smile and waves you in, making you walk closely to get past him. Luda Mae meets you as you walk in and she introduces you,

“Sorry ‘bout him sweetheart, this is my brother Charlie. Come on in dear, I can’t wait to talk with you, Loretta brought some real good tea for us to enjoy” She gestures for you to follow her and you speak to Charlie as you pass through,

“Nice to meet you Charlie, I’m Y/N*”

He smiles as he looks at you saying “Mhmm, I’ll remember that” you feel a shiver of discomfort after he says that.

You follow Luda Mae through the house which has very old furnishings, its large with high ceilings that are dotted with large fans to circulate the air; The décor was definitely very dated but kept clean, the furnishings may have once displayed wealth in a past long gone. In a large living room, you see a man reading a newspaper, Luda Mae stops at the doorway,

“Hey Monty, turn ‘round a sec”

The man was older, he turns around peering through his large thick glasses “Yeah?”

“I’d like you to meet the young woman who took over Tilly’s orchard!”

He sets down his paper and tried to turn to face you better “Oh! I didn’t know Tilly had children?”

Luda Mae replies “No, this is Y/N, she is a distant relative of hers”

You make a shy response “It’s nice to meet you sir”

He smiles “Well she’s real polite ain’t she? Nice to meet you too kiddo, I’m uncle Monty”

Luda Mae guides you over to the back porch which has Loretta already seated at the table. Luda Mae waves to her and says,

“Loretta, this is Tilly’s family, the one I told you ‘bout”

Loretta was a big woman, her cheeks were rosy and full, her dyed black hair was perfectly styled up into pin curls remniscent of another time, she smiled and said “Well, now ain’t she just a pretty little thing!”

Luda Mae gave you a smile and sits you down in the chair next to Loretta, you set down your basket and go to shake her hand saying “It’s really nice to meet you Loretta, my name in Y/N”

Loretta smiles and Luda Mae asks what you have in the basket you brought. You lift the basket onto the table and show them the fruits you picked for them today. Luda Mae claps in approval saying,

“That is so kind of you to bring some fruit over, I ain’t had a good peach since Tilly passed.”

You still weren’t quite sure about the way Tilly had died, you did not get much information out of the Lawyer and the files said there was no reason for an autopsy since she was so old. You ask Luda Mae and Loretta about it

“I don’t want to open old wounds or anything but, do either of you know how she died? I never got a proper answer”

They both looked at each other and Loretta answered “Well now Tilly was very well liked by everyone who knew her, she lived here a while you know. While yes, she was old, she was still in good shape and the sheriff’s department in the next town over didn’t give us any details, just said it was from old age and left it at that”

Luda Mae chimes in “I am suspicious that Dover did it”

“Luda Mae!” Loretta shouted in shock.

Luda Mae crosses her arms and continues “That farmhand has been a cruel and unappreciative man for as long as I remember, I tried to tell her to get rid of him what with all his talk about taking the orchard someday, but she was too kind-hearted and wasn’t able to keep up with the demands of caring for the trees. She was always looking for the good in people, even the evil ones. Bless that woman.”

Loretta nodded in agreement that Tilly was kind, she looked at you and said,

“You know, Fuller was doing well in the past, there was big business in cattle and meat packing. Everyone was makin’ good money ‘til the ranchers died and their property managers sold off the cattle to northern companies, that killed this towns economy. People were leaving in droves and so was the money.”

Luda Mae looked out into the field and added “It got to the point where we all had to resort to terrible things just to survive, but there was no way I’d let my family starve.”

Loretta gave Luda Mae a stern look, her eyes wide, she cut in “That is until Tilly decided to plant a bunch of fruit trees from the seeds of the fruit she bought from the store. The Texas sun made those little sprouts explode into full size trees, and she had us all fed by the fruits they made, we didn’t have to just survive no more, we were able to live normally again. It was all thanks to her”

You smile at the fact that someone from your family was regarded so highly, it gave you a warm feeling. Luda Mae pours you some tea and follows up with,

“Tilly made sure that we had animals to provide us with bounty, everyone shared what they had, even before the trees were makin’ enough to bring in money, in return we gave her the manure for the trees.”

Loretta looked antsy, she changed the subject “Well now, that’s enough of those depressing times.”

Luda Mae and Loretta started talking about the town and how things used to be, you sat listening to them for an hour until you noticed the mysterious masked man. He was heading toward the barn and you could see him tending to the cows inside, he was even bigger in person, his body looked like it was used to working hard, his muscles were large but had no hard edges as if his strength was supplemented with a rich diet full of American cooking. The man was brushing the cows, plumes of dust and dirt would fly out from each swish of the brush. To see him close was astonishing, you felt like you were seeing a new kind of human, he was so gentle with the animals and yet his appearance was very intimidating. You tried to look and see if you could get a glimpse of his face but his back was turned to you.

Luda Mae notices you looking and says “I see you’ve noticed my boy there”

You snap out of your trance and blush in embarrassment, she laughs and adds,

“He’s a real handsome one if I do say so myself, his name is Thomas. He’s real shy, but as sweet as they come. He’s a good boy, extremely helpful with managing the animals and taking care of the property.” She pauses and puts her hand to her chin “You know, he’s ‘round your age and its high time he meets someone nice, I’m gonna call him over.”

You felt butterflies for the first time in years, you quickly respond “That’s ok, he looks pretty busy, maybe he should be left alone”

Luda Mae smiles “Come now dear, he can come say hi, it ain’t no bother” She calls out to him “TOMMY! COME SAY HELLO TO THIS NICE YOUNG LADY!”

Tommy looks up quickly, he spots you on the porch and freezes.

Luda Mae yells after him again, “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT, YOU COME HERE RIGHT QUICK! DON’T BE RUDE NOW!”

He furiously shakes his head, turns and runs into the barn out of sight.

Luda Mae sighs “I’m sorry sweetheart, he really is a very nice boy, he’s just awfully shy, especially ‘round pretty girls, the poor dear”

You felt a wave of relief that someone else was maybe as anxious about meeting new people like you were, you reply “It’s ok, I’m sure I’ll meet him when he’s ready”

Luda Mae gently places her hand on yours “I’ll make sure of it, he needs to make some friends, it gets mighty lonely ‘round here. With someone as sweet as you I’m sure you two’d get along just fine”

Loretta takes a final sip of tea and gets up saying “Well, time for me ‘n Monty to head home, thanks for the conversation, Y/N, it was a real treat to meet you”

Luda Mae thanks Loretta for the tea and says goodbye, she then turns to you and says,

“Well, I know you probably want to get back to that orchard, please don’t let that prickly pear Dover get to you, Tilly kept him ‘round because he worked hard, no matter how awful he behaved, just let him be, pay him and ignore him the rest of the time. If you make friends with my Tommy, well, I’m sure Dover won’t be a terror”

You get up from your seat and say “Luda Mae, am I in danger with Dover?”

Luda Mae puts her hand on her heart and says “I’m so sorry for scaring you dear that was real thoughtless of me. I’m suspicious of Dover yes, but there’s no way he will hurt you, none of us will let him”

You thank her for the tea and leave from the back porch making your way towards the barn hoping to get a closer look at Tommy. When you reach the barn doors you see Tommy on the opposite side of the barn facing the open doors fiddling with some hay. The butterflies are welling up in your stomach making you feel sick with excitement, you stand there watching this enormous man whose back was extremely wide and his forearms were thick and scarred. You were struggling to take in as much of his image as you could before you could quietly sneak off, just as your eyes started travelling down south, he turned around and saw you.

“I-I’m sorry!” you squeaked as you bolted off down the driveway.

You felt so embarrassed at being caught watching him, you hoped he didn’t think poorly of you. You spent the walk home trying to calm the butterflies and stop blushing -I can’t believe how creepy of me that was, he is going to think I’m a freak!-. When you get home, you see that Dover was in his small house watching something on a small tube tv with a large bunny ear antenna. You feel sad that his accommodations are so meager and decide to speak with him again tomorrow to try just one more time to get in his good graces, you always believed that you could kill them with kindness, especially in the event that he really was a danger as Luda Mae said, then you would want to be in his good graces. You start to make dinner and think to yourself -I hope I am able to properly meet Tommy-.

Next chapter-

[a-s-levynn]

I'm terrified to post this. So watch me sprinting away into the distance after dropping this.

Open love letter to -in extension to the wider ST community on tumblr, but especially- to the fellowship of Sleep because without you, life would be much more lonely

My Friends,

It was today when it finally dawned on me that you gave me the most undescribably precious gift. Many of you probably going to relate to this to some degree because i am not unique in any sense but i had to get this out. And by just the sheer lenght probably not many of you will read it. But i still need to put this out there, even if i'm being obnoxious and probably sound overdramatic and maybe even cringy.

I struggle with a lot of things. Anxiety, self doubt, depression, paranoia, self destructive tendencies, self isolation and the list goes on to even darker places. All in all i have a suboptimal mental state to put it lightly. I feel inadequate in many ways. Especially with connecting to people.

To this day, i struggle every day, seeing my friends, you, talk on a daily basis, have inside jokes and wonderful conversations and whatnot and either i like it or not, thoughts intrude: "am i doing enough? Am i a good enough of a friend? Do i really have a place among these wonderful bright souls? Am i intruding? Am i inserting myself into spaces i do not have any right to be? Am i forcing myself into your circles?"

For the longest time, on most days the conclusion was no. I do not belong. You were just being nice to the pathetic little creature in the corner because by nature you are simply kind. But as the weeks went by i learned that you are also awkward people with your own stuggles and hardships which are far harder and more painful than mine. That you are choosing to be kind every day, in spite of what life threw at you. Because you know.

I started to see you also crave a particular type of companionship and you reach out with the same trembling hands, hoping that someone sees it and grabs it. That someone finally says: you are not alone. I am here. For you. With you.

And you did. You've seen a bunch of hands fumbling in the dark, desperate to hold onto something and went: yeah.. i think i'll grab all of them. Because we are coming from the same darkness. And if i can help pull you into the light than you might have the strenght to do the same for me, so we can all sit in the warmth of the fire. The fire we built together. A fire that is growing ever brighter and allowes us to see even more hands on the edges to be pulled and invited into the circle.

So we have. For a while sitting almost silently, showing the things we found along the way. Tentatively feeling out the boundries. Than we broke the silence. You even started to call me your friend at some point. I already considered you mine because i'm painfully lonely and just the gesture, that you included me among the hands you grabbed was enough for me to see you mine. But all in all, for some unknowable reason, we became friends.

The weeks turned into months and i felt a bit more comfortable to approach you on my own clumsy and awkward ways. Many of you know by now that Tiny Token was born because i was too afraid to send a happy birthday ask to someone. I still apologize regularly just for adding thoughts to posts even if i only do it in tags. I am afraid. Of so many thing.

We still don't talk daily. Yet we still call each other friend. We have actual plans now. I still stuggle with the though of not being enough. There are still days when i feel you just feeling pity towards me.

But lately there is an other thought there. Which makes me feel bad for thinking that way. A thought that's never been there before. "If i was truly bothersome or annoying or any way too unpleasent, you could simply walk away. This is the internet after all. You could just block me. You have the option to walk away but you are time and time again choosing not to. No matter how many days pass by with us not talking, you are there. I can count on you. I'm still hesitant to reach out and dump my superficial adversities on you. But i also see you keeping the door ajar, leaving the option there to be approached if anyone needs it. So it would be not just a disservice but an outright insult to you if i'd think you are just acting out of pity. But if you like me than.. there has to be something about me to actually to be worth knowing?"

And that is doing something that ten years worth of failed therapy could not. You made me question my self doubt. It is still there and will be for the rest of my life. But now there is a steady counter balance i never had this solidly in my life ever before.

I'm still afraid to ask even if anyone would be up for a talk, let alone a call because i have little to offer in conversations. I don't talk much by default and that is not a good base for conversations. I'm still terrified of overstaying my welcome. But i also know now that you probably wouldn't mind from time to time. Because you understand. Maybe one day i will get there. I don't know when but there is a hope i never truly had before.

This is something i will never be able to repay you. Thank you for understanding that we all have different levels of anxiety and fear and not holding it against one and other. I'm writing this to you with immens love and eternal gratitude i cannot truly express in any way that does it justice: Thank you for showing me hope. Thank you for being the way you are.

You gave me the biggest gift there is to give.

You gave me your friendship.

I love you.

Yours in friendship,

Levynn

[afvall]

whumptober day 2! Trust issues

truthful Timmy the blowjob queen of Saskatoon (Wade) and Nathan have a marital spat. Who knew whumptober could be so Fluffy? Don't worry, it'll get worse.

--

God Believes in Me

--

Wade regarded his mind as a very sacred place, despite the fact half of its inane machinations would make their way out of his mouth anyways. Yet despite that, his mind was still his own, one of the few places he could exist not in a state of constant, neurotic apprehension of being perceived. He knew he appeared so unfiltered and obscene in comparison to everybody around him, he knew that his marred flesh and even more vulgar personality both weren’t things he went at length to hide, but when it came to his teammates, his friends, his f word, he could get a bit deranged about his shortcomings, and how he showed them. That's where being able to wallow in his own thoughts came in clutch. He wanted to be able to go into his own hysterics all by his lonesome about fucking up a mission, compulsively wipe down his katanas and clean his guns far longer than necessary as his cancer-ridden obsessive little mind ran itself into disorientating circles. It was one of his few comforts in this world, drugs and self pity, Vanessa used to be on the list, but Wade had let her die, so she wasn’t there anymore.

There was one problem to his perfect routines however, one interruption in the face of his fetish for his own shame, that nosey, telepathic bitch, Nathan Summers, Nathan ‘you remind me of my wife’ (while applying chapstick!) Summers. Unlike the author of this fic, Deadpool has read the comics, he knew that comic Nate was telepathic, but not this one. He’d thought that in his second movie’s two hour run, Cable’s telepathy might be brought up once, but as it wasn’t, he simply assumed that this Cable wasn’t telepathic. And wow, what a shit draw huh, 5 '8 and telepathy-less? It would be depressing if it wasn’t a little funny, as most things were in and around Wade’s life. However, of course that couldn’t be the case, because poor Wade couldn’t be afforded even a second of mercy in this hellish world, couldn’t be afforded the sanctity of his own mind, and now having escaped the constrictions that telling a 3 act story over 2 hours put upon Nate’s powers, he didn’t seem to mind using them as much as he did before.

“I'm still pissed off about how you decided to be a little shit rather than listen to the orders i gave you during our job yesterday, i don’t wanna hear the memory of it and all your shame prattling around in your mind all day, it’ll just make me angry again.” Nathan sipped boredly on a cappuccino sitting in a takeaway cup he’d brought back from a café, alongside a mocha for Wade which had already been scoffed down while burning hot and its cardboard carcass chucked into the bin. Wade didn’t get how he could slip in little kind gestures between all that dickishness and not expect Wade to have an aneurysm about it.

“If you can read my mind, how come you’re still such an asshole to me? Surely empathy is a bit easier when you can literally see inside someone’s head” Wade desperately wanted to be left alone right now, to cry about his own shortcomings to the barrels of all his handguns, instead of having every thought of his heard by Nate. The coffee was nice but he’d had enough people-time today.

“Well technically i can only read your surface thoughts and emotions, or shit that you push to the front, the cancerous wad in your cranium is harder to read than most people’s” Wade wasn’t sure what constituted as ‘surface’ or ‘pushed to the front’ as he wished he could get back to being neurotic and sad all by his lonesome. Could nate tell that he really was properly freaked out about fucking up so many missions? Would he care?

“Get out of my head if you don’t wanna see what’s in there, Nate.” Wade stated, pretty matter-of-factly. His head was his space, not Nates, and Nate didn’t even like being there.

“Its not like im trying to get in there, theres just this constant nervous aura coming off of you whenever you fuck up after a mission. Its really fucking difficult to ignore.” Nate stared smugly, telepathic bitch.

“I reckon you’re fucking lying about not being able to not read my mind.” Wade nips back, “and I think you think you can see more of what’s in my mind than what’s actually in there. Im not trying to make your day shittier Nathan, im not trying to get out of paying the penance for my fuck ups with all my guilt.” Wade thought about this pinterest poetry post he saw once while channelling his inner fourteen year old girl–’The dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. My guilt will not purify me.’–but decided that it was a bit too pretentious to verbally reference in a cablepool angst fic, even in whumptober. X-men angst always seemed a bit more gritty than melancholy, a bit more blood than tears.

Nathan looked at him with an expression that was undeniably just a tad bit softer. Whether it was from Wade’s inane fourth-wall related thoughts mulling over this situation or the point he’d just made, Wade was unsure.

“I'm not lying about being unable to not read your mind Wade, your thoughts are pretty difficult to block out.” Nate didn’t comment upon the second half of Wade’s little outburst. Wade wondered if Nate trusted what he said, but Wade believed Nate when he said Wade’s thoughts were difficult to block out. Honestly he’d simply used that weaker opinion as a way to segway to the truth of his paranoia. But would Nate trust Wade’s truth? Wade tried to push all his genuine nature and remorse to the forefront of his mind, but didn’t know if it worked that way.

Nate suddenly looked a bit awkward as he went quiet, looking at Wade with furrowed brows and a face more scrunched up than not.

“I'm sorry, it's been a pretty long week.” Wade was fine with receiving a half-excuse-half-apology hybrid, he just wanted to know Nate believed him. Wade paused for a moment, letting the cogs in his brain churn sluggishly as he continued peering at Nate.

“Im sorry im such a little shit sometimes, and fuck stuff up for the team.” for my f word. Nate smiled, chuckling softly, just a tad, in the way that made Wade’s heart jump in his chest.

“We’ll work on it?” Wade knew Nate was referring to both of them, working on their trust of one another, and the way they treated each other, on the battlefield and at home.

“We’ll work on it.”

[fairycosmos]

hey sorry if this is invasive but how do you know you have depression? things have been harder to cope with for the past month but i am incredibly ashamed of asking for help or even saying out loud because i feel dramatic, attention seeking etc. even realising how much it is affecting my life. do i really need to get it out to get better?

ive had it since i was a kid and my doctor has been aware of it since i was like 11 so it was just smth i grew up with - when im in a particularly bad episode i can tell because im extremely lethargic, unmotivated, don't look after myself, am prone to severe hopelessness and a sense of impending doom following me everywhere + self destruction, i drink more, i get paranoid, i dissociate and feel disconnected from the world around me and from my own body, im numb/sad most of the time, i have panic attacks and cant get out of bed even for things i would usually want to do, im very disorganised and have a flat affect/tone of voice, i don't interact with people much....honestly the list goes on LOL.

it's important to understand that depression manifests uniquely for everybody and if youve noticed a difference in your own behaviour/thinking patterns that is actively and consistently impacting your life negatively - then that is enough of an indicator that something is going on. it doesn't need to be any worse. if it's already difficult, then it's already difficult, and you deserve support with it. to some extent it's some normal to feel ashamed/afraid of reaching out - we're raised in a world that stigmatises mental illness and we've received that messaging for a long time. which makes it feel like the truth, but doesn't mean that it is actually true. i think the bottom line is that you need to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend going through something like this. you wouldn't want them to cut themselves off from asking for help because they've bullied themselves into silence over what people might or might not think of them. if we want to live in a world that truly supports people with mental health issues in an effective way, then we need to hold ourselves to that same standard. i know it's incredibly overwhelming, and im not saying it's wrong to be anxious or scared about reaching out. i just think actively trying to frame it from a more objective mindset could help you accept what is happening and what the right next step is for you. if you have the opportunity to talk to someone - a hotline, your doctor, a local support group or therapist, even a friend/family member to begin with - i really encourage it. even write down what you want to say or bullet point what's been going on so you don't feel like you're being put on the spot. im sure you're imagining all sorts of reactions, but in my experience, professionals are very accepting of what you're going through and just want to work with you to see how you can process and cope with your current mindset more healthily. whether it's medication, talking therapies, showing you new coping skills - there's a lot that can be done for someone in your shoes. you're not stuck and they're not going to judge you. even if, in some alternate reality, you just wanted some attention - that's not a crime. i think it's natural to want someone to witness and acknowledge us when we're hurting anyway. sorry to ramble - there are a lot of depression self help and coping pdfs that are free and available to download online which offer a bit of support. maybe that could be a good stepping stone if you're feeling super uncomfortable with the idea of talking to someone. we all work on our own timeline and thats honestly ok. but if you're looking for truly personalised and effective help then i think working towards talking to someone is your best option. it's okay to not be happy about that and still do it, like swallowing a medicine that tastes gross. otherwise the thoughts just rot inside you and you get lost in a spiral of depressive thinking patterns and it weighs you down having to manage it all alone inside your head. you become at risk of losing all objectivity and sense of self, which happens to me often and is fucking horrible. if it's possible, i really hope you eventually bring this up to a loved one or a professional. im really sorry you're going through this and i truly hope better days are ahead. sending a lot of love. X

[genericpuff]

hey! I’m not sure if you’ve seen this yet, but in regards to RS’s awful layer management, I bring you this from the waybacksmythe insta account!

I’m 99% sure that she’s taught herself to work in this manner for a VERY long time. I mean, there’s barely anything in the main layers that have even MORE layers clipped to them

insanity

yooo thank you for this!

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad when it comes to illustration work, it comes down to just being "use whatever amount of layers you need", and it's clear it worked for her older art. It would be fine for comics as well, but most people naturally opt to reduce the layers they use because it just makes things, well, faster, and less complicated. Not to mention if her layer management is part of the reason her file sizes are ending up absurdly huge, then ??? It seems like a no brainer to reduce them. Esp considering so many of the layers in LO from what I've seen in screenshots just seem so pointless, like hyper-micromanaging levels of pointless.

That said, I think there are a lot of things she's taught herself to do that she just hasn't bothered to unlearn, like she thinks she works "better" doing things this way. Her "time management techniques" that result in her and her team always crunching through the weight of the next deadline, her layering structure, how she manages her assistants, the list goes on. It's like when you're so used to doing something one way, you're convinced it has to be working because otherwise, why would you be doing it that way? It's always "worked" for you up until now, so why change? It's why it's hounded into art students especially to step outside of their comfort zone and try new things because it's only through trying new things that you may learn you've been making things way harder for yourself than you need to.

This might be a bit too psychoanalytical, but we were talking about this very subject in the Discord the other day, and it came up that it's like when someone who's struggling with untreated depression or ADHD says, "I don't want to be medicated, it'll take away my spark!" but their spark is literally not showering for a week and eating nothing but toast and mold growing on the dishes in the sink.

In this case, it feels like Rachel's going "I don't want to change, it'll ruin my work!" but her work is literally already falling apart because she's been sticking to these same work methods that are clearly not working for her.

It makes me think of that one old reel where she talks about how she tried something new that didn't work out and became frustrated over the "lost time".

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A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

And I do agree with the advice that she's giving in this video, artists should give themselves the space and time to figure things out, to make mistakes, because it's not lost time, it's time you're spending to try. That time will pass anyways, so use it how you like.

But unfortunately I don't think Rachel is actually good at applying this advice because she hasn't set herself up for success. She's always constantly on an immediate deadline because she never sets herself up with proper buffers. She never made herself a plan in the narrative to get this far so she's constantly jumping between plot points to give herself time to figure out how to resolve them. She can't give herself that free time to figure her shit out because she's constantly wringing out the time she has available to her. Look no further than how much time she traditionally spends on social media, AFAIK it's just her running it meaning she's spending all this time browsing and retweeting that she could be spending getting her ducks in a row.

None of this is to say she isn't allowed to have free time, I think it would be great if she could be an Originals creator who could also manage having a healthy work life balance, god knows so many creators don't get to do that. But it's not free time if you're spending it under the weight of deadlines that are literally a week away. It's just distracting yourself.

Of course, that's all speculative, so I'm not gonna continue on much longer with this train of thought, it's just the impression I get because it's clear she values her time but doesn't know how to manage it properly. I feel that all too well as someone who also struggles with ADHD.

[syncopein3d]

Left Alone 5: Bearing Gifts

Tropes/content warnings: M for mature themes overall. vampire whumpee, male whumpee, non-binary caretaker, general morbidity. There will be a lot of play with, and discussion of, the concept of consent in this series, as it applies to many topics. There's gonna be some angst, too. Vampire biting can be painful, platonic, or NSFW and I'm not sure what direction that will take, but Tolly will definitely continue to struggle with the urge to sex-murder Arden, as vampires often do, and Arden will probably continue being depressed enough to be unhelpful with that.

If you would like to be added to, or removed from, the tag list of this series, please let me know!

Part 4: Smallest Consolation

Tolly sat on the rug to look at the dark lantern for a while, chin on his hand. In his mind, he ran back over everything again and again, every tiniest thing he had seen of Arden, every smallest exchange. In spite of what he’d said, he was quite certain they would be back. Someone who would try to reach out to him in the state he was in, who could pity grief in the thing that he was, would not abandon him to waste away in this hole in the ground.

He hadn’t asked if they were alone here. The answer was obvious. There had been no footsteps overhead, no voice raised. There weren’t a lot of places in a town this size for Arden to find other people who would have any idea what they were about beyond “this is a man who looks wrong.”

Oh, he ached to taste them, he hurt in every dried shred of his body. They would perish so beautifully. But now he had to protect them from both his own appetite and their own folly, because if they died, they could never get the Eye of Rule and get him out of here. And then, and then… Well, he’d have to see what it took to persuade it off their finger.

What would Nicholas have done with the ring? He would have wanted his heir to have it, but if his death had been an accident, it could be anywhere. It could be in the hands of some morgue attendant somewhere, and Black Tolly would be stuck here forever in spite of any intention of Arden’s. He couldn’t consider that possibility, not at all. He had to hope. If Arden had already sold it, at least there was a chance they could buy it back.

He watched the basement around the lantern, trying to clear his mind by counting the scratches on the concrete again. Then he wept for a little while, his dry and unbreathing sobs just twitches of his chest and shoulders. He still was torn on whether he should grieve for Nicholas, but he grieved all the same. It wasn’t only that he hadn’t ever drunk from him. It was that he was the last person Tolly had known, and for a long time the only person he had seen. They had often talked. They had known as much of each other as some people would know of their spouses, shared confidences in the knowledge that they would never leave this room.

Tolly wasn’t sure how much of that had been true on Nicholas’s side, of course, if he’d really had that many lovers come and go. He’d never been stupid enough to bring one downstairs. But Tolly had told him things that were true even when he was not compelled, by the end. He would have told him anything he wanted, anything at all to keep him a little longer. It had been pathetic, but now he couldn’t say he regretted it. If he had not done all he could to stretch out those moments, he would have less of Nicholas with him forever, less of him imprinted in unfading memory.

I hate you. I love you. You left me.

He couldn’t let himself repeat that. He looked around for some distraction, and decided to commit the extravagance of reading all of the labels he could see.

There were a lot of labels, and some of them were harder to make out than others owing to dust and being partly turned away from him. He managed to stretch this exercise out until nearly dawn. It was a relief to creep back to his rug and compose himself to his rest in the orderly and ordinary way. He knew he would dream.

He dreamed of Nicholas. They were talking, Nicholas sitting in the chair at the table as his face slowly grew younger, Tolly standing against the wall in the corner with his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t care that he was a prisoner here.

“Where’s the ring?” he asked eventually. “You hid it, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, Bard. Did I never tell you who hunts those who see the Outside? Surely you must, in all your travels, have met with them.”

“I’ve kept as clear of witchcraft as I could, Nicholas,” Black Tolly said. “For fear of exactly what has happened, or worse. Where is it?”

“That’s not for you to know, darling. Only for whoever comes after me. No one of sound mind would trust you with the Eye of Rule.”

“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said dryly. Nicholas’s answering laughter rang after him into wakefulness for just a moment. He lay on his back, silent, and for a few moments he wept again. But he could not indulge this for long. He stood up and paced back and forth for a moment on the stone outside of his rug, listening. Footsteps moved above him, faint and distant. He was grateful that his heart did not beat, or the noise in his ears would have drowned everything else.

He stiffened as he heard the door open. For a second, he simply couldn’t move, terrified that it would close again and Arden would not come down and he would be alone. Then, after an eternity of slices of a second, footsteps started to descend and the spell was broken. Tolly moved a polite distance back from the door, one heel touching his rug, forcing himself not to cling to the walls or the chair like some crawling animal.

Arden was carrying a plastic bin that looked almost as big as Arden to Tolly’s curious eye. Arden wasn’t tiny. He would guess they were five feet and eight or nine inches in actual height, if they ever stood up all the way straight (something he had not yet seen them do). But in a tee shirt their arms looked thinner than they should, veins standing out in their forearms without much muscle or fat under them. Tonight’s shirt was black with some kind of eye-searing white band logo on it that he didn’t recognize, a skull pierced by a pair of scissors.

They plonked the bin down in front of the cell, exhaling hard. A quick glance found Tolly and looked away again.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Arden said. “You look creepy when you sleep. That’s, I’m sorry, that’s rude.” They looked at him and away again, clearing their throat. “I brought your pig’s blood, and, uh.”

Tolly waited, every fiber of his being concentrated on the container beside them.

“Thank you,” Tolly said. Arden cleared their throat again at Tolly’s intent, unblinking stare. “Right. First things first.” Arden unloaded a plastic lantern that gave forth a bright, diffuse light at a touch, lighting up nearly the entire basement with a warm glow. They pulled an old ruler out of the bin and nudged the lantern across the threshold. “I need this to see, but you can also keep it for. I don’t know. If you get tired of it being dark.” They shot him an embarrassed look. Tully extended a talon and carefully hooked the lantern within reach, almost caressingly running his fingers over the shade. He tore his eyes from the container that held his salvation with some difficulty.

Make it worth their while. Not just the money. The money isn’t what brought them back.

“Thank you,” he said. The emotion in his creaking voice was not feigned, but under other circumstances he might have made more effort to hide it. “I’ve been in the dark a long time.”

“I don’t know what’s normal for you, so I just brought one of the glasses from upstairs.” Tolly looked up as they nudged over a water glass that he had seen many times before, an old Cristal D’Arques leaded crystal thing with long ridges in the sides. Then came the plastic gallon jug of pig’s blood. Tolly snatched at it as if it weighed nothing, dragging it and the glass back to the farthest corner. There was nowhere in the room that he was actually hidden, but he crouched with his back to the door as he poured the cup full with a shaking hand and drained it. The taste of it was awful. It was claggy and congealing on the palate. But he felt precious blood, precious life, flowing back into himself. He felt his tongue and mouth grow moist again, the surfaces of his eyes slicker, and now he could see more clearly than before.

His stomach hurt, twisting inside him as the liquid hit. As much as he wanted to bolt all of the blood, in his present state he could not. He turned back with much more caution, ashamed of his reaction, wary of the other’s, and sat down against the wall far opposite Arden with jug and glass. Not one drop of red remained in the cup. He didn’t remember cleaning it all with his tongue, but he must have. Arden was paler, but they had not run away.

“Thank you, Arden,” he said. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” He must have moved unnaturally fast. He knew that he still looked like the same shriveled corpse apart from his eyes. But the voice that spoke to them was different now, a liquid, expert tenor, able to travel from baritone to falsetto and back in an easy glissade if he wished. Now Black Tolly had an angel's voice in a devil's face.

Arden blinked rapidly at him. He watched them swallow, searching for words.

“Don’t thank me,” they said. “You paid me a hundred thousand dollars for around thirty-five dollars’ worth of pig’s blood. Do you want me to put that in the fridge for you with this other one?”

“I will finish this one, but I must go slowly. It’s been a long time,” Tolly said. “If you could put the other one away for later, I would appreciate it very much. Every drop brings me nearer to life.”

“I will. I, I’ve brought some other things,” Arden said, color rising to their face.

Not used to direct compliments. Doesn’t know how to deal with direct thanks. Other people have been difficult for our Arden over these twenty-eight years, Tolly thought. He poured himself a second glass and set it carefully on the stone floor beside him, away from his rug.

“I could return there, but then you would have to look at me,” Tolly said gently.

“I don’t mind,” Arden said. They were still looking at the floor.

Part 6: Regeneration

@fleur-a-whump

[flowerslut]

shamefully despite how easily i am influenced i have not made my way through your ao3 catalogue. where would be a good starting point? (licking kink not required but always appreciated)

wow thanks for giving me an excuse to make a compilation of my (shorter) twilight fics that I want more people to read!!!!! ok ok so all my best favorite ones (minus call of the night. we are pretending call of the night does not exist, okay? dont think about it. dont even look at it) are my mid-length ones. now, first and foremost: I am an angst writer, and boy do I love to whump on alice and jasper, so in no particular order, you should read these fun little jalice fics while you wait for me to update roots over the next few weeks/months

North Star

rated: M words: 20,336 chapters: one-shot summary: "He’s the Eye of the South. The god of war. Master of battle and oracle of death. He’s not just the most dangerous weapon the world has ever seen, but he’s a man in love. And combining those two just makes this so much worse. Jasper sees a girl in his head, and he's afraid of what comes next."

thoughts: okay i lied, they are in a particular order. or at least this one is. this is my favorite twilight fic I've written (I think) and I got dramatic as fuck with it. written for jalice week back in 2021, the prompt was "power/ability swap" and you get exactly that: jasper is the psychic, alice is the empath, everything else is the same... or is it? this is also notably the first fic I ever sent to someone (g, obviously) to look over/give corrections to, so that might be why it has fewer stupid grammatical/sentence structure issues than most of my other stuff (minus roots). content warning for physical abuse, implied sexual assault, and mild sexual content. (also on ff.net)

The Almost Quiet

rated: T words: 10,365 chapters: one-shot summary: "He wants to blame loneliness, but maybe this is what was meant for him all along. A long road that leads to a depressing end. Longing after a girl he doesn’t know whose mind is lost."

thoughts: the last line of this fic is my personal favorite one I've written in recently memory! anyways this is an all-human AU, (sort of). in 1920, alice and jasper meet as humans and jasper's job gets much harder after that. this one is far from the best on this list, but it's entertaining, angsty, and has a satisfying ending imo. content warning for forced institutionalization and ableist language. (also on ff.net)

Déjà-rêvé

rated: T words: 6,551 chapters: one-shot summary: "It's nothing Alice had ever seen. It was no vision, no dream. It was only a possibility that had haunted the back of her mind like a nightmare for as long as she'd known what was out there for her to fear. Jasper had never known about this fear until it became their reality."

thoughts: this is the shortest one on this list, and since you like roots, you'll probably like this. its vaguely similar in that it's a whumpy post-breaking dawn AU, but this is only a snippet of an aftermath in which alice loses her power. wrote it for secret santa 2022 and had a BLAST with it. (if you want more whumpy one-shots my ao3 is chock full of whumptober prompts)

No Friend of Mine

rated: T words: 15,199 chapters: one-shot summary: "He contemplates telling Peter about Alice’s visits, but something holds him back from doing it. Perhaps because it doesn’t feel like Alice whenever she’s lying on his bedroom floor, curled in an old blanket that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her, utterly still and silent even while awake. A part of him feels like it would be a betrayal to reveal this side of her to someone even as close to him as Peter is. After all, Peter is his friend. And Alice is… well, not."

thoughts: I think this fic is severely underrated, but maybe that's because I literally came up with the concept and wrote it over the course of a day and a half or something insane like that, and I think that for a hastily written secret santa gift from 2020, it holds up sooo well. it's an all-human AU where alice is the weird new girl, and like always, jasper is in way over his head. all the cullens get a role, it has the 'fluffiest' moments, and its faaaantastic. content warning for child abuse.

The Hunted

rated: T words: 26,664 chapters: 11 summary: "It's not so wise if you try to run."

thoughts: this one is the most self-indulgent (with the most questionable characterization tbh) based on g's post from 2019 that says 'twilight, but when bella slips away from jasper and goes to the ballet studio to meet james, he isn’t there. he waited until everyone split up in the airport, and then went for alice instead. in the ensuing chaos, while everyone is freaking out, victoria grabs bella.' this is the only one on the list I might take a look at in the future to rewrite chunks of, but it's great fun your honor. ignore what anyone else tells you about the ending. but make sure to keep this short sequel/epilogue handy, for... reasons. (also on ff.net)

A Loyal Wife

rated: M words: 21,930 chapters: 5 summary: "Alice is only a Lady because she was forced to be one. She much rather preferred being untitled. Just a constant in this strange family of women. Girls both grown and not, betrothed to the man who protects and spoils them. Quickly the newborns realize that Alice is more weapon than wife, and that suits her just fine."

thoughts: last but certainly not least is my attempt at 'jalice enemies-to-lovers' that I wrote over the course of two days while on vacation. this story has everything: southern wars, a marriage cult, weird power dynamics, and [checks notes] trying to seduce your enemy mid-fight. this is another one of my favorites, and maybe the messiest (affectionate) as far as story content goes (of course, minus roots). content warnings for sexual assault/dubious consent.

[donnerpartyofone]

Ranting, complaining.

In my admittedly limited experience something that makes for bad therapy is the reductive impulse--the approach of reducing all psychological ailment to some general, universal experience. This is supposed to make you feel like you're in good company and not beyond help, but it can also be anonymizing and condescending. For instance suicide prevention rhetoric that focuses on the idea that it's all about loneliness makes me sort of crazy; I mean certainly there are instances where alienation is the main thing, especially with younger people I'd bet, but it's infantilizing to suggest that an adult couldn't have bigger, deeper problems than the need for more phone calls and hugs. And I think this misunderstanding enables the argument that suicide is a cruel thing to do to the people in your life, which is this awful mind trick people play to convince themselves that the pain of loss is serious but whatever pain it is that compels you to actually end your own life is somehow inconsequential and bearable. Apparently you should have just made more phone calls and asked for more hugs, no problem can't be solved by that, and if you didn't do this then other people get to hate you. I've seen people get so angry at their dear friends who committed suicide, and I've been in very bad places just to be told something like "you are not alone." Like no offense but I fucking know that, you're standing right there saying it to me aren't you? Please don't treat me like some lonely teenager, I have other things going on.

Another reductive thing is the strategy of trying to convince the patient that they are "normal". There's a post I once saw here about how someone's therapist blithely tells them "I mean what even IS 'normal' anyway!" like it's this amazing revelation, and the person lists three or four patently aberrant and damaging experiences that most people would never understand in order to say "Can you just try to get on my fucking level with this please?" Maybe that person WAS tormented by feeling abnormal but it's obviously unfair of their therapist to treat them like they can't tell their circumstances are unusual. Besides which you can accept the enlightened cosmic view that there's no such thing as "normal" or that there are more people like yourself than you'll ever know, and you can still be tortured by the effects of your experiences. Universality is not much comfort if something really hurts you.

A big part of my mental health struggles have to do with what I now understand are ADHD-related problems (and I believe ASD is also involved but I don't have that diagnosis yet). Like let's say half my problem is really deep complex depression and fear, and half of it is just the fact that every day is way harder than it needs to be because I can't get a grip on basic tasks. It's the Sisyphus thing, you might think you're a pretty decent guy and that many people share your problems, but eventually you may start wishing that boulder would just squash you the next time it rolls back down because the situation is unmanageable. My first therapist treated me like I was exaggerating or making up all my practical hangups due to low self-esteem. My third therapist accepted that I was being truthful but she would say to me, "Well what if YOU'RE not wrong, what if the rest of the WORLD is wrong!" Like yes I agree the world should be more accommodating to people with different neurological conditions or whatever but whether or not I blame myself for everything, the "everything" is still wrecking my life. Doing mental gymnastics to put a positive spin on it has zero effect on what a hard time I'm having. Please don't talk to me like I'm some child who has never heard that it's OK to be different. If you do I will go insane and I will roam the streets doing Victorian madwoman behaviors and I will not get over it for a long time.

Another thing therapist #3 did that seems to be popular was to take away the words "insane" and "crazy"--and like I do understand what that's about, a generalized diagnosis of just being "fucked up" doesn't help you get to the bottom of things. But if you prevent me from saying those words that will not stop me from feeling crazy and insane. You're just arguing semantics with me when we could be talking productively about my issues and this may actually make me feel crazier.