#so i should give myself some grace but iT DOES NOT FEEL LIKE ENOUGH

[hyah-lian]

This just in from the yarn pit of despair panic crocheting fun

My hair is long enough to be tied all the way back in a bun now. That... that... it might be the longest I have ever grown it since before high school.

[verstappen-cult]

STUPID CUPID, M. VERSTAPPEN

CHAPTER 01: OF ALCOHOL AND BAD DECISIONS

✶ SUMMARY. Making decisions when you’ve had too much to drink is the worst thing someone can do, but it’s exactly what Lando does. He has 100€, a plan and a friend in need of a new camera. What could possibly go wrong?

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. oscar being an overprotective brother. alcohol consumption. i don’t specify what they’re studying, just that they’re in the same university & some of them share classes. use of Y/N. attempted humor. attempted banter. a little bit of landoscar.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST.

“Remember to keep your things close to you at all times. Do you still have the pepper spray I gave you last summer?” Your brother talks as he walks by your side. He woke you up this morning to have a last walk around campus, so you won’t get lost Monday morning on your first day. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before adding, “I’m always gonna be around but you need to—”

“Oscar,” You place a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. “I’m ten minutes younger than you, and I’ve been traveling around Europe alone for the last four months. I think I can handle myself.”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“If I survived High School, I think I can survive anything.” 

He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders to resume walking. “I can’t believe you finally decided to join me here. This past year has been awful without you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You chuckle, wrapping your own arm around his waist. “I just needed some time away to clear my head,” You shrug, a hesitant smile gracing your lips. There’s so much inside your head, so much you want to say to him, but you’re not brave enough to say it out loud. You’ve never been. “And I know our parents wanted us to go to the same university since, like, forever. I couldn’t disappoint them.” Not again.

You’re passing outside the Ice Rink when you run into one of Oscar’s friends.

“Hey!” One guy, whose name you can’t remember, approaches you both. He’s wearing his hockey uniform, sport bag hanging over his shoulder and a hockey stick in his left hand. “We missed you at practice today, mate. Hey, Y/N.” 

His smile is so contagious, you feel bad for not remembering his name. You turn to look at your brother and just one exchange of glances is enough for him to understand. 

“Hey, Alex.” He pulls away from you to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I just wanted to show my sister some places.”

“Oh yeah! You start on Monday, right?” You don’t even have time to open your mouth before he’s speaking again. “Are you nervous?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod one time. “A little,” It’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about since you moved in with your brother a few days ago. There is so much you still need to do, the rest of your clothes aren’t even here yet, but you are more worried about finally starting your uni life than anything else. “but I prefer not to think about it.”

“I keep telling her she has nothing to worry about.” The smile on your brother’s face is the same one you saw six months ago before he left for his second year at University and you left for your trip, the ‘i’m so proud of you’ kind of smile. “She’s sharing classes with Charles, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna be in good hands.” Alex says it with a laugh, that only earns him a hit on the head from your brother. “Anyway, we have that party tonight at Lando’s. Are you coming?” 

You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up in a blush. “No, we can’t. Maybe another time.”

“You can,” You interrupt him. It is the second time he turns down an invitation just to stay with you. “I need to finish organizing the last of my stuff. Boring stuff. You should definitely go, it’s Saturday, Osc.” 

“Yeah but—”

“He’ll be there.” Alex tries to hide his laugh but doesn’t do a good job. 

“I’m pretty sure someone’s gonna be very happy.”

“Goodbye, Alex!” 

Oscar grabs your arm, giving you barely enough time to turn around and wave a goodbye to his friend before he drags you away.

“What was he talking about?” 

“Don’t know,” He simply answers, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “What do you say we grab some lunch?”

The party’s in full swing when Oscar walks through the door of his friend’s apartment. 

It is definitely a party organized by Lando; too many people in a cramped space, his DJ friend in a corner of the living room and everyone making out with everyone. Just the kind of party only Lando likes. 

Oscar makes his way into the kitchen, needing some liquid courage. 

“You came!” Alex shows up out of nowhere, he notices his friend is holding a beer in his left hand as he wraps his arm around his shoulders. Oscar doesn’t know how much he’s had to drink, but he smells too much like alcohol for his liking. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, full of different kinds of alcohol and chips, is Charles and his girlfriend. 

“Hey,” Charles raises his own beer as a greeting. “Where’s your sister?”

“Don’t tell me you left her alone in your apartment.” Charles’ girlfriend frowns, throwing daggers at him. 

Oscar throws his hands up in surrender. “She didn’t want to come. I insisted but she still has things to organize.” 

“You should give her my number,” Alex, Charles’ girlfriend says with a smile, snuggling closer to his boyfriend. “I’m sure we’re gonna get along.” 

Oscar opens his mouth to actually ask for her number when the thunderous voice of none other than Lando Norris interrupts him.

“Oscar! You came!” Lando hugs him from behind, spilling some of his drink on the floor. But he doesn’t even notice, he’s more focused on finding his cheek to kiss. 

“Hey, Lando.” Oscar blushes. Blushes hard. He’s glad the dim lighting can hide how Lando makes him feel. “Good party.”

Lando smiles, sliding next to him and bumping shoulders. “Glad you like it.” Oscar finds himself returning the smile. 

“Please stop flirting in front of me or I’m gonna throw up in your faces.” Alex rolls his eyes and Lando hits him in the chest. 

Oscar finds it cute the way Lando’s cheeks heat up at the joke. He downs the last of his drink and Oscar has to fight the urge to wipe a drop of liquor from his bottom lip. 

He hasn’t even had a drink. What’s wrong with him?

He’s thankful when Charles hands him a beer, so he has something else to do rather than stand there like an idiot ogling at Lando and wondering what his lips would taste like. 

One minute they’re all hanging out in the kitchen, drinking and talking about the next hockey game — the boys threatening him if he misses another practice — and the next one he’s sitting on the couch with Lando glued to his side, one of his legs over his lap. 

Oscar looks down at his phone, his last text to you still without an answer. 

[00:25] Oscar: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

He sighs, typing a new message. 

[00:30] Oscar: I hope you’re just busy and nothing bad happened.

[00:31] Oscar: I’m going to buy pizza on my way back home.

“Oscar?”

He immediately looks up to find Lando looking at him with a pout. 

“Sorry, I needed to text my sister.” 

He reaches forward and boops Oscar on the nose with his index finger. “You worry too much. Isn’t she the same age as you?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar feels a little silly now but doesn’t say anything. “But she doesn’t know anyone around here, so I don’t wanna leave her alone for so long.”

Lando flops his head onto Oscar’s shoulder and gazes up at him with his big, brown eyes. 

“You’re cute.”

Oscar can’t help himself. He lifts his hand and pushes an errant curl behind Lando’s ear, fingers lingering on his cheek. 

“You’re cute, too.” Oscar says, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Lando’s eyes are wide as he stares at Oscar. 

Oscar breathes into the air and Lando’s expression softens as he moves closer, breaths mingling and faces flushed. They’re so close that Oscar can count the freckles on his face. 

The moment is interrupted by the ping of Oscar’s phone announcing a new message. 

Oscar pulls away, hands reaching for his phone beside him. 

[00:48] You: sorry was busy trying to fit all my clothes in your tiny closet 

[00:48] You: pizza sounds good! im starving

[00:49] You: hope you’re…

He doesn’t finish reading the third message, he just gets up after the second one, almost throwing Lando off the couch. 

“Wha—what happened?” Lando is confused, his pupils wide and a faint blush still on the top of his cheeks. 

“Sorry, I have to go. My sister needs me.”

“But we were about to,” The curly-haired boy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, not really wanting to say the word ‘kiss’ out loud.

Oscar types a quick message, letting you know that he’s on his way, not even listening or looking at Lando. “See you Monday!”

Oscar is out of there in record time, leaving the party and a very confused and frustrated Lando behind. 

Lando groans, head hanging over the back of the couch, and hides behind his hands.

A laugh startles him, making him look through his fingers. “That was awful, mate.” His best friend’s leaning against the wall behind the couch, a glass of —he assumes— gin and tonic in his hands.

“Were you watching us?” Lando wants to dig a hole and crawl in. “You perv!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me the first time I announced myself. You were too busy trying to get laid.”

Lando groans again, “I barely know Oscar’s sister but I don’t like her.”

Max laughs, plopping down next to him. Lando takes the still very full glass out of his friend’s hand and downs all the liquid, wincing as he’s not used to the taste. 

“You should’ve run after him.”

He perks up, “Should I?”

“No, you idiot.” Max looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “Are you that desperate to get laid?”

“It’s not that.” Lando pouts, turning his body to the right so he’s facing him. “I really like Oscar. Like I have a huge, fat crush on him since the first time I saw him at hockey practice a year ago.”

“And I’m sure he knows it.” Max says, sarcastically.

“We barely talk,” Lando really wants the earth to swallow him whole. “well, he barely talks. I don’t know if he’s just shy or doesn’t like me.” He sighs, looking at his friend, who is listening expectantly. “And when I finally decide to do something, his sister moves in with him. It’s great. Just great.” He throws his hands in the air, tired, frustrated. Sexually frustrated more than anything. 

“What a cockblock, uh?” 

“Exactly! You’re the only one that gets me, Maxie.” Lando throws himself at him, and Max has barely any time to grab him by the waist to stop him from falling face first onto his lap. “I wish I didn’t catch feelings so fast. Just—like you! Fucking my way around, no strings attached. How do you do it?” 

Max laughs, patting his friend on the back when he starts hiccuping. 

“You’re too soft for that.” 

“I’m not!” He pulls away, eyebrows furrowed. “I need to do something before I go mad. I really want Oscar to notice me.” 

“Oh, believe me, he notices you.” But Lando is deep in his thoughts, bottom lip between his teeth. Max can almost see the cogs working inside his head. 

“Does she not have a life? Friends?” Lando asks absentmindedly. 

“Well, you said she just moved in.” 

“So that’s what she needs.” 

“What?” Max can barely keep up. 

“A life!” Lando pulls out his wallet, and it takes him three failed attempts to pull out a 100€. He hands the money to Max without another word. 

Max looks at him, and then the money in his hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“I don’t know,” Lando shrugs. “just make sure she has a life.” 

“What?” 

“Money,” He takes his friend’s hand and places the money on his palm. “so you can take her out or something. I don’t care.” 

“Hold on a second.” Max sits up, hand brushing through his hair. “You want me to take her out?” 

“Yes! If you take her out, she has a life. Then, I can shoot my shot with Oscar without having to worry about his sister.” Lando looks like the cat that got the cream, eyes glistening and everything. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“Because you love me. And everyone wins.” 

“What do I win?” Max wants to laugh but the seriousness on his friend’s face stops him. 

“A pretty girl.” Lando simply answers. “And 100€.”

“How do you know she’s pretty?” 

Lando looks at him beneath his eyelashes, his lips in a pout. “Please do this for me.” 

Max thinks about it for a second. 

He really thinks about the whole plan. 

He would be helping a friend — his best friend. He would be hanging out with a pretty girl and, if everything goes well, he would be getting in that same pretty girl’s bed. 

And he needs a new camera. 

“Just one time? Or you want this to be a regular thing?” If he’s going to do this, he may as well make the most out of it. “Because if you want me to keep her busy, that means I’d have to take her out and that means more money.” 

“I can’t think anymore.” Lando throws his arm over his eyes, the music too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. “Let’s see how it goes first. Then, we talk about more money. Now just let me sleep, I’m gonna have the worst headache of my life tomorrow.” 

“Well, you got yourself a deal.”

The first two classes weren’t that bad. 

By the third one you felt a lot more comfortable. Even more so when you recognised one of your brother’s friends in the same class as you. 

Charles gave you some tips about certain professors and what you needed to expect in your first year. He’s in his second year now, so you listened very closely to everything he had to say. 

You’re one of the first ones to walk in the lecture hall, so you have enough time to find a seat and answer one of the dozen text messages from your parents asking about your day. 

And the other dozen from your brother. 

[15:23] Oscar: Want to have lunch together?

[15:28] Oscar: How’s your day going? Any news?

[15:35] Oscar: I just bumped into Charles. He says you’re doing good! 

[15:40] Oscar: I have hockey practice today. 

[15:42] Oscar: In case you want to come and walk home together. 

You sigh, a small smile gracing your lips.

[16:02] You: all good so far. i have a very weird professor lol 

[16:04] You: charles is such a nice guy, it made my classes so much easier and fun 

[16:07] You: i really want to see you playing hockey so i might go look 

[16:08] You: my last class is about to start so i’ll talk to you later. love you!

You’re hitting send when a presence startles you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, pointing to the seat right next to yours. 

You look around the lecture hall, still pretty much empty.

“Uhm, no?” You can count on the fingers of one hand how many people are attending the class. But he still chooses to sit next to you. 

The teacher comes in a few minutes later, a few more students after him, but even then the lecture hall feels empty. 

“Hey,” The stranger says, leaning in to whisper without drawing the teacher’s attention. 

You turn your head around, forcing yourself to move away when you realize how close he really is. “Yes?” You say, typing away on your computer as the professor gives the class the list of books needed for the semester.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” He has a sheepish smile. Only then you notice that he doesn’t carry a backpack, or books. He’s just there, in a class where he’s supposed to be taking notes, without anything.

You dig into your bag, pulling out a pen and a sheet of paper. 

His smile grows. “Oh, thank you!” 

“Are you sure you’re in the right class?” 

“Yes, why do you ask?” He turns his attention back to the professor, who’s saying something you should definitely be paying attention to, but you’re more focused on the boy sitting next to you. 

“No reason at all.”

You make it through the first hour without distractions. Well, apart from the tapping of the stranger next to you and his constant sighing and twisting on his seat. 

When the professor excuses himself to answer an important call, you know you have to say something. 

“Can you stop, please? You’re distracting me.”

“Oh,” He leans a little closer, “Am I?” 

You groan, asking yourself if staying in that seat is really worth it.

You don’t want to look at him, you really don’t. The first time you saw how big and blue his eyes were, you knew you wouldn’t be able to look at him again without getting lost in them. 

So, you simply nod while pretending to look for a folder in your computer. 

“I noticed the first time you kept typing the same line over and over again.”

Your blush starts at your neck and goes all the way up to your ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it again,” His breath hits you on the cheek, too close for your liking. “You know you’ve been opening and closing the same folder for five minutes now, no?”

You hold your breath, trying to regulate your heartbeat. 

He doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on what the professor is trying to teach you. However, you know you won’t be paying much attention. 

You can still feel the warmth emanating from him, making you feel hot all over. His closeness is enough to put you on edge. 

Just when you think he won’t be bothering you again, he slides a piece of paper over to you.

You ignore it for about five seconds until you can’t anymore. 

You unfold it. 

‘Your hair is pretty’

It sends a thrill down your spine. The ghost of a smile crossing your face, something inside you making a funny little flip. 

You force yourself to look at him, only to find his gaze already on you. The blonde stranger tilts his head and observes you for a while, and when you don’t know what to do, and afraid of giving away how flustered you really are, you simply roll your eyes as an answer, immediately going back to paying attention, or pretending to. But the professor is nowhere to be seen and everyone is picking up their things to get out of there as fast as possible. 

Finally. 

You pack up your own things, slipping his note inside your notebook without him noticing, and stand up ready to run away. 

You only make it out of the lecture hall before he falls into step with you.

“Hey, you forgot this.” He shoves the pen into your face, almost making you trip over your own feet. 

“You can have it.” You walk a little faster, but it seems he doesn’t want to leave you alone. “Pretty sure you need it more than me.” It’s just a whisper, a comment for yourself more than for him. 

“Uh, feisty!” 

You stop, turn around and take a deep breath. Plastering a smile on your face, you say, “You are annoying.” And it seems that you amuse him, because he fights back a smile. A very pretty smile, you notice. “Goodbye.”

“I’m Max, by the way!”

“I don’t care!” You’re not proud, but he totally deserves the middle finger you give him.

He doesn’t need to know but you’re glad you can put a name to that handsome face.

You check your texts as you make your way to the ice rink and, as expected, a message from your brother awaits you. 

[17:45] Oscar: Something special you want for dinner today?

It’s cute how much he cares about you. Maybe too much sometimes, but you wouldn’t trade your twin and overprotective brother for anything in the world. Even if it means you have to put up with the hundreds of text messages and death glares directed at anybody who dares to even look at you.

“Texting a boyfriend?”

You look at Max from the corner of your eyes; he’s still walking a few feet behind. “Are you following me?”

He laughs. “Why would I be following you?”

“You’re weird.” 

“I’ve been called worse.”

How can someone be so attractive and annoying at the same time? 

Unfortunately, he’s headed the same way. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” If you slow down to wait for him, well, who can blame you?

He cocks his head and the edge of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Why? Are you into hockey players?”

“You can’t have a normal conversation, can you?”

Max laughs, opening the front doors and moving to the side to let you in first. 

“Yes, I’m on the hockey team.” Max chuckles, “Are you on the hockey team?”

“My brother,” You answer him, and Max raises his eyebrows. “His name’s Oscar. Do you know him?”

“Are you asking me if I know my own teammate?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You’ve never felt so stupid talking to someone before, but that’s exactly how this guy makes you feel. Have you forgotten how to talk or he just loves being an idiot and getting under your skin? 

“Max!” 

Both of you turn around to find a curly-haired boy waving in your direction.

You recognize the bright, brown eyes of Lando Norris immediately. 

“Hey, Y/N!” He says when you approach him, putting his arm around your shoulder. “I see you’ve met Max.”

You nod, “Yes. He’s in one of my classes.” Max winks at you. He has the audacity to wink. “Are you on the hockey team too?”

“Oh nah, that’s not for me. Max is actually my roommate.” Lando explains as Max leans against the side of the bleachers beside you. “I’m here as his moral support.”

Max laughs. A full belly-laugh. 

Your head snaps at him so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. 

“Anyway,” Lando’s eyes widen, like silently saying something to his friend, before turning to look back at you. “Are you here to see your brother?”

“Yes. I don’t know anything about hockey, though.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t either. I’m here to see the hot guys.” You laugh at how honest he is. “You got plans tonight?” Lando asks after a few minutes, getting comfortable on the bleachers beside you, seeing some of the players getting out of the changing rooms. 

“I don’t know if Oscar has something planned, but I don’t think so.” You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a little cold. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“I know this pub that serves the best Guinness in town.” He states, nudging you. “You and your brother should come.”

You shrug. It is a very appealing invitation after all, and after your first day of classes you definitely deserve it. “It sounds like a place I want to know.”

“Great!” Lando claps his hands together, then looks at his friend. “You should join us too, Max.”

Please say no, you think. 

Max shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Great. Just great.

“I’m gonna get ready before the coach starts screaming at me again.” Max interrupts, a lopsided grin on his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Piastri.” He bows, like one of those Lords in a period drama, tilting his head up a little and winking once again, making your heart stop for a second. 

He disappears before you have time to think about something witty to say. 

You look back at the ice rink, spotting your brother from a distance. He sees you almost immediately, and waves at you with enthusiasm. You wave back, a soft smile spreading across your features.

Well, you have an hour to come to terms with spending the afternoon with the most annoyingly attractive, blonde haired and blue eyed boy you’ve ever met. What’s the worst that could happen?

✶ TAGLIST — @14fa. @hiireadstuff. @lolzblues55. @maifics. @littlegrapejuice. @landoslutmeout. @nikfigueiredo. @nciolisa. @rafexoxo. ✶

GWEN RAMBLES — well, hello! thank you so much if you made it this far. i don’t know when the next chapter will be posted. i’m already working on it, but it may take me a few days. if you want to be added to this series taglist you can reply to this post, send me a dm or leave it in my ask box! as you know, comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. i’ll see you in the next update!

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[drdemonprince]

What if your unmasked self is unacceptable even to other autistics? I feel like if I don't carefully curate myself I'm too weird and annoying to sustain friendships even with other weirdos. This thing where unmasking makes people like you more because it's more ~authentic~ just hasn't been true for me and it makes me really sad.

Well, what does "weird" and "annoying" mean in this case? In unmaskers I frequently see a lot of understandable social trauma playing out in, let's just say, not the most socially effective of ways at times. No longer mindreading and people pleasing and fawning is all to the good; becoming completely unfiltered while still harboring a ton of deep-seated fear of abandonment and then spilling it out all over people will understandably drive them away. No longer faking emotions and tone of voice preserves energy and helps us feel more genuine, but never putting any energy into trying to understand a friend's interests or emotions will kill a friendship.

There is a messy counterbalancing that has to occur for many unmaskers; at first we focus on never doing anything false and allowing our unbridled selves to roam free -- and then we often recognize that we will need certain self-advocacy, listening, communication, and even diplomacy skills to actually relate to other people, even while remaining true to who we are.

It's normal for the unmasking process to initially seem like it's making you harder to love, more annoying, more bizzaree -- that's a necessary corrective to having previously aimed to make yourself unremarkable or widely liked.

But if you find yourself repeatedly socially alienating even out and proud neurodivergent people, it may be worth asking whether you are taking actions that are pushing them away. Things like interrupting people when they are trying to open up to you, invalidating their feelings, seeking reassurances that no other person can provide, not interacting, self-victimizing, just generally hurtful interpersonal stuff that us traumatized folks sometimes do even in community with one another. If this is the case, you will have to work on accepting the feedback when people are kind enough to tell you that you're bothering them or disrespecting them -- it is not the end of the world, it is a habit you can notice and correct.

Or you might just still be withdrawing and inhibiting very hard, and doing self-protective things that convey to others that they should give you a wide berth. Lots of unmaskers give off really strong "dont talk to me dont come up to me i feel socially unsafe right now" vibes that are completely honest and authentic to where they are at the moment, even if they wish they could seem more welcoming. Please give yourself some grace to feel all that if that's what it is.

No one is too weird or too annoying to make friends. But you might need to find the people who are weird enough and mad enough and disabled enough for you. Alternatively, you might have some interpersonal baggage that affects how you treat others you still need to work on. Or your internalized disability stigma might just be telling you that youre being too much when youre barely taking up social space at all.

You know your pattern of experiences and the feedback others have given you, so hopefully you can sort out what is currently missing in your social life based on that and some reflection and more testing. Good luck and let me know what you figure out.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay here's one. I really dont think I'm the asshole but my ex sure does.

AITA for refusing to buy my partner a jar of pickles?

So this story has like, a little background and some confounding factors i think but i really could go both ways on whether i was the asshole.

Ill start with both my ex (21nb) and i (23f) had severe mental health issues and were working on treatment when we were together. Theyd been in and out of inpatient stays throughout our three year relationship. Towards the Day of Pickles, i had my first inpatient stay where i got help i desperately needed to keep myself safe. This happened to be about a week after my 23rd birthday, but about two and a half weeks before their 21st birthday.

Anyway, at that time i had just gotten out of the hospital and started a new job at Joanns Fabrics (i outlived that retail fucker and im proud of it). I had been unemployed for the previous year and a half because of the pandemic and so the retail job was really my saving grace to have some sort of income to buy gas and groceries. My parents let me live rent free with them in their basement but i spent a LOT of time essentially squatting at my ex's dorm because my situation with my parents was not great.

Now my ex was also being financially abused by their mom so they had a monthly "allowance" of 200$ (of their own money they made at their on campus job) and no access to their bank statements. So i spent a lot of my own money on gas and groceries for both of us, and anything we wanted to do for fun, like visit the city. Without an income, this was SUPER stressful for me and i spiraled pretty hard with feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. Supporting two people, even minimal living expenses, on an income of exactly 0$ is the WORST.

Anyway, i got out of the hospital and pretty much immediately went back to picking up as many shifts as i could at work because id been on staff for all of two weeks before hospitalization. Knowing retail, i was probably on the precipice of losing hours or being fired altogether.

My ex wanted me to take time off to celebrate their 21st birthday (they didnt celebrate my birthday that year) and travel to see their family and drink etc. I got scheduled for an inconvenient time. I would have to miss their birthday if i didnt find someone to cover. I managed to switch shifts with another coworker who was nice enough to let me have her morning shift, so i was able to at least travel separately and be a little late to dinner.

The night of their birthday my ex wanted to get drunk and so we went to the liquor store. Now im generally pretty picky about alcohol but if i get anything special i always get enough to share. Mysteriously, no one ever offers to share the expense or pay me back. So with all of 150$ in my account, i purchased enough alcohol for myself and the rest of the party, and a bottle of (cheap af) liquor for myself. I was broke af until my next paycheck and was pretty much planning on giving up meals and staying at home because the commute to work was shorter and meant less gas.

My ex picked out a jar of boozy pickles and asked if i would get it for them for their birthday. I should note that with all the stress i was under i had found a birthday present for them but hadnt actually placed the order (was waiting to get paid). I also didnt lie to them about this and had told them that i hadnt gotten their birthday present yet. They were upset by this and told me they felt like i didnt care about them, to which i snapped and raised my voice a little.

I gave them a bit of a reality check. I told them in no uncertain terms that i was under a lot of stress, from nearly killing myself to being flat broke with little to no help from my family other than a conditional roof over my head, ordering their birthday present wasnt super high on my list of things to do and that i knew what i was going to get them and that i intended to order it as soon as i had the money to do so. After years of the sole attention being focused on keeping them alive, i needed some support and acting like i didnt care completely ignored EVERYTHING i did to keep us both afloat.They cried and played the victim as they tended to do and i was too stressed to do anything but be angry.

So when they asked for the pickles i told them no. I have NOTHING left in my bank account, and anything that was in my account was already allocated for something else.

They told me i was being selfish for buying myself alcohol on THEIR birthday, not even getting them a present, yelling at them, and then refusing to buy the one thing they asked for, especially after i refused to take off work the day before to hang out with them and their family. In front of our friends.

I told them that i was purchasing the alcohol for the whole party, that the present had slipped my mind, and that they were accusing me of not caring about them when i snapped. Then i walked out.

My bff went outside to help me cool down and i told him what was going on and how stressed i was and he said that he agreed with me, it was childish to expect me to pay for everything with no help from anyone and then act like im unreasonable for having to put limits on what i can purchase.

My ex ended up getting so pissed by all of this they broke up with me two days later, saying that their birthday was the final straw for them after I'd been so codependent and relying on them too much to survive.

I think its all ridiculous given all of the stress factors i was dealing with at the time. I feel like we're all entitled to the occasional emotional outburst/bouts of forgetfulness when we're stressed. But my ex seems to think im a selfish asshole. We've been no contact for the last two years so this isnt like a pressing concern or anything but it does make me roll my eyes occasionally.

So tumblr, aita?

(Btw im also much more financially stable now that I'm fully and properly medicated and away from them.)

[yes-17-15]

Hargreeves sexuality and gender headcanons cuz I’m bored.

Luther-

I 100% believe he is CisHet but he is absolutely an ally. He probably didn’t understand everything at first but Viktor and Klaus helped explain and he got the gist of it. He also maybe uses He/They pronouns? He thinks They/Them just sounds nice.

Diego-

I know a lot of people think that Diego is a trans man and I think that would be cool (as a trans man myself) but I just don’t really see it. I kind of understand it but I don’t really agree. I definitely do think he’s Bi though, female leaning. Definitely He/Him.

Allison-

I also see lots of people thinking she’s a trans woman, and I think that’s a great headcanon imo but I again do not agree. I absolutely don’t see her as anything but Cisgender Heterosexual. And I honestly like it that way. I don’t think all of the Hargreeves siblings have to be LGBTQ+, I think some of them should be straight too. I think Allison might have messed around with girls but she just didn’t really feel a click like she does with males. She/Her.

Klaus-

I think most of us agree Klaus is not Cis or Straight. There is no way. I would probably say he is Non-Binary or Gender-fluid. He never heard those terms until they were a bit older, probably after Five disappeared, and the first time he heard it was someone shit-talking it, and they wanted to look more into it. So occasionally Viktor and Grace would be allowed to go to the library because Viktor usually didn’t have much else to do so Klaus asked him if next time he goes if he could look up those words for him and Viktor obviously said sure. He came back and told Klaus about it and Klaus was like, “yep, that’s me.” They were happy there was a word for it. I also think Klaus is Pansexual, but he also isn’t very fond of labels anyway. They honestly just think everyone’s hot (EXCEPT CHILDREN NOT CHILDREN). Any pronouns but mainly He/They.

Five-

I think Five’s above gender and stuff like that. When they were kids Viktor had a crush on Five and Five just found it disgusting. Partially because they’re like siblings but also because Five does not want a relationship or anyone to have a crush on him. Five also never liked gender roles and was confused why there were differences in the uniforms depending on gender. Five saw Viktor and Klaus wearing each others uniforms and was a little confused why Reggie wouldn’t just let Klaus wear what he wanted but also was kind of confused why Klaus even wanted to wear skirts. Five never really thought about gender much though because he thought it was incredibly stupid and useless. Five always thought that way. But especially whenever Five was in the apocalypse, he had absolutely no use for it. Five wishes that they didn’t live in a gendered society but he we are. If he has to use terms for himself, he’d say he’s Agender and AroAce (Yay AAA battery). Five doesn’t like using pronouns and prefers his name but if it’s mandatory Five uses He/Him pronouns but Klaus uses They/them for him cause he knows Five likes it.

Ben-

I don’t know enough about Ben to give a really detailed answer but I have a simple bit to say. I would like to think he’s Bisexual, but I don’t really think he is. I like the headcanon but again we don’t know enough about him. I think he’s Cis too but maybe DemiBoy? I’d probably say He/Him but maybe some neos?? I’m not experienced in them though so I don’t really know any he might use (I’m also talking more about Brellie Ben than Sparrow Ben).

Viktor-

I absolutely adore Viktor. I know lots of people thought he was a Lesbian before season three but no, that’s not the case. He actually liked Leonard/Harold. Before he found out about all the things Leonard did he actually liked him. And when he was younger it’s confirmed (I’m pretty sure??) that Viktor had a crush on Five. Viktor doesn’t only like females, he actually does like guys. I absolutely think Viktor is Bisexual, possibly Pan. I think he could also be on the Aspectrum maybe? But he definitely doesn’t only like women. I also thought he might have been Non-Binary before he transitioned but now I absolutely like him as just a trans man. He/Him maybe He/They and possibly neos?? Again I don’t know much about neos so.

[hiroshotreplica]

im sorry you probably dont want this in your askbox but i dont really think it makes sense to talk about madness and leafi the same way for a lot of reasons. Idk maybe im just seeing a transgirl getting relentlessly dogpiled because of old screenshots and having an over-empathetic response but fuck man she was 13 when those screenshots were taken. Shes not even 18 right now shes crazy young for her level of play (like literally should be community banned for lying about being 13 for multiple years during splatoon 2 to get around discord community guidelines but thats a tangent). She said in her apology she was trying to fit in with a real shitty group of people she doesn't associate with anymore and fuck man im probably giving herself way too much grace cause i seeing a terrifying exaggeration of something i went through on a public scale but like people are editing HER face onto memes and talking shit about HER and constantly misgendering her when madness is not only an actual adult but has been ACTUALLY DOING THIS SHIT RECENTLY. im not saying the shit she was saying wasnt heinous but fuck man this isnt gonna help her and i dont want the dumass bullshit she said when she was a middle schooler to ruin the rest of her life. sorry for the white girl mental illness blast but there is important context in this ranty anxiety and projection goop

anon asked for a tldr for the situation w/ jackpot as a whole, which included leafi's part in the situation. as the post was about how jackpot as a team has made racist statements. i chose screenshots that put my point clearly, which just so happened to be screenshots with madness and leafi. i'll go more into it here, though

i did not mean to compare her to madness when including screenshots of her old statements. i was compiling the most blatant screenshots from the thread i had originally linked in a prior post. i was going to include other things, but didnt have the time to compile them and was beginning to get stressed about being the source of this info on tumblr.

i was also going to include this video of her saying racist statements in 2024, but i didnt want to include a twitter link for an anon that couldnt access twitter. im realizing i shouldve done so

i do feel bad for her getting involved with a group of people THAT bad if she was truly that ignorant when she was younger, but thats where my sympathy ends. she still acted racist and still associated with clearly racist people even when she was older and more mature. ive learned since making that post that she was born in 2007. 16 is still an age where you should be mature enough to understand that those comments are racist, even with america's shitty public education system glossing over racism.

i definitely see why this can look like people dogpiling on a trans woman though, and the people doing memes and editing her into them in general about this situation are disgusting. i had no idea she was trans and that people were misgendering her. anyone making this situation about her being trans are awful and not people i stand by.

but all of that, including her being skilled despite her age, still doesnt forgive or erase her actions. nothing like that does for the other members of jackpot that have also stated racist things. nothing like that does for any other comp splatoon player that has said anything similar. the apology she put out was needed, but from what ive heard from others, it wasnt the best. she is writing another apology, though, so it couldve just been rushed.

no one has to accept her apology, either. as a white person myself, im not one that should even be one to accept her apology. it wasnt an apology for me, and it isnt one for you, either (if you are white as you say but i might be misreading). people should not be painted in a negative light for not accepting her apology even if it were an amazing one.

the way some people are reacting to this situation is not okay, but she still did awful things that she should be held accountable for. the other guilty members of jackpot are not better than her, but theyve all still said fucked up things. none of them have done anything to prove they arent racist, and theres only more evidence coming out that proves that they have been, so its hard to process at the moment.

could things change? yes, of course, but as of right now, leafi has stated racist things as recent as 2024 and put out a poor apology trying to defend herself. people are handling it poorly and trying to make it about her identity and making memes on it when it is not the right thing to do. these racist claims are being put w/ other racist claims made by other jackpot team members so it was included in my tldr post about the entire situation.

i apologize for poor wording in this, im not the best w/ these kinds of posts

[gravitysgone]

This morning I will go to church and I like the friends and feeling of belonging I have there, but I still have no investment in the faith or beliefs. The feel so hypocritical or just for display, instead of a truth. What I mean is this. For breakfast I am having leftover stale tortilla chips. Because that is all I have right now. And if I were to tell people I know there or almost anyone at church really, that I have no money and no food and I need medicine and help. The standard response is "Have you checked the church pantry?" or "I will pray for you" or "You should call the Salvation Army". All of which are fine responses. And suggestions. They may even ease my situation. But they are completely at odds with the teachings they sit and hear for 2 hours every Sunday. Jesus never said "If a man comes to you in need, tell them to ask someone else" and he never put responsibility for Christian charity or community on other people. He was very clear on what it is expected of his followers. That they themselves act on their merit and own actions.

Matthew 25:35-37 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

And Paul wrote

Romans 12:20 ‘If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.‘

And James wrote

James 2:15-16 ‘Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?‘ This is all right there in the bible. And even more so Jesus clearly talked about even bad people or enemies suing or stealing from you and still acting in Christian charity

Matthew 5:40 'If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also." But this is not what I see. I see all the hands in the air and the voices singing and the smiles and the handshakes and how are you's. But then thee actions, don't speak of belief or faith. And I want to be sure to say I am not entitled to fuck all. No one is. Nor does anyone owe me anything. And anything I may receive is grace of the kindest order. But if you are going to wave a flag, man. Be of the flag or be honest. The modern church is so full of people who think that dropping a few bucks in the collections dish (or e-pad) or donating at Christmas time is doing your duty to your beliefs and faith. And that is absolutely not true. There is now where in biblical teaching or dogma that says "If you throw in a an anonymous sheckle you have served your duty to Christ". No matter how much some may try to twist verses and slogans to say otherwise. Jesus the dude was very clear in his instruction and beliefs. I like the dude Jesus is reported to believe and I like the lessons his story sends. But I don't like the religion around his teachings. I left it for many years and I still have no real belief in god. I try but...I just can't re-ignite that. I just feel like it's all an act. All for show. And I want to find belief. And action. In the same person. Maybe I just want to feel like if I said to someone "I had stale chips for breakfast", they wouldn't hand it off or act like praying for me or anyone is enough. Maybe I just want to see people who live their faith and acting on it. Yeah i know I am sounding kind of crusty and probably a bit hypocritical myself. It is just how I feel right now. I have sat in the huge homes and businesses of too many church members who I never see actually acting in any way that could be called truly Christian. But I have seen the poorest of people who would give you their coat because that is the teaching. It all seems wrong.

[justplainwhump]

🥰 Saying 'I love you' without saying it for Angel!! -vic

Free!Angel loves one person, very platonically, and you know who it is @wildfaewhump.

[Making Angel Masterpost]

Content / warnings: BBU Recovery, threat of recapture, vaguely implied noncon, humiliation. This ends well.

When Angel arrives at the coffeeshop down the street, Lourdes is not there. Angel feels it before she even believes it - she longs to be normal and be sure only after having counted heads and looked at every single face as rational people do, but there's some hidden, tingling sense that some unlucky people and all pets develop that absolutely and undoubtedly screams when there's something wrong.

Lourdes is not at the coffeeshop and something is wrong.

Angel drops her shopping bags and searches for the barista's gaze. He stares back for long seconds, gaze haunted, before he tilts his head towards the back entrance. "Danger," he mouths, draws a warning finger across his throat. "Don't go."

She pulls her long coat tight around her waist, straightens her shoulders and walks behind the bar, shaking her head at the barista as she pushes the back door open in a display of confidence.

Angel recognises the three men gathered around Lourdes' tiny figure in the yard for what they are immediately. She's grateful there's a railing on top of the metal stairs she can hold onto, and that her coat is long enough to hide the tremble in her knees at their sight.

Their uniforms are black, as the field teams wear them, not gray as in the facility, and on their chests they display the only arrangement of three letters Angel will always recognise. WRU.

They're here to take Lourdes.

Her only way out of this is getting right through it.

"What the fuck are you doing?", she calls. "Get your dirty hands off of my property, right now."

The man nearest to her turns around to look her down, and Angel gives him the display he needs to see. She's stopped wearing dresses the day after Tim died, but just as she's kept the house she's kept up the casual elegance of those who live in this neighbourhood. Her hair is pulled back into a soft ponytail, her white blouse obviously from silk, and the light blue coat that does so well to hide away her body has been tailored to fit.

She can keep up an appearance. And she's excellent with body language.

"Madam, please step back into the cafe," the man says, putting his hand on his hip. "This is an ongoing operation."

Madam. He said Madam. That's her role. It has to be. She must be Renee now, her sister-in-law, which means she must be a fucking bitch.

So she ignores him, snaps her fingers and points to the ground next to her feet. "Angel," she commands sharply, because Lourdes' name tells too much and it's the only other pet name on top of her head. "Stop debasing yourself with these men and get back where you belong. Now!"

The two men pinning Lourdes down cast glances back over their shoulders, and step back, when their colleague nods. One of them shifts his hips as he's tucking himself back in. Angel keeps her expression blank. It's what handlers do. It's what Lourdes knows to deal with. The only thing that matters right now is that they don't get them into their van. That they leave this place with her, not them.

Lourdes winces, as they try to stagger back to their feet under Angel's carefully acted frown. They're in pain, trembling, and yet their motions remain graceful and sensual.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," they whisper, casting their gaze down. "I wandered off." When they step towards her, one of the men lazily reaches out with his shock baton, stopping them.

"They looked liked a runaway," he says, turning to Angel. His gaze on her feels more leering, suddenly. "Behaved like one, too."

"Because they're scared?" Angel raises an eyebrow mockingly, swallows back the sickness at her own display of everything she contempts. "Well, I happen to like them scared. Paid a lot to your superiors to make them that way. How should a woman like myself keep a pet in check otherwise?" She smirks, tilting her head at Lourdes while still avoiding their gaze. "Get here, Angel."

"Not so fast." The man grabs Lourdes shoulder now and Angel's heart is racing. "If they're legit - why couldn't we read their barcode? They must've obscured it somehow."

Angel has to fight the urge to scratch her own wrist. Instead she folds her arms. "I did. I don't go anywhere without them, and I don't like the feeling of being tracked. That's why I only carry cash, too. No smartphone, no smartwatch, no credit card and no bar code on my pet." She shrugs. "Shouldn't trust the system at all, am I right?"

"Freak," the man murmurs, but turns towards Lourdes now. "Is it true, pet? That lady your owner?"

Lourdes gaze meets Angel's, and the devotion it carries is crushing. It's an act, she tells herself. Still, it's too close to the real thing. To the way Lourdes must've looked at Geoff Cortlandt. To the way Angel herself has looked at her own Sir.

"Yes," Lourdes says softly, casting her gaze down. "I belong to her."

The man scoffs and shoves them towards Angel. "They're wasted on a woman."

Lourdes hurries forward and falls to their knees at Angel's side. Position 2.

She's flooded with relief at feeling them close to her, but it's tinted with utterly disgust. Lourdes is her best friend. They should never have to kneel again.

Still, Angel would love to have a position to fall into, as well. Everything she does, has to do, humiliating Lourdes, hurts. Her hand feels heavy, as she reaches out to pet Lourdes head in a display of possession.

They need to get away from here.

"They are very satisfactory for a woman's needs, but I would assume you know nothing about those." Her fingers run through Lourdes' hair. "Next time, keep your hands to yourselves. Have a good day."

Angel turns on her heel, but the first man adds.

"Stop. You do need to put them in a collar, at least, Madam." He reaches at his belt, where a thick black plastic collar is dangling. WRU standard issue. She feels it, how it will chafe her skin, how the little clicks of its clasp will vibrate in the base of her skull when it's pulled taut, how her hair will catch in it at any carelessly move, how her breath will get flat and her head will start swimming.

"Here you go." The man tosses it to her, and Angel flinches back violently, stumbling on the metal staircase. Lourdes is on top of her, suddenly.

"Sorry, Mistress," they beg, their voice almost breathless. "I didn't want to trip you over, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I deserve to be punished Mistress."

Their hands are holding hers, pressing them down, hiding the trembles running through her body. "Please, not that collar, Mistress."

The man across from them pauses for a second, slowly looking from Lourdes back to her.

"Stupid thing," Angel manages to hiss. "Guess that's on me though. I paid for a scaredy-cat."

She gets back to her feet, brushing off the dust from her pants, calming her racing heart, before she looks down on the collar in front of her shoetips with a smirk and kicks it aside. "Thank you for the offer, but my Romantic won't be dressed like a cheap off-the-shelf thing."

Her hand wanders to the belt of her coat, soft fabric, blue as the sky, and she tugs it from his hoops as decidedly as her shivering fingers let her. Lourdes, submissively kneeling at her feet again, offers their neck to her unprompted.

"Thank you," they whisper, as Angel wraps her belt around their neck loosely. "Thank you, Mistress."

"Get up, pet," Angel says, and tugs at the belt, swallowing back the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "We're leaving. Don't embarass me like that again." She glances at the WRU handler. "And you, Mister, be glad that your men left no physical damage on my property. I'd have hated to file a complaint. Have a good day."

She leads Lourdes back through the coffeeshop on the makeshift leash, her head up high, pointedly ignoring the barista, and walks out the front door to hail a cab on the street.

Behind her, she feels the eyes of the WRU team on their backs, stinging like needles.

She knows Lourdes feels them too.

The act isn't over.

She wraps a possessive arm around her friend's shouldes, fingers resting against the blue fabric wrapped around their neck. In perfect obedience, Lourdes shifts onto their tiptoes to kiss her, longing and desperate.

Their hold steadies her, conceals the shaking of her shoulders, while she kisses them back with tears in her eyes, using them just like an owner would, confident, demanding and with utter disregard. Lourdes doesn't seem to mind at all.

"Angel," they mumble into the kiss, and she feels their heart racing as quickly as her own. "Thank you. This.... was very stupid of you."

Angel doesn't reply.

Its true, of course.

But it doesn't matter. Not when Lourdes is by her side, climbing into a cab with her, and the WRU van parked by the street vanishes in the rear mirror.

Not when Lourdes is safe.

--

-

Angel tag list: @whumplr-reader

[sickly-sapphic]

I'm gonna bounce off that last anon for a moment here + your answer to ask... how DO you feel comfortable with the intersex label? And sorry in advance for the long fucking ask LMFAO I've been... having a time for the past few months.

Obviously it's entirely up to the person whether or not they do, but, like... I want to say I'm intersex. I know how important it is for people to be saying they are intersex, and how I've related to the intersex experience on some level even before I even fully comprehended wtf it meant as a teen. It's important to me. But by the grace of god (extreme childhood neglect, and the people around me not really giving a shit about me to mention anything + not knowing what intersex even is), I somehow never had anyone go "yeah something is up" and thus I don't wholly... relate? There's a sort of rift I feel with the community, like I'm not "really intersex" if I haven't dealt with this or that.

I had a deeper voice, I had darker body hair, I got crazy full-body acne, I was fairly physically androgynous! I relate a little too hard to perimenopause advice!! Among other stuff I won't get into because I don't wanna ramble more. For god's sake, from the very few tests I've had my hormones have been doing fuckall whatever for the past godknows how many years and, as I like to joke, my SHBG is probably ripped with how hard it was carrying my insufficient sex hormone levels pre-T. And yet I feel like I'm faking or some bullshit because I haven't faced obvious intersexism or am visibly intersex. It's a little stupid.

So, okay. To TL;DR, I guess: I have turbo imposter syndrome because I'm totally mentally well and without trauma (lie) and feel like I don't deserve to call myself intersex because "what if you aren't though :/ and are co-opting experiences that aren't yours ://". I know something I should internalize is "slow the fuck down" but that is a bit hard with my head going "Okay but you need answers NOW". Any thoughts and/or advice??

Also I love seeing your posts ur so awesome ilu /p

I mean you're definitely intersex enough!! If it helps you on your journey, I super duper relate to the traits described. Not everyone *does* experience intersexism before finding out theyre intersex. Some people's traits present completely internally, and they'll experience a different set of life experiences regarding being intersex.

Being visibly intersex and experiencing intersexism aren't the qualifiers to being intersex (just like suffering and misogyny aren't what define womanhood). What made me most confident with calling myself intersex was my girlfriend - she could pretty confidently look at me and say "yeah.... thats intersex" (despite not being confident in her own identity yet). Hearing that confirmation from an outside source can be really affirming!!

I'd say interact with other intersex people, find community, talk in the community, you don't have to come right out and be sure of it before you start engaging with the community - I wasn't.

I hope you're able to feel comfortable and affirmed soon!!

[agirlunfilteredsblog]

A GUIDE ON HOW TO STUDY EFFICIENTLY

Hey girls!! I know a lot of us are on break, whether that be in high school, college or university, so I figured I could maybe show you guys some tips and tricks that have helped me throughout my studies…

A little bit about my educational background:

-In high school, I was part of an IB school (the girls that know the struggle, know the struggle). If you don’t know what that is, it’s essentially a program designed to help students get a better understanding of the world and how it works. We basically do the regular high school program + the IB one, so it’s extra workload, but we do get an additional diploma at the end of our studies!

-I am now in college, studying psychology and I was recently invited to join the honors roll for my next semester (super excited about that!!). I absolutely love it and i’ve also gotten the opportunity to study other subjects such as anthropology, world history, art history, etc.

1. LEARNING WHAT TO PRIORITIZE

My biggest weakness throughout my first semester of college was balancing my workload and my social activities. Often times, I would either only do school work for weeks and not go out or simply go out until very late on school nights and get nothing done. Both scenarios are just as negative. I would be drained on the inside, and simply become exhausted by minimal activities. What helped me personally was establishing a clear schedule, which I know isn’t ideal for everyone as we all have differing schedules, but trust me, having that base helps A LOT.

2. SETTING REMINDERS TO STUDY

I dont know if this was just me, but in high school, I would constantly fall asleep and take naps after school. This would result in me totally forgetting I had to study when I woke up… Setting up reminders on my phone helped me remember what I had to do. I also included little motivational messages to keep me inspired to work.

3. KNOWING WHEN TO PUT THE BOOK DOWN

Girls, I know how hard it is sometimes to give yourself grace and put your study books down, especially when there’s a big test coming up. However, it has been proven that over reading or over studying actually has negative effects on your learning/memory. Stressing yourself out will do nothing but put you in a negative state, which is not what you want going into that exam. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, put the book down for 15 minutes and go do something that puts you at peace. Me personally, I make myself a cup of peppermint tea and put on my favorite show.

4. HAVING A STUDY METHOD THAT WORKS FOR YOU

There are many different types of study methods, so I’m not gonna tell you which one you should do as we are all different, but finding the one that works for you does ALL the difference. The way I study is very simple, I establish a game plan (I list everything I want to complete) and I give myself a time frame to complete it. The time frames are always very realistic for me, so I never have to stress about not having enough time. For each “task” I complete, I allow myself a 15-20 minute break and I study for no more than 3 hours at a time.

5. NEVER PUT STUDYING BEHIND

I am such a procrastinator, but I had to learn very quickly, especially in college, that this was not possible. The work load is so much more charged and I simply cannot get away with studying last minute. If you’re in high school, start implementing healthy study habits now, so that once you reach college, you’re already used to studying the right way (learn from me hahaha)!

I am 100% sure that there are more I’m forgetting, but these are the main ones I implement in order to keep a high average and a healthy school/social life :) I know these are very basic and you’ve probably heard of them before but I still think it’s important we talk about them to remind ourselves on what to do! If you would like more of this type of content please let me know!! My next posts will be much more light though dont worry, we are still on winter break after all ;))

so much love,

a girl unfiltered 💋

[night-dark-woods]

Yet she had also decided that she felt a strange kinship and sympathy for it, this cornered, desperate god, making infinite sacrifices out of its people.

I'm on a "rereading Forsaken loretabs" kick and I'm rotating this line in my head. Mara constantly sacrificing herself and her people to protect the solar system as a whole. Her sense of duty. Determined and deadset on saving everyone and the thing is she does she DOES save everyone!!! But does that make it worth it does that make it right!!!

What got me started again was the last line on the loretab of this year's Dawning ship (Hiera Hodos - which also... thats the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis, as in the Eleusinian Mysteries that Mara's throneworld is named for...):

And Mara walks alone, between the City and the dark outside.

Which made me think about this part of the Savin loretab (Title is also from this loretab):

Perhaps the Earth would be better off if the Traveler vanished or was destroyed, she thought. Even in the Reef, she felt as if she were living next to a torch held up in a dark wilderness, calling out across the galaxy to hungry things with too many eyes.

And so now I'm down the "Mara and her god complex" rabbithole again. Under a readmore because it's long:

If you have grace, then see our sorrows, but swallow back your tears. We were made to pay this price. I led us to our fate. (Archiloquy)

She feels this absolute guilt from the very beginning because she saw deeper meaning in a freak accident:

Because I asked us to leave, Mara thinks. Because something came out of deep space and killed the man next to me, and I saw the omen, and I said we should go. And now I feel like a coward. (Cosmogyre II)

And then you combine that personal guilt with her mother and Alis Li telling her she's responsible for what others think of her and that she is capable of more than those around her:

"It is one thing to have a particular power over people, Mara. But it is another to deny that you are using it." ... "Mara, you are an Auturge, a volunteer. I cannot order you to stop, and your work is exemplary. Are you putting anyone else in danger with your… art projects?" "No," Mara says. "Just myself." "False!" Li barks. "That is a selfish answer. You are now a symbol to my crew, a house god. If you were to die, they would lose something important, something Human that they have created out of loneliness and void. It would be an unforgettable reminder of the hostile nothingness that surrounds us. When you endanger yourself, you endanger that symbol. You are part of this mission's behavioral armor, Mara." Mara is thunderstruck. She's never thought about it this way. "All I did was take some captures. I didn't ask to be anyone's… mascot." "You presented yourself as a conduit to secret knowledge," Captain Li counters. "People made something out of you, Mara. Please take this from a starship captain: What people make of you, what they create of you—even without your consent—becomes a kind of responsibility. If the Mara they see when they look at you is good for them, then you have some duty to be that Mara." (Brephos III)

And you put all of that on the shoulders of an already self-important and borderline suicidal 19 year old who is convinced she's seeing secret meanings in things (and she is!!! Is the thing!!!) You cannot tell me she's not, given that her favorite enrichment activity is going on EVAs and taking off her suit in order to experience this:

The void boiled the water off her skin. Her body swelled with unchecked pressure until her undersuit forced it to stop. Alarmed cytogel crawled down her throat, hissing emergency oxygen: not enough. Her skin blued with cyanosis. She was bathed in the most profound emptiness. She recorded all of it at the neural level. The exquisite darkness. The sense of fatal independence from all things. There are those who will give anything to feel that void. (Brephos II)

And then after they are in the Distributary she keeps her idea of the duty of the Awoken to herself for so so so fucking long and plays such a long game and sacrifices her own people in that game to keep the Awoken from being truly comfortable in the Distributary:

"I have worked for many hundreds of years to arrange this outcome," Mara says, forthrightly, but without the courage to look Alis Li right in the eyes. "I have nurtured and tended the Eccaleist belief so that there will always be Awoken who feel uncomfortable in paradise. Guilty for the gift of existence in the Distributary. People who'll come with me." (Nigh I)

And all for the sake of her eventual goal of returning to the real world and saving the solar system that she is absolutely completely incapable of abandoning, regardless of the cost:

"Do you understand what you've done? Have you reckoned the full cost?" She has convinced tens of thousands of Awoken to abandon their immortality. She has deprived the Distributary an infinite quantity of joy, companionship, labor, and discovery: all the works that might be accomplished by all the people who will join her in her mission to another world. When she lies awake at night, seized by anxiety, she tries to tally up the loss in her head, but it is too huge, and it becomes a formless thing that stalks her down the pathways of her bones like the creak of a gravity wave. "Some infinities are larger than others," she tells her old captain. "I believe… we are here for a reason, and this is the way to fulfill that purpose." "And how much would you sacrifice? Your mother? Your brother? Are the Awoken real to you at all?" Alis leans across her pinned hand, viper-fierce, striking. "Do you think my people were made to die for you? "Not for me. For our purpose. For our fate." (Nigh II)

And she is so so so deeply aware of that cost, in Fideicide II Alis Li knows that "Mara knows the unthinkable value of even a single Awoken life," and she is so deeply deeply guilty about that. Like when she does tell Alis (and Sjur, eventually) we get to see her the most fucking vulnerable we ever do and GOD.

"No," Mara says, with her heart in her throat, with trepidation bubbling in her gut. You cannot keep a secret buried like a vintage for so many centuries, and then unbottle it without any ceremony. "The boon I ask is your forgiveness." Then she explains the truth. She tells Alis Li what she did: about the choice Alis Li would have made, if Mara had not made her own first. It's only an extension of what Alis has already deduced. When she's finished, her ancient captain's jaw trembles. Her hands shake. A keen slips between her clamped teeth. The oldest woman in the world conjures up all the grief she has ever felt, and still it is not enough to match Mara's crime. "You're the devil," Alis Li whispers. "I remember… in one of the old tongues, Mara means death. Oh, that's too perfect. That's too much." She laughs for a while. Mara closes her eyes and waits. "You realize," Alis Li says, breathing hard, "that this is the worst thing ever done. Worse than stealing a few thousand people from heaven. Worse than that thing we fled, before we were Awoken—" "Please," Mara begs. "Please don't say that." Alis Li rises from her chair. "I'll support your fleet," she says. "I'll use every favor and connection I have to get your Hulls completed and through the gateway—and I will do it so that I can hasten your departure from this world. I will do it out of hate for you; I will do it so that every good and great thing we achieve here will ever after be denied to you, you snake. No forgiveness. Do you understand me? It is unforgivable. Go. Go!" "I'd be very glad if you didn't tell my mother," Mara says. (Nigh II)

The last line there fucking kills me. "I'd be very glad if you didn't tell my mother." God. And then when she is brave enough to tell Sjur, to try again after last time backfired so fucking spectacularly, Sjur forgives her:

"I was first," Mara says. And she explains the missing half, the first half of the sentence: I made the rules and initial conditions that deceived her into believing she herself had decided It ends like that, where the rest picks up. Sjur Eido looks at her in expressionless silence. Sjur Eido's hands stroke the seam between Mara's skinsuit and the glassy petals of her helmet. Long ago, this woman betrayed her oath and went to serve the Diasyrm, a woman who cried out in anguish at the curse of physicality and the possibility of suffering. Long ago, this woman threw away her whole life to punish the highest crime she could imagine: the denial of transcendent divinity to those who might have claimed it. "You're the devil," Sjur says. "You're the lone power who made death. You allowed the possibility of evil. You might be responsible for more preventable suffering than anything that has ever existed." Mara cannot shake her head or even nod. "Well," Sjur says, "if you hadn't, none of us would be here. I guess I don't see what else you could've done, if you cared about those we left behind. If you wanted us to be able to go back and help in the fight." She leans forward and very gently kisses the inside of her helmet, where it meets Mara's: in her mind, in that place that is bound to all other Awoken, Mara feels the touch of gentle lips. (Tyrannocide III)

And like, those chapters also make me lose my mind because of the twofold meaning of the title- Tyrannocide because she is killing Oryx, yes, but also because she herself is dying. The self-appointed (and only ever real) Queen of the Awoken:

We are risen from man and fallen from heaven. We are made again in the fall. What was once us will not ever again be us. I am the uncrowned ever-Queen and my only diadem will be the event horizon of the universe, which is my dominion. By falling, I will rise. (Palingenesis II)

&

"Mara, with all my respect, all my genuine gratitude for bringing us here," Esila sighs, "who died and made you Queen?" Mara says nothing. But she thinks: Everyone, Esila. All of us died and made me Queen. (Revanche II)

&

On the day the Fallen struck, Mara was proclaimed Queen. It happened swiftly, though after no little debate among the people, for everyone was afraid of a monarch who could speak to their thoughts. Yet they feared more to deny her power and sovereignty, for they had come between worlds in her name. To refuse her would be to refuse their choice. (Revanche V)

And the thing is that she is their queen in such a real and tangible way like she made them she made their fate she can sense every single one of them and feels their deaths and at the same time as she is sacrificing them for The Greater Good she would do anything to save them:

Mara crawls through compartments choked with vaporized coolant. She keeps low and clutches the breather to her face. All she can think of is Kelda Wadj's last message and the data attached. "Mara. The paracausal effects are strongest around you. Whatever's happened to us, you are the locus. I cannot overstate how subtle and how important this discovery might be. Mara, when we use radioactive decay as a trigger for simulated bombs—bombs that could harm Awoken—the trigger atoms are a thousandfold less likely to decay near you. People are literally safer when you are around." She has to get into the riot. She has to protect her people. A horrible groan vibrates through the habitat structure, and then, with an apocalyptic shudder, something tears off the Reef. A ship. A ship is leaving. Mara has failed. ... She rolls onto her back and stares up into the swirling vortices of coolant, seeing faces, futures, the lives she has just lost, the lives she might yet lose. She brought her people here to die in the sense that she brought them into mortality—but she never wanted it to happen quickly. (Revanche IV)

And she keeps losing people and losing people and losing people. So many of the Distributary Awoken defect and go to Earth:

Nasan purses her lips. "I want them to understand that you are—that you—that you are good. That you aren't what they think." Seeing Sjur bristle, she holds up her hand. To her relief, Mara makes a slight warding gesture as well. "And if they know that and still wish to live apart from us on Earth, that's fine. That's their choice." "I don't need them to understand that," Mara says softly. There is the faintest husk of grief in her steady voice. (Chords of Meaning)

And then she loses Nasan too and she comes back as Orin and the Traveler has taken yet another of her people from her (and brought them back wrong!):

"Woof," Sjur Eido says when she sees Orin for the first time, "Mara's gonna hate this." She crosses the detainment cell to get a better look at Gol. "Figured this might happen eventually, but I'd always hoped…" She pulls at the nape of her neck, then gives a little half-shrug: well, what can you do. (Queenslaw)

And then she loses Sjur when she is taken/killed by the Nine:

"This was on her body, Your Grace." A strange coin lay at the center of Abra's outstretched palm. Mara took it between thumb and forefinger and held up it to the cosmos with dainty contempt. Weregild, she thought. Powerful grief filled her chest, as thick and caustic and heavy as unset concrete. (Oathkeeper)

And she turns to Orin for assistance with that and then because of that (!!!) loses Orin again as well:

On the day that Sjur Eido dies, she receives a call from Mara Sov. "I would ask for my boon," the queen says with shaking voice. It is the first time she dares to trust a Guardian. It will not be the last. (Debt)

&

On the day she leaves to find the Nine, the Techeuns name her Orin the Lost. (Synesthesia)

And then she answers the question Alis Li asked her so long ago about whether she is willing to sacrifice her brother (a resounding, grieving, determined yes):

Mara will begin the end of that Queen's brother today. She knows what that means for the fate of her own. An eye for an eye. She must think now of the fate of entire cosmos—and of her tender, half-assembled answer to the cold sword logic of the Hive. She must not grieve. She must not fear. (Tyrannocide IV)

And then at the Battle of Saturn all of this loss she has been dreading and yet causing for millenia finally comes to fruition and she then will have a good long time just sitting with that in Oryx's throne world:

This is the moment of absolute sacrifice, the incarnation of Awoken doom: to give up their lives in defense of the world they once abandoned. The sense of their great dying rips at Mara like a sob. (Tyrannocide V)

It's just like. Such a classic and compelling and well-executed examination of do the ends justify the means? (Seth Dickinson at it again! In so many ways Baru is Mara is Baru is Mara!!!) Every one of her actions led to this point, to defeating Oryx, and was that not worth it? And yet how could it ever be worth it?

I think especially the outside perspectives from Earthborn Awoken & Guardians are really interesting on that front because while they still have the connection to Mara - "However, there was always in their souls an itch, a vector pointing to a distant place in the Asteroid Belt, where their Queen still dwelt." (Revanche V) - they did not choose to follow her and they do not have the same loyalty:

Zavala:

"She was a charlatan," Zavala says, quietly. "Fighting a war that existed only in her mind. Dragging you all behind her. Any of you who will admit that are welcome in my City. But I will not take in whatever conspiracies she left unfinished. If you come to us, you come to join the City." (Refusal)

Arach Jalaal:

She speaks. "Earthborn. Did you mourn for her?" He thinks she will know if he lies. "I respected her, yes, but I despised the way she seemed… entitled… to us all. I never regret choosing the path I did. I was Awoken to continue the search we started long ago. The quest for worlds worthy of our lives." (Fleet)

Master Rahool:

We long feared that if it were intercepted by her Majesty your Queen, it would be denied or manipulated to serve some need of her own. (Of Earth and the Reef)

Mara is just such an incredibly compelling and complex and interesting character and she is so stubborn and full of herself and self-righteous and she saved the solar system and she doomed her people to mortality and she's always right because she has to be and because she makes it so and she keeps secrets from everyone and has lost more people than many people ever meet and she has felt every single one of their deaths. She is everything to me.

[bellysoupset]

hi!! so sorry to know that you’re not feeling well ☹️☹️ if it helps could you tell me literally ANYTHING about max 😭😭 mundane minute details whatever you like ⭐️

Hi star!!

Honestly, tomorrow I shall be well again and collected, but tonight I'm giving myself the grace to lick my wounds and indulge into cheerful stuff.... such as torturing these ocs lol.

Alright some random facts for Max!

He loves being an only child

His father is a high functioning alcoholic. He's sober now, but they did hit a rough patch when Max was 12, when his parents divorced.

His mother is into aaaall that eat-pray-love bs. Does the weirdest diets, definitely tried her hand at keto and paleo, also that blood type one. Max suffered with this as a teenager, none of those were nice diets to his sensitive tummy.

He flunked at his senior year! Then got into Doveport's community college and to this day he's a high key defender of local education. Max still has friends among the college professors

Vince is right, Max's little condo does look like a cave. He's very focused on his job, he really could not care less about his living space.

He is SUPER into camping. Despite hating his mom's hippie ways, he's also very nature focused and he does trails and hikes during his free time. Doesn't like the gym or closed spaces.

Got arrested for arson during a protest against law enforcement once <3

Max and Luke are the same when it comes to the competitiveness. Sore loser extreme.

A Slut. This is a man who has dating apps downloaded in his phone and posts thirst traps on his insta (CLOSED FROM STUDENTS BTW)

Despite being a very cool teacher and vibing with his students, he doesn't let them in his personal life at all, as it should be.

You bet your ass this idiot has done tiktok dances his kids asked him to do. Put together songs so they could remember the periodic table. He loves teaching, he just really dislikes Parents.

His favorite flavor on anything is green apple.

He hates reading. Sorry, but I have enough bookworms 🙈🙈 (Vince, Luke, Leo, Jonah)

[thequeenofthewinter]

All the Magic

A flash fiction prompt I was issued with the topic: "All the magic I have known I have had to make myself."

No warnings and rated G. This is some hurt/comfort (kind of?!), and it involves my OC Dahlia and a bit of her origin story. I sincerely hope you enjoy it if you read it.

Link to AO3

Dahlia sits at the edge of their bed, her fingers playing with a stray strand of thread which came unraveled from an old blanket.

Should she tell him? And if so, how much?

A frown forms on her face, the corners of her lips turning under themselves delicately. Her face had always been able to give her feelings away—both a blessing and a curse if you asked her. 

She sighs as she looks up at Ulfric and contemplates his question. It isn’t that she doesn’t wish to speak with her husband, rather that the topic at hand is something she had stuffed into the furthest corners of her mind, and she doesn’t wish to unearth her pain. Not right now. Not at this moment.

What was your life like before you met me?

A seemingly innocuous question, innocent and not inherently threatening in and of itself; however, it dredges up phantoms she would rather not think of.

And really, what can she tell him? It’s not as if her past life was that interesting nor is he missing out on some big part of it.

Dahlia tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I think I told you that I grew up here--” she pauses and swallows nervously, “—on the other side of the Valunstrad.”

He nods to her, indicating to her that he is listening.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been there or—”

“I’ve seen it, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Ulfric tells her quietly, a hand finding hers to reassure her.

“I am grateful.” She turns her head slightly, looking away from him. “I had a roof over my head, and the winds didn’t whistle so much through the cracks as in other houses closer to the Snow Quarter, but it—it wasn’t much.

She chews on her lip as if trying to stop herself from saying more, but then adds a bit bitterly, “My father couldn’t afford anything more, and my mother and I did what we could. She took care of the house, and I offered my services as a tutor. I did pretty well for myself with reading and writing.”

“You went to school?” He asks, almost surprised. Of course, he knew that she eventually went to the College of Winterhold, but most of the general population does not have access to a formal education.

“My father was a guard of good standing—at least until he wasn’t, that is. But, he was invited to bring me to some of the lessons for the nobles’ children. I learned there. It was one of the few things that I remember he was able to give to me, despite all the grief he put us through…” 

Her voice trails off, not saying anything more on the subject, and Ulfric looks down at her, his eyes showing sympathy—almost pitying of her.

She refuses to look at him as she laughs humorlessly. “I studied hard. I figured that someday if I did well enough and made my parents proud, I could get a job with a good position. I started singing and between that and being able to read and write, my parents thought I could go to the Bard’s College…but, I had other plans.”

He smiles at her, squeezing her hand. “So rebellious even then.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” She smiles back at him, the barest whisper of it gracing her features. “My parents were furious. As you are aware, magic is not a very well received professional career path in Skyrim, but I took up Restoration anyway. I wanted to help. I wanted to do something. I grew up hearing stories from my father about the Great War, and its consequences.”

She shakes her head. “Little did I know my life would become this.” Dahlia gestures vaguely around her. “Dragonborn this, and destiny that. I was hefted from one destiny-determined situation to another of a very different type. Akatosh’s chosen. More expectations and more responsibilities were thrust upon me, and everyone had their own vision of me. I should act in a certain way and fit into a certain image. So, what did I do? I folded myself into the role of a hero to match what society dictated of me. I bled for it, sweated for it, cried and lost people for it. I made myself smaller and smaller, and I have to admit,” she chances a glance at him, “for a moment I lost myself.” 

One of her fists balls up in quiet rage, the timber of her voice beginning to teeter on shaking.

“Eventually, I did figure it out, and in the moments in-between, what little joy or happiness I had, I had to create for myself because who else was thinking about it? Who else could assure it? I couldn’t ask after others to bring it to me or even so much as follow my own wants or needs because it was selfish.” 

Suddenly, she lets her anger go, and it dissipates like the smoke after a fire long burnt out. Her fist then unfurls itself slowly as she retakes his hand and her eyes finally find his. “All the magic I have known, I have had to make myself.”

The sentence hangs in the air heavily, sinking into Ulfric’s stomach like a momentous bolder, as he looks down at her. His mouth opens as if to say something, but then she surprises him as she beats him to it.

“That is until I met you.”

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Searching For Former Clarity (Against Me!)

And in the journal you kept by the side of your bed/You wrote nightly an aspiration of developing as an author/Confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women's clothes/Compulsions you never knew the reasons to/Will everyone you ever meet or love/Be just a relationship based on a false presumption?/Despite everyone you ever meet or ever love/In the end, will you be all alone?

"Searching for a Former Clarity is about the process of dying. It's the closing track to the album, and it shares a theme with the opening track, but while Miami uses disease and dying as a way to talk about the city metaphorically, Searching for a Former Clarity is much more personal. It's also partly autobiographical. Laura Jane Grace wouldn't come out for another seven years, although if I'm remembering right she was convinced that this song would immediately out her to everyone. (I could be thinking of a different song from the same era. It's kind of a running theme in her music.) A while back I saw an old video of her performing this song, when it was still new and she still wasn't out. It felt wrong to see that version of her, honestly (I'm old enough that I should have been a fan in the 2000s but I'd never heard of Against Me until a couple years ago), but it also amazes me just how much *better* she looks now. She looked so much older then, and unbelievably more miserable, than she does now. I hate that she had to live like that for so long, but I think about that contrast every time I hear the song now. Honestly, with that in mind, I never want to hear anyone saying shit about how they are glad someone suffered so that they could Make Art(TM) about it. Fuck that. Don't get me wrong, I love this song and most of Against Me's discography, but I'd willingly give all of it up if it could somehow retroactively mean that Laura Jane Grace didn't have to have the shitty life experiences that led to it. Yes, a lot of art comes from suffering, but people shouldn't have to fucking suffer for art. I've had some experiences lately that forced me to think about my mortality a bit more seriously than usual. If I died today, there would be an extensive record of my gender, and my complex feelings about gender, on various mostly anonymous twitter and tumblr and reddit accounts. If I died today, nobody who knows me would know the name I chose for myself. Not that I'm a historical figure (I'd probably be entirely forgotten in a decade tbh) but speculation about my gender would be *at most* someone's conspiracy theory based on poorly-sourced and badly-interpreted speculation. I'd be buried as a man, I'd be remembered as a man, I'd be forgotten as a man. That was my choice. I have my reasons for making it. I don't know if it is right or wrong or even if the concepts of "right" and "wrong" are the right ones to use when thinking about it. I'm still going to have feelings about it every chance I get. Searching for a Former Clarity is a pretty good way to get them. Emma. That is the name that I chose."

Am I Awake (They Might Be Giants)

When I get through this part/Will the next one be the same/Will I be wondering/If I'm awake?/These are not the clothes I had on when I went to bed/And something else besides my hair is growing from my head/And when I close my eyes it looks the same as when I open them again/Am I awake?

"Man I don't know what exactly about this song gets me so hard but it just makes me wanna get up and stim and think about my blorbos and their trauma. it also just speaks to me as a person with memory and identity issues, it really outlines the dissociation and confusion i feel when i don't remember something and/or can't grasp what i'm feeling. it also has a sort of inception vibe to it? or maybe groundhog day? The strange vocal samples and frantic drums and fast bpm with the really slow vocals on top is just soooo good. really really good song"

[bharv]

For Gimmergale: ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

This became A Thing!

Out of Body

He lies on the floor of his bedroom, unable to breathe, sweat on his brow. His body is in this space, the wood of the floor cool on his back, but his mind? Well, it has always been his sanctuary. Now it is his relief, his saviour. Now it is all he has left.

At the worst times he uses what he has left of his abilities to take himself back to the place that he felt closest to her. Yes, it was but an illusion, but he has pulled it together from his memories, from the scraps of drawings he had made over the years as he tried, and failed, to capture its beauty for others, from the notes and diagrams and carefully replicated notes on casting. He takes himself back to the boat on the water, where she would deign to take a more corporeal form to sit in a blissful silence as the outer planes stretched out into an infinity.

It is not something that comes without a cost. Even as he floats here, in the gentle tide of the great body of water, he can feel the pull of his body as it struggles for breath on that floor.

“Not yet,” he whispers to himself. “Not quite yet.”

He pulls the threads together again, the threads of this beautiful dream. He should not be starving the karsite weave of what little magical power he has left, but he needs it, oh how he needs it. It has been months in the confines of his tower, months since he has looked into the eyes of another person. It has been months since he was cast out of her grace. If he sits here for long enough he can pretend he sees the outline of her. If he gives enough of his magic, he can smell the rosewater, he can feel her presence. If he can give enough of himself, perhaps she may show mercy.

Tara will be back soon. She will be back with a solution, and he won’t be left dead on the floor of his empty tower quite yet.

But he thinks about it.

He thinks of where he might go, if it takes him wholly. He thinks of travelling through great snowy tundras, or going through the Undermountain and into some distant part of the Underdark. He thinks of what it would be, to be truly alone.

He wonders if Mystra would forgive him at the last moments, or if he would wander the fugue plane forever in her absence.

Sometimes, in his worst time like now, when the illusion fades and he is left gasping for air, hearing the noises of the streets below through an open window, he wonders what he’s waiting for.

*

He lies on the floor of his tent, his breath shallow, sweat on his brow. The orb cannot be sated, will not respond to even the most potent of magical items, and the pain that settles on his chest now is no mere thrum of discontent, no, it is a tempest, it is a hole that threatens to pull him in entirely.

But he is not alone.

She sits with him, her hand on his heart as she sings a Song of Rest. It is a quaint tune, with soft lyrics about home and adventures and the promise that a new day might bring. It is earnest and it is simple, compared to some of the other songs he has heard her sing, but there is a beauty in the simplicity of it. He wonders if she has chosen something simple so that she can concentrate on the other great trick of hers, that is, the concentration of both channelling her voice towards him, and making sure that the great hole within him does not swallow her entirely.

She is clever. It is a clever idea.

The song comes to an end and the soft light of her magic fades. He realises his hand is on top of hers.

“Did it help?”

“Yes,” he tells her. It is not a complete lie. Her voice is beautiful, and her magic has carved away the twigs at the ends of the branches of the pain. He might, at least, be able to sleep like this. “Thank you, again.”

“At least it’s something. I’ll leave you to rest” she says as she pulls her hand away and stands. He notices her wince as she moves. “I need to find somewhere to bathe, anyway. Or maybe have a quick rest myself. Feels like my undershirt is stuck to my skin even with the healing.”

“I thought you said you weren’t injured?”

“Well. It’s all relative, isn’t it. I’ll live.”

She’ll live. Well. There’s the rub. 

“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up?” she says with a forced smile. “No running off to parts unknown, please? I’d rather like you to stick with me.”

He would too, he thinks. Though perhaps in a better place than this. He conjures a thought of the iridescent clouds, the endless reflection in the water. The chimes of the planes, the ever-stretching timelessness… but that is not where he wishes to place her, as lovely as the light would be on her face. No, when he thinks of her he thinks of the piano. He thinks of what it would be, to sit on the balcony with a book and read to her. He thinks of bringing her tea and watching her hands wrap around the cup as she smiles at him in thanks.

When he thinks of her, he thinks of home.

[wyvernne]

see you through ‘til the day’s end — rewrite teaser

“How do you feel?” Diluc asks, setting his book down.

You barely manage to lift your head to look at him. “I’m freezing. And everything hurts.”

He frowns, sparing a glance at the fire blazing away in the hearth. Diluc’s expression tenses just a fraction. “I’m sorry. Let me warm you.”

He pulls back the layers of thick blankets, and you shiver as you’re newly exposed to the chill of air. Diluc doesn’t give you a chance to complain, his warm fingers closing around your toes. All the tension seems to melt from your muscles at his command.

“I’m sorry that this is all I can do for now,” he says quietly. You don’t indulge him with a response. It’s enough. Everything he does is more than you deserve, anyway.

Diluc’s hands slip from your toes up your ankle, where he hesitates, fingers brushing against the tight bandage on your right foot.

“No need to look so glum. It feels good,” you sigh, closing your eyes.

“I’m no healer,” he says ruefully.

You make a face at him, but he ignores the provocation with grace.

Diluc continues his work in silence for a beat longer before he speaks once more. “You were freezing when we found you. If it wasn’t the blood loss, the cold would’ve taken you.”

You open one eye, peeking up at him. “Did you warm me then, too?”

“Do I look like I employ a brigade of pyro users?” he asks sarcastically. You poke your tongue out at him. “You felt like ice. I thought…”

He hesitates, fingers curling around your wrist. “I wasn’t sure you were going to survive.”

“Lucky me,” you mutter. He gives you a pointed look, smoothing his palm over the tips of your fingers. He’s so warm. So gentle. What a luxury it is, really.

His hand slides back down to your bound ankle briefly. “Maybe it was a blessing you weren’t awake for all of it.”

You squirm. “Felt it enough when it happened. I might’ve passed out sooner if I had looked.”

Diluc frowns, releasing your ankle to spread his palms gently over your stomach. “It’s a good thing the old doctor still works here. He’s seen enough to not make a fuss over the gore of it.”

“Should I write him a nice thank you letter for stitching my organs back together again?” you ask dryly.

Diluc gives you a small smack to the thigh. “It’s not funny.”

You sigh, stretching as much as your body will allow. “I lived, so I get to say whatever I want about it.”

He reaches your face, finally, big palms slipping up to cup your cheeks. His fingers slide against your ears, chasing the dull cold away. You close your eyes again, titling into the touch. It makes everything feel better, whether a psychosomatic reaction or not.

There’s no words between the two of you. Just breathing. Just quiet.

“Who’s with me tonight?” you ask, finally.

“I am,” Diluc says softly. The words come out so casually you barely register it.

You open your eyes again, confused. “What, run out of staff already?”

He scoffs quietly. “No. I just want to keep an eye on you myself. The others deserve a good rest.”

Diluc slips his fingers over your eyelids, soothing them shut. All you can hear is his steady breathing, but his touch falters. There’s a featherlight touch against your lips before Diluc pulls away, chair creaking as he stands up.

“I’ll bring some tea.”

“I’m sick of tea,” you complain, squinting at him. Diluc sighs.

“No alcohol,” he says firmly.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” you lie.

Now it’s Diluc’s turn to narrow his eyes. He sighs again. “I’ll bring you some juice. Don’t move. Please.”

He adds the ‘please’ like it’ll convince you any more. But given you can’t shift a single muscle without cringing at the ache, you’ll comply. Just this once.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you grumble.

Diluc scoffs. “You say that every time, and I always return to find you trying to make some grand escape.”

You roll your eyes at him as much as you can manage. “You always catch me, so it’s no fun.”

“You can heal first. Then I’ll indulge your games.”

It sounds like an enticing offer, but Diluc is already gone before you can ponder its meaning much more. You decide, belatedly, to pamper yourself with a nap. The juice will be there when you wake, regardless. Diluc’s lingering touches have left you boneless, and the pain has edged away for the first time in what feels like forever.

He has everything under control, as always. It’s a good thought to fall asleep to.