#no i really should be studying what's wrong with me

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙃𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙙*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Comfort?

Warnings: Slight mentions of depression and anxiety. That’s about it. Sorry for any mistakes

A/N: This has been in my idea folder for so freaking long! This was 100% inspired by “Must have been the wind by Alec Benjamin” such a good song! I hope yall enjoy this!

-🖤

Neither of you really knew each other. Only exchanging pleasantries as you passed by one another. Always a small waves and a smile. You’ve barely even said a few words to one another in the almost year living in the same building. You both keeping to yourselves.

He’s noticed in the past few days of seeing you that you don’t seem yourself. Or at least the small bit of yourself that he knew of. You have seemed really down lately. He even caught you wiping your tears away when he had stepped into the elevator as you got out. He wanted to ask if you were alright but you quickly left the elevator before he could.

His apartment was right above yours he could always hear you talking softly or listening to music. It made him almost calm hearing another person at times.

He hadn’t seen you leave today like normal. You both always leaving for work about the same time. When he had gotten back from work later than normal plopping on his bed he let out a sigh. The quietness becoming deafening around him. The quiet didn’t last long, soft sobs could be heard from below. He knew it was you, he wanted so badly to make sure you were alright. He didn’t know why he cared so much but he did. Maybe it was the way your smile brightened his day. Or the way he secretly hopes to see you before work. You’ve become a daily joy in his life and to hear you crying made him upset.

He got up pacing back in forth wondering what he should do. Would it be weird to check in on you? After the back and forth in his mind he finally made it up. He was gonna check on you.

He knocked on your door, a thousand things running through his mind on what to say. When you finally answered he could see how red your eyes were. Tear stains still lingering on your flushed face. “Uh hi” he said nervously.

“Hi” you said softly back looking anywhere but his face.

“Listen I know we don’t know each other but I could.. hear you crying. Are you alright?” He stammered out.

“I- I uhm wasn’t crying.. must have.. been the wind or something” you lied.

He studied your face for a second knowing damn well that you were lying. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t like crying around anyone, feeling like a burden if you weren’t always just happy.

“Well if you want to talk I’m here” he said with a soft smile. His kind words really jabbing at you. Why was he being so nice? He didn’t know you, he didn’t have to come down. But he did. He came down to basically a total strangers place to see if they were ok. Just the pure sweetness of this made the tears flow again.

His eyes went wide his body moving before he could stop himself. He wrapped his arms around you as you cried making you sob even harder. He rubbed your back letting you get it all out. He pushed your door closed behind him, to make sure no one else would walk by.

“Ssh sh it’s alright, you’re alright” he said softly still rubbing your back. “Wanna go sit down? You can tell me all about what’s wrong if you want. No judgement. I’m here to listen” he said with that sweet smile you’ve grown fond of.

You nodded bringing him over to your couch. As you composed yourself you sighed softly. “Nothings really wrong, I mean.. it’s just..” you tried finding the words. “I have really bad depression and anxiety.. it’s just been really bad the last few days and it all just came crashing down today.” You admitted.

He listened taking your hand in his to comfort you a bit. “You still got up today though, you’re still here and that’s something to be proud of” he said.

His words comforted you even more, making you smile for the first time in a few days. He sounded so genuine.

“And I can knock another one off if you wanna” he said smiling. You looked at him a bit confused. “How about I treat you to some ice cream? Then you’ll have eaten today.. I guess it’s not food food but ice cream makes everything better” he says smiling even bigger.

“You don’t have to do that” you said.

“I know but I want to, plus means we can get to know each other more. Yeah?” He said hopeful.

“Alright” you said smiling at him.

You got yourself together wiping your face and putting on better clothes. “Oh hey, by the way, I’m changbin” he said.

“We really never introduced ourselves huh? I’m y/n” you said.

“Well y/n shall we get some ice cream?” He said putting his hand out.

“We shall.” You giggled.

After this day you both had become really close. Making movie nights and gaming nights. You both always hung out even just coming over to one another’s house to sit in comfortable silence. It was nice. Nice to have someone to talk, nice to have someone there that wouldn’t judge and just be there.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[bidisasterevankinard]

Hi, baby. For the short & impactful prompts: “I can’t do this” for BuckTommy if it sparks joy 😘

I said I will write angst so *throw this and run*:

“I-I can’t do this anymore,” Evan's voice finally breaks the uncomfortable silence that was like fog, enveloping the whole of Tommy's living room.

He couldn’t break it first. He hoped Evan wouldn’t do it. He expected their status quo to stay as it is. He should have known better really.

How could he expect it to be okay when he couldn’t even raise his eyes on Evan since the moment they left the bar? He felt this heavy as their turnout under pouring rain glance, but stayed sure of his actions. In the truck he played as the empty road was the busiest he’d ever seen. And here in his light with electronic candles in the living room, he couldn’t find anything better than his sushi.

Tommy’s sure he knows what Evan is talking about, but they promised to talk till they absolutely understood that both had the same conversation and conclusions.

“You can’t do what, baby?”

The fake smile, he sometimes puts without even trying to, breaks on his face, when he looks at Evan, but not on his face. He can’t. 

Looking at the way that beautiful face broke last time they broke up left him heartbroken. He can’t see it again. Not when he will hear the answer.

“I can’t date you in secret anymore,” Evan says and then gets up. 

Tommy keeps looking at the place where his, soon not his, again, Evan was just a fleeting moment ago.

The sigh from the window doesn’t even make him flinch. All his body shrinks and prepares for impact.

“I-I can date you in secret. Not like you made it feel today. You ended our first date when I no-homo you, when I kept you a secret, w-why should I endure the same and not leave you? I understood why you asked to move slower, I respect it. I respect and understand you asking me to keep it a secret from 118, from my sister, but Lucy? And ok, you-you want it to be a completely secret, then why ask me to come to the public space on friday? T-to a date night.”

Evan laughs. Tommy hears no real happiness that usually illuminates the whole room in it.

“You’ve could just bring me here or fuck me in that alley near the bar, and-and I’d felt less dirty when I did when my boyfriend to all the bar said ‘no, I’m not here with him, it’s just a coincidence’ and then went and flirted with a man right in front of me.”

The shame he felt in the bar returns. But Tommy couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t tell anyone he broke and running to the man who he swore was a bad idea.

The man who still is a bad idea, but is the best bad idea he ever had.

The thunderstorm rumbles outside. 

He should have put the truck in the garage, not leave it outside. The rain is too hard. 

“What are we doing here, Tommy?”

This time he doesn’t ask Evan to clarify. He doesn’t want to answer any questions.

“I-I told you I see a future and can wait for you to see it too and you promised you could see it with me, b-but you need time to believe it. Yet, every day I feel like I date a landmine. One wrong move and it will kill me.”

Evan comes and sits back, holding his face, forcing him to look at him.

He is red and the tears are flowing on his cheeks the same as the dots of the rain on his window.

“I-I love you, Tommy, but I’m not sure you really want me or need me. You don’t know how to see a life with me in it, how to plan it, and I-I just … I need to know that you are trying to learn to do it.”

Two big oceans with red shores look at him hopeful, but Tommy sees heartbreak in them too. As if despite all his hope Evan doesn’t believe Tommy will do something good.

He opens his mouth, no sounds come. 

Studying all his face, Evan nods to something, pecking his lips, forehead and joining their heads and breathing the air between them.

“I set you free from someone, who can’t ever move in the way you need, baby, I-I’m sorry. M-maybe eventually we'll be together at the right time. But it’s not today.”

Collecting his belongings, Evan gets up.

 “I’ll drive you home,” he gets up too, feeling the need to do something.

“No need,” Evan whispers with his back already to the door. “I called Uber,” he opens the door, stepping in the wet darkness that illuminates with the flashes, “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”

Prompts for short stories (bucktommy, platonic buddie and saltommy. Other pairs possible too. We can talk)

[hueningstar]

Beneath the Thorny Vines

Summary : You and Yeonjun go from bickering rivals to sharing charged, intimate moments during a late-night study session, where unspoken tension turns into undeniable attraction.

────୨ৎ────

A/N : Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions. Your support means the world ! <3 Alsoo,requests are open🙃 And about my 2 reqs that I got..school is starting and I really need to do my hw and study but I promise that in a few days you WILL get them☺️

────୨ৎ────

Pairing : Yeonjun × reader

Genre : Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, College AU

Warnings : nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it)

MDNI

────୨ৎ────

The first time you met Choi Yeonjun, he was leaning casually against the doorframe of your lecture hall, a smug smirk plastered on his face like he owned the place. And maybe he did, judging by the way everyone’s eyes flitted to him as though he were a magnet pulling their attention.

You hated him instantly.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “Looks like you’re in my spot.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked up from your notebook. The lecture hall wasn’t even half full, yet he had the audacity to claim ownership of the seat you’d chosen near the window.

“I don’t see your name on it.” you shot back, folding your arms.

Instead of being deterred, he chuckled—a sound that irritated you more than it should have. “Well, I usually sit here. But if you want to fight about it, we can flip a coin.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your things and moved a few seats down, muttering under your breath about entitlement. You thought that would be the end of it, just another annoying encounter in a sea of college chaos.

You were wrong.

From that day forward, Yeonjun seemed to make it his mission to get under your skin. Whether it was cutting you off in class discussions, conveniently signing up for the same group projects, or flashing that infuriating grin every time he passed you in the halls, he was always there.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” you snapped one afternoon after he’d turned in another half-hearted attempt at a group project. You’d spent hours perfecting your section, only for him to barely skim the surface of his.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Relax, it’s not like it’s the final grade. Besides, I figured you’d overachieve enough for the both of us.”

Your jaw clenched. “Unbelievable.”

“You say that a lot,” he teased, his voice light. “I’m starting to think you actually enjoy arguing with me.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

As the semester dragged on, your interactions with Yeonjun became a strange routine. He’d rile you up, you’d bite back, and somewhere in between the tension, there were moments where his charm almost—almost—made you forget how infuriating he was.

Like the time he caught you struggling to carry a stack of library books and, without a word, took half of them from your arms.

“Don’t get used to this,” he said, smirking as he walked beside you.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you replied, though your tone lacked its usual bite.

Or the time he stayed behind after class to help you clean up spilled coffee, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a paper towel. For a split second, you saw something softer in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

The turning point came during a campus fundraiser. You’d been assigned to work the same booth as Yeonjun—selling homemade baked goods to raise money for the art department.

“Try not to scare off the customers.” you said, eyeing him as he lounged lazily behind the table.

“And miss out on the chance to charm everyone who walks by?” He grinned, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

“You’re supposed to sell those, not eat them.” you scolded, swatting at his hand.

“What, you think people won’t buy them if one’s missing? Watch and learn.”

To your surprise (and mild annoyance), Yeonjun’s charm worked wonders. Within an hour, he’d managed to sell more cookies than you thought possible, effortlessly chatting up every passerby.

“See? I’m not completely useless,” he said, leaning closer with a playful glint in his eyes.

You hated the way your heart skipped a beat.

As the weeks turned into months, the sharp edges of your rivalry began to blur. You still bickered—some things never changed—but there was a new undercurrent to your interactions, a warmth that neither of you acknowledged but both felt.

One evening, as you sat alone, frantically typing away at an essay due the next day, Yeonjun appeared out of nowhere and slid into the seat across from you.

“Need help?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically genuine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why would you offer to help me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I don’t hate you as much as you think.”

For the first time, you allowed yourself to smile back.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t hate him as much as you thought, either.

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with that ever-present smirk. For once, though, it didn’t feel condescending—it felt… softer.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh, sliding your laptop toward him. “But if you mess this up, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal.” He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing forearms that were unfairly distracting. Settling in, he scanned the notes on your screen, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You tried to focus on anything but him: the sound of the clock ticking, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the scratch of your pen on paper. But your eyes kept drifting back to Yeonjun, to the way his lips pressed together as he read, to the faint strand of hair falling into his face.

“Your formatting’s all wrong,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

He grinned, tapping at your keyboard. “Relax, I fixed it. See?”

You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you followed his gesture. He smelled faintly of something clean and woodsy, and you were suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were.

“Uh, thanks.” you mumbled, your voice quieter than intended.

“Don’t mention it.” he replied, but his tone had shifted, too. When you glanced up, you found him looking at you—really looking.

The smirk was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made the air between you feel heavier.

“Why do you do that?” you asked softly, your heart pounding.

“Do what?” His voice was just as quiet, his gaze locked on yours.

“Act like you don’t care about anything.”

He tilted his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him. “And why do you act like you care about everything?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could think of something, Yeonjun leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Maybe we’re not so different, after all.”

The tension crackled like static electricity. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed yours, lingering for a moment too long. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, as if he were testing the waters.

“Yeonjun…” you started, your voice wavering.

“Shh,” he murmured, a teasing edge returning to his tone. “I’m just helping you with your essay, remember?”

But the way his hand lingered on yours said otherwise.

As Yeonjun's fingers intertwined with yours, he slowly pulled you closer. His other hand reached up to cup your face gently, tilting it up to meet his gaze. He looked at your lips, then back into your eyes, asking a silent question.

His thumb caressed your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. "You're so..." he murmured, seemingly at a loss for words. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something deeper. "...annoying. And frustrating. And..."

He paused, his forehead resting against yours now. "And so infuriatingly kissable." he finally whispered, his warm breath fanning across your face. His hand on your face tightened, pulling you into a gentle, tentative kiss. His lips were soft, questioning, almost unsure.

His kiss was gentle but demanding, contradictory in the best way. One hand remained on your face while the other moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip, you couldn't help but melt against him. "Mmm..."

A soft groan rumbled in his chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in. His kiss turned more urgent, more passionate. He explored your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste and feel of you. His hand on your back slid down to grip your hip, pressing you flush against him.

The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity, stealing your breath and your thoughts. When Yeonjun finally broke the kiss, you were both left panting, your hearts racing in sync. He rested his forehead against yours once more, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes dark with desire. A slow, almost lazy smirk spread across his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

Without warning, he lifted you up and placed you on the desk, pushing the books and papers to the side with a careless swipe of his arm. He stepped between your legs, forcing them apart to make room for him.

He leaned in to claim your lips again, more forceful this time. One hand slid up your thigh while the other tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. You could feel his growing hardness pressing against your center as he moved closer.

His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, exposing your lacy bra underneath. He paused, admiring the view, before hooking a finger under the strap and pulling it down, baring more skin.

"Fucking hell." he breathed against your neck, his lips and teeth tracing a path down to your collarbone. His hand snaked around to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before lowering his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it, eliciting a gasp from you. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

His mouth moved back to yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his hands made quick work of your pants and underwear, pushing them down your legs. He stepped back just enough to remove his own shirt, revealing his toned chest.

He reached for his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his zipper. You watched, mesmerized, as he pulled out his hard, throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, spreading pre-cum along the length before reaching for your legs and spreading them wider.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he growled, positioning himself at your entrance. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a heady mix of desire and affection. "And I'm not going to be gentle."

He thrust into you suddenly, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, feeling like you might be split in two as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped your legs around his waist, angling you for even deeper penetration. "You're so tight."

He hissed through gritted teeth, his arms trembling as he held you up. He pounded into you, over and over, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. You were screaming, but he muffled the sound with his mouth, kissing you brutally as he took you.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any harder or faster, he reached between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, sending sparks flying through your entire being. You came with a scream, your inner walls clamping down on his cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

He followed soon after, pulsing deep inside you with a fierce 'fuck' against your neck. His entire body shook as he emptied himself, then suddenly pulled out, spinning you around and bending you over the desk. His hand came down hard on your ass, making you jump.

He didn't give you a moment to catch your breath before slamming back into you, his hips cracking against your cheeks with each brutal thrust. You were crying now, your face buried in the papers on the desk as he used you like a fucking animal. His balls slapped against your thighs with each stroke.

He snatched a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he hissed in your ear, "This is what you needed, wasn't it?" His other hand found your clit again, pinching and rubbing mercilessly as he continued his relentless assault on your ass.

A shudder ran through your body as his dirty talk mixed with the brutal stimulation, pushing you swiftly towards another orgasm. Your fingers clenched the edges of the desk, knuckles white from gripping so tightly. "Yes!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate, "Fuck me harder!"

He snarled in response, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked you with all his might. The desk creaked and shook beneath you, papers flying everywhere. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling so hard it stung, but only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through you.

Just as your orgasm hit, he released your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your waist to lift and turn you to face him. Kneeling, his mouth found yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue claimed your mouth as thoroughly as his cock had claimed your pussy.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as he thrust up into you with increasing urgency. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal rhythm that drove him closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you and held you in place as his cock pulsed and spasmed, filling your pussy with his hot, thick cum. You could feel it overflowing, coating your inner thighs as he emptied himself completely inside you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Damn, you always make me forget everything else," he murmured contentedly. His hands roamed over your sides possessively. "I need to get back to work, though. Can you..."

He gently shifted you off him, watching as cum dripped from your still-sensitive pussy. "Dirty girl," he whispered appreciatively, pulling his tie to clean you up slightly. "Be a good girl and clean my desk while I'm gone. And maybe then I'll consider bending you over it again later."

You nodded obediently, still trembling from the intensity of your climax. He winked at you before striding out, leaving you sprawled naked on the couch, his cum leaking from you and a trail of papers scattered across the hardwood. Slowly, you pushed yourself up, glancing at the messy desk.

You spent the next hour meticulously cleaning his desk, organizing the scattered papers and dusting the surface. As you worked, you couldn't help but replay the intense encounter in your head, your body still tingling from his touch. Just as you finished, you heard the door open behind you.

He stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning the neatly organized desk. He looked at you, standing there naked and covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the cleaning, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Good girl." he murmured, locking the door behind him.

Moving swiftly towards you, he pinned you against the freshly cleaned desk, his strong hands gripping your hips. "I suppose only one thing is left to do now," he growled playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief and lust.

────୨ৎ────

[psychslvt]

teacher bf teacher bf teacher bf !!!!!

no matter how hard i try in this class i just keep failing :( i study for hours every night but i guess i just don't understand the material. but my teacher offered to help me! hes so sweet and he tutors me after school and im so relieved to have a support figure in my life that i ignore when he touches me weird and stares at me. until one day he tells me to come over to his house for tutoring instead of meeting in his office and suddenly im sitting on his couch with my homework on the table in front of me and his hand around my waist, resting slightly on top of my upper thigh. he tells me that hes gonna help me with memorization and takes my flashcards, telling me about a game he plays with students to help them retain memory. i get a little confused when he makes me close my eyes and maneuvers me into a more vulnerable position but i go along with it because i really need this grade. the minute his fingers touch my cunt over my underwear my mind goes blank. i whine and open my eyes, confused about what hes doing as he asks the first question. i stutter and try to remember whats going on as he pushes my panties away and shoves a finger inside me. i moan and then catch myself and gasp as i struggle to realize whats actually happening. 

"whats the answer huh? cmon we went over this i know you remember it somewhere."

he starts to slowly move his finger in and out of me as i whimper.

stopp it i dont knowww this is so weird and wrong stop touching me !!!

"ill stop once you tell me the answer. thats how this works."

and he keeps fingering me while i get more and more braindead do my best to babble different answers but i cant even remember the question anymore, much less the answer. one finger turns into two turns into his dick while my soft protests turn into moans and whimpers. he fucks me there on the couch, where he told me he'd help me understand my schoolwork but now spits insults into my ear about how im just a stupid whore and if i wanted better grades i should have just asked for his dick in the first place. he tells me all about how if this gets out he can ruin my academic record and my life will be over so my only option is to become his personal toy if i want to pass this grade.

[stilljuststardust]

hii i would need some advice.

after finding out about manifesting it became tricky for me to care about the 3D, not only in the good way but also the bad. like - I dont do stuff because i tell myself that I have it anyways you know. im still taking the Basic care of myself but i stopped studying and doing anything, I kinda just bedrot because "i already have it all" why would i do anything. I dont know how to battle that and logically tell myself to do something.

thank you

Why manifestation doesn't mean nothing matters:

I went through the same thing and the truth was that I cared very much about the 3D I just was depressed and deeply nihilistic.

I want to address the beliefs you've stated about manifestation but I think you should focus on the underlying mental health issue. This has all the traits of a depressive episode and should be treated as such. I am addressing the manifestation aspect because clearly it has been fueling your episode and I hope that this will help change your perspective even a little.

"the 3D doesn't matter" is a really common phrase. When I first heard it I wasn't familiar with loa and it was instead something a friend kept repeating. It scared the shit out of me.

The phrase is meant to convey that circumstances zre never able to prevent your manifestation and that you get to determine what you want in your reality regardless of whether or not it has physically manifested yet.

What it accidentally ended up becoming was "nothing is real nothing matters" which if you have any kind of mental health issue is a deeply triggering phrase.

The 3D isn't worthless it just isn't a factor in whether or not you can manifest something. The 3D is real. The 3D is something that matters because it matters to you.

The 4D isn't some mystical far off land, it's literally just your thoughts, visualizations, and internal experiences, and I doubt that those are all in alignment with your goals right now. When I was depressed my inner monologue was less "my life is so great" and more "why aren't I doing more" so that feeling piled up on itself and bled into my 3D until I wasn't doing anything.

The 3D is malleable and you can manifest anything within it yes but why should that mean you can't care about it? If you're manifesting it's probably because you care about your life and want it to improve.

To be clear I don't believe that nothing matters but even if it didn't why should that mean we give up on the things that make us happy? Nothing matters so do whatever the fuck you want. This doesn't make you happy so why should you do it if suffering is also meaningless?

The underlying mental health issue:

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional anything I say about depression is from personal experience. Please seek professional guidance.

This has all of the common signs of a depressive episode. It seems to me that you have a serious underlying mental health struggle and you've been using "nothing matters" as a way to justify staying in it.

I would like to start with: there is nothing wrong with you and this is not your fault.

There definitely was a time I thought the same way because I was scared to try to get better. Starting recovery can be scary because often there is a backwards comfort in leaning into it because you're no longer putting pressure on yourself to "do better".

"Nothing matters so why should I try" isn't loa, it's nihilism, and a very common mantra for those suffering with depression. You're not alone in thinking it.

If you want my advice as someone who's been there:

Obviously no advice I give you is going to cure you but I can give you tools that helped me.

Meet yourself where you're at. Don't try to go from bed rotting today to climbing a mountain tomorrow. It's like how you can't jump from the first level to the boss fight of the video game. You don't need to have all of it under control your goal should start one step above where you're at. So instead of a whole list of things you need to catch up with just start with showering or your hygiene. Keep that as your only goal until it's become a normal part of your life again and implement new goals in a similar way.

Every video I ever watched on self improvement overwhelmed me with everything I wasn't doing. The weight of my expectations for myself was the heaviest part of my episodes. Eventually I committed to the idea that I had only one responsibility and it was showering, anything else is just a bonus. Be kind to yourself. If all you change is the way you talk to yourself about it you will feel better. It's easy to fall into cycles of beating yourself up for everything you wish you were doing but that isn't benefitting you in any way. Give yourself some compassion.

Links

Against nihilism - john green

How to handle the 3D when manifesting

Mental health subliminal

[prettyboykatsuki]

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyboykatsuki/772075315170344960/what-self-indulgent-idea-is-this-time-twin

Not self indulgent if I want to hear what you have to have to say so fucking bad… You’re indulging ME now bestie

linky link

its just so .. like LISTEN.

like. walk with me. but you're basically like. isagis childhood neighbor right. he's a few years older than you by then you too. like you're in elementary and he's in middle school. one of these days you're in a fight with other older kids (and they're kicking your ass) and isagi gets in the way and pulls his whole like tsk tsk what r u doing bullying a kid younger than u shtick and the kids then run away

and from that he tries to walk u home and u basically idolize him and he just. figures you're a little boy. like u have a gender neutral ish nickname and u dress in boardhosrts and big shirts and its hard to tell and plus you always rough house with isagi. you just have a Rough personality in general and u call him aniki which he finds funny.

and for the few years ur in the same neighborhood ur basically always with him and he never figures it out. ur in his room and he teaches u to play soccer (u prefer baseball at that point) and u spend all of ur time in his room even when he's in exams etc.

i think u move like,, just as he gets into highschool. far enough away that he doesnt see u again for years and years.

and then when he's in his mid twenties he comes back to his hometown and subsequently So Do You.

you've been moved in for a while and his mom had told him that before once in passing but isagis spent a long time playing in germany so he hadnt thought about it until he comes back and his mom is like. oh u should go visit them and say hi and isagi is fondly like aw yeah i wonder how that kid grew up.

and so . u know. he goes over. plans to say to your mom. is curious about how u grew up cause he hasnt kept in touch at all. yk.

and then. he goes over and a woman answers the door. and hes like ....?

but before he even gets to ask, you positively light up. like BEAMING. and you go "aniki? is that you?"

?!. isagi is in shock. he literally is like. What. Huh. but like. that voice. that face. like you look the same but the years have softened you out, made your features more... idk... he feels wrong saying girly but ? maybe thats it.

and the way you talk is EXACTLY the same. rife with slang, kind of rude, clearly picked up some gyaru slang while u were away but you're not exactly dressed that. u have boobs now and isagi is . short circuiting. and he says your name and FUCKKK your smile is exactly the same. like the same toothy almost silly vibe about you.

you invite him in like nothings changed and for u it probably hasnt. but he's literally malfunctioning trying to keep up. bc its YOU. like it is. you're the same kid he remembers messing with his soccer ball in his room and frowning at the stuff he studied for his highschool entrance exams. and those few years between u then felt like so much but youre both adults now.

its so disorienting. isagi really loved you even when you were kids. obviously it wasnt like That then. more like u were a fond, distant memory of his childhood that he can appreciate looking back. u have siblings but isagi didnt so it was less lonely with u around since he was an only child.

and he was looking forward to reconnecting, really!! he had all these plans about going to play soccer with you and asking if you had a girlfriend. but . But . what !!!!!!!!

he doesnt say anything i think. but you do insist he takes you down to the 7/11 to get snacks like when you were kid, and you make the same cheeky comment about making him pay since he's older and he's rich now and isagi gets the most doki-doki lovesick as feeling and almost passes away because no!!!!!!! why is he feeling that for you!!!!!!

internally he's yelling at himself but he does do it anyway bc he still likes making u happy. its familiar and warm and you end with your legs stretched out in a loose hoodie sharing chips and a drink and you're like,, smiling so familiar about old memories and the feeling just keeps Being there persistently. and he's like stop that rn!!!! he cannot!!!! for many reasons!!!!!!!

bc it feels weird since he rmbs u as kids but also bc it feels unfair to only be thinking of u this way now that he knows. and after he spends all evening with you he Resolves himself to not pursue anything while he stays with his parents.

(but how well does that resolve hold up when he begins to Notice your rather obvious feelings for him?)

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

pairing: finnick odair x fem!oc

content warnings: concussions, disassociation, teasing, sexual jokes and innuendos, sweet finn and dahlia moments!!, nicknames and pet names, gore, blood, angst, death, burning, miscommunication (?), not being able to tell what's real, mercy kill (im sorry in advance yall).

word count: 4.8k

previous chapter -- next chapter.

Dahlia always finds it harder to keep a grip on reality in the evenings and tonight is no exception. Her concussion isn't helping matters and it takes every ounce of willpower she possesses to stop herself from falling asleep.

Mags has curled up in a ball like a cat, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, and both Peeta and Wyatt are snoring like trucks. Katniss is as alert as be damned, refusing to do so much as to even close her eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Finnick asks, knocking his shoulder into Dahlia's. He frowns when she recoils away from his touch. She's never done that before, and it makes him wonder if he's done something wrong. "You okay, honey?" She nods her head, eyes unfocused as she stares off into the distance. "Dahlia."

Her head snaps to the side so fast he thinks she gave herself whiplash. "Huh?"

"I asked if you were okay," Finnick says slowly, brows knitting together and causing the skin on his forehead to criss-cross with worry lines. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?" He asks, itching to reach out and tilt her head towards him, but knowing that she probably won't appreciate it given her previous reaction. "Talk to me."

Dahlia worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Just... thinking," she says, lifting her shoulders up into a shrug.

"Anything you wanna share?" Finnick teases, tilting his head to one side in an effort to catch her attention. She doesn't blink, and he starts to worry that it's a side effect of her concussion. "I'm serious, honey, are you okay? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine," Dahlia insists. "You worry too much, Finn," she says, turning to look at him. He smirks, and she glares at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He chuckles under his breath. "You called me Finn," he sings, watching as her face crumbles and the blood rushes to her cheeks. "In all the time I've known you, honey, you've never gave me the privilege of a nickname."

She ducks her head to hide the colour in her face. "I call you an asshole," she supplies, trying to sway him into a different conversation altogether. "Surely that counts for something."

"You're deflecting!" He points an accusing finger at her and breathes out a laugh. "Oh my God, you're blushing! You're embarrassed!" He wears a shit-eating grin and before Dahlia has time to catch the thought and question it, she wonders if kissing him would make his ego inflate more or less. "Don't worry, honey. Personally, I think you should start calling me it more often. I mean, its really doing something for me here."

She snorts indignantly. "You're an animal. An actual animal."

Panem's national anthem sounds throughout speakers hidden around the arena and the fallen eight tributes are shown on a hologram high in the sky. Mags and the others stir from their sleep, tossing and turning as they push themselves up onto their elbows to peer up at the night sky. The anthem ends, and the hologram fizzles out.

"There's sixteen of us left," Peeta announces, voice quiet and laced with tiredness. He rests his head on Katniss' shoulder, eyes fluttering shut once more before the steady sound of beeping brings him back to reality. He groans, and stands to his feet, dragging his prosthetic leg behind him as they all move to crowd around the small parachute that has landed on the mossy jungle floor.

No one moves to open it, so Katniss takes matters into her own hands. She hastily rips open the  packaging and reads the paper note aloud. "Drink up? It's from Haymitch."

"What is it?" Finnick wonders aloud, cocking his head to one side as he tries to study the small, metal object in Katniss' hands. "You can't fish with it, anyway. I've never seen that before in my life and trust me, being from four, I would have seen it if it had anything to do with catching fish for food."

"I think it's a spile," Katniss practically trips over her own two feet as she rushes to a nearby tree, throwing an explanation over her shoulder as she uses the jagged edge of a rock to dig the spile into the trunk. "It's kind of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out."

"Sap?" Wyatt sounds bewildered. They don't have many trees in District Nine, and the few they do have wouldn't be the same ones that Katniss is referring to. "What the fuck is sap?"

"It's kind of like honey," Peeta answers as they crouch down beside Katniss and the tree. "You use it to make syrup. There must be water inside of these trees." He says excitedly. "Come on," he mutters under his breath, hoping to anybody who's listening that they haven't gotten their hopes up for nothing.

Just as they are starting to wonder if they've made a mistake and gotten this completely wrong, a trickle of water pours out of the spile, soaking the moss beneath their feet.

Dahlia could quiet literally sob her heart out at the sight of fresh water. She paces as she waits her turn, letting the others drink their fill before stepping near it herself. Ducking her head, she gulps back the water, feeling it soothe her scratchy throat.

It's warmer than any of them would have liked but beggars can't be choosers, and right now, the group of them would drain a bottle of damn bleach if it meant having something to drink. Mags is too fragile and old to bend, so Finnick instructs her to sit down and pours some water into a large leaf, using it as a bowl for her to drink out of.

Without their thirst to distract them, exhaustion takes over. Peeta is the first to fall asleep and both Mags and Wyatt follow soon after. Katniss reluctantly dozes off after an hour, head resting against Peeta's shoulder, and within a matter of minutes, they are tangled together like koalas, clinging to each other.

Everyone sleeps through a bell tolling twelve times and then a lightning storm on the far side of the arena and Dahlia can't help but wonder if they would sleep through a tornado, too.

Dahlia keeps her sickles firmly grasped in her hands as she and Finnick sit silently side by side, using a tall tree with long leaves to protect them from the weather, because despite it being the night time and the sun having gone away long ago, the air is still stuffy and humid.

Finnick convinces Dahlia to play twenty questions with him, but he's yawning after ten minutes. "Go to sleep," she instructs, coaxing him into resting his head in her lap. He resists, and she fixes him with a glare. "Don't be stubborn. You're clearly tired."

"And you have a concussion," Finnick retorts, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Dahlia says, refusing to give up. "Just lie down on my lap. I'm not going to bite."

"What if I'm into that kind of thing?" Finnick grins, trying to play it off with humour to hide how afraid he is of being vulnerable with someone. Even though it's something as simple as laying in someone's lap, it sends him into panic mode.

Dahlia cocks her head to one side, studying his face. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Finn. I'm not going to hurt you," she coaxes, watching as his shoulders sag ever so slightly, the tension his muscles hold dissipating. She sucks in a deep breath before taking a big step out of her comfort zone. "Baby, just lie down. I'm not gonna stop irritating you until you get some sleep."

His expression softens and Dahlia steels herself for his resistance. It never comes. Instead, he lies his head in her lap, using her thighs as pillows, and tucks his hands under his head. "Wake me up when you get tired, yeah?"

Dahlia's so taken aback by his willingness to trust her that all she can do is nod her head like a damn fool, and mutter a quiet, "Okay."

His body is taught with tension, clearly feeling out of his comfort zone as much as she's feeling out of hers. She smooths his golden curls out of his eyes, and he melts into her touch, allowing himself to take that leap of faith and place his trust in someone for the first time in his life. Blunt fingernails scratch at his scalp and he sighs contentedly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

A tiny smile pulls at the corners of Dahlia's lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear her over the sound of the wildlife in the jungle. "You can go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

It seems that her reassurance is all he needs to hear, because he drifts off quickly, his chest rising and falling with soft breaths. She continues to smooth his hair back out of his face and comb her fingers through his golden locks.

She can't help but think how nice it would be for him to lie in her lap more often, but then her mind involuntarily takes her back to nights spent with Capitol men, and she shakes the idea out of her head. Sure, Finnick might be nice, but some of those men were nice, too, and it didn't turn out well in the long run.

A situation like this could only end one way and that was with Dahlia hurt and alone.

She refused to put herself through that agony again. She wouldn't let herself grow fond of him, even if deep down, she wanted to. It wasn't an option. It wasn't in the rules she had set out for herself. It was the one protocol she refused to break; falling in love.

Her head runs at a million miles a minute. She thinks of all the things that could go wrong if she let herself get attached to him. She could let him in, and he could break her heart, or worse, use her secrets against her. Her breathing grows fast and she has to consciously remind herself that she's catastrophising.

Bloom would tell her that she doesn't have a magic wand and can't see the future. Malaki would make her a cup of chamomile tea and sit her down in front of the roaring fire. Juniper would tell her she can't miss out on the opportunity of falling in love because she's scared, and in her head she tells Juniper to leave her alone, only because she knows she's telling the truth.

Minutes stretch into hours and there's no sound apart from the occasional gasp of air as Katniss wakes up and panics, only relaxing when her eyes lock onto Peeta snoring peacefully next to her. Dahlia watches this happen three or four times, and each time Katniss wakes, she whispers that it's okay. Katniss glares at her, but there's no malice behind her gaze, just distrust, which she can not be blamed for.

Dahlia narrows her eyes when she catches sight of a fog rolling in, and Katniss follows her line of sight. It's quick, much too quick to be caused by the weather, and Dahlia doesn't trust it. It's not natural, and it looks too thick, almost like the clouds have fallen from the sky.

Katniss outstretches her hand warily. Her fingertips barely graze the fog, but it's enough. With a guttural scream, she pulls her hand back, writhing on the floor and yelling out in pain. Although Dahlia is a few inches away, she can hear the sizzling of Katniss' skin as it blisters and boils.

Katniss starts to shake Peeta awake, shouting a warning over her shoulder to the others. "Run! The fog is poison! Run!" 

Dahlia shakes Finnick awake and he shoots up iron-rod straight as if he's been poked in the back with a hot poker. "What's going on?" His eyes latch onto hers as he snatches his trident up, ready for battle.

"Run!" Dahlia screams as Wyatt helps him with Mags. She runs towards the fog, looping her arm through Peeta's, who's not able to run as fast as the others; he's still only getting adjusted to his prosthetic leg and the aftereffects of hitting the forcefield are showing. Katniss accepts her help gratefully for once, and between the two of them, they propel him through the jungle.

He trips over vines and branches, and the two girls are practically carrying him as the wall of fog gains ground on them. The mist extends further than the fog and latches onto their skin, burning like tiny flames. Peeta falls once more and stays down as the fog causes boils to show up all over the side of his face.

Dahlia slips, grabbing him by the hand and yelping when her skin touches the fog. Katniss failed to mention just how badly it stings, and she wants to wring Plutarch's neck for putting them into this situation. Finnick and Wyatt scream in the distance and despite all of her instincts telling her to move for them, she can't leave Katniss and Peeta alone. "C'mon. You can do it. Just follow our steps," she says, dragging him to his feet and not giving him much of a choice in the matter.

The blisters seem to have weighed him down some more and they're moving at a slower, stickier pace than before, which is definitely saying something. They trip once more and Dahlia's head is so sore that she stays down, hoping the fog will just take her, hoping that it won't be painful.

Wyatt slows to a stop beside them, skidding and slipping in the mud with Finnick and Mags right behind him. He gently taps Dahlia on the side of the face until her eyes open. "Don't think about it," he warns, hoisting her onto her feet and watching as she slips and falls again. He turns to the others. "She can't walk on her own. She's not even meant to be exerting herself."

"I can't carry Peeta," Katniss says, eyes prickling with tears. "I can't do it."

Finnick looks between Katniss and Peeta, at a loss. Mags hauls herself up, pats Finnick on the shoulder and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Mags?" He shouts as she heads straight for the fog. It takes both Katniss and Wyatt to hold him back from going after her. The canon sounds as he lets out another desperate plea of her name. "Mags!"

"We have to go," Katniss begs. "We have got to get out of here."

"She's right, Finnick," Wyatt says, lifting Dahlia over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. "I'm so sorry, but we have to keep moving. You understand that?"

Finnick sucks in a deep breath and loops one arm around Peeta's waist, while Katniss does the same to his other side. Time loses all sense of purpose as they bolt through the jungle, losing their balance and falling down an embankment.

Wyatt cradles Dahlia's head in his hands, using himself as a human shield to stop her getting a worse concussion than the one she already has. He takes the brunt of the fall, gasping when he makes contact with the solid ground, winded but thankful that he's spared his district partner. 

None of them move as they wait for their imminent deaths to arrive--- but it never does.

Dahlia eventually crawls off Wyatt, lying flat on her back in the moss. She tilts her head to one side and watches as the fog condenses, pressing up against what looks like an invisible wall that pushes it back the way it came. "It's stopped," she croaks, head pounding with pain as she rolls onto her back once more.

Every bone in her body aches and the boils on the back of her neck sizzle and burn. All she wants to do is retreat into her head where it's safe and warm and nothing bad can happen, but right now, she knows she can't afford that luxury. So, instead, she stays as still as she can, and counts the number of stars in the sky to stay tied to the real world, no matter how awful the real world may be.

Katniss screams but she hasn't got the energy to turn her head and see what's happening. She closes her eyes, unable to stop her brain from shutting off. It's okay, her head tells her, just rest now.

One minute she's baking cookies with her mother and the next, Finnick's hovering over her with that worried crease between his brows. She swims in the lake with Ivy, only to find that someone is holding her underneath the water.

She immediately interprets it as a threat, thrashing about, and when she opens her mouth to scream, it achieves nothing; all she does is inhale a massive amount of saltwater. She vaguely makes out the sound of muffled shouting before she's yanked from the water, where she begins to cough up a lung.

Blindly, she reaches out and grabs hold of what feels like a rock, using it to haul herself up onto dry soil. Someone's hands are firm on her face and she lashes out, kicking and flailing about as she tries to wriggle her way out of their grasp.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Finnick argues, voice firm but gentle as he blocks all of her attacks without breaking a sweat. "I don't want to touch you but if you keep writhing about, I'll have to."

Dahlia pries her eyes open and carefully looks up at the sound of his voice. Finnick frowns down at her, hands held out like he's approaching a frightened animal. His golden curls are flat on the top of his head from being wet and the corners of his eyes are crinkled with concern. "Stay--- just stay where you are," she warns, feeling around in the moss for her sickles and grabbing hold of them.

Hurt flashes across Finnick's face before he recovers. "Come on, now, honey, don't be stupid. I'm not going to hurt you. You know that." He takes a tentative step forward, only to find out that she is in fact, not, bluffing. She swipes with her sickles and he narrowly hops out of the way. "Honey. Calm down. You're fine."

"I don't want to do this," she pleads. "So just stay there for a minute."

Finnick nods his head reluctantly. "Alright. I won't come any closer. Just clam down, yeah?" He says, sitting on a nearby rock. "Take a breath. You're okay."

Dahlia glares at him, but there's no real heat behind her gaze. Finnick doesn't take it personally, anyway; he knows that she is just putting her walls back up because she's scared, and that's the only way she knows how to protect herself. "You tried to kill me," she snarls.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Finnick laughs incredulously. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Well, why else were you holding me under the water?" she snaps, holding out her sickle. "You better start explaining."

Finnick sighs. "The water helps with the burns from the fog."

"What fog?" Dahlia asks, mind still hazy from swapping and changing from the world in her head and the one that's real. Finnick's brows dip and it takes a minute for her to piece together what's going on. "The poison fog?"

He nods slowly, and answers with, "Yeah. Did you not notice the burns are gone?"

She looks away for a moment, making sure to keep him in her peripheral vision as her hand flies up to touch the skin of her neck. It's still sensitive and warm to touch, but there's no more lumps or boils. "I don't understand. This can't be real. This is just something I made up in my head."

"No, honey, it's real," Finnick soothes, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and wrap her in his arms. He can see the doubt in her eyes, and he sighs. "Do you remember when I promised I would tell you the truth, hm?" She hums suspiciously. "Well, I don't break my promises. This-- all of this-- is real. I swear it."

Dahlia shakily pushes herself to her feet and says, "I believe you." She can feel the others staring at her as she sits in the small creek of water. Wyatt and Peeta go to find some fresh water from a nearby tree using the spile and Katniss gathers their weapons together, leaving her and Finnick on their own.

She soaks her feet and slowly lowers herself in until she's floating on her back. It's something that Wyatt taught her to do years ago. A grounding technique, he had called it. She still doesn't really know what's that's supposed to mean, but for some reason, it works.

Finnick scoots closer to her, inch by inch, until he's sitting in the water only a few feet away from her. "You okay now?"

Dahlia stares at the sky to stop herself from having to look at him. "I'm sorry. I just.. get confused sometimes."

His tongue darts out to wet the corners of his lips. "Can I ask... why?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I don't know how to explain it," she answers honestly. "I can't put it into words."

Finnick hums his acknowledgement. "That sounds hard to deal with. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dahlia frowns. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No one's ever asked me that before," she admits.

"Ever?"

"Ever." She pauses, the words lingering on her lips as she sits up in the water. "I'm sorry about Mags. I know how much she meant to you."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows the lump in his throat. "She was never going to make it."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less," she says gently. "I'm here, you know that, right? If you need to talk to me, I'm here. I can't promise I'll always have the answers, but I'm a good listener. Or so I've been told, anyway."

Finnick opens his mouth to thank her, but the words get caught in the back of his throat as his gaze catches on something over her shoulder. She stills, too afraid to move in fear of what he's looking at. Neither of them speak as they reach for their weapons at the side of the creek, and that's when Dahlia sees it.

Heavy creatures balance on branches in the trees, tufts of orange fur sticking up in all directions as if they've been electrocuted.

"Monkeys," Dahlia mutters under her breath. Finnick looks at her as if to ask how she knows. "Ivy asked for one for her birthday, but they didn't look like these ones."

Katniss quietly sneaks up on them, pressing her back against theirs to provide coverage from all angles. Her bow is loaded with two arrows, as she tells them, "They're mutts." She calls for Peeta and Wyatt, who turn around at the sound of their names, faces dropping as they see the animals surrounding them. "Walk over here slowly," Katniss instructs.

Peeta grabs the spile and his sword while Wyatt pulls a couple of daggers out of his back pocket. It's hard for Peeta to keep his steps quiet with the loud thump of his metal leg hitting against the moss, but he manages it, little by little.

"We need to get to the beach," Wyatt mutters to the others, spinning on his heel as the monkeys start to crowd in on them. One lunges for him and Dahlia rips it's head off with one swift swipe of her sickle.

The mutts are relentless with their attacks, and nobody holds back as they fight off the animals. Katniss is pushed underwater by one and Wyatt spears his dagger into it's chest, helping her up as the monkey's body goes limp. "Go! Get to the beach!"

Despite the beach growing closer and closer the further they run, the mutts are gaining ground on them, and fast. Dahlia screams in pain when one sinks it's claws into her leg and kicks it full force in the face. She hobbles towards the beach, swiping and hitting out with her sickles, letting out all of the rage she's kept bottled up for years on end.

They are mere metres from the beach when it happens; a mutt has Peeta pinned against a tree, ready to make one final blow, when a camouflaged morphling from Six jumps out of her hiding spot in the treeline, allowing the monkey to sink it's claws into her chest.

Peeta gasps and sinks his sword into the monkey's back, tossing it off the morphling. Between him and Katniss, they manage to carry her to the oceanfront, while Dahlia, Finnick and Wyatt try to hold off their attackers.

As they reach the beach, Dahlia turns her back for a split second to make sure they haven't left anyone behind.

A split second is all it takes.

Wyatt starts to scream bloody murder, and then it dies out into nothing but a dull whimper.

She turns back around.

Three monkeys have pounced on him, pinning him to the ground, sinking their claws into him over and over and over and over again.

A scream tears out of Dahlia's throat as she rushes to his side, using her sickles to slash at the monkeys and pushing them off of him like they weigh nothing. The monkeys snarl at her as she grabs Wyatt under the arms and starts dragging him across the sand, leaving a streak of crimson in his wake.

Dahlia sets him down gently on his back, trying her hardest not to panic when she catches sight of the blood seeping from his stomach and neck. "Oh God," she cries, hands tremoring violently as she tries to stem the bleeding.

Wyatt tries to speak, but only a gurgled sound comes out, followed by a trickle of red. "It hurts," he manages to choke out.

Dahlia starts to sob as she grabs his hand. "I know. I know, but you'll be fine. You hear me, it's going to be okay."

"Kill me."

Dahlia's blood runs cold. "What?"

"Kill me. Put me out of my misery."

Her voice shakes. "No." Finnick's at her side, a reassuring hand on her back. She can barely feel it. "No. I can't-- I won't!"

"If you don't do it, I'll do it myself," Wyatt reaches for a dagger and Dahlia tosses it into the sea. He grabs hold of the front of her wetsuit. "I'm begging you."

"You can't ask me to do that," she sobs, chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. "You can't ask me to do that. It's not fair! I won't. I won't!"

Wyatt frowns, tears trickling down his face. "Please, Dahlia. Please. I'm scared."

Dahlia hunches over, screaming and crying as Finnick tries to coax her into his arms.  "Close your eyes." She begs.

"What?"

"I can't do it if you're looking at me. I can't."

"I don't want to see the dark," Wyatt gasps. "I don't want the last thing I see to be darkness."

Dahlia wants to be sick. But she has to stay strong. If not for herself, for Wyatt. "It's okay. I'm gonna be right here with you, holding your hand." She intertwines their fingers together and he lets his eyes flutter shut. A tear rolls down his cheeks. "You see that light? You see it?"

"I see it," Wyatt whispers. "I see it."

"You're gonna follow it for me, okay?" She muffles a sob into her hand as she raises her sickle and presses the sharp end into his throat. He breathes out a sigh of relief and she nearly keels over at the sound. "I need you to follow the light, yeah? It'll be okay. The light will take care of you."

"Okay," Wyatt murmurs, brows knitted together as if he really can see the light.

"It's going to be okay." Dahlia repeats. "Okay?"

"Okay."

The canon sounds, he goes limp in her arms, and Dahlia bolts up the beach.

[2nd2ndalto]

nothing's gonna stop me but divine intervention

Part 2! Editing and re-editing this took so much longer than it should have. Never underestimate my ability to create plot holes in something that barely has a plot, I guess.

__

Chapter 2

(chapter 1 here)

Nico goes very, very pale. “What – what does that mean?”

Will knows Nico well enough to be able to recognize that he’s trying very hard to keep it together. Will also knows Nico well enough to see that he’s terrified.

Maybe Will’s wrong about the pollen, though. Could he be? Almost scared to try, he holds a hand out in front of him, tries to feel his way into his powers, to summon any semblance of a glow.

Fuck. Nothing. It feels like a spent muscle, drained and useless.

Will steels himself. He's had some experience delivering bad medical news, unfortunately. He tries to ignore the way his whole body feels like a live wire, fizzing. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the original Star Trek series?” he asks.

Nico just blinks.

“I think it was the first reference to – sex pollen. In modern media. There’s an episode where the crew of The Enterprise visits a planet where all the inhabitants are mysteriously in perfect health and in perpetual – bliss. They discover these spores. Which are like an – aphrodisiac,” Will says haltingly.

“An aphrodisiac?” Nico says weakly.

“Yeah. And this – substance. That we inhaled. It has similar effects. Aphrodisiac effects.”

Nico hasn’t taken his eyes off Will for a single second, clearly fighting to make sense of all this. Likely trying to come up with a way out, any available loophole.

“So what do we do?” Nico whispers. “How do we – how long does it last?” He’s still sitting just inches away, all tense and… warm.

The level of attraction Will’s feeling towards his friend is off the charts, incredibly distracting. If he swayed forward just a few inches, he’d be able to feel Nico’s hot breath on his skin, press his mouth to the square line of Nico’s stubbled jaw… And gods, the way Nico’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, how much Will wants to bite them –

“Will?” Nico sounds just on the edge of panic, and that’s enough to snap Will back to reality for a second. Because yes, he’s feeling all these things for Nico, but there’s absolutely no reason to think that Nico might have the same feelings in return, Will reminds himself firmly, trying to cling to the little bits of sanity and logic he’s still able to access.

“It’s nothing I’ve studied extensively,” Will says. “But from what I remember, the effects should last about twelve hours, depending on the dose. And we both got a good faceful.”

“Twelve hours.” Nico sounds breathless. “But we can’t – can’t you do something? Or – or I can shadow travel us out of here – the hospital in New Rome –”

Will swallows. “You won’t be able to. The spores disable your powers. I just tried to use mine, and – there’s nothing there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean – you could try.”

Will knows better than anyone that Nico’s physiology can be unpredictable. He remembers unicorn draught. A flash in his mind: Nico’s hand, slipping right through his, no substance to it. Will’s stomach still churns with the memory.

Nico stills, closes his eyes. The tension rising in his body is almost tangible, a string pulled tighter and tighter –

“Fuck. Fuck.” He sags, drops his head to his hands.

“Yeah,” Will breathes, bleak agreement. “And the symptoms – are pretty much everything you’d imagine that would go along with heightened sexual arousal,” he says, forcing himself to relay this information as clinically as possible. “So, like –”

“It’s okay,” Nico interrupts. “You don’t have to – I think I can figure it out.”

Will’s eyes settle Nico’s leather-clad back, heaving with his breath. What a fucking mess.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault,” Will says.

“No, Will.” Nico sits up. He’s flushed, glowing – and okay, it’s probably sweat, actually, but he’s incredibly, breathtakingly gorgeous. And he’s looking at Will with so much care and sympathy. “It’s really not your fault.”

“It was my idea to open the urn,” Will says, guilt burning in his chest. He can almost never stop the impulse. “I – I should have remembered about the spores. Because I can’t do anything about it now, but maybe I could have, if I’d caught it sooner, if I’d remembered –”

“No, stop that,” Nico says, stern, intimately familiar with Will’s spiralling thought processes. “It’s not your fault. And anyway it’s – it’s not a big deal, right? We’ve been through worse.”

It makes Will’s throat go tight, the way Nico can pivot so quickly, the way he just decides we can do this, because he knows that’s what Will needs to hear.

Will wants so badly to give him the same reassurance in return. “Maybe – let me try,” he says. “To see if I can do anything to help. I tried to summon a glow a few minutes ago, and it didn’t work, but –” he offers a hand to Nico. Nico takes it, automatic.

Will closes his eyes and tries to push the arousal from his brain, tries to gather the threads in his mind that can reach out and feel. Feeling Nico is normally second nature, easy as breathing. Will tries. And tries.

He drops Nico’s hand, frustrated. It aches, letting go, and Nico clearly feels it too, letting out a soft whine.

“Fuck. I’ve got nothing,” Will says. He’s sweating even harder now, a trickle of it down his back. “It’s like everything’s blocked. Like all my powers are behind a locked door, and I just – can’t.

“It felt like it was working for a second,” Nico says, shaky. “When you were – holding my hand. I felt like – like everything kind of – settled.”

Will gazes at Nico, forcing his brain to work through the problem, consider the facts of the matter. Gods it’s so much more difficult than it should be. Everything feels like swimming through mud, dense and blinding. But – “the spores – they want skin-to-skin contact, right? So that’s got to help ease the effects, somehow,” Will says slowly. Does that make sense? He thinks it makes sense.

“So can we – is it okay if we – hold hands?” Nico asks, awkward.

“Yeah, of course.”

It’ll be a blessing, if that’s all it takes. Will reaches for Nico’s hand, linking their fingers together. The relief is immediate, like a balm. A sudden breeze on a sweltering summer day.

“Oh, that’s –” Will breathes.

“Better, yeah,” Nico sighs. He closes his eyes and there’s a long moment of quiet, the two of them sitting side by side on Will’s bed. There’s the slam of a door somewhere down the hallway, and the ding of the elevator. But it suddenly feels as if everything’s muted, like anything taking place beyond the two of them is inconsequential.

“So what do we do now?” Nico murmurs. “Just – sit here holding hands for twelve hours?”

“We can,” Will says, just as soft. The comfort is almost overwhelming. Feeling Nico’s vital energy has always been calming. And though Will can’t actually do that at the moment, this is an awfully good substitute. The arousal hasn’t abated in the slightest, boiling heat in his veins, but Nico’s nearness is making everything fuzzy at the edges. Soft and floaty. Will can feel his heart rate slowing, his shoulders relaxing.

“It’s nice,” Nico says. For a second Will thinks he means to say more, but then they just fall into silence again, heat and breath.

How many other times have they sat together like this, in soft conversation or in silence, just taking comfort in each other? How many times have Will’s worries and problems culminated in just this: the two of them quiet, together. The reassurance that Nico knows him like no one else does. And that he’s going stay, no matter what else changes in their lives.

“I can probably do this for twelve hours,” Nico says. He sounds so much calmer now. “I mean, it wasn’t how I planned to spend the evening. But it’s always nice hanging out with you.” He squeezes Will’s hand and the feeling of it tingles all over Will’s body, sparking to his fingers and his toes. And his dick.

Shit.

Will takes a deep breath, lets it out slow, measured.

He's been doing his best not to focus on it, but he’s very, very hard. And the longer they sit here in quiet, the more he’s extremely aware of the throbbing ache in his groin. He shifts, just slightly.

Quiet again.

“You okay?” Nico asks.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m hanging in there,” Will says. But it’s starting to feel… less good.

“How long do you think it’s been since we opened the urn?” Nico asks. “Maybe an hour?”

“Maybe?” Will opens his eyes to check his watch. “Yeah. Almost.” He shifts again. “I – I’m getting a little uncomfortable,” he admits.

“Oh. From sitting?” Nico asks. He turns to look at Will, and gods Will needs to kiss him. He needs to. A tip of their heads and they’d be close enough, Will’s fingers winding in dark hair, and Nico’s lips would part –

Will pulls his hand away and stands, abrupt. Nico lets out a soft sound of protest, swaying towards Will for a moment before sitting back again, looking adorably disappointed.

And what if… what if Will could kiss that look right off his face?

Will presses both hands over his eyes. Gods, he’s got to get it together. This hotel room is so fucking small. “I – I think it wants – more,” he says.

“What?” Nico says. At least his voice doesn’t come closer. Will doesn’t think he could take it.

“The spores,” Will grits out. “It – the physical contact. It’s – rewarding. In the short term. But then the spores want more. More contact. More – skin.”

“Oh –”

“So holding hands isn’t enough. After a while.”

“So what do we do?” Nico asks. He looks more uncomfortable now too, awkwardly shifting his hips like maybe his jeans are too tight. And for the first time Will’s exquisitely aware that Nico’s likely just as hard as he is, just a few feet and a couple of layers of fabric away. And maybe that shouldn’t be such an enormous jolt to his system, but it is. Will groans.

“Will –” Nico stands, reaches out, then takes a step back, looking desperately unsure.

Gods, this is the fucking worst. How on earth are they supposed to endure eleven more hours of this? Now that they’re not touching anymore, it’s as if every outside sensation is amplified in a way that makes Will want to crawl out of his skin. The soft light from the bedside lamps is too bright and the quiet murmur of the TV in the next room is deafening. Most of all, the ache in his groin is superseding all his other, more sensible thought processes. He’s desperate to take the few steps into Nico’s space, take Nico’s face in his hands and –

He’s your friend he’s your friend he’s your friend, Will chants internally.

“We – we can – it wants us to… reproduce,” Will manages. “That’s the only way to nullify it. Without waiting for the effects to wear off.”

Nico laughs, bleak. “It wants – Will, you and I could fuck for twelve hours straight and there still wouldn’t be any reproduction.”

And suddenly all Will’s stupid, stupid brain can hear is you and I could fuck for twelve hours straight. You and I could fuck for twelve hours straight. You and I could fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Will very carefully does not look at Nico. His friend. “It – I think it’s happy with – with an orgasm,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “I don’t think there would be any way for it to determine whether there was actual – you know. Mating.”

A long silence, Will focusing determinedly on the swirly pattern of the carpet at his feet.

“And – couldn’t we satisfy that requirement – separately?” Nico asks in a small voice.

Will shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Not the way these processes usually work.”

“So the only way to finish this sooner would be –”

“Yeah,” Will whispers. He finally looks up.

The expression on Nico’s face is heartbreaking. Aching and conflicted. Nico opens his mouth. Closes it again.

“Obviously we don’t have to,” Will rushes to say. “There’s no – it won’t hurt us. Physically. To wait it out. There wouldn’t be any long-term effects.”

“It’s just – you’re my friend, Will. You’re my best friend,” Nico whispers.

Will feels tears spring to his eyes and gods, he wants so badly to close the distance between them, drag Nico him into a hug.

Tensing every muscle in his body, he stays where he is. “You’re my best friend, too,” he says, his voice rough.

“I honestly don’t know what I’d do. If I lost you,” Nico says. He sounds so sure, so earnest, even with his breath quickened, pupils blown wide.

“It’s okay,” Will croaks. “I get it. I know.”

Then, unthinking, because the itch is just so powerful, Will presses the heel of his hand to his aching dick, desperate for just a second of relief.

Nico’s eyes follow the motion and he takes in a soft gasp. “Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers, looking away.

Will’s eyes go wide. “No, I’m sorry –”

“I – I think I’m gonna take a shower. I just – I need a minute. And obviously we’re not leaving again tonight, so I might as well change into pjs.” Nico says all this very quickly. He turns jerkily, rummages in his backpack for a second and practically runs into the bathroom.

Will sinks to the couch in the corner. He leans back. Closes his eyes. He hears the bathroom door close, the click of the lock.

He wonders if Nico is going to attempt to take care of things on his own in there.

Oh gods, of course he is.

Will supposes he could do the same, while he’s got a few minutes of privacy. After all, he can’t think of any reason it would make things worse. But instead he sits very, very still. Breathes.

Finally, the bathroom door opens. Nico, clad in a band tee and sweats now, emerges in a cloud of steam. Will gives him a questioning look.

“Didn’t work,” Nico says shortly.

(chapter 3 here)

__

thanks again to @rosyredlipstick for the beta!! <3

[madrivervalleyicelandics]

Yes that’s sort of what I’m getting at, this could be “normal” & may have always been there, so I’m not even trying to moralize it or say it’s good or bad, it’s just that we NEED to get curious about it to actually know if that’s the case, & to know how best to manage symptomatic horses. If it’s something we can breed away from, that would be great to know! But it also just has implications for how we best manage individuals, if we don’t test we can’t know. Right now a lot of people will say a horse is hypermobile, and even recommend exercises for the horse, but I find strange pushback when it comes to actually checking for this disease. And ultrasounds aren’t invasive! They aren’t cheap, but MANY procedures are more cost prohibitive.

I had seen that they’re working on skin biopsies but I don’t think that’s available yet as a diagnostic test for owners to order yet…. If it is, it seems it hasn’t been available to me around here yet.

We did do muscle biopsies of my ESPA mares when we suspected PSSM2, & once I understood how invasive that procedure was, I understood why it’s not a popular diagnostic test. We had good reason to suspect PSSM with their symptoms, though, so I don’t regret the choice. A skin biopsy would certainly be easier than that 😅

My cynical guess is that breeders would need a very compelling reason to test the horses before they’d spend the money and risk tarnishing a bloodline’s reputation. With ECVM, lawsuits actually broke out over people sharing diagnostic results. Stallion owners were angry at the suggestion that their horses’ offspring had the condition, & didn’t want it to negatively impact their horses’ reputations. I recall a bit of that with Spavin, particularly if the stallions were sound & the condition didn’t bother them… it’s tricky. What would be MOST useful is a test that would be non-invasive enough to do as part of a prepurchase exam 😅

The official recommendation is to not ride ESPA horses, but studies have shown that exercise helps slow progression of the condition. I think stabilizing exercises (like basic French classical dressage work in-hand) are a great idea, & one of the vets I work with was also talking about doing things that the horses enjoy, for their mental health as well! For example Vigri finds trail rides enriching, always has enjoyed getting out to explore in the woods. I’m primarily being more mindful about how much weight he carries for how long, & avoiding excessive repetitive pounding. We’ve definitely done our last 100 mile ride, but he enjoys his hacks & can do them on the pony line or with a light rider & I feel comfortable with that for him at this stage (his vets have also approved that level of work). Managing his weight will also be extremely important. His vet team thinks he should be able to be comfortably managed into his 20s which, really, is a decent expectation for any horse. I can’t be mad about that prognosis! But that decision is also context specific to Vigri, who gets bodysore when he’s out of work, & who shows evidence of enjoying his hacks. When it came to Sylgja, she was fully exercise intolerant at her time of diagnosis (age 5) & wasn’t consenting even to hand walks, & Skvísa was not far behind, experiencing muscle tremors after walks for example. So there is a huge range of progression & severity.

It could be a topic for a whole separate post, but I think offering opportunities for consent in training could be a huge part of managing chronic / progressive conditions like this. It’s not foolproof because horses tend to be very good about telling you what’s comfortable in the moment, but can’t really understand that doing too much now might make them sore later, so in that sense consent isn’t ENOUGH. But man… having Sylgja be pure R+ trained & VERY comfortable saying “no” is what saved her a much more painful life, & honestly the reason I kept digging to understand what was wrong with her when diagnostics kept coming back negative. There was this constant question of, maybe it’s just behavioral, maybe I’m not getting through to her, why is she like this…. But she kept saying no, so I kept trying to figure out why. When we did her ultrasound, I was warned ahead of time that it might be inconclusive because of her young age - the disease might be present but might not have broken down the tissues enough to become obvious yet. So when the results were a very CLEAR positive at age 5 both vets & I just kind of sat there in silence for a few minutes like, damn. Okay. Well. That’s that, then. I was so stunned after the ultrasound that I was sort of robotic but I remember that one of the vets took me aside and said “listen, this horse could have so easily been abused if you hadn’t listened to her. I see it every day.” Imagine if I’d sold her on, or tried to push her through it when she started to resist.

I’m only just getting to feel really okay talking about it, honestly. But there is so much to learn from the whole situation, not just for me, but already it’s helped others solve mystery cases of their own. And many horses get a better outcome than she did, if we catch this early I think there is so much we can do for these horses.

Another thing I’ve been talking about with a couple of colleagues recently is that many of us (esp in R+ circles) have made careers of fixing horses that would have been culled in the past. Again, not trying to moralize that or say it’s good or bad, it’s just the world we live in now. We don’t kill animals when they fall short of expectations, in most modern cultures - we try to work with them and find solutions. That means we WILL see and discover more conditions than we used to. Even if ESPA has always been around, these fast-progressing cases that make horses lame or provoke them to behavioral problems wouldn’t have been around long enough to really examine because they’d have been culled. Until fairly recently in history, honestly. So perhaps, as welfare improves globally and we continue to evolve our thinking to respect animals as individuals with inherent value (which I think is a good thing, to be clear!), maybe seeing more chronic disease is a part of that, just in the sense that these animals now get the privilege of a full life 🤷‍♀️ I can’t tell if that’s a positive thought or a gloomy one, which probably means I should stop for the night 😅

Since my two mares got ESPA diagnosed in 2023 I feel like everyone I know has ESPA dx’d or suspected in Icelandic horses. So all I’m gonna say here is that if you have weird mystery sensitivity, the horse is kind of reactive & weird some days & fine others & you’re ruling out a lot of common causes of pain & can’t really find muscular or chiropractic causes & the horse isn’t lame on one leg or neuro but something is just weird about the horse…..

Ultrasound those suspensories, bestie!

We just did Vigri this Fall & found that he has early signs of degeneration of his suspensories, too, but at 16 & sound this is “normal” progression of the disease (as opposed to the serious degradation of the tissues we noted in Sylgja at age 5, & her mom at 13 - I still think Skvísa probably would have progressed more slowly had I not bred her, which I’d never have done if I’d known she had the disease). Since he isn’t a mare, won’t be bred, & the current best practice for treatment is consistent, appropriate exercise, I’m responding to this DX by slowing down his workload, riding him myself less, ponying him more, having my child (who is very light) be his primary rider when ridden, & keeping up with the shoe package that’s been keeping him sound & comfy with his rotational deformities up to this point. Vigri is more comfortable / happy when in an exercise program so this makes sense for him at this level of progression, but we will be monitoring closely & re-checking. This comes w perfect radiographs (zero arthritic changes to hocks, fetlocks, etc) - we literally only US’d bc when I pulled him barefoot last winter I THOUGHT I noticed his fetlocks dropping slightly more than usual, & I wanted to see if I were crazy or not 🤡

But where I’m at w this now is I think it is FAR more common in the breed than previously reported & warrants serious examination certainly for anyone who wants to breed these horses. The prevalence in Standardbreds, pasos (disease was first discovered in pasos) etc has a lot of vets curious if there’s a connection between the DMRT3 mutation & this connective tissue disease. Worth noting as well that Vigri is of no relation to my other horses, & is actually not even from the same breeding farm. Looking back, I wish I could US Glæta… I have a lot of questions about past “complicated” horses I worked with that could be answered by this disease.

It’s super worth paying attention to because of the connective tissue involved w internal organ suspension. A friend just attended a dissection of an (suspected) ESPA horse in which the liver was found to be detatched. I know quite a few Icelandic horses that were “fine” until they suddenly died of some weird medical event involving digestion. Was it colic or something else…..?

We know this disease can affect the cardiovascular system, vision, etc. I’m certainly curious if Vigri’s intermittent difficulty pulsing down - even when his resp returned to normal right away - could be related to subclinical presentation of this disease. I’m even curious if his rotational deformities at birth might have been the earliest sign! I’m quite sure it explains his unusually sensitive skin, which rubs & chafes so easily. All of which is to say, this disease goes beyond workload / performance expectations, it’s not just a (potential) soundness problem. It’s potentially something that can negatively impact organ function.

Another interesting thing I’ve learned more recently is that research is suggesting that the bodies of these horses lay down layers of fat in unusual / unexpected places to compensate / protect the lack of healthy connective tissue. On dissection that’s apparently really interesting to see, sometimes the horses don’t even palpate or look especially fat until you get into the layers of the body. My ESPA mares did have an unusual amount of body fat & it actually complicated the muscle biopsies we did to rule out PSSM2….

Anyway this is sort of a disorganized dump of random ESPA thoughts but I haven’t had the energy or time to make more coherent thoughts for Instagram / FB & I know Tumblr doesn’t care.

Bottom line is if you’ve got gaited horses & they’re having “mystery” health or behavioral issues, you might want to consider a connective tissue disorder as a possible contributing factor! & certainly if you notice hypermobility or unusual flexion of the joints.

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

study tips i made instead of studying

first and foremost, do as i say not as i do (as in don't post study tips on tumblr when you have seven tests to study for)

make it aesthetic, that's always super motivating. put a playlist in the background like the "you're a princess researching about your mother while trying to overthrow your father" or "solving a mystery in your elite boarding school" or "studying in a library with the ghosts" (look them up they're good god knows i'm too lazy to link them) also mcu soundtracks help me so much!!

pretty notes!!

DRINK WATER (go now fr or i'm going to find you)

something i like to do is keep a big cup of water next to me and force myself to sit and study until it's empty

open windows!!! wind helps me focus personally

pretend you're studying in hogwarts or in the dead poets society or something. imagination is very powerful

snacks!!!!!!

more snacks!!!!!!!!!!

get interested in what you're studying. like fr. stuff we learn in school is amazing af like what do you mean we found out the universe is expanding through red-shift??? ok i know this is very nerdy of me but it's cool af. BE NERDY.

take breaks <3 always

pretend you have a rival you need to destroy (if you have one that's even better, personally me and my rival sometimes study in the same room to motivate each other just by glaring at each other from across the room)(side note: this could also be his method of flirting i will never know)

stand up and walk around every once in a while. for all my figure skating besties -- try to do an off-ice axel in your kitchen. it tends to wake me up because i tend to fall when i try to do a double but whatever that's a me problem.

find somewhere comfortable and wear something comfortable

make a to-do list

SEPARATE SECTION ABOUT TO-DO LISTS BECAUSE I HAVE A WHOLE SYSTEM FOR THIS

first of all you're going to brain dump everything you have to do. every little thing. including walking your dog. everything that has to be done in the next 24 hours.

let's take a sample to do list:

- math quiz

-math homework

-physics presentation

-chemistry test

-french oral

next, you're going to give each of them a score. how do we put scores? well

give it an easiness score from 1 -> 10 (10 being you can do it upside down with your eyes closed)

give it a stress score from -1 -> -10 (-10 being it causes crippling anxiety)

give it a priority score from 1 -> 10 (10 being your teacher will hunt you down if it isn't done in the next hour)

finally, give it in a convenience score from -1 -> -4 (-4 being i don't know where my notebook is my pen is in antartica i have no material to do this atm)

for me it would be something like

- math quiz (5E, -1S, 10P, -2C) 12

-math homework (7E, 0S, 8P, -1C) 14

-physics presentation (6E, -2S, 5P, -2C) 7

-chemistry test (2E, -2S, 10P, 0C) 10

-french oral (10E, -3S, 8P, -1C) 14

then sort everything. do the highest scores first and the lowest scores last (so you get the easy stuff done and get motivated to continue) and there! your to-do list is done in the least painful way possible <3

[monaetheworldsdestroyer]

*drops this at your feet like a cat with a dead mouse* been chewing on Charles' childhood trauma again. here you go

[melancholic-pigeon]

Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.

THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.

Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.

Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.

Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.

I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.

End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.

*revised for clarity

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

@artist-issues - why do you believe the death penalty should be completely and totally abolished? explain?

*cracks knuckles* Justice is one of the things I am most passionate about in the entire world and I am so glad that you asked. So presenting-

Why The Death Penalty Should Be Abolished - from a Christian

[This is a heavily condensed version because Tumblr is mean and deleted the entire thing the first time I wrote it, so, here's the short answer]

There are two different theories of justice that are used in the sphere of law. Retribution and Restitution. Retribution is when you punish someone as vengence for an act that they committed, and restitution is when you establish justice in a way to pay back the wrong that was done in the crime. They are two different schools of thought and there are a lot of arguments each way and the more you learn about it the more fascinating it gets, but I firmly believe that the way that God has created justice and law firmly sits in the way of restitution, and all Christians should come to that conclusion when studying the Bible and advocate for such.

According to its use in the Bible, God instructed the Israelites to use the death penalty in cases of rape and murder. To quote @/artist-issues from the comments-

A lot of God’s commands about civil law and justice seem to have to do with what can be *restored* to the victim of the crime. If the criminal takes something that doesn’t belong to them, for example, Exodus 22 shows the principle of the thief restoring what they took, and giving back double—so they’re restoring, and they’re losing something, themselves, in addition, because of their sin. But when someone rapes another human, they’re taking something they cannot restore to the victim. Ever. Same way when they murder; they’re taking something that can never be restored to the victims (plural, because not only is the murdered party dead, but they’ll never be restored to the other victims: their loved ones.) Plus, human life has inherent value. Which really means something, with real-world consequences when that value is totally defiled and ignored. That’s why Genesis 9:6 says “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image.” So God commands the death penalty. I think both because it IS the just thing to do, and because, knowing humanity’s sinful nature, God also knows that the death penalty is the only way to get depraved humans’ likelihood to COMMIT those crimes to actually drop in number. But both those things are sort of irrelevant for you and me: the bottom line is, if God says it’s okay, it’s okay.

And she is correct and spot on, I agree with almost every syllable of this dissection of Scripture. God has permitted the death penalty in response to rape and murder.

HOWEVER. I think once you start to add in other factors of historical context and modern day society, if you stick to that conclusion to the same degree you are sorely mistaken.

I believe that as of today, in 21st century America, that the death penalty should be overturned in all cases and that no crime whatsoever justifies its use. While our justice system is a lot better than some countries currently or historically and I am very thankful for the fact, it is still messed up.

People are on death row for years, which utterly destroys them physiologically, there is systemic racism and injustice in the bias against minorites (see the very end of this post), it is incredibly expensive for all parties (most notably taxpayers!), the methods of execution like lethal injection can be cruel and unusual, those with intellectual disability and those living in poverty are targeted, and lengthy trials hurt everyone. And most importantly, the rate of how many of those cases the defendent is actually innocent is incredibly staggering and gut-wrenching. And, there is no reliable evidence that the death penalty deters murder- in today's context.

We live in a different world than the Israelites did, plain and simple. Society's ideas of justice have progressed, and I'm not saying that as a way to crap on the ancient world and how uncivilized it was, far from it, I'm just saying that these values have changed, and most of it due to Christiantiy in fact. So we have to look at things in their historical context.

They lived in a revenge culture! If A stole B's camel, B would go kidnap A's sister, then A would murder B's parents, which would make B go burn down A's house and land with all of their family inside, A would torture B to death which would make B's children take up arms, and it could continue to escalate until there were multi-generation bloody wars going on. And do you know what God did when he introduced the concept of capping punishments to the Israelites? It stopped. Very little at first, just among them, but over time and as the other nations saw the power of the Hebrew God, they listened and changed themselves. And now, because of how God has changed society's concept of justice, there is no more need and very little want for extreme and overbearing punishment.

But, with these developments, the fear of punishment has slipped, undoubtably so. People think a lot less about punishment before commiting a crime unfortunately. Because it isn't as extreme anymore, or if it is its for all the wrong reasons in all the wrong places. And because of this, after decades of research, there is no solid evidence that the death penalty has any influence whatsoever on violent crime. Today, having life in prison is a far better way to correctly punish someone rather than excecute them, because now we're morally imprinted on a society that God has shaped to view punishment differently.

But more so- because there have been so many screw-ups when it comes to this that it makes me weep. Please read Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. Please go and take a look at that link and think about what you read there. Human error and sin have lead to so much pain and suffering that was totally undeserved and evil. Innocent people are dead, mentally disabled, or physically so. People who were in fact guilty still faced heinous circumstances that outweighed the wrong that they had done by a staggering amount. And both the innocent and guilty have staggered under the weight of injustice that has wrongly convicted them and ruined their lives- if they lived.

Also, we need to remember that our job today with the justice system is not to give out the final punishment that person may or may not deserve in this life. That's Jesus' job on judgement day. The laws that Ancient Israel had back then should be treated differently than 21st century America today. The law is good if used properly- but the death penalty isn't that today. The holy men who used to distribute God's justice in Israel would do so by God's standard, and everyone understood and submitted under His authority willingly. They understood the why behind it. Did those guys who decided on punishment ever screw up like today and commit injustice? I don't know. I'm not going to speculate. But what I do know? According to the way that God outlined what the acceptable use of the death penalty, that is good. That is justice. I completely and totally agree with that.

But that isn't America today. America is not a Christian country. And we don't function as a theocracy. A lot of very powerful people blaspheme God and do not care about the morality He has laid on our hearts. And people are wicked and will do wicked things, not caring for those they have hurt. They have wielded the justice system to hurt people, the innocent yes, but also the guilty more than they deserved. Which is also unjust. And because of people's action, or inaction, so much pain and suffering has manifested in the world.

And look- God can do anything. Absolutely, 100%. The heart of kings is like water in His hand. Even if we screw up, His plan will come through anyway and He'll use it for good. But Scripture makes abundently clear that our actions do indeed have consequences and do have an effect. I'm not God, there is a lot of gray area, I don't fully understand it or how it lines up for or against His plan, but all I do know is that He has set things before us to achieve and it is our duty to carry them out with everything that we've got. All I can see when I look at the justice system today is overwhelming evidence for a need for reform and to protect the incarcerated- those who do in fact deserve to be there, as well as those who are innocent and are suffocating under the weight of injustice.

Unfortunately, the death penalty is not unconstitutional… as of right now. We can amend it to be so however. And same with abolishing it on a state by state level, we could get there. Which is why we sorely need more Christians to go into law, civil rights, and politics, despite how hard and ugly they can be. We need more people to stand up and shout that this is vile and wrong and hurts the world. There have been some huge wins against capital punishment! In Furman v. Georgia it was decided that the death penalty is cruel and unusual punishment when the punishment was not proportional to the crime. This lead 35 states to pass refined death penalty laws and Congress to pass statutory guidelines for death sentences. Praise God and hallelujah! If we can continue this and stregthen it, we very well could be on the way to better justice and abolishment in the not-so-near future.

I doubt that our country will ever reach a place of being able to perfectly align the legal system with Old Testament law and advocate for the death penalty in the cases that the Bible states. Because society and culture today are different. A majority of people in the judicial system are not religious, let alone Christian. So they're not thinking in the way that we think about these things. And I've barely touched on the fact that logistically, the death penalty costs so much money and time that it is literally cheaper to feed and care for someone spending seventy years behind bars than it is to pay for the legal proccess of that person's case, on both the defensive and offensive's accounts, but its true. A HUGE reason to totally abolish the penalty due to our culture today and how its changed. And it is going to be far better to advocate for life in prison rather than death- because that means anytime there is human error, we're looking to release people from jail with a big check rather than mourn over the fact that if we had just been a little bit better at our jobs in the legal system, we wouldn't be leaving flowers at their grave.

In conclusion, I firmly believe that it is the calling of the faithful to save as many people as we can. That means that we evangelize and preach the Gospel to the world no matter what. While Jesus is the only one who saves, and one only comes to the Father if He has first called him, we’re called in Romans 10 and many other places to tell as many as possible. Because how can they come to God if they never know Him? Which is why Christians are called to preach the Gospel to every tounge, tribe, and nation.

I apply the same philosophy here. I am going to do everything in my power for the rest of my life to save the physical lives of as many people as possible according to my convictions and what I see God calling for us as His children to do to the justice system as it is the way it is today. Because how can I hope to save someone who is dead, or so mentally damaged they may never be able to grasp the Word? Before I can work to save their souls, I have to save their life.

SIDE NOTE: anyone reading this who doesn’t believe in racial injustice needs to wake up and go read some statistics and go look at the EJI website, It is real, it is happening, and it will keep happening until we stop racial inequality. Believe it or not, while there are no laws that spell out racial inequality that are still in force, it is still very much present and active socially, especially in the Deep South. If you do not believe in racial inequality and how its affecting innocent people, either ask me more about it or just unfollow me. I might not post about this topic often but it doesn’t mean I am filled with a fiery passion and conviction to bring forth change every time I think of it.

Reminder that the death penalty is highly unethical and should be completely and totally abolished with no exceptions.

[adore-gregor]

.

[allbeendonebefore]

went to this fabulous talk about the parthenon marbles last night and 24 hours later im still buzzing with excitement about it and seeing my profs and then of course today i get an email from my boss asking for updates and im just aarghh why am i doing this work why am i not going back to school why am i not going on an archaeology dig ugh ugh ugh

[girlivealwaysbean]

it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy