#probably more cathartic too

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Soooooo I wrote this incredibly self-indulgent thing about Miles. I have many feelings about how he keeps himself so tightly in control. It's gotta go somewhere.

Disclaimer it's quite dark, so mind the trigger warning and keep yourself safe <3

TW: self-harm, not what I would consider graphic descriptions, but it is the central theme and way more than a mention

The lock clicks. He slips his suit jacket off. Loosens then removes his tie. Untucked, buttons undone. It’s all laid out on the bed. Step by step. Shoes set to the side and trousers swapped for silken pajama pants.

The bathroom door closes behind him. The second lock between him and the world. The shower comes on. Towel laid out on the counter.

His drawer, second down on the left. He pulls out the small black bag. Gold zipper. Supple leather. Inside, his collection. Three packs of new razor blades. An open pack of blades; used ones tucked into the back. A single hypodermic needle. A crafting knife. Two unopened band aids.

The rest of the drawer’s contents is ignored, antiseptic and suture kits, butterfly closures and rolls of gauze, in favor of practiced hands sliding the tin of blades from the bag and the blade from the tin.

He sits on the toilet, lid down. Elbow straight. Fist clenched. The first slice with a small inhale. Bright and sharp and stinging. Familiar and comforting. Line after line as red blooms from the wounds. The ecstasy second only to the Kiss. Rivulets follow gravity down. Strategically placed tissues catch the mess.

Stained crimson, they fall into the waste basket. He flexes his wrist, testing the pull of the broken skin, blots the last of the blood away. Blade inspected and stowed; everything returned to it’s place. Pajamas folded on top of the toilet, he steps into the shower.

[trans-leek-cookie]

Thinking about geto because I want to pour milk on him and throw him against the wall. Imo his beliefs are inconsistent and self serving (which makes sense because he developed said beliefs at age 16/17 while his mental health was at an all time low). Because while he seems to have the primary motive of "only sorcerers = no curses" taking into account how he treats Maki, who has no cursed energy, it shows that the "no curses" thing isnt the main focus- bc while he decided on tbe "forced evolution" thing, theoretically he should not be Opposed to ppl w heavenly restriction bc. They still fuckin. Don't contribute to curses from what I can tell. Also heavenly restriction is pretty obviously something that is punished by uh. Is it just the Zenin's who have it. Anyway they hated Maki and they Hated Toji so he clearly isn't standing for "oppressed sorcerers" bc if so Maki should be like. The kind of person he wants to help more, as someone who would be oppressed by ppl who aren't sorcerers as well as the powerful clans.

Anyway. While getting rid of curses is for sure part of his motivation, as well as helping sorcerers (see Nanako and Mimiko) id honestly argue that his main problem that lead to him spiraling was. How do I put this. Being knocked off a pedestal

Because he was one of 3 people given the ranking of "Special Grade", and he and satoru are grouped as "the strongest". And consider that satoru comes from a powerful clan and literally has some weird omniscience and invincibility shit going on so that's a whole fucking. That's gotta be a wild ego boost, especially for someone who comes from a family of ppl who aren't sorcerers. Like you spend all this time being a fuckin weirdo and then someone finds you and it turns out you're actually incredibly special and strong, given the same rank as a fucking God Child? You're gonna have some wild self perceptions after that

Anyway then you get to watch your invincible friend get stabbed, watch the girl you became friends with and feel shitty about kinda ruining the life of get shot, and get your whole shit rocked by some guy who can't even use the magic power bullshit you have. (Though he's got a whole physical thing going on because of the trade off)

Also writing all of this out actually makes me understand the Cult Leader progression more, like besides the fact they killed ur friend and you want em dead. You're probably struggling with your ego (especially since your weird God like friend got a whole power boost from the situation) so you create a fucking eugenicist cult where you can consistently prove your superiority to yourself (surrounding yourself with people who will agree with everything you say).

Anyway in a similar vein I wholely believe in "a loving father is not inherently a good father" Suguru + Nanako & Mimiko dynamic

Final thought is roughly I feel like looking at Suguru thru the lense of "this character had a level of privilege that they felt they truly deserved, and after experiencing events that are genuinely traumatic and horrific for any person, they develop reactionary beliefs to try and regain a sense of superiority and control" rather than "oppressed minority who killed oppressors and wants to do eugenics"

[electoons]

my psychiatrist was trying to explain that a lot of my depression and anxiety probably stems from my trying to force myself into a (neurotypical/allistic) mold that i wasn't made for and that it's nothing to be ashamed of and she listed elon musk and bill gates as my fellow autists and that made me cry harder

[iwasraisedfromperdition]

i can now play not one !! but two!!!! tøp songs with my drums

[judgementkazukun]

no one asked but kiryu wasnt even originally my favorite yakuza/rgg/lad character and i 100% sped through his parts to play more as majima in y0. truly my love for kiryu snuck up while i was playing through kiwami and then hit me like a freight train while playing either kiwami 2 or y3. and that's bc one thing about me is,,, if a character has experienced Grief then i just automatically feel loyal to them on that level.

[sammygender]

i have this problem where i actually really like work that dwells on like. homophobia and transphobia or whatever. to a worrying extent. and always makes its gay characters face it. and makes them meet with tragedy. like of course i detest the fact that its often/was often the only thing that exists but me, personally, i sometimes LIKE it. i find it cathartic. and besides it feels realer and rawer to me than the 20th quirky bisexual on like sex education or heartbreak high or whatever new teen show there is. theres something so much realer about so much ‘problematic’ 2000s gay representation lmfao

[orcelito]

Thinking about getting a nose piercing. Like a little stud on the side... on the right side. My cartilage piercing is on the left & I plan to wear a lil hoop on it once it's healed enough. And that just might be the only cartilage piercing I want? Bc I have my double lobes and I got only one cartilage piercing bc I like the idea of having just one lil hoop in one ear. Coincidentally on the same side as Vash's hoop, though I chose it long b4 getting into Trigun bc I part my hair to the right lol, which means a cartilage piercing would be more visible on the left.

Anyways I was thinking about it and if I have a side nose piercing on the right of my nose, then an eyebrow piercing on my left eyebrow... balanced with my hair on the right side... I think that'd be my ideal piercing setup tbh, at least for my face.

Could change my mind later, but I am Thinking about it

[letbuckfuck]

why is this MY LIFEEE i've been crushing on this girl all year who's an RA in my building and i literally don't even know her name or if she even likes girls (she gives vibes like she does though) but she's so cute and she has this dog who i always see that's adorable too and anyways yeah i have this stupid insane crush on this girl who doesn't know i exist. anyways just now i was sitting outside staring at the moon feeling sorry for myself and a little dramatic and she comes outside with her dog and her dog runs up to me and she lets me pet them and we talk for a little bit but then she i guess needs to wear her dog out a little so they go to sleep so she plays catch with her dog while i go back to being dramatic staring at the sky and then i left because i freaked out and couldn't go talk to her like a normal fucking person. and she didn't really give the vibes that she even really wanted to be friends with me like she was kinda just being polite while i was obviously more into our convo so i think i need to just leave it alone but this is horrible. i've liked her all year and we finally talk for the first time out of nowhere in a situation which quite frankly feels like fate but nothing happens i don't even catch her name and she doesn't ask me for mine. and it's the end of the year and i'm literally never gonna see her again. i hate my life so much why is the universe constantly playing a cosmic joke on me

[cryptidm0ths]

Need to see himeru lose control of something and just break

[bulletbilltime]

Between Ethel Cain's Preacher's Daughter, Shisumo's Bookstore Max AU, and whimsicalcotton's polluted marrow Max AU (and let's be real pretty much all of Life is Strange 1 & True Colors), I am noticing that I may be latching on to stories about traumatized ppl more than may be healthy

[quotesfrommyreading]

When I’m out with Deaf friends, I put my hearing aid in my purse. It removes any ability to hear, but far more importantly, it removes the ambiguity that often haunts me.

In a restaurant, we point to the menu and gesture with the wait staff. The servers taking the order respond with gestures too. They pantomime “drinks?” and tell us they learned a bit of signs in kindergarten. Looking a little embarrassed, they sign “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day” in the middle of asking our salad dressing choice. We smile and gently redirect them to the menu. My friends are pros at this routine and ordering is easy ― delightful even. The contrast with how it feels to be out with my hearing husband is stunning.

Once my friends and I have ordered, we sign up a storm, talking about everything and shy about nothing. What would be the point? People are staring anyway. Our language is lavish, our faces alive. My friends discuss the food, but for me, the food is unimportant. I’m feasting on the smorgasbord of communication ― the luxury of chatting in a language that I not only understand 100% but that is a pleasure in and of itself. Taking nothing for granted, I bask in it all, and everything goes swimmingly.

Until I accidentally say the word “soup” out loud.

Pointing at the menu, I let the word slip out to the server. And our delightful meal goes straight downhill. Suddenly, the wait staff’s mouths start flapping; the beautiful, reaching, visual parts of their brains go dead, as if switched off.

“Whadda payu dictorom danu?” the server’s mouth seems to say. “Buddica taluca mariney?”

“No, I’m Deaf,” I say. A friend taps the server and, pointing to her coffee, pantomimes milking a cow. But the damage is done. The server has moved to stand next to me and, with laser-focus, looks only at me. Her pen at the ready, her mouth moves like a fish. With stunning speed, the beauty of the previous interactions ― the pantomiming, the pointing, the cooperative taking of our order ― has disappeared. “Duwanaa disser wida coffee anmik? Or widabeeaw fayuh-mow?”

Austin “Awti” Andrews (who’s a child of Deaf adults, often written as CODA) describes a similar situation.

“Everything was going so well,” he says. “The waiter was gesturing, it was terrific. And then I just said one word, and pow!! It’s like a bullet of stupidity shot straight into the waiter’s head,” he explains by signing a bullet in slow motion, zipping through the air and hitting the waiter’s forehead. Powwwww.

Hearing people might be shocked by this, but Deaf people laugh uproariously, cathartically.

“Damn! All I did was say one word!” I say to my friends. “But why do you do that?” they ask, looking at me with consternation and pity. “Why don’t you just turn your voice off, for once and for all?” they say.

Hearing people would probably think I’m the lucky one ― the success story ― because I can talk. But I agree with my friends.

  —  I'm Deaf And I Have 'Perfect' Speech. Here's Why It's Actually A Nightmare.

[toytulini]

Its just. a truck. a shit ass truck, that sucks shit more than any other trucks on the road rn, which is impressive considering how bad modern trucks are. definitely not a sedan. not a van, its not a hatchback, its not an suv. It's got a bed for sure, even if its covered, they sell ? pickups with covered beds, or covers to put over the bed of a pickup you already own, to protect the bed. these exist. they dont turn the truck into a sedan or a van or an suv. Its just a extraordinarily shitty truck. It is a truck that sucks worse than any other truck you can buy rn which, as a truck hater, and a hater of cars made after like, 20teens at the latest, who thinks all trucks are disgusting and awful, is already a low bar. I'm not sure I get what we're doing here. Its just a truck that sucks. theres plenty of shit about it to make fun of it for relentlessly, theres no shortage of material here, you dont need to disparage the good name of any other these other vehicles, especially not a sedan, our last bastion left in usamerica against the ever encroaching light truck category taking over completely, since compacts and sub-compacts arent really available here anymore, not new models anyway.

Its a bad shitty truck, that is designed to live exclusively in the mildest, dryest, of climates with no weather at all, with a dedicated garage, and never do anything more strenuous than transport groceries for a single generic cishet nuclear family with 2.5 kids.

wait a sec. the cybertruck aint even a truck. it aint even a van, there's only the two rows of seating. mf's a sedan with angles

[cc-kote]

God I am so insanely proud of this gd novella of a fic I've been writing for the last month or so. I have the whole thing mapped out (3 acts, but the third act is separated into 2 parts) and act 1 is nearly finished. I just can't believe how much I have done already. For the last 5 years I've been struggling so hard to write anything consistently, like I had my own original stories planned and bits and pieces of them written but I struggled so hard to make the plot coherent and the characters dynamic and it was making me feel so sad and unenthusiastic abt writing. And then I fuckin watched TROS and got so pissed abt how dirty they did my faves that I was suddenly inspired to write my own self indulgent af fix it fic 😂😂😂

It's just so funny to me that the driving force behind me getting back into the swing of writing stories was being so deeply unsatisfied with the fates of my favorite characters that I felt the overwhelming need to take matters Into my own hands and rewrite it in a way that panders to what I want for them.

[monstersflashlight]

Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

[angeltrapz]

feeling like I'm writing miles ooc & then realizing it's bc im writing him... feeling what I feel sometimes. & it can occasionally appear/sound very unlike me, therefore it makes sense that it wld Also appear/sound unlike him. gave myself anxiety over a Vent lmfao (continued in tags but there's some tmi there. just as a warning.)

[mewguca]

Shame

this is a rather personal piece; it's primarily based on my own struggles

It probably could've been executed better (like having more of the interaction she's agonizing over), but I really wanted to focus on that visceral reaction of shame, guilt, and self-criticism

here's a long ramble I wrote while starting this ...

I realize, perhaps much of the reason certain depictions of moon trigger me so much is due to my own overwhelming shame and guilt. It's a defense mechanism crafted because I yet lack the strength to accept myself. I suppose that's why characters like Five Pebbles are so appealing to me — he is someone I've given the room to express his faults, his flaws, his hatred, his despair, his pain, and all his imperfections... For him to be mean or angry is natural and expected, so it's not as scary to express my negative feelings with him as the instrument. He's not a "good person", after all, so it's fine if he is "bad." His standards aren't as high.

Conversely, because I idealize LTTM so much and connect her to myself, I deny her the same things I deny myself. I do it without even thinking, really...

I've often thought, "but this sort of emotion doesn't really suit her... isn't this sort of projection too self-indulgent? If I made this, it'd be too obvious that my own emotions are bleeding through onto the canvas..."

So, I wonder if she's experienced that same sort of emotional repression. It'd be cathartic, in an unfortunate way. To see someone else struggle to grapple with such things, because they want to be pure and virtuous and not upset others...

It's harder when you spend so much time shaping that perfect, faultless, virtuous sort of image, especially when you do it reflexively. Unconsciously. You're making the pressure for yourself worse, but you can't stop... I'm actually not a very friendly person. I'm actually quite afraid and irritable, and I push people away when they get too close. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want anyone to hate me... I don't want to cause suffering or strife. Sometimes, I wish I could just be a completely passive observer.

But I suppose I'm a human being instead, so I have to accept that. Thanks for reading, I guess. I'm not really looking for emotional support here... I just want to be understood.