#reckless behaviors

[la-principessa-nuova]

So, uhhhh… this post started as a fun little post about all the progress i made in a year and then i like unlocked a bunch of memories of how bad it actually was, and…

yeah, this is extremely heavy stuff. i’ve added some tags for trigger/content warnings, let me know if you think I should add others.

and I’m putting it below a fold.

it’s so weird that like this time last year:

i felt stuck in a job i hated

i was scrolling through dating apps listed as a cis guy feeling like i could never be the guy any of them wanted and none of them were who i wanted either when i really thought about the dynamics of a relationship longterm

i was starting to watch some stuff about trans people with this feeling like 😬 if anyone sees i’m watching this need to have an excuse bc nobody knows i’ve had these thoughts for all these years

i’d occasionally stop and consider whether it’s possible i’m a woman or if i’m nonbinary but always concluded that it made no sense for me to transition even though I’m 100% definitely not a man

no friends i was actively talking to online of offline

very depressed

the heaviest i’ve ever been and feeling awful about it, knowing i have medical issues from it that i feel guilty about not taking seriously

my grandfather who i’d been regularly going to see for a while had just died

my other grandfather’s dementia was just starting to get really bad

the only joy i really had was disconnecting from my own thoughts by binge watching the existing seasons of dimension 20

idk how much detail i want to get into but like very dark thoughts about like what if this horrible thing happened and then i had an excuse to just start over in another state with a new life and not feel guilty about leaving people behind

the only way i did not slip into alcoholism is the fact that i don’t drink so that first step to start was a big enough barrier to stop me. most nights i looked at the drawer of alcoholic drinks left over from the last family gathering i hosted and thought about opening it up.

i had kitkats that technically have a very small amount of alcohol in them and kept just eating a lot of them as like a proxy for actual drinking that luckily wouldn’t have any actual effect

i had always felt immune from suicidal ideation because just the way I view emotions and things just doesn’t make it seem like it would ever be what I’d choose, even in an extreme situation, but I could definitely feel some gears starting to click into place like, “Ohhh, this is how I’d justify it to myself. This is what it would take for me to get there.”

frequently just thinking around the subject of it and then just laying down in bed and crying and watching stand up comedy on YouTube to distract myself

Well, that got way darker than I had initially remembered it. But the good news is I’m in a much better place. Still very much a work in progress but:

Back to my previous job that is completely fine and I sometimes even get a little excited about

Kind of given up on dating for now while I work on myself but like amenable to the idea of especially a long distance relationship, and now I get what i want in a relationship because I understand the inherently queer nature of it

I’m no longer kidding myself about being trans. I don’t have all the answers, but I know where I’m at and I’m over 4 months on HRT now and I think just about reaching cis ranges for estrogen and testosterone? (I was getting close at my 3 month checkup)

I have so many new friends online and just met one in person for the first time!

lost a good amount of weight and continuing to do so for health reasons, but also feeling much better about it now that I understand how much of what I thought was insecurity about my weight was gender dysphoria I was misplacing

my grandfather is still dead and the other one is still declining cognitively, so unfortunately no change there but the initial sting is over

struggling to even keep up to date with D20, but kind of in a good way because back then I had to watch it because I couldn’t sit with my thoughts and needed it as a proxy for human connection.

and everything else there I completely forgot was going on until I typed it up just now!

now i need to go get ready for therapy and have lunch 😊

[incorrectoccontent]

UPDATE

Vet: I’m going to take you out.

Villainess: Great! It’s a date!

Vet: I meant that as a threat.

Hero: I’m gonna take you out.

Villainess: Great! It’s a date!

Hero: I meant that as a threat.

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

To Serve the Queen

Pretending this was episode 2x07 don’t wake me up

[entranova]

Dang. Finn has been fully messed up since Jake died, hasn't he?

Like the way he's all "let's go on an adventure!!" and " it's no probs, I love fixing people :D" like s i r...

[bellabrady]

incorrect buddie quotes 52/?

[shannonsketches]

[gymleaderwally]

luckiest guy on the planet, I sure hope this doesn't cause him problems later (it will)

[jawz]

i saw the tv glow is legitimately one of the stupidest, most tryhard movies i've ever seen in my entire life. absolute dogshit. and everyone is pretending it's the most lifechanging thing they've ever seen LOL give me a break! the gall to claim this is inspired by fucking DAVID LYNCH??? i can't

[howlerbat]

The Walrus crew early season 3 dynamic is perhaps my favorite in the show. You have depressed Flint with his thinly veiled suicide attempts. You have concerned Silver who has to tell him to maybe stop trying?? to get murdered??? And then you have Billy who’s all like hell yeah captain, lead that raid, those colonial regulars got nothing on you! *hands him a sword to fall onto*

[typically-untypical]

The Last Experiment

I wrote this for this years @tss-storytime! It is also a sequel to one of my most popular fics, The Logical Exception.

Read the whole story here on Ao3, but have a taste of the first chapter!

Also please check out this post for @starsinger 's art work!

CW: This first chapter does mention blood and injury

Chapter 1 - Aftermath - Isolation

Typically, Logan was a very literal person. Most of the time, exact language was a better way to express his thoughts. Sometimes, words weren’t enough. Literally, Logan could pull oxygen into his lungs. Literally, the world hadn’t changed it’s gravitational pull, yet he couldn’t breath, and the world was heavy. 

Roman’s blood was on the pavement.

Small droplets outlined the path to their home, their safe place, yet Logan couldn’t seem to care. All that mattered was getting Roman to safety. He had been downed. He lay unconscious in Remus’ arms. It was Logan’s fault. His brother had stepped in the way. He had protected Logan and now his life was in danger. A hospital would have been closer, but they couldn’t risk it. They couldn’t risk what doctors would do with a powered person. 

Instead, they had to risk Roman. 

“Pat, I need you!” Remus shouted after kicking open the door. Logan hadn’t even been able to help, he wasn’t strong enough to carry Roman. His leg was still unstable. Remus had had to step in. He had held Roman the entire way, briefly using his powers to conjure something similar to a horse. Remus had gotten them all to safety. He had conjured two ‘horses’ and guilt flooded Logan knowing Remus had still been thinking about him even with Roman injured in his arms. He hadn’t trusted Logan to take care of himself, and Logan couldn’t blame him.

The house smelt of paprika. It should have comforted Logan, the smell of Patton’s cooking was the smell of home. 

Instead, his eyes tracked Remus, watching as he placed Roman on the couch and Patton’s healing warmth lit up the room. Logan was thankful he had purchased a house where the front door walked into the living room. More than once Patton had had to help them after patrol. Typically it was minor bruising, or a few scrapes that healed in barely any time at all. This injury…. This time….

Logan swallowed, his throat tight as he continued trying to breathe. Color was returning to Roman’s face. His breathing evened out and he groaned in his unconsciousness. Relief flooded Logan’s senses. Roman would be fine. 

Roman would have been fine if Logan wasn’t a failure. He couldn’t rest. This was his fault. If he rested for even a moment it might happen again. Turning from the living room, Logan walked to a door that connected to a second house. He had bought a duplex, able to get both houses to give the six of them more living space. He had expended the resources he had. He had spent all of the money he had saved trying to make sure the six of them would be safe and comfortable. He had at least outfitted the house with security. Logan had thought of everything, everything but his own ineptitude. 

Once through to the other house, Logan turned right to a coat closet, slipping behind the long peacoats into a hidden door. He stripped off his visor, hands shaking, and plugged it into the charging base. He had to work harder. He had to fight to protect them. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that.

His hands were shaking.

“Welcome back Sherlock, shall I start the post patrol protocol?” his computer called but Logan didn’t respond. He couldn’t open his mouth. The vision of Roman’s blood was burned into his brain.

Logan collapsed into the chair by his computer, he closed his eyes, feeling the tears streaming down his face. He wanted to go numb. He didn’t want to feel any of this. If he had to feel hollow from missing his powers, why couldn’t he feel hollow with this as well? For the past few months he and his brothers had been going on patrols, attempting to help those who needed help. His brothers had been against Logan joining in, telling him he needed to rest further, that his leg would keep him from being helpful, but he insisted. Logan had fought, and clamored, and worked to make himself useful to his brothers, to be what they needed and still he was the reason Roman got hurt. 

Logan clawed into his leg, nails attempting to bite into reinforced clothes. They did nothing. He didn’t feel an inkling of pain. He should at least be able to carry some of Roman’s pain. He shouldn’t be fine while Roman was unconscious on a couch. Logan wanted to slam his head into the desk, to pay for what he had done to his brother, but he knew that wouldn’t help. Self destruction wasn’t how he fixed things. Instead, he could work. It was the one thing he was good at. He would work on his visor, he would work on his strategies, he could work on the serum. 

Logan finally turned to his computer, “Irene, please start the post patrol protocol.” For a moment he hesitated before pulling up another file. This one didn’t have an automated command, and it was locked behind multiple layers of encryption. Logan hesitated as his finger hung over the enter button. He had saved his parents' research. He had recreated his own research. He wanted to make sure he could combat it if his parents ever came back, and in the darkest parts of his heart, Logan wondered.  His parents’ experiments had never been ethical, and though experimenting on himself was far more ethical, it was also dangerous. Not everyone who had asked for powers had made it out alive. Logan shouldn’t rely on something so destructive to make him useful, but if there was a chance to feel less hollow…. He knew how to use his powers. He could be useful if he had control again. He knew how to help when he could feel the world around him. 

Logan looked at the screen, at the number of scenarios he had run. Theoretically, because he had had powers before, the serum would be less deadly, but Logan had a sample size of one, and that had been a very different scenario. He could make a serum, but it would take doing a few illegal things. He had promised his brothers he would behave; he would abide by the ideals they wanted to see in the world. Logan shouldn’t risk everything he had built.

But Roman had gotten hurt.

“You slammed your way in here quite dramatically. I almost thought one of the twins had been kidnapped.” Logan jumped as he heard the voice behind him, immediately slamming the escape key on his keyboard. Everything shut down. It had been a dumb idea to begin with. Since the fight with his parents, Logan had done his best not to keep secrets from the others. He didn’t need to intentionally start something that would require lies and secrecy. He wasn’t going to use the serum.

“What do you want, Deceit?” It was hard to keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. If he wasn’t going to use the serum he had to think of something else, some other way he could prevent Roman, or any of them for that matter, from being hurt.

“It’s Janus, now, actually. I found a name that perfectly suits me. God of duality and beginnings.” Was this really the time for Janus to be expressing his name change? Roman had almost died, and Logan was spiraling. He knew that’s what was happening. He had to stop. He had to breathe. His chest puffed out as he filled his lungs with air.

“I’m happy for you, now what do you want Janus?” His voice was softer, and he slowly let the air out of his lungs. Closing his eyes, Logan counted. Virgil had taught him what to do when he spiraled, late at night when the world was quiet, his boyfriend would hold his hands and count. In the shadows Virgil was learning to be comfortable again, he would turn his focus to Logan. He would count slowly, quietly, and as Logan counted now he was able to calm his mind. Anxiety slipped away as guilt crawled its way back in. Logan had been lucky to be born with powers, but Virgil, Janus, Remy, everyone his parents had hurt had been forced to attain their powers through the worst possible means. How could Logan consider going down the same path the others had been forced to walk? How could he consider putting his life in danger like that?

“I came to check on you? After all, your brother was injured because of your idiocy. I’m sure that’s weighing on you pretty heavily.“ Janus traced along one of the training dummies at the side of the room before moving forward. He walked across the floor mat without taking his shoes off, disrespecting the space Logan had set up to let people train. Something in him tightened, each condescending foot step dropping him deeper inside of his own mind. He forgot to breathe again.

Janus turned his eyes to Logan, staring him down, and Logan had to look away.

“Is that why you ran in here? To hide from your responsibilities?”

He wasn’t hiding, he was finding a way to move forward. He was pushing himself so he wouldn’t fall apart. He was trying. Logan desperately wished he could be numb. He hated how the past few months with Patton and Virgil had started to break down the walls he had set up to protect himself. “If your sole purpose was to check on me, I am fine. However, your words suggest you came to taunt me instead. If that’s the case, please leave.” He was trying so hard. His computer was filled with strategies, planning, work outs, anything and everything he could get his hands on that might make him a better fighter, that might make him useful.

Janus didn’t seem to agree. He was staring at Logan, even without looking at him Logan could feel the burning his eyes left. Janus was judging him. He deserved to be judged.

“Pity doesn’t suit you, Logic.” He heard the other man turn, stopping his feet across the mat again as he walked away. Logan was certain if he had been looking at Janus’ face, the other man would be rolling his eyes. He was right, pity didn’t have a place here. Taking in a deep breath, Logan squared his shoulder, watching the screen. His hand hovered a moment before he clicked on information for the serum one more time. Who would it hurt if he tested this? Only himself. 

“Irene, please initiate lockdown protocol.”

He heard the door lock and Logan turned his eyes to the ceiling. He wasn’t a religious person, but hopefully if there was a divine being in the world who judged people on their actions, that being would forgive him.  

Pity didn’t suit him, but power would.

[madfoxx]

Errr. Excuse me but i feel like we should talk more about the fact that IZZY LOSES HIS MOTHERFUCKING LEG SOMEHOW!!!!?????????

[kaurwreck]

I don't know why it's so common to characterize Kunikida's willingness to sacrifice himself for his ideals as suicidality or inevitable. It's so short sighted, and neglectful of the relationship between existence, life, and death profferred by Bungou Stray Dogs.

I came to the decision when I was seven that anything worth devoting myself to must be worth dying for, too. Not because I thought I would inevitably be asked or because I wanted to die (that wouldn't manifest for another two years). But because there are some things that transcend me, and those are the things into which I want to concentrate my immense but nevertheless limited energy, love, time, and will.

I don't know what's difficult to understand about there being some things worth dying for (or that maybe death is an end, rather than the end). But there are (and for some of us, it is).

[chipistrate]

Gregory and Vanessa are both the kind of people to sacrifice themself for each other tbh

3 star fam contemplating how to trap the Mimic and Vanessa is about to offer to lure him in, when Gregory suddenly runs off and quickly returns with the Mimic chasing him like a wild animal and Vanessa and Freddy are like “GREGORY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING????”

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 17

"You don't want to do that." / Struggle / Blackmail / Desperate Measures

Prompts List | Masterpost

Next part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 600

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: unconsciousness, imprisoned, headache, net, stress position, captured, multiple whumpees, blood, knife, reckless behavior, swearing, implied starvation

A/N: It’s Draven-whumping time >:3

Side note: the name "Reprobus" was the original name of the Catholic saint better known as St. Christopher, a holy man in the 13th century abouts who according to legend carried the child Jesus across a raging river. The name means "the reject," hence why I named one of the other prisoners Reprobus.

Okay history lesson over onto the whump.

----------

Draven groaned as he came to, his head pounding as if his skull was being used as a drum. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew he was in a bad spot. From the throbbing in his head, the aching in his neck and limbs, the sensation of ropes against his face… it didn’t take a genius to figure that kind of thing out.

Of course, intuition can only get you so far. Suffice it to say that when he did open his eyes, he was unprepared for exactly how bad of a situation he was in.

For starters, he was entangled in a net.

Suspended in the air.

Over a pit of damned spikes.

He wasn’t the only one, either. Several other nets identical to his hung nearby, all containing their own prisoner. Nobody else appeared to be awake, and from what he could tell, Octavian was not among them. So he’d managed to escape.

Good.

That meant rescue was likely.

The ropes creaked as Draven shifted, trying to get into a sitting position in the net. The entire thing swayed precariously as he moved, but he managed to maneuver himself into a somewhat upright position.

“Oh… hello.”

Draven’s head snapped to his left to find one of the other prisoners staring at him from where he lay limply in his own net. He hadn’t moved initially, so Draven had assumed he was unconscious or asleep. Obviously, he’d guessed incorrectly. The prisoner’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and cheekbones prominent in a way that couldn’t be healthy. Unless he wasn’t human, of course, and he just looked like that.

Doubtful.

“Evening,” Draven returned, checking his sleeves, “or morning. Depths if I know. Last I remember it was evening.”

“They lowered you down about two hours ago,” the prisoner said quietly. He lifted a thin finger and traced a spot on his temple. “You were unconscious, bleeding from here.”

As soon as his attention was drawn to it, Draven noticed the stiff, crusty sensation of dried blood on the side of his face. He didn’t remember much from right before waking up here, other than a lot of noise. Shouting, some gunshots, pretty indistinguishable from every other day in Draven’s life. Octavian was also there, of course, but he had a knack for slipping out of most tight situations.

Draven drew one of his small knives hidden inside the sleeves of his duster. “What’s your name?”

The prisoner hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“I like to know the names of the people I try to save,” Draven said, placing the knife against the coarse fibers of the net close to where the rope attaching it to the ceiling was bound. “I’m Draven.”

“…you don’t want to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to escape. They’ll only catch you again and send you right back down.”

Draven sighed through his nose and began sawing through the net. “Well, I know from experience that I’m pretty damn good at escaping. And if I get the rest of you out, we’ll have numbers at least. So what’s your name?”

“…Reprobus.”

“Well, Reprobus, how about you help out by waking up everyone else trapped here while I attempt something stupid, okay?”

“Stupid like…?”

Draven cut through the last few strands, making a hole wide enough for him to crawl through. He put the knife away and reached through the hole, grasping the thick rope. “Like scaling this damn rope.”

[leafatlaw]

god thinking about rolan deep again. And what really fucks me up about it all is that he’s the ‘ship of Theseus’ right. Everyone’s said it made posts ect ect. But the problem is that in canon Rolan thinks there’s a correct answer to it: he thinks it’s not the same ship. He’s a bug, and despite living longer than the real Rolan deep, he is not the same. And while that can be debated, I think it’s interesting that in the real world, most takes/responses to the question answer that: yes it is the same ship. Like I remember a poll about it going around on here a while back, and that response, was winning, by alot.

Everything he does after, his uncaring about his own wellbeing, his eventual sacrifice- is all made under the assumption he is not human. He is not rolan deep. And that’s inherently not true. It is a philosophical question that asks more of the person than if it’s just the same ship. Rolan didn’t think of all of that though. Maybe he wanted to be a different ship. Maybe he couldn’t bear the pressure of being the same ship, that slayed monsters and saved people. Maybe it was just easier for him to be nothing

[wanderlustqueen-writes]

Me adding an angsty end to my fic after writing 2k words of pure, unadulterated porn