#my absurd and probably disordered anxiety

[dreamsy990]

people will say any character who is nervous under reasonable circumstances at least twice has anxiety. which is absurd. anxiety is not just occasionally being nervous guys please. i love when characters have anxiety but please.

[a-totally-reasonable-username]

Doctors/Nurses/Therapists: Fuck you your child is fine!

My mom: My child is uncontrollably moving like they're fucking possessed and paralyzed afterwards.

[silenthillmutual]

hi! i saw your post on ocd and it home bc for a few months now i've been asking myself if i have it. i definitely have intrusive thoughts, maybe compulsions, i think all closer to moral ocd? however i absolutely don't have the means and time to seek a diagnosis or therapy rn so i was wondering: do you have tips or like, little things that make dealing with intrusive thoughts a bit easier?

hiya!

that's totally understandable, sometimes it simply isn't possible to go through all that - i didn't start getting treated until i was in my late 20s, so i spent a lot of time just trying to navigate life without therapy or meds.

recognizing i'm dealing with an intrusive thought and that it isn't a "regular" thought helps me still, because some of mine sneak up on me, or i'll think they're justified, or i'll think they're related to something else, like my mood disorder. even when i'm going through a period where i'm having a lot of intrusive thoughts, i can recognize that the thought itself is an outlier (and should not be counted). this makes dealing with it easier for me.

the actual factual real advice i get in therapy for dealing with intrusive thoughts is called radical acceptance, and with that comes acknowledging what you are experiencing, acknowledging your lack of control, and accepting it. it also means not fighting your intrusive thoughts, but sitting with them. allowing them to happen. and then moving on. tbh, it can be really difficult to do this, and really frightening when you first start out. it feels natural to flinch. but i think that even practicing it out on intrusive thoughts that don't feel as bad or as big to you can help.

something i did for a long while was writing down my intrusive thoughts on a slip of paper, and then shredding the paper as a way of getting the thought out and then letting go of it

ymmv on how workable this is, but keeping (reasonably!!!) busy can help. i tried to do way too much in college (do not take 8+ classes a semester that is wayyyyy overdoing it and you will burn yourself out) but it was also probably the most sociable i've ever been. which hopefully leads to more support when it's especially bad.

if there's anyone you feel safe enough to talk about it to, that can also really help. espeically if they a) have it themselves, or b) know about it/are willing to learn. it's good if there's someone irl, but even having someone online who can... help ground you, if that makes sense. my buddy elie will sometimes say "bro that is your ocd talking", and that can calm the righteous fury/crushing anxiety/whatever it is today by realizing that it is 1) not that serious and/or 2) incredibly unlikely to happen. (i find this works best w my moral ocd symptoms & my 'what-ifs')

my last big one was just Getting Silly With It. for a long while i was responding to my intrusive thoughts by treating them like a lucid dream and changing the situation to something completely absurd. sometimes i'd respond to it by thinking 'and thats my pitch for a horror novel!' at the end of the thought. then for a while i'd say 'okay gideon' bc giving it a name and a face made it easier to see it as like. a problem i could at least look at. i can't say these are necessarily the best coping skills, i've never really told my therapist abt these methods, but i still do them on reflex sometimes when i think 'i dont have time to sit here and deal with this thought'.

journaling in general also helps esp if you can identify stressors in your life that might be making it worse.

wishin you luck!

[sawyerconfort]

hey I wanted to ask for a Duke angsty fluff with the prompt “your not alone, you never were” as in like the reader and Duke are friends and they find out about Dukes bulimia and try to comfort her and then Duke confesses her feeling for the reader and it ends with fluff

Hey!

It's been a long time since I've been here to write, and I'll definitely do it more often next year. It's just that, my life is completely crazy, I have too many commitments and every time I come back here, I always have a new idea for a fanfic on Wattpad instead hahahaha

Anyway, but that's not the point now. I know I've been promising you this for a while, so here it is. Anon, sorry for the delay, I really wanted to get this to you sooner, and if you didn't give up waiting, I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

No, requests are not open, at least until next year!

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

Not Strong Enough | Heather Duke x Reader

PROMPT: I don't know what to tell you, just that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time with your best friend who always swore she wouldn't hide anything from you.

WARNINGS: Mentions of bulimia, eating disorder, mental health, distorted image, anxiety.

***

"Hi, how are you? Like, class has started, how long does it take you to touch up your makeup?"

You ask. You're standing outside the women's bathroom, trying to get the attention of your best friend, Heather, who is on the other side of the door. It was a long conversation until you got the teacher's permission to leave the class, because the students had just returned from break, and it was like a school rule that you couldn't leave after break, or something like that.

Heather Duke said that she was going to walk you to class, but she needed to touch up her makeup first, and, even though you didn't know exactly how long it would take to do that, you found it strange that she was taking so long.

It wasn't news to anyone that Heather practically lived in the bathroom. The other two Heathers knew why she did this almost all the time, but you, her best friend, apparently didn't even know the half of it, and she refused to tell you, who knows why.

Determined to put an end to this torture, you invented an absurd excuse for the teacher and left the room, going to the bathroom door, where you were now, just being careful that Ms. Fleming didn't catch you and give you detention while you 'spy'.

"I'm almost done, it's just…", you heard her say on the other side, and then, the sentence remained there, incomplete, hanging in an eternal echo on the bathroom door. Heather was never silent, you were fully aware of that, and so, even if it was inconvenient, you did the first thing that came into her head.

Thankful that there were no other girls in the bathroom, for countless reasons, you opened the door abruptly, without even blinking.

The scene was a bit embarrassing and scary at first. You heard someone expel, and then you came across Heather Duke in one of the stalls, bent over the toilet, with the stall door half open because of the wind when you opened the bathroom door.

Running as if this was the last thing you were going to do in your life - and it would probably be because she was going to kill you when she found out that you had practically broken down the door -, you knelt behind her and held her long hair up.

But it was too late. Her perfect green uniform had a few drops of vomit on it, and the smell was even worse.

“Hey, hey, easy, easy…” you murmured, and felt Heather Duke gasp in her arms, scared. "It's okay, it's just me. It's okay, relax."

She took a deep breath and finally raised her head. You made her hair into a loose bun and flushed the toilet, restraining yourself from throwing up too. Then he closed the lid and took it out of the cabin, to the taps. Heather looked in the mirror and sighed, lowering her head shortly after.

"Is everything okay? If you want to throw up again, I'll hold you back," you whispered, worrying. She looked at you for a minute and shook her head. "Okay, then this is better. Now… I know it's a little inconvenient to ask, but why did you lie to me?"

"And I didn't lie, I withheld, they are two different things."

You rolled your eyes, and Heather sighed. Suddenly the idea became a little funny, and you commented, to lighten the mood. "Look, I know the cafeteria food isn't appetizing, okay? You don't need to feel guilty about telling me this, I won't tell anyone."

But his joke didn't have the expected effect on Heather Duke. She looked at you, frowned, then raised her eyebrow.

"Isn't that what you were talking about…?", she whispered, but you heard her, and it was her turn to frown.

"About what?"

"Nothing," Heather said, shaking her head and looking in the mirror again. "You know I didn't eat anything for lunch, don't you?"

You looked at her, frowned again. "You didn't? Why? Did something happen? Or because the mashed potatoes…"

"No, it's not the mashed potatoes, (Y\N), stop talking about food."

"Heather, what's your problem? Tell me, I want to help you, please. You're hiding something from me and I'm your best friend, that's not fair at all, please tell me!"

You didn't expect to express that feeling of anger and fear with so much anxiety and so much euphoria. But you did. And she opened her eyes wide in surprise, swallowing hard. Looking at the ground, you witnessed for the first time the moment Heather Duke let her guard down.

"I withheld something from you because…", she began, and cleared her throat, before turning to you, hands resting on the sink. "…no, you'll hate me forever, and I know I won't be able to handle it."

“Heather, don’t…” you whispered, approaching her slowly. "Tell me, please, I want to help you. I'm not here to hate you, I promise."

She sighed again and lowered her head. "I… I have bulimia, (Y\N)…"

"You what?", yes, that was your first reaction, and of course you couldn't hold back that reaction, such was the shock of receiving this news. "Wait, since when?"

"Since the beginning of the year", she confessed, still very quietly. "I think it started, actually, when I joined the Heathers, and I had to come to high school with this mentality of being popular. I… I didn't like my body and I thought people wouldn't think I was popular and brilliant. If I were…you know, fat."

You swallowed again.

"I didn't know that stopping eating would lead me to this kind of thing, it's just… looking in the mirror was torture, and it got even worse after I started. I wanted to eat something, and every time I saw In my reflection I saw my body distorting, enlarging, and that wouldn't make me a popular girl, so I just… stopped eating because at least that wouldn't make my image distort and people would like me."

"And why did you hide this from me? I would have done anything to help you, anything at all…"

'Because you didn't care about that kind of thing, (Y\N). You saw me and see me as the perfect girl, I know that, and I didn't want… I didn't want to be responsible for getting that image of me out of your head…", she laughed. "Or because I was maybe trying make me look tough, you know? It also helped with me being popular…"

You smiled, but Heather seemed to have something to say, something else, so you waited, patiently.

"And also because… I… I didn't want you to see me as a failure because… because I couldn't stand it," she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for keeping this from you. I didn't mean for you to be hurt, I was just trying to protect you because… because I love you."

Heather's speech took you by surprise, and you widened your eyes, increasingly confused. She stopped for two minutes and continued babbling, saying that she knew you would figure all this out eventually, and that she felt terrible for liking you as more than a friend, and that you would say she was confusing things, and that you would definitely want to get away from her now that you knew the truth.

And you didn't do any of that. You only stopped her from continuing to speak, pressing your lips to hers and holding her face with both hands. There wasn't a moment where you said you loved her back before the kiss, but it was enough like that. Because there was nothing more like you than surprising a girl with your unexpected, impulse-filled actions.

Heather pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes, frowning in her direction. "Aren't you mad at me because I just confessed to you?"

“Definitely not,” you whispered. "I love you too, silly. And I want you to know that I won't leave you alone. And that you will have me by your side to keep you on track with your looks and your body," you touched her face again. "I love you like this, the way you are, and I don't care if you're fat, ugly, full of pimples or with thin legs like someone who doesn't exercise during the week, regardless of all that, Heather… "

She smiled, as you leaned closer again.

"I love you. I've always loved you and I'll never stop loving you, whatever that may be, in whatever sense…"

"Go out with me?", she whispered, now acting on impulse. "Please?"

Your eyes widened. "What the fuck was that?"

She shrugged.

"I'm just trying. You don't have to accept it if you don't want to."

“I’ll take it, yes, Heather,” you said, and then touched her cheek. "But only if you agree to eat with me. Even if it's measly junk food."

[leonardoeatscarrots]

I agree with you about all the issues of The Chosen, but i didn't understand the mislabeling mental ilnesses, were you referring to Mary Magdalene?

Ehhh kind of? Moreso the way they picture possessed characters in general.

While I understand that demons, and more specifically possession, are a part of biblical Canon, the way they are tackled in The Chosen is distasteful in my personal opinion.

The primary reason being that the symptoms used to indicate possession have a heavy overlap with symptoms of real life mental health issues and physical conditions.

Such as:

Seizure

Strokes

Tourretes/other involuntary movements

Meltdowns/outbursts/anger issues

Panick attacks

Hypermobilty

Schizophrenia or similar disorders

Drug use disorders

Self injury

Really anything that may cause unpredictable behavior, distorted sense of self, ""unnatural movements"", low/no empathy and bad understanding of social cues (actually happened to me once, weird story), and WAY more. This is in no way a conclusive list.

This actually has a sort of explanation. Because back in Ye Olde Times of Jesus Christ they didn't have these kinds of diagnoses. So, they would have come up with something to explain these undesirable behaviors. This is exactly why early civilizations have mythology and religion to begin with, in order to explain what they don't understand.

In Mary Magdaline's case specifically, she showed a lot of symptoms of depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress, etc. And for a moment, I was actually really excited to see where they would take this narrative. To me, it seemed very clear that they were intending to have serious discussions of mental health. Until later in the show, it was revealed that it was, in fact, SERIES CANON that a demon possession was the thing that cast her into the initial situation.

Added with every other demon possession in the show....

I think it's pretty self-explanatory why this is bad, but for those who need it: this only isolates disabled people from the church, dehumanizes them, teaches people they are scary, unnatural, undesirable, and in extreme cases corrupt. It makes the religion as a whole look... quite unsavory.

And while it might seem absurd or irrelevant now, I am very sorry to tell you that there is a crowd of people out there who still genuinely believe in demon possessions. I myself have been accused (once again, complicated), and I have a family member who was also accused. I know that's only two cases, but that's two too many in one lifetime if you ask me. And even if people don't believe that, there is still a very real stigma that follows it.

Now, I understand that with those sorts of events happening in the Bible, the show writers probably didn't want to cut them out. BUT with a semi-omnitient son-of-God character in their toolbelt, they could just say that while the main cast assumes it's a demon, Jesus knows its not really (maybe plays along just for the sake of not confusing anyone) and helps the individual and their problem.

This fix would not only help humanize people with these struggles, instead of LITERALLY demonizing them, but it would also add a little more intrigue to Jesus as a character, especially in a place where disabled folks previously felt unwelcome.

[goldy-engine]

Finally updating this

Salutations everyone! Welcome to my tumblr, I’ve been here a while subtly, I joined sometime last year? Maybe 2, stopped being active, had a Pokémon ghost hyperfixation , and then the trains came back.

I am the number 1 lady fan and I am very chaotic about it

I am trying to be more active these days but it’s an off and on thing

So first things first, Hi I am Montague! But I also go by Viggo. I use any pronouns. I am a therian (an southern residential orca to be exact). I am never fluid with my identity it’s all over the place. I am everything aand nothing at once. I am a guy in the Enderman way, a girl in a locomotive way, and genderless in a horrifying creature sort of way.

I am autistic and have adhd and some anxiety disorder, those aren’t really important to know but it was probably obvious to begin with lol

I like trains, dinosaurs, space, ocean animals, Pokémon, httyd, HTF, Monster high, Minecraft, MSM, FNAFSL, JJBA, animation memes,MLP, ENA, and a bunch of other things

This blog will be to focus on my engines,

My main focus will be my main au, that I mostly just call the Absurdity of Sodor.

I often am indecisive though and go back and fourth on my choices, but I also will focus on the past of this AU and current day and the future. But mostly focus on adventures and sometimes slice of life things with Diesel 10 (especially through her redemption arc of becoming a better diesel), Lady, and Hiro most of the time and Polo!

Polo is my self insert, I will make an even more detailed post about her soon. I want to get into her backstory, I’ve been wanting to, I just need to force my self to at some point.

I do OC X canon here so if that’s not your cup of tea you may not like my stories.

She’s polyamorous so she may be seen with multiple characters, but especially Lady, Diesel 10, and Hiro.

I have a few other AUs

Such as my

Horror of the rails Au

which is about a much stranger and scarier version of Hiro of the rails, where Hiro is actually an antagonist and has been luring engines to tear them apart to rebuild himself after making a deal with an evil soul who has corrupted him, unaware of the harm that he is causing because of the evil soul.

Reconciliation au

About Lady feeling envious of newer engines and becoming evil and working with a Diesel 10, feeling that if she won’t be remembered for the good, she might as well be known for the bad, just like Diesel

Experimental Au

This one focuses on Diesel 10 where he and a few other engines were taken and experimented on as apart of Sir Topham Hatt’s secret plan to try and turn some of the engines into weapons.

And

The collapse of Sodor

A AU that is a wip that I am working on with my brother that will have a lot of endings but mainly focusing on the engines turning against the humans after an incident, many accidents happening, Lady goes missing but her magic is overflowing and Timothy the ghost engines return to try and become a god

But anyway, for the most part I’ll be focusing on my absurdity of a sodor au focusing on the silly and odd things of life here on Sodor, and maybe lore and backstories and stuff

DNI list:

Homophobic

Transphobic or just lgbtphobic in general

Don’t support neopronouns or xenogenders

Racist

Proship

Zoophiles

Support isreal

Super political

Anti-therian

Anti-otherkin

Anti-furry

A super negative person

Cause drama or issues on purpose

Don’t support selfshipping

Anti-agere

Or just overall a shitty person

[aidelbosque]

VOICES

This was meant to be a monologue I wrote for an exercise in my drama group, but I've never got the chance to make it come to life, partially because everyone forgot about this assignment and the other half because I didn't really liked how it came out. Translating it to English was fun and helped me change some parts that I wasn't happy with.

TW: anxiety/eating disorder and body dysmorphia/self-esteem issues/ self doubt/ i don't know I've touched a lot of things

Sometimes my brain feels like the static on a radio, not a single thought is fully formed.

Other days, I can focus on a task, all my brain power to do a thing.

Maybe I forgot about everything else, but at least I'm doing something.

The worst days?

My brain feels like a school cafeteria on a busy day.

Full of people.

Talking all at once.

Full of voices shouting at me different things, making me think too much and at the same time not letting me think at all.

It always starts with the same voice:

The one that quickly lists all the things I have to do.

Next to it, there's another – frantic – timing how much time I have left to finish them

And above them both, the one that for some absurd reason prevents me from being a functional person that day.

In the middle of it all, there´s the one that won´t stop yelling until I get up to make a coffee.

Only to leave it forgotten on the counter because another voice distracts me with some other nonsense.

Sometimes, a voice appears, throwing such absurd thoughts that they sneak in, making me stop and ask myself if I’m really thinking this.

One voice tells me to jump out of the window and instantly suggests I should shave my eyebrows or put a spoon in the microwave, just to see what happens.

And despite the absurdity of these thoughts, they slip in so deeply that I start to question my own sanity.

Then the symphony of accusations begins: The one that says I’m a bad person

The one that calls me a coward

The one that says I’m a bad friend

The one that wonders what I’m doing with my life.

The one that convinces me that everyone hates me or that I make bad decisions

The one that wonders why can’t I be a normal person.

The one that says I don’t fit anywhere, convinced that I’m going to end up alone.

And finally, the voice of reason, trying to bring me back to reality when I start spiralling, whispering so softly that I can barely hear it.

Probably because I’m obsessed with self-sabotage.

The voice that wants me to focus on music, play the guitar, and write songs no one will ever hear – hand in hand with the one that wants me to quit my job and pursue acting.

The one that’s proud of my achievements, and the one that thinks nothing is ever enough.

The one who sees me incapable of everything.

The one that worries I should eat something and the one that insists I’ve already eaten enough.

The one that hates every inch of what I see in the mirror, always at odds with the one that sees a goddess.

The one that would love, even for just a second, to see what others see.

The one that’s panicking right now, unsure why I’m airing my problems in front of strangers – yet somehow... feeling some kind of relief.

The one that wonders if I’ve ever truly been happy or if I was just less insane.

The one that’s sure I’ve been happy but can’t recall a single memory to prove it.

The one that wants to start a midlife crisis at 30, and the sarcastic one that says that doesn’t exist, that I need to stop being so dramatic—it’s not due until 40. But don’t forget about skincare, it says, because becoming an old, wrinkled lady is definitely real… even though I still deal with acne breakouts every month.

In the background, there’s always the one that hums whatever song I’ve decided to obsess over that day.

The voice that always creates alternate worlds where everything would have been different – imagining decisions and paths I never took because I wouldn’t have dared in real life, as if that could change anything–. In a way, these fantasies feel like a refuge in a perfect happy life, but when this idea settles, doubts flood in, only giving more freedom to the other voices to back their arguments against me. It’s an endless cycle, a spiral that only traps me further in the noise, pulling me down against my will.

And then there's the voice that constantly worries about the future, creating plan B, C, D, E…

The one that won’t stop thinking about the past.

The one that can’t focus on the present because the rest are just so fucking loud.

Sometimes, the worst part isn’t that the voices are shouting.

The worst part is that I’ve gotten so used to hearing this noise that it feels normal to live in a constant tug-of-war of thoughts that make me question my sanity every day.

Sometimes I wonder if I should give more space to the positive voices.

But honestly, what I truly long for is to mute all the voices and experience, for the first time, absolute silence.

A silence where maybe, just maybe, I could find myself.

--------

A/N: This thing touches a lot of issues I had and have with myself, but I assure you I'm doing a lot better now. This last year , I decided to write when I was spiralling and really helped a lot to see things with perspective. Aaaaanyway, enough with the author's note, I hope you enjoy seeing me spiral into insanity and any feedback is very welcome <3

[jancjorich]

one time when i was 14 at the church youth group they brought in a therapist to do a little speech for us about mental health and wellness. y'know. for awareness. and she was trying to illustrate the difference between anxiety and nervousness being that nervousness is warranted whereas anxiety is exaggerating an outcome. so knowing her audience she was like "sometimes you feel sick and you're NERVOUS you're going to poop yourself" and we all giggled. and then, apparently having NO idea there might actually be a mentally ill child in the room, she asked us "now raise your hand if you're worried you'll poop yourself ALL the time" because that's supposed to sound absurd apparently but there i was raising my hand because i guess i was the only little freak in the church youth group with an anxiety disorder that made me get so stressed i'd get diarrhea and subsequently be scared all the time that i might get surprise diarrhea. nobody laughed or even acknowledged me she just moved on without addressing mr. poopy pants. and then later we played hot potato with a potato and i ate it raw when we were done which was probably not a good idea after the whole church youth group touched it i don't know why they let me do that

[lucifer-is-a-hermit]

Vent rant time boyyyyzzzz

I'm tired of my 8 million diagnosed and undiagnosed issues. Like can my stomach stop try to pump its acid up my throat to destroy me insides. Can I eat without feeling dizzy and nauseated for one. I feel like that is fuckin impossible. I'm now having issues with bladder control and I'm just fuckin done. I don't have the money or effort to see a doctor about all of that. Everything is busy going to my mental health.

My shitty fucking mental health that just seems to just be getting worse.

Also being poor as hell helps my eating disordered thoughts to run rampant and take over. Not like I have a chance at even starting to untangle that ball of yarn.

My cocktail of meds is changing now, which is throwing everything more out of wack. And God forbid I have the mental energy and willpower to turn in applications for jobs. Not like it will do anything since my boyfriend is applying to everything around us and finding nothing. And he has job experience and a high school diploma.

Speaking of high school diploma I have a place next to me that will let me get a full ass high school diploma and not just a GED, but my anxiety just, I just can't. I know it will improve my living situation which puts it as something with higher stakes which just makes it so much worse. Not to mention the trouble I had in school was with homework and research, and that's all my final course is.

Besides what's the point. I just. God. My brain is on full overdrive all the time, and I need more support and care when is comes to my autism, but it's hard for people to see. Not like people seeing would do much to fuckin fix it. I don't have money to throw at my problems. Which is so lovely since money is my biggest fuckin problem in the first place.

And I'm being a fuckin horrible cat dad on top of all of it. I can't find the clippers for my poor kitty's claws and she keeps getting them stuck on things and scratching things she shouldn't. And it'll be to hard to even look for the clippers with how bad of a mess the house is. The amount of trash that needs taken out along with the amount of laundry that needs done is just absurd and insurmountable. Her litter box is pretty ripe too.

I'm also fuckin sick with what is probably covid so all I can do is sit around as my problems and what I should be doing run through my head while I hardly have the energy to hydrate myself. Oh wait I actually don't have the energy to do that and my boyfriend does it for me even though he is sicker than me because I just can't get it for myself no matter how unbearable it becomes.

Fuck man I don't even know where to start when it comes to fixing everything.

Not to mention the constant ticker of the money I inherited from my dad's death running out. Christ man I'm in my early 20s and I have inheritance money from my dad and bladder control issues. What in the absolute living hellscape is my life.

Plus despite having 2 different fuckin therapists therapy seems to be working less and less for me.

[shoku-and-awe]

I first came to Japan at 16, and of the 10 years since my 20th birthday, I’ve spent 8.5 here. It’s weird to think about how being an outsider for so long (and while I was still figuring out who I was) has shaped my personality.

When I started working here, they told me that everything I did would be taken as a statement as a representative of my employer, of my home country, and of foreigners as a whole. It’s hard to really understand what that feels like without experiencing it for yourself.

One time a few years ago, I went for lunch with coworkers and on our way back, it started to rain. One of them said to me, “Huh, I never knew gaijin didn’t use umbrellas.” He didn’t say, “shoku-and-awe doesn’t use umbrellas” or even “Americans don’t use umbrellas” but “Everyone in the world who is not Japanese by birth doesn’t use umbrellas.” That’s a big assumption. (I’d left mine at my desk because it had been sunny when we left.) 

#notalljapanesepeople do this. But this kind of statement is quite common, (even with people who are worldly enough to know better -- enough so that I feel I have to be constantly aware of the possibility, guessing how whatever choices I make are going to reflect on non-Japanese people the whole world round. If I order one too many drinks and climb a tree in Ueno Park to serenade the moon with “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” that’s not a choice I’m making as one dumb drunk idiot; it’s the public policy of a global ambassador. Also, the OL who sees me is going to tell her daughter, who is one day going to grow up to be a landlord and refuse to rent her apartment to some poor research student from Lithuania or Peru or Morocco because foreigners are unpredictable (and also people in Hollywood movie wear shoes indoors). It’s hard to have that kind of responsibility all the time.

This was bothering me today because I forgot to bring a face towel to yoga. It’s a hot yoga class (up to ~39C / ~102.2F) so you need something to wipe your sweat. I had two options (1) use my shower towel or (2) rent a face towel. For whatever reason, I was paralyzed and could not make a decision.

I realized that the worst of the evils, the only outcome I really wanted to avoid, was people remarking on what I chose. So really, the choice isn’t (1) use my towel for free and have to dry off with something sweaty, or (2) pay to rent a clean face towel; it’s (1) use my towel and hear “Foreigners aren’t clean like Japanese people” or (2) rent one and hear “Wow, so fastidious -- you’re more Japanese than Japanese!”

Even if nobody said these things to me (today, I mean -- these things have been said to me in the past many, many times), I would hear them in my head anyway because they’ve been said to me in the past -- many, many times.

My personality is obviously a big part of this problem. If I was more willing to assert myself, less eager to just make things easier on the group as a whole, I’d have been less susceptible, but that’s just the way I’ve always been. But living with this awareness for so long has exacerbated some innate characteristics, and it’s surprising how often I’m in a situation where genuinely my only concern is how my choice will be perceived, not what the outcome will be.

It bears repeating -- it’s hard to have this responsibility. I take a lot of care with my appearance in ways I didn’t before. I’ve lost a lot of weight. When I leave my apartment, I am very, very conscious of how much space I take up, where I walk, where I stop, who’s around me, how loud my voice is. What’s worse, I’m very anxious around people who don’t have this same crushing awareness. It can be very stressful to go out with foreign friends who don’t understand what meiwaku and inconvenience our very presence is; I don’t want to spend our time together shushing them and herding them and policing their behavior, but the stress of feeling everyone’s eyes on me (imagined or no) is equally unappealing.

I know I’m not the only one who does this, but I often go out of my way to avoid unfamiliar foreigners. Like, cross-the-street, choose-a-different-restaurant level of avoidance. The obvious reason for this is that I don’t want to be associated with any potential bad behavior (and while lots of people do know the rules, statistically it’s safer to assume that any given individual is a tourist and will not). Because I know that everyone is going to assume all foreigners in a given location are together (which is a rational enough assumption).

Another reason is that I’m not always in the mood to run interference. If it’s giving directions or interpreting a brief conversation, whatever, it’s fine, but sometimes asking if you’re okay means that I have to go with you to the hospital, interpret for a few hours before the doctors finally diagnose you (as suffering from a rare combination of “discount-sushi-itis” and “nine shots of vodka that you lied about having had”), and then walk home alone at 3:30 AM in the cold. I am wary of this happening to me too often. Also, I’m probably already late for wherever I’m going.

And the other thing that happens when people assume (rationally) that any foreigners they see are together, if things go wrong, you can’t assume that anyone will help. I don’t run into this very often, but for example, when handing off freecycle things, or, once, talking with a few Russian sailors at an outdoor concert. The sun started to set, they started to get drunk and increasingly rowdy and even though I didn’t have cause to think that anything was going to happen, I had to recognize that if something did, it would be happening between foreigners. If one of them groped me or grabbed me, people would assume I was his wife; if I yelled, people would assume it was a domestic argument. 

Or would they? Maybe someone would have gotten involved on my behalf. Or maybe they wouldn’t even get involved on another Japanese person’s behalf -- given what I know of train groping, that’s a reasonable assumption. 

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I guess I’m a different person than I would have been if I’d stayed in the US. I was already a different person than I would’ve been if my parents had decided to raise me in Prague after all. Finish the sentence any way you want -- I’m a different person than I would have been if correct horse battery staple. I’m just kind of unhappy with some of these aspects of my personality. I feel stifled a lot. I mean, I have good days too, but it’s difficult for me to not care. 

One last thought -- I have a list of ways I am most likely to die. I think it’s hysterical, but it seems to alarm people, for whatever reason. Here they are, in no particular order.

Food poisoning from obviously rotten sushi that I ate because someone said へ〜、生物ダメなの？ [You can’t eat raw food?]

Spontaneous human combustion induced by social awkwardness

Earthquake or earthquake-related disaster

Stabbed by a stranger I snarked at for cutting in line

Swallowing my phone in anxiety at an unexpected phone call

So. Do you all know how you’re gonna die? Do you care more about the sweatiness of a towel or what a stranger might think about it? Do you cross the street to avoid other foreigners? Have I crossed the street to avoid you? (Sorry if so!) The end. 

[mangodestroyer]

I should probably mention that I headcanon Aziraphale and Crowley as neurodivergent, and so even if I don't tag that in my fics, they are still always neurodivergent in my stories and posts.

Since I'm not a psychologist, I don't have an exact diagnosis for either of them. I only have a general idea based on what symptoms I tend to give them/see them having. Personally, I only have one officially diagnosed condition. I was diagnosed with semantic-pragmatic disorder at the age of five. It's now known as social communication disorder and it's a lifelong, permanent condition. For those who don't know what this is, it's a condition that is similar to autism. It comes with many of the social difficulties of autism, such as lack of eye contact, weird body language, and an inability to read others. It also comes with the misuse of words and terms, and probable speech problems. It's also possible that I could just straight up be autistic. I was pretty close to meeting the criteria as a child, which has now changed. And there are also many reasons this diagnosis could have been overlooked in my situation. I do tend to have some of the symptoms of autism such as stimming, hyperfixations, and sensory issues. However, it's also possible that I don't meet enough of the criteria and this is only really a theory that some therapists and people who are familiar with autism have about me.

So it's probably easy to see why making them neurodivergent is appealing to me. I personally just find it difficult to make a character 100% NT or socially competent. And again, I just see this being a possible interpretation for these characters.

I see Aziraphale as having lots of anxiety issues and obsessive tendencies. I see Crowley as having difficulties staying focused, speech problems, and possible sensory issues (being a snake and a demon likely leads to some of those). I also think Crowley goes through cycles of being hyperactive and then lazy. And struggles a bit with his mood. I think they both hyperfixate on things.

I'm also mentioning all of this because I'm planning on writing more one-shots that explore this side of them. So I don't want anyone to be shocked if I, say, write about Crowley having a meltdown or whatever. I guess there's just a part of me that worries people will find it ridiculous because people without these issues tend to find that behavior absurd in adults.

[angieflynns]

I really do get why people might think its' bad and ableist to say that Neville Parker excessively worries about his safety since he does have real medical conditions...but also I don't think anyone freaking out about that has ever been a chronically ill person with anxiety disorder, because I may have very real worries about things that could make me ill, but sometimes the things my anxiety freaks out about are absolutely absurd.

And yeah, I think Neville is probably similar to me and others like me in that way.

[lady-wildflower]

That's very similar to the way I'm doing Lal's emotions in my fanfic where she survives! She has emotions, but she's not human so why would they present like human emotions if they're due to her own systems rather than a specially designed emotion chip?

She panics and gets scared because her programming meant to extrapolate from input, like maths and trajectories and probabilities, is overactive and goes into overdrive projecting negative occurrences and start looping in on themselves. Because of that tendency, she manifests as having an anxiety disorder even if the details aren't the same, and it has some pros and cons! She has a better 'imagination' than Data, but she also can't read as fast as he can because she can't not extrapolate from what she's reading, which takes processing time. She gets distressed and confused when her extrapolatory circuits can't figure something out. Lal laughs (which manifests as more of a beep) when her positronic brain becomes preoccupied with an absurd comparison, she becomes robotic and lilted because the unsealed inputs of emotional feedback she wasn't designed for leak into her movement protocols and her systems are too busy handling the emotions to handle actively imitating human beings (which is basically masking tbh). Her anger is born of a strong need to rebut in an argument.

It's also an interesting exercise in writing, because if she doesn't know what an emotion is yet, then naturally I have to figure out how this under a year old android would experience it without ever mentioning the emotion itself, including Lal's own confusion over 'wait what is this emotion now?'

And really, there's no real reason to assume Data can't feel the exact same computing-equivalent emotions. Hell, I'd argue it's possible Data would were it not for a programming block from Soong dulling them, he says Data and Lore are virtually identical except for a bit of programming. Just look at how he describes missing people, in similar terms - his net can anticipate inputs common to certain people and their absence is notable. And if Lal was constructed with 1:1 copies of Data's pathways, either there's some mutations happening or Data is fully capable of anxiety just like she is (I personally go with both).

Data: I am incapable of emotions, therefore it is not possible for me to ever be offended by anything

Data the second someone says something rude to him:

[peachypede]

✈️ 💔🍸 for Pecha andddd 💯🐉 🎮 for Aman?

Ask meme is here!

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

Traveling is very nostalgic for Pecha. Most of her childhood consisted of going on research trips with her dad and camping out in the wilderness to study bugs. Name a forest in any region and she’s probably been there. In her recent years she’s become more of a homebody, but she still very much enjoys traveling when the opportunity comes up.

Plus she didn’t get to go to many cities during her travels with her dad, so she loves being able to check out shops.

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Anxious - Pecha has an anxiety disorder. She worries about almost anything and everything, especislly social interactions.

Obsessive - Her adhd brings hyper-fixation, which sometimes centers around people. With how romantic minded she is, it can become accidentally overbearing.

Pessimistic - Pecha fears about the worst case scenarios that she often perceives them to be the only scenario that can happen. Someone gave her a funny look? They probably hate her, she must have done something to upset them, etc.

🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink?

Since her anxiety gives her IBS, she tries to keep her drinks mild. Beer, red/white wine, whiskey, vodka, and gin tend to be low-FODMAP (aka the carbohydrates in alchohol that can trigger digestive symptoms) so she tends to stick with them. She’s also a lightweight so…she tries to limit things to one drink only.

Gin and tonic is her go to drink usually at bars, despite being teased occasionally that it’s an old man drink. It’s really the best thing for her stomach. Since beer is usually the casual party drink, it’s easier for her to fit in there. Rarely does she go for anything stronger though.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

- Aman was the son of a crime lord in Sinnoh before the accident that left left him orphaned and without his right limbs. If that accident hadnt happened, Aman probably would have grown up in a gang. (And this is why he was sent out of country to be adopted in order to make sure he was safe from rival gang members)

- The carefree attitude he has is really a front. He harbors a lot of anger inside that he releases during his job. He hates people he loves seeing that part of himself.

- He actually wants to have a family someday. He’s a sentimental guy deep down and there’s nothing that tugs his heart strings more than thinking of settling down someday with someone and having kids.

🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature?

Since this is the pokemon world, I’m guessing this applies to mythical/legendary pokemon.

Aman’s favorite is Arceus but also that’s funny because he’s religious so he’s basically saying “God is my favorite”.

After Arceus, it’s probably Azelf. Aman just felt like he had a personal connect with it when he was a child.

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

- Reading is a big favorite, especially classics. Also just reading anything absurd or crazy. He finds weird books funny. (Badly written romance novels are good)

- Painting/drawing. He was raised by artists and they would consider it a tragedy if Aman didnt know how to paint and draw as well. He’s not good at drawing humans or pokemon, so he sticks with plants and humans objects.

- Hanging out with people that aren’t related to his assignments. It’s nice to not have to worry about every single thing he’s saying. (Although he keeps the whole being an Interpol Agent thing quiet still of course)

[duuhrayliegh]

my hero - request

request: anon: hi could you write a sebastian x female reader fic where she suffers from anxiety and feels bad because of it but he comforts her and tells her there’s nothing wrong with her and how strong she is even though she has this disorder

pairing: sebastian stan x female!reader

warnings: self-esteem issues, anxiety, toxicity in the fandom, language?

a/n: hey nona! you weren’t super specific on what type of anxiety that you wanted to reader to have, so if this isn’t what you had in mind, lmk and i’ll write you another fic! other than that i hope you like it!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

check out my m.list

You and Seb met at a coffee shop in New York. It was totally cliche and seemed straight out of a storybook. You had somehow managed to spill coffee on that specimen of a man, and he was kind enough to let you pay for his dry cleaning. Your relationship didn’t grow until you ran into him again while you were at a bar with your friends. If he had any say in telling the story of how you met, he spotted you from across the smoky bar and he knew then and there that he had to get to know you. Truthfully, you liked his version, but the real one was just indescribable. It seemed, to you at least, that you were destined to be with this man. Seeing him twice in one week? Come on, that’s possible if you were in the small town you grew up in, but not New York.

You obviously had recognized him as an actor, but really you didn’t care. That’s what drew Sebastian to you in the first place. You treated him as if he was any other guy on the street, he was able to be a normal person around you. Now, two years later, you lounge on the couch of your apartment in LA that you shared with the man you love. He’s still auditioning for any role that catches his eye and you’re supporting him no matter what.

His fans for the most part adored you and your relationship with Sebastian. The fans who didn’t like you were your only issue with this whole affair, but they had nothing to do with Sebastian other than flood his socials with nasty messages about you. You weren’t perfect, that you knew all too well, and you tried to let the comments roll off your shoulders. Most of the time you were successful in your efforts, but other times they clung to your skin like an unwanted disease.

Sebastian was currently promoting his new project Endings, Beginnings. You were so unbelievably proud of Seb, he was doing something that made him happy. In this particular film, he was acting alongside Shailene Woodley, who was just amazing. Seb always came home gushing about the new inside jokes that they had come up with. One of your favorite things that Seb did with you was run lines. You liked having the inside scoop on his new works, but this one was harder for you. It had quite a few sex scenes between Seb’s character Frank and Shailene’s Daphne.

Not that it bothered you. Nope. Didn’t bother you. At all.

...mmm, okay maybe it bugged you a little. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sebastian, it was… well you couldn’t really describe what it was. Whatever the case may be, it was putting you deeper and deeper into a funk, one that you were having a hard time coming out of. And Seb’s fans who weren’t in your corner, weren’t really helping you any.

A few nights ago, Seb surprised you with a casual night out in LA. He texted you before he got home and told you that he was going to be taking you out. Did he give you a dress code for the evening? No, he did not (wonderful, thanks so much Seb). You decided to dress in a half business casual, half rail me when we get home outfit. You ended up wearing an adorable bustier top that was embroidered with pretty blue and pink flowers, a pair of destroyed jeans covered your legs. You finished it off with a pair of nude heels, when you looked in the mirror, you thought you looked hot as fuck. It was around seven when Seb picked you up, mouth hanging open, in awe of your outfit.

“Oh my god. You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He opened the passenger door of his car after he hugged you, giving you a small peck on the lips. Sebastian drove you to a restaurant a block off of Thai Town called Home Restaurant.

“Babe, this place is so cute!” You squeezed Sebastian’s upper arm, jumping up and down beside him. “How’d you find this place?” Sebastian shook his head, smiling at you.

“I asked Shai, actually.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, and your heart sank a little. Why did it do that? “She said that the paps hardly ever come around here.” He leaned down pressing a kiss to your temple. “I thought that draga mea deserved a quiet night out on the town.” His voice rasped as he spoke in his native tongue, making a shiver race down your spine.

“Well, tell her I said thank you.” You offered him a small smile. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing circles on the exposed skin above your jeans. He spoke with the hostess as your mind drifted away. You were pulled out of your thoughts when he guided you to your table. Sebastian sat across from you, staring deeply into your eyes. You brought your hand up to rest your chin on it, staring back at him. “How’s everything been going?” You were genuinely interested in the answer and it made your heart warm watching his face light up.

“It’s been going really well. Everyone we worked with was real nice, it made all the scenes more comfortable.” Seb’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the scenes and you knew which ones he was referring to.

“Oh, right.” You tried not to let your emotions show.

“Yeah, we’re about to start teasing some of them to promote the show.” Seb sighed at the thought of having to use social media, you shook your head at him.

“I’ll help you with it, you dork.” You laughed to hide your discomfort. “Which scene did they approve for the posts?” Sebastian began to speak when he was interrupted by your waitress. After the two of you ordered your food, the waitress returned with your drinks. Sebastian took a large gulp of his before answering your previous question.

“They want me to post the trailer and then the scene between Frank and Daphne at the bar.” You tried to think back to the script, remembering the context. Frank and Daphne were meeting after Daphne had gone out on a date with Jack. Daphne was claiming that she didn’t want to be a wedge in their friendship, then proceeded to make out with Frank. If you were recalling correctly, Frank and Daphne’s first sex scene followed soon after.

“Okay, we can do that. Do you have any behind the scene pictures you wanna post too?” Seb got out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll to see. He had several different photos of him with Jamie and then him with Shailene. He showed you his phone on a picture of Shailene leaned against him on a couch, her arm over his waist. A red filter colored the photo, you had to hand it to him, it was a good one to use. “We can post it whenever we get home, love.” Sebastian locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket, to focus solely on you.

“How has your day been, draga mea?” You bit your lip as you thought about what you’ve been doing. You’ve been working towards your Master’s, so your days have been filled with preparing for your dissertation. On top of that, you’ve become a bit of an influencer on different social media platforms. Really, you believe your popularity came from your relationship with Sebastian. You’ve been giving his fans the content that they’ve always wanted. Not only that, but you’re active with them.

“My day was good today. I had to edit a few papers from my other classmates but other than that I didn’t do much. I did make a few TikTok videos, but really today was a bit of a lounge day for me.” Seb smiled at you, proud of how hard you’ve been working.

“I should be getting a few days off soon, so we can relax together in the apartment, if you aren’t too busy with your classes.” He stretched his arm across the table, palm up waiting for your hand. Seb pulled your hand up to his mouth, placing a sloppy kiss onto the back of it. His eyes settled on you lovingly. To Sebastian, you were the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The two of you managed to finish your meal in peace. No fans came up to Sebastian asking for photos, no paparazzi swarms when you left, just a quiet meal for a normal couple in love. After you got home and you were snuggled in your pajamas alongside Sebastian in your comfortable bed, he handed you his phone to read over his post for his Instagram. The paragraph was sappy, about his time working with Drake, the director, and working with the rest of the cast. Seb always was a softy, never was able to hide it, especially in promo posts.

“It looks good to me. Are you going to post it now? Or wait until tomorrow morning?” Seb debated, he probably should wait and do it tomorrow, but he was most likely going to forget to do it. He clicked post, putting his phone on charge and snuggling into you.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Y/N.” He kissed your jawline, nuzzling his face into your neck. “It really means a lot to me, baby. I love you so much.” He wrapped both hands around your waist, pulling you to his front. You smiled wide, momentarily forgetting all of your troubles.

“I love you too, Seb.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s get some sleep, love.” Little did you know that a single post could ruin all of the progress that you thought you had made.

*********************

You woke the next morning, alone in bed. You could hear pots clanging in the kitchen of your home, bringing a smile to your face. Before you left the safety of your bed, you checked your socials out of habit. You opened Instagram first, seeing an absurd amount of notifications this early in the morning. Your smile dropped as soon as you opened the first post. Comments on Sebastian’s post about Endings, Beginnings and his chemistry with Shailene weren’t entirely out of the ordinary. They were to be expected, they were playing parts in a love triangle. People were ‘shipping’ Shailene with Seb and Jamie, so that wasn’t too crazy.

What hurt you were the comments saying, “living for shailene and sebastian! she’s a much better match for him than y/n.”

“never thought that y/n girl was going to last, glad he’s going w shailene”

“shailene and seb supremacy”

“yes! i’ve always supported seb in everything he’s done, but i rlly questioned him when he got w that y/n girl. what was he thinking?!”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you continued scrolling. You never thought you and Sebastian never fit. You knew that people had issues with your relationship, but you never let it get in your head this bad. You checked your explore page, pictures of you and Sebastian from last night were riddling the page.

Your heart dropped.

There were pictures of the two of you from last night with parts of your body circled. The exposed skin above your waistband, the excess skin on your neck and arms. You don’t know where they got these pictures, but your stomach was steadily sinking with each picture you saw. The door of your room opened, revealing a smiley Sebastian with a plate full of eggs in one hand and a cup of orange juice in the other.

“Good morning, baby.” You quickly shoved your phone away from you, wiping your tears away from your eyes to meet his. His brows furrowed immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You snuffled quietly, before answering.

“Uh, nothing. I’m just so proud of you.” You smiled at him, not wanting to bring down his already happy mood with your problems. Was that entirely healthy? Probably not, but you were doing it anyway, consequences be damned.

“Oh, well you don’t have to cry for me, Y/N. Even if you’re proud.” He walked up to your side of the bed, placing the cup and plate on your nightstand. He brought his hand up to your cheeks, wiping away your tear streaks. “You know that I only like to see tears whenever it’s me causing you so much pleasure you beg me to stop.” He winked at you, smirking at your rising blush. To say that didn’t lift your spirits for about half a second would be a lie. Sebastian brought the plate to your lap, waiting for you to start eating. At this particular moment, after seeing all those horrible pictures of your body, your appetite had gone out the window, but he was so smiley.

“After you eat, I want ya to shower.” Sebastian’s hand came up to your jaw, cupping it as you used it to chew the eggs. “We’ve got a long day of lounging and enjoying each other's company ahead of us.” Sebastian stood from the bed, throwing a wink at you as he left the room dramatically. You stopped eating soon after he left, the food tasting like ash on your tongue. At some point, you got into the bathroom, staring at the reflection in the mirror.

Your phone was in your hand again. The pictures flooding your Twitter feed. Shaky breaths left your mouth as you watched your reflection tilt its head. Tears began gathering in your eyes as it felt like you weren’t in your own skin anymore. You had worked so hard to be comfortable in your own body.

It’s amazing how just one picture can ruin everything.

You leaned forward on the countertop, hands holding up your weight. You shifted towards the mirror, examining every miniscule detail that your eyes could see. Your lids came down quickly, tears dragging down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head back and forth.

“You are not going to let this get to you.” You took a few deep breaths as you turned on the shower. Not wanting to be around the mirror anymore, you kept your bath short, talking to yourself the whole time. By the time you left the bathroom, it was steamed completely, you couldn’t see your reflection even if you wanted to.

“He loves you.” You had a mantra and you continued to repeat it as you walked into your shared closet. “He loves all of you.” You pulled one of his old t-shirts off a hanger. “Sebastian loves you.” A pair of your underwear and his loose boxers covered your lower half. “Sebastian loves all of you.” You shoved your feet into a pair of fuzzy pink socks, leaving the closet still muttering to yourself. You tucked your phone into your waistband after checking your socials again. You know you shouldn’t have, but there was some part of you that just wouldn’t let you not.

The same shit covered your For You page on TikTok. Videos from the trailer of Seb and Shailene and then videos of you and Seb, comparing the two relationships. “They do fit well together.” You thought to yourself. A part of you wondering why Seb was with you in the first place.

“Did you say something, love?” Sebastian looked at you from the couch. A blanket was strewn over his lower half, his upper body inviting, waiting for you to join him. His smile dropped when he took in your glassy eyes instead of your usual happy expression.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” He started towards you, eyes running over your body for any outward injuries. An understanding look crossed his face when he saw your phone clutched in your hand. “Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Sebastian’s hands rested on your shoulders, lightly caressing your biceps. You recoiled from his touch, feeling uncomfortable in your own body.

“Just some stuff that some fans posted.” Seb’s thumb traced just under your eye, wiping away the tears. He held his right hand out for your phone, to understand what you were talking about. His brows furrowed deeply as he scrolled, not fully processing how destructive his fans could be. Sebastian always believed that they were the best fucking people in the world. He knew that they could be mean, but this was something else.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about, Y/N.” Sebastian’s voice was firm. It was almost strong enough to cut through the fog invading your brain, but not quite. You had officially zoned out. Dead to the world. Lost in your own thoughts. No matter how destructive those thoughts may be.

Sebastian noticed that you were already too deep, having experienced this with you many times before. He was aware that you were self-conscious, insecure, however you want to describe it. Your anxiety always got worse when you were stressed. Prepping for your dissertation was definitely a stressful time. Add on top of that, Sebastian was constantly pulling you from your work for various reasons. Had he contributed to this? Scratch that thought, he didn’t have time for that. He needed to bring you back down to Earth, back to him.

“Y/N.” His hands hovered over your hips. “I’m going to touch you for a second.” He directed you to the couch, settling on the coffee table in front of you. His fingers lightly traced circles onto your knees, as he assessed how he should approach this.

“Y/N. Baby?” Sebastian hesitated before bringing his fingers up to your chin, not wanting you to react badly. “I’m right here, Y/N, it’s Sebastian.” His left hand hadn’t left your knee, continuing to trace small patterns into your skin, giving you something to ground yourself with. He watched you blink and swallow harshly, inhaling sharply before opening your mouth.

“Why are you with me?” Your chin trembled with unvoiced sobs. “You deserve the world, Seb. I’m not even--” Your sentence was cut off by a loud whimper causing tears to start streak down. Sebastian wasn’t sure if this was a situation where you wanted him to be involved, so he waited for a sign.

“I’m not even worth a glance from you.” Your hand came up to wipe at your runny nose. “They’re so right. You need to be with someone like Shailene.” A bitter sob racked your body, making your body fold in half. Sebastian caught you before you hurt yourself.

“Y/N. I love you.” He always heard you say that to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. He knew that you suffered from anxiety, so he was always watching. Always paying attention to your little cues. The little things that he could use to help you as much as he could. “I love all of you.” He held one of your hands, running his thumb over the back of it.

“I don’t care what they say, baby.” He lifted your face to his, steel blue eyes locking with your cloudy pair. “I picked you.” He pecked your right cheek. “I want you.” A peck to your left. “I want only you.” One to your forehead. “It’s always been you, Y/N.” Another on your chin. “I love all of you, Y/N.” Sebastian landed a final short kiss to your lips, lingering for only a second.

“I want you to understand something, Y/N.” His gaze never left you. “I’m not going anywhere.” His brows raised as he hardened his voice. “I’m especially not going anywhere at the behest of my fans. I love them to death, but they don’t get to decide who I love.” Sebastian shifted to sit next to you on the couch. “Is it okay if I put my arms around you?” All he got was a brief nod in return, which was expected.

“I’m yours, Y/N. As much as you’re mine.” His arms descended around you, wrapping you in a loving embrace. You turned to face him fully, bringing your own arms around his waist, shoving your head into his neck.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all my shit, Seb.” Sebastian almost missed your comment because you spoke into his shoulder and through loud snuffles. He backed away to look you in the face.

“I signed up for this, Y/N. I’m here for whatever we go through.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “We go through ‘your shit’ together, Y/N. This is a partnership, a two-way street.” He looked at the weak smile on your face, heart warming slightly at the sight. His face turned serious, casting a glance at your phone on the coffee table.

“How long have you been sitting on this?” He knew how quickly your mind could twist things, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. You bit your lip, not meeting his eyes anymore.

“Just since this morning.” He held you away from his body, watching your expression.

“Is this why you were crying earlier?” You gave him a meek nod in response. “Baby, I thought we talked about this. We have to talk to each other when we think we’re going to go into a funk.” The two of you had talked about it before, but you didn’t think this was going to be a funk.

“I should’ve been able to just shake this off because I know you love me and you won’t leave me because of something that some people on the Internet say.” The words left your mouth before you could process everything, your mind quick to defend itself.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t always have to be able to shake something off. We just have to keep each other in the loop.” Sebastian looked over your tear-stained face, pressing a kiss to your forehead again. “Let’s ditch the phones today. Just spend the day in each other’s arms, how’s that sound?” You smiled softly, nodding at the man in front of you. He got up quickly hiding both of your phones in the kitchen somewhere.

This definitely wasn’t a solution to dealing with your anxiety, Sebastian knew that. It also wasn’t dealing with the toxic people on the Internet, but you didn’t need that right now. You needed to be immersed in an environment that accepted what you were going through without judgement, Sebastian could provide that. Seb hummed happily when you snuggled into his side under the covers on your couch while he searched for a movie. He kissed the top of your head and he felt you smile against his stomach.

“I’m proud of you, draga mea.” You turned to face him, a confused expression lacing your features.

“For what, Seb?” He stroked your face with a single finger, mapping out your features.

“I’m proud of how you handle yourself. I’m amazed at how strong you are, even when you think you’re not.” He leaned closer to you, whispering his next words. “You’re my hero.” One corner of your mouth twitched upwards, not wanting to accept it. You rolled your eyes playfully, settling back onto his stomach before speaking.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

[a-rachnophobe]

EHEHEHEHE.

// Past abuse mentioned, some end-of-life themes(?) mentioned at the end of Mic’s section, and body image issues during Diana’s section!!

You’ve been warned :3

MICDROP ( They/She )

Mic loves spicy foods because their cy-gar addiction left them with very little sense of taste, and spicy foods are the most taste-ing(??) foodddd

Mic has a “If you don’t eat fast, you don’t eat at all” mentality ( they’ve choked on rust sticks, this is related )

Every once in a while, someone will come up to Perceptor to talk about Mic and go, “Aren’t they a little young…?” And Perce has to clarify that Mic is, in fact, much older than him. They’re just short.

Mic was nicknamed “43” during the war, named after how many survivors they left behind on Decepticon ships ( they’ve killed so many people )

Percy holds Mic like a wet ferret. Mic has attempted this maneuver one (1) time and limped for a week straight, and NOT in a good way

Perce, at first, laughs at how absurd it is that Mic, living 6 million years, had no idea they were dyslexic. And Mic, also being cluelessly autistic, mistakes that bewildered laughter as “My conjunx is laughing AT me because I’m stupid.”

They find out they’re autistic a month

Perceptor reads to them

In my head, Mic fluctuates between having a thick Scottish accent, and a thick New Yorker accent, specifically the Devil from that one Sonic dub. There is no in between.

After so long as a Wrecker, Kup started to be like a father figure to Mic. To the point of forehelm kisses and hugs. They are the father/daughter duo ever

Mic is traumatized. Like, horribly so.

This little kid who has known nothing but abuse and fear all their life, given something as simple as a hug. As a head pat. A friendly ruffle of their comically large audials, and they flinch at first. They don’t know kind touch the way they know abusive touch.

The first time they get cuddled?? Oh my god, that kid is sleeping so good once they start to relax. Sweet thing is SO touch starved

Human Mikey is AMAB

Human Mikey also has a happytrail… :3

Human Mikey is going blind because if one eye is damaged, the other eye’s immune system starts to attack itself ( don’t quote me on that )

Towards the end of Mic’s life, they start struggling to remember. They forget their children’s names, their sister’s name…

Also, y’know those hyper realistic baby dolls people who have had stillborn babies sometimes have? :)

Mic, wandering the halls of their habsuite: “Where’s my baby…? She can’t sleep without a lullaby…” Her kids are adults.

And Perceptor has to get up and help them find the sparkling doll to get Mic to sleep. He’s so just..sad, seeing them like that.

Mic is incredibly insecure about their scars. Specially the part that splits open their lips and shows off their teeths

DIANA SCHLAKVACH ( She/her )

Adopted, but in contact with birth parents

Blasian, raised in the US

Loves her adopted mom very dearly 🫶

Non-cannon, but in a Polycule w/ Mic and Percy

Pagan, worships Aphrodite, Apollo, and Artemis

Dia is a florist, but went to school briefly to be a nurse. Shit got expensive, so she dropped out tho

Human Percy and Human Mik, at the end of a long day at work, will pull her into their laps and knead her thighs, probably also bury their faces in her cleavage I MEAN WHAT

Her giant robot partners holding her so. So tenderly when she’s feeling insecure

Anxiety disorder ( same girl )

PET LOVER!!! She has two ferrets named Tank and Tangle, then a pinstripe yellow-bellied ball python named Tango

Dia is chubby, and very aware of that fact.

She’s pretty insecure about it, but Mic and Percy?

Oh they LOVE her chub.

They’ll sit there and kiss her tummy rolls like no tomorrow

SUNSONG ( She/Her )

Micdrop’s half-sister, with the same sire and different carriers

Decepticon Medic

Sunsong hates Micdrop. HATES them. ( they heal over time )

Sunny is a fucking FORCE.

She’ll drag mechs twice, three times her size into the medibay if they feel like being a stubborn pain in her aft

She’s relatively young, barely a toddler when the war broke out

My friend’s OC, Wildcard, taught her everything she knows

Sunny once called Wildcard dad on accident and thought he would get mad but he just jumps for joy instead…

Sunny had never felt so loved as she did in that moment.

WC Casually mentioning her in every conversation

“Casually”

There’s also Cogswork, but he’s under renovation right now, so… yeah. He’s not in the list LMAO. I love my autistic son though 🫶

Would you like a list of fun facts about my OCs.

- @a-rachnophobe

Share with the class pls 🙏🏼✨