#the only thing to be concerned about adulthood Is the responsibilities really

[todayisafridaynight]

How do you cope with suddenly becoming a legal adult when you're mentally stuck at 15 or so, asking for a friend :3

i mean. becoming a legal adult doesnt just mean you SUDDENLY have every single legal adult responsibility in the world and you'll die tomorrow if you don't understand what a mortgage is

you'll be fine, dont worry

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[gigabyte-flare]

The Devil is Real (Part 1)

Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.

I hope you guys like thrill rides :3

The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail

April 22, 2008

Sis,

I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!

With all my love,

Vince

You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.

This letter, however, says otherwise.

“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned. 

You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.

“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.

Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”

“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!” 

You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.

Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other. 

There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?

“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”

“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”

You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone. 

“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen. 

Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.

“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”

“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.

“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food. 

“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.

“And who’s going to watch André?” 

André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.

“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.

The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.

May 15, 2008

Vince,

First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.

Sis

May 31, 2008

Sis,

I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Vince

You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.

The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.

Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”

Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”

You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”

You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”

“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”

“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”

You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”

You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”

You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on. 

“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.

“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”

“If you say so…” you reply softly. 

You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.

“Hey Sis, we’re here!”

After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.

“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.

You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.

“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it. 

Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.

“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”

Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”

Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.

“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.

“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.

“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.

“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”

“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”

You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.

“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.

“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”

“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.

“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.

“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”

While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.

“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”

Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”

“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”

“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”

You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up. 

“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”

Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.

“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building. 

Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.

“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”

There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.

You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.

Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”

Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”

The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you. 

As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.

Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.

“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”

For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief. 

Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”

“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.

Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…

Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.

“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”

The man nods, “sí, claro.”

Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”

“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.

You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.

“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”

“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”

“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.

“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”

“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”

“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”

Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She is perfect.

Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.

Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.

Part 2

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

pairings. Zayne x gn!reader

wc. 7K (yes, I like to torture myself)

synopsis. He was believed to be devoid of emotions, until you unveils his chilling secret. His hidden obsession with you has ensnared you in his icy sanctuary. You were blind to his fixation until it was too late, and now you find yourself trapped in his clutches, unable to escape.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hello people of the internet! I’m pretty new on this writing community so I hope I bring you guys some good crumbs to munch on! and excuse my horrible grammatical errors, English is not my first language. I may or may not have spend my time throwing up this whole ass detailed (press x to doubt) HC out of my mind, I tend to go overboard with my analysis and writing. Get some snacks and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy making this HC.

p.s. this is a reupload ver. the original of the post is accidently deleted

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

Ah…the ice king himself, known for his emotional detachment and seemingly heartless demeanor. His motives and intentions remain shrouded in mystery, as he builds impenetrable walls around himself. Yet, somehow, you managed to slip through those barriers, like a delicate flower pushing through the cracks in concrete, planting the seed of love without his knowledge.

Does he act upon it? Certainly not at first. He ignores it. Pretend that is was merely a sign you were someone he tolerated.

His acts of kindness are always subtle and unexpected. He treats you in a way that evokes certain reactions.

At first, he might seem out of reach. But you never know that he is always there for you. Always observing and studying your responses.

As you both transition into adulthood, he becomes your primary physician, a role that only intensifies his growing obsession with you. He never considered himself capable of falling in love at first sight, but his feelings for you gradually took root. He is always there with you, from childhood and in adulthood. Fate must have bestowed him with great luck to be your guardian, the one who monitors your health and controls your existence.

The time when you both went on your separate ways before you met again, he feels a void, a sense that something is missing. Maybe you meant more than he thought. The loss of you kills him. But does this heavy feeling affect his daily activities? no.

The thought of not knowing about your health and safety gnaws at him, like a splinter lodged in his mind. Have you eaten yet? Did you eat enough? Did you get enough sleep? Did you stumble upon an accident? Just a single scratch of wound on your skin would infuriate him.

You, on the other hand, dismiss it as the instinctual concern of a physician, and your own health condition made it even more difficult for him to let you go. You were far too precious to be released or, worse, left alone and broken.

Even when you’re away on your mission, he always ask about your being and whereabouts. He just wanted to know how you’re doing and it shows how much he cares for you, not monitoring you! That’s ridiculous, right?

However, whenever you were around him, you never felt like you were in control of your own bodily autonomy. Maybe you’re seeing things but have you realize how much you’re changing your lifestyle?

Zayne intelligence is no joke. You were far too naive to look back over your shoulder to notice he is manipulating you. He wants you to be completely dependent on him. But is it really that bad? After all, he was providing you with a healthier lifestyle, not to mention preserving your beauty. Or so it seemed.

Oh, but when you became his, everything changed. He became more open, more loving and caring, the kind that makes you melt to the ground and swallow you whole. Always attentive to your needs and wants, he has no problem with you buying expensive items, the money isn’t his concern. Your happiness is.

His actions become more evident, sometimes you notice it in the way he always makes sure you’re fully geared up and energized for the day, or the way he tries his best to brighten up your day in rainy days.

And when the time came for you to move in together, almost imperceptibly, it felt natural, that’s when he brings the real authenticity of himself, the carnal desire to claim over you starts to show.

He adorned you with the finest fabrics, adorned you with the most exquisite gems and jewelry that accentuated your beauty without overshadowing it. He always gives you the best and never less.

No one would question how many pictures he has of you around the house, as they simply depicted a man deeply in love with his partner…wait, you don’t remember taking this picture..how did he get this picture? 

Caleb gives it to him. As always he has answers to everything, it makes you think he is expecting that kind of question, which is an odd behavior.

Even the windowsill display those seals and trinkets he has given you over the years, customized to your liking.

You saw it as a preservation of memories and the time he had spent with you, when it’s clearly a growing sign of obsession with the abundance of things of your own possessions, or things that reminded him of you were around the house, to the dark corners of his secret room you were unaware of. 

You don’t realize you were brainwashed, did you? Or maybe because he is telling the truth from the start, he loves you very much and his actions serve as undeniable proof!

Until you try to resist or argue with him. It would be best for you to stay obedient and let him lead, he is the man in the relationship, you are his good girl, right? He never wants to hurt you, he is doing it for the better sake of you.

You learned your lesson when you got your first punishment. Each mistake or letdown adds a droplet, gradually increasing the intensity. When the glass finally overflows, it serves as a stark warning to never hurt or disappoint him.

Your life revolves around him. You want to buy groceries? Wait until he finish work. You want to go to the park? Let’s go together and don’t forget your coat, he doesn’t want you to get cold. You want to have some time alone outside? Sure.

Ah, the innocence of those early stages of dating, when the idea of tracking your partner's whereabouts seemed endearing. Little did you know that innocent app you stumbled upon on a social media platform would become the chains that bind you. In the beginning, it seemed like a cute way to track the distance between you and your partner.

That app, like a digital spider's web, silently weaves its threads around your every move. From the moment you installed it, it became his watchful eye, tracking your every step, monitoring your every move.

How naive and compliant you are, unknowingly making it easier for him to watch over you. 

He doesn’t react much when a guy approaches you, no one will be brave enough, because you will always stay glued to his side. He often uses his sharp tongue to highlight their flaws and insecurities. Give them a judgmental stare at the guy as if he was nothing and brings nothing good in life like a mosquito.

Resorting to violence or criminal acts were never his first choice to get rid of those pesky nuisances, his jealousy always remains hidden and possibly close to nonexistent.

Because he knows, you will always comes running back to him. Even if you manage to slip from his grasp, he holds the power to reclaim you, by any means necessary. In dire circumstances, he does not hesitate to resort to violence, to eliminate anyone who dares to steal you away. He doesn't care if he has to hurt you or isolate you, nobody could ever love you like he did. 

Once you are married and start a family together, your life will be forever intertwined with his. That's the end of you or maybe a better version of you that you never envisioned or hoped for, nevertheless it was all because of your love for Zayne that you willingly let him take control, it’s the best life you could ever live in, right?

You will never leave out of his sight forever.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Drive all Night

(A/N): This is inspired by the song "Call your mom" by Noah Kahan.

Summary: Max is worried about the sudden shift in his best friends behavior. But he is willing to drive all night to get to the root of the problem.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (little childhood friends to lovers on the side with angst/hurt to comfort)

Warnings: Association to Max's shitty childhood, reader has depression/a depressive episode, implicit mentions of suicide, listen to the song and you get the vibe

Wordcount: 2.4k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

Max Verstappen is not a big worrier. Actually, he is no worrier at all.

When there is something to worry about, he just changes it. If he can’t change it, it’s out of his area of responsibility, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Thinking like that helped him focus through great challenges. But his mindset wasn’t the only motivator. Through all his highest highs and lowest lows, his best friend has been right next to him, either cheering him on or being the shoulder to cry on he just needed.

(Y/N) and him befriended each other in kindergarten, having felt this unexplainable pull to each other. Ever since playing with Legos together for the first time they had been inseparable if they could help it.

Of course, as they got older and Max’s career in karting took off and (Y/N) had to focus more on school, they started to shift to calling and texting more than relying on in person talking. But that didn’t stop them staying best friends. One might even argue that through their 24/7 updates to each other, they grew even closer.

Meeting in person in their adulthood had become increasingly easier. Sometime (Y/N) travels with Max to several races back to back, being blessed with a remote working job.

The young man starts to suspect something isn’t going smoothly during one of their daily face time calls with her being in her dark bedroom and him in a hotel room halfway across the world. “But enough of how annoying these marketing things are. What did you do today? Except for work of course.” Max just finished another yapping season about the last challenge the social media teams had him participate in.

(Y/N) just shrugs her shoulders while focusing on a loose thread in her shirt. “Nothing much. I reread pride and prejudice.” Max halts a bit in his rummaging through his suitcase, being on the look out for his charger. “I thought you had plans for lunch with a friend? And didn’t you read through that book last week already? You do know that no matter how often you read it, the ending will stay the same.” He jokes a bit.

While still not shifting her gaze towards the phone screen, (Y/N) answers in mumbles. “I canceled on her. I really felt icky today, but we will try to set up another meet up some time next week or so.”

At first Max doesn’t think of it as much. Everyone feels not like socializing every one in a while. But then something else changes. The frequency of their calls and texts.

“...here we can do- Max? Are you even listening to me?” Max gets caught off guard by that question. GP was going over some points with him before starting FP2. “Oh, uhm, sorry GP. Gimme three seconds, I just want to reply to (Y/N). It seems like she didn’t have a great day and I just want to make sure she’ll be alright until I’m out of the car.”

This makes his race engineer raise his eyebrows. “Oh, what happened?” “I don’t know. But she is rewatching one of her comfort shows for the third time in two weeks.” He blinks at the Dutchman. “And in what way is that concerning?”

Okay, voicing his worrisome thoughts out loud like that makes Max realize that the signs are not too obvious for outsiders. But he is talking about his best friend. The person that always makes sure that he won’t go without his needed amount of sleep. The same person he had been having phone calls that resulted in four out of the last seven nights with him getting not more than 5 hours of sleep, if that at all.

For an outsider it doesn’t seem bad for (Y/N) to reread the same books and rewatch the same shows over and over again. Or having her best friend, the person she became emotionally most dependent on, talk with her through her nights.

But for Max, it raises red flags. It hits his alarm bells, ringing out loud that something is majorly wrong. He can’t put his finger on it, not just yet. He is still looking for a way to get her to tell him what is bothering her.

There is a certain uneasiness to Max during that entire race weekend. He is just itching to seat his ass on a plane on his way back to his (Y/N), a friend that he might harbor more than just platonic feelings for. A person that had his back all the time.

To the person he loves the most, that is also struggling the most right now.

He wants to be able to pay her back for all the times she stuck through his darkest times.

But something in him is scared that he isn’t able to get to her in time. “Didn’t you want to go out with a colleague of yours for drinks last night?” Max asks into the phone while speed walking through the airport. Ever since leaving his hotel room on this fine Monday morning, he has been on a phone call with (Y/N).

A sigh greets his ears. “I wanted to, but I didn’t feel like dressing up or sharing a space with a bunch of strangers. I just ordered some food in and watched your race.”

There is another red flag. (Y/N) maybe was never a big socializer to begin with, but she liked going out every now and then. But for a couple of weeks now the only thing Max gets to hear about plans is that she canceled them.

Listening to her just cutting contact with the outside world like that, it doesn’t only worry him. It’s not even scary. It terrifies him.

The two of them continue talking the whole plane ride until (Y/N) falls asleep. Even then Max doesn’t hang up. He still lets the call continue, not wanting her to wake up and feel alone. She doesn’t deserve to feel alone.

No one does. But especially not her.

When he was in karting, some kids gave him grief for winning most of the time. It was difficult for little Max to understand. So do people not want him to win?

It became more confusing to him since some people around him wanted him to win desperately. It hurt him, not understanding the difference of who wanted his best and who wanted to see him fail.

He felt isolated from his peers, especially those who should understand under what pressure he was, because they must feel the same. Right?

During these days, where he rather stopped driving in circles in a very fast manner and just continued playing football, (Y/N) was his only footing. She talked him out of ending his career in motorsport. She painted a picture of his future in the prettiest colors with her words. She gave him something to look forward during these trying times.

And when it got harder before it got easier, she held his hand and reminded him that she will always stay by his side.

Now it’s Max’s turn to show her that he will always stay by her side.

He opens the door to her apartment slowly, trying to make the least noise possible.

Every room is shrouded in what must feel to her like a never ending darkness. The blinds are drawn in front of every window, hindering the tiniest bit of sunlight to filter through. Even to Max it feels like the despair that is in the air will never stop. It is all consuming.

He tiptoes towards her bedroom. There she lays, illuminated by the low light of his phone screen. Curled up tight under a bunch of blankets and between a mountain of pillows and stuffed animals.

The MV lion, the first one that has ever been produced, the original prototype before giving the go for mass production, is held tightly and close to her chest. It pulls on his heartstrings, seeing the comfort it must have brought her while he was absent.

Max kneels down at the head of the bed, gently shaking her awake. “Schatje, come on. Wake up. We got a day of new adventures just in front of us outside the door.”

It’s something they started to say in elementary school. They once read a book in class with the premise that every day is the start to a new adventure. You just have to welcome it in. Back then, when inviting something unknown in your life was considered exciting, not scary or life changing.

“The adventures can wait a day longer.” She mumbles and turns around, trying to shake his hand on her shoulder off. But Max is having none of it.

“The darkness is fooling you. Every light that has been turned off can be turned on.” He gets up and opens the blinds. Sunlight floods the room, and even at the messiest state the young man has seen his best friend, she still is the most beautiful woman on earth to him

(Y/N) lets out a noise of unpleasantness. “Please Max, I can’t deal with it today.”  “No, you will. We are going to deal with it, whatever this it is, together.” He marches over to her dresser and produces a clean set of clothes out of thin air. That is what it looks like to her in this mess at least.

“You are going to shower. After that we will take a drive with no destination.” His words are final and in a tone that makes the young woman drag her limbs and body out of the bed and trudge towards the bathroom, even when the unwillingness is evident by her groaning.

Hearing the shower is Max’s cue to sit down and take a deep breath. He doesn’t know what he expected, but seeing the light of life missing in (Y/N)’s eyes isn’t on that list. It feels like a punch to his gut, witnessing her wither away without knowing from what.

It doesn’t take long and they both sit in the car. A drive without destination is exactly what it says. Just Max driving with (Y/N) sitting in the passenger seat. Usually they used these trips to catch up, to talk about everything and nothing. To voice big philosophical thoughts and dumb brain farts. They started this tradition, that usually includes some sort of fast food, when Max got his drivers license.

But sitting in complete silence for five minutes straight. That is something new.

“You know,” Max breaks it after another seven minutes. “Not talking about it won’t make the problem go away. It also doesn’t hinder it in its existence. Instead it will just get heavier and heavier until you break under the weight.” His dry tone isn’t something she anticipated.

(Y/N) looks out the window, seeing the colorful sunset for the first time in weeks. It’s easy to forget the beauty of the world when your inside thoughts feel like a graveyard. “I don’t want to worry you.”

That admission nearly has the Dutchman emergency breaking in the middle of a street through the fields. “So you play cat and mouse with your feelings because you don’t want to worry me?” (Y/N) nods.

Max lets out a laugh. “So what exactly makes you think that me witnessing you just becoming a shell of who you once were won’t worry me?”

She shrugs. (Y/N) didn’t expect him to catch that something feels wrong in her.

“Schatje. I will always worry about you, You are too important to me to not worry about you. Seeing you wither away in yourself, it made me scared going out on these tracks, sitting down in the car, and wondering if you still breathe while I’m driving another mile. Not knowing what you feel, that worries me more than the truth. Because then we can work on getting you better together. But when you don’t let me in, I can’t help and feel like by just standing and witnessing without intervening that I’m at fault for anything that happens to you. It hurts more seeing you hurting than knowing what you hurt from.”

She turns towards Max, mustering his side profile. She hasn’t thought about how her actions are perceived by her surroundings. (Y/N) just fell into that hole of darkness unexpectedly. While sitting at the bottom of that somber pit, she thought that trying to reach out for help would mean another person gets pulled into it.

If there was one person she doesn’t want sitting next to her in that dark hole, then it is Max. She harbors too much love and affection for him to want him to suffer the same fate as her. So not talking about her darkest thoughts seemed like the best way of keeping him far away from the hole.

But it just drew him in closer.

(Y/N) finally sees what he saw the whole time.

“You know, it’s hard to explain what happened. It takes time to really understand what goes on in me right now.” Max puts a reassuring hand on her leg. “We have all night to talk about it. Help me help you. Let us find a strategy to get you better. May it be medication, meditation, punching me or falling in love with someone. I need you to find a reason to stay with me, physically and mentally.”

She puts a hand over hers and looks Max in the eye for the first time since he arrived. “I already fell in love.”

He doesn’t need to hear more.

Max keeps his promise. He drives through the night, holding (Y/N) to the best of his ability while she cries, curses and explains.

By that not everything is picture perfect again. But it’s the first step. The first one to a future they both want to share with each other. For now and ever, that is enough motivation for (Y/N) to keep going, to continue turning every light on that was off.

[twstfanblog]

Hiii so this is probably so very cringe fail of me but-

manwha AU where Yuu is like Cale Henituse from Trash of the Count’s Family.

manwha AU where Yuu wakes up, memories intact, everything replaying in her mind, and she decides that she’s gonna do everything in her power to just not interact with anyone and live a slacker life.

manwha AU where Yuu decides that since the trio sees her as a bitch, she’ll be the bitchiest around.

manwha AU where Yuu makes Crowley and Crewel proud by how much she spreads her network using the political information gained from her past life, and raising their family higher than ever before for her slacker life.

manwha AU where Yuu communicates with adults and said adults wonder if they’re even talking to a child since said child knows way too much about things that they shouldn’t.

manwha AU where Yuu no longer keeps the trio at a friendly distance but at a political acquaintance distance.

manwha AU where Yuu insulted as psychotic trash who hides her true intentions behind a lazy smile, and she just turns, smiles, and says: “why thank you, I live to please.”

Just. Lazy badass Yuu. I need this desperately. Please. (Trash of the Count’s Family is really good I recommend you read if you want male mc who is reincarnated as a villain who uses his knowledge of the story to his advantage and personal goals without romantic harem)

Cringe has no place in my domain, only enjoying things. I normally don't like manhwas without romance since to me thats the whole point XD but I'll check it out!

Honestly, Yuu is already isolating herself by refusing playdates with her only three friends and then becoming a shut-in. She's going to ha e duties still since she is the ONLY CHILD of the grand duke. Sadly, if Crowley can't dodge all his responsibilities, neither could Yuu.

Crewel and Crowley are actually already very concerned just because Yuu's been so sad lately and few things are able to lift her mood. If she had started talking like a full adult with info she shouldn't know, they'd instantly think possession.

I haven't had a chance to write it yet, but I will allude to it during the next Manhwa chapter. Yuu is actually a pretty violent child, a trait she keeps into adulthood. Crewel is already ready to verbally set you on fire in front of your loved ones. Yuu may actually do it and she can get away with it because she's the grand duke's child. Very few ever try to actually insult her. Because either Crewel kills them publically and slowly or Yuu beats them into a coma publically.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: I’m a 29yo INFJ lagging in personal development. Low self-worth and a lot of shame about how I am. I started therapy to work on my social anxiety. In the meantime, I read one of your answers (/post/766608536971149312) and it made me want to ask about how to get in touch with who I am. I have a weak sense of self because I have neglected myself for a long time.

I feel like I have no goals, no ambitions, no interests, no identity. I don’t know if I have anything positive to express into the world right now. All I know is I want to connect with people. I like people and it pains me that I don’t know how to be with them. But how can I connect with people when I have nothing to express or contribute (and that, in itself, causes me shame)? How do I begin the journey towards knowing myself?

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

That post was about INTPs with regard to inferior Fe and lack of regard for one's place in the social world. In case it needs to be said, beware of extrapolating information about inferior Fe and trying to apply it to auxiliary Fe. The two should not be treated the same way.

Although they are the same function, the difference in functional stack position makes a big difference in the perspective one ought to take toward function development. Anyone of any type can experience socializing difficulties, but the underlying reasons behind the difficulties are very different for each type and thus require different approaches.

Yes, in many ways, it is problematic to have a weak sense of self. And, yes, being empty inside means you don't have much to contribute to the world outside. Although this might apply to you, is a weak sense of self really the root problem in your particular case?

A weak sense of self is actually simple to address. All you need to do is start living life more openly, actively, and assertively. It's not very difficult to "contribute". If you are an able-bodied person, there are many worthy causes you could devote yourself to. There are lots of possibilities all around you if you open your eyes and look. Get up and get out into the world. Do things. Participate. Get involved. Experiment. Explore. Take charge. Take on more responsibility.

Through gaining a wide variety of life experiences and learning about yourself from them, you'll gradually forge a stronger sense of self. Adolescence to early adulthood (13-25) is normally the time when people do the bulk of their self building, which is why you generally see teenagers demanding more and more autonomy to live life on their own terms. If you've lived a sheltered life, either because your parents sheltered you or you sheltered yourself, then you are more likely to have a weak sense of self because of not possessing enough worldly experience. It's never to late to start, though.

But you aren't able to implement this simple solution, are you? Why is that? You mention social anxiety, the root of which is usually shame, most likely toxic shame. Shame is a normal and healthy response to falling short of moral ideals, i.e., feeling like a "bad" person prompts you to change your behavior for the better and become a "good" person.

However, toxic shame is about not valuing yourself because other people have, intentionally or not, made you believe that you have no value, perhaps to the point where you believe you are inherently a bad person who can't change. Shame is a more primary concern in your case than weak sense of self, though the two can be related.

The real world mirrors back to you the truth of who you are. Therefore, in order to see yourself, you have to make yourself seen out there in the real world. But the world is an imperfect mirror. If you've been unlucky and encountered too many people throughout life who have made it clear that they don't like what they see when they look at you, it is only natural for you to not like looking at yourself as well. You are not to blame for that.

This raises an interesting question, though. How reliable and valid were those people's perceptions of you? After all, we know that human beings suffer from many kinds of biases and prejudices. Are you certain that the people who have judged you did so objectively and impartially? Are you certain that those people were eminently qualified to appraise you and your worth? You'd better be certain, that is, if you're going to adopt their way of judging you and put yourself down so harshly.

Framing the problem like this, perhaps you can start to see that it goes deeper than Fe. Perhaps it goes all the way down to Se. It is easy to spot INFJs with unhealthy Se. They are usually unwilling or unable to participate in the real world. Why? In the real world, there is no place to hide, so you don't get to indulge the fantasies of unhealthy Ni. You don't get to lie about who you really are. It is safer and more comfortable to live in an insulated world of your own making, where you don't have to hear outside opinions about yourself.

Isn't that what you really mean when you say you've "neglected yourself for a long time"? That you've purposely avoided facing up to reality and, thus, haven't been developing your potential? Perhaps it's time to confront the discomfort you feel in the real world and understand what it's really about? Perhaps it's time for you to grapple very seriously with the question of how you define the worth of a person?

Do you believe that every person you meet has to "contribute" something to you in order for you to consider them worthy of your time and attention? That's a very cold and transactional approach to human relationship, isn't it? If you don't believe that, why would you assume that you must "contribute" something in order to call yourself worthy?

It's easy to spot people who suffer from toxic shame. They behave as though they don't have a right to speak or even a right to exist. Do you believe you have a right to exist in this world? If so, speak up for yourself and take up the space that is rightfully yours. You really want to connect with people? You'll find it difficult as long as you believe you're not a person worth connecting with and that no one would want to connect with you.

You've asked me how to get to know yourself better. I've pointed you to the best path, which is to participate fully in the real world and go through the exciting process of building a life of substance for yourself. Maybe this is the last thing you want to do, but that usually indicates it's the most important thing you have to do.

Do you struggle with Ti loop? Such INFJs commonly react to good advice with excuses as to why they can't do it or how it doesn't apply to their "special" case, or they'll go around soliciting opinions from a million people until someone tells them it's okay to keep avoiding reality. I'm not here to convince people to change. I can only tell you that facing up to your fears and challenging yourself to do difficult things is necessary for real growth to happen. Whether you do it is in your hands.

[fthistumblershit]

Sorry you’re so easily upset, but saying you’re an adult responsible for managing your own triggers and symptoms isn’t pseudo-psychology, it’s just a fact. I know personal responsibility is uncomfortable especially for ED sufferers but there will always be triggers. The philosophical and political affiliations of the community you immerse yourself in doesn’t preclude those individuals from saying things that you might personally find upsetting or triggering. You clearly have a lot of negative emotions to sort through and I’d advise you to step away from social media if you’re having difficulty managing them and are so upset and unbalanced by what strangers say to each other on tumblr. If you choose to relapse it’s on you, not someone who said something you found fatphobic.

I see you're taking the "you're hysterical" route right now.

1. I'm easily upset by unknown people not showing their face and telling me who I am, what I feel, and what I should do. Especially when they're condescending about it. It happens when you're a human being.

2. When I say it's "pseudo-psychology", I mean that there are many currents in nowadays psychology that have many different perspectives on how to deal with trauma, trauma-response, boundaries, and triggers. So, I'm not saying that being an adult who should be responsible for their triggers is not a fact (I said it myself); I'm saying your approach to psychological problems isn't a proven one nor the only one.

3. Honestly, the fact that you think that I, again a person you don't know, struggle with personal responsibility is absolutely beyond me. My sense of personal responsibility is none of your concern. I assure you I'm a functional adult which has achieved many important things in my life (at least I consider them so) that in other times I would have thought impossible. Really, you don't have to be this concerned about my mental health or my sense of adulthood. I'm doing fine. And that's according to professionals. Ofc, now you'll say I don't seem to be or that you don't believe me or whatever trick you might have up your sleeve. Idc.

3 and 4. I know they'll always be triggers because you never fully recover from an eating disorder, partly because we live in a very sick society that hates women and fatness. You really, really don't have to tell me that, thank you. I was in therapy for many years and not with an anon, but with actual professionals who knew me personally. I have never implied (but after all, this is my third language) that I expected the community I "immerse myself in" to be nice no matter what, or walk on eggshells with me, because that's absurd and frankly inconsiderate. If not right down abusive. What I meant was two things that maybe were easily confused with one another: that I was potentially triggered by the rudeness, as in name-calling, mocking, etc. used by some people on this website; and, separate from that, that I was shocked (not triggered) by the apparent ignorance and prejudice on radblr related to the intersection between female fatness (not EDs) and medical misogyny. So, to correct your point, No, I wasn't expecting radblr to be nice to poor me with their opinions on that subject. They can have all the opinions they want, but one can always express themselves in a civil manner when exposing them, especially when talking about very sensitive subjects.

5. This is just insulting, to be honest. Don't worry! I'm not triggered. I'm just stating my opinion. Again, you stranger on the Internet who don't know me and seems to be adamant on worrying about my health, I wouldn't know what to tell you about my negative emotions. I don't usually measure them. When someone makes me angry, I express my anger as healthily as I can, trying to be assertive but not aggressive. When I'm sad, I try to cope by being functional and dealing with my responsiblities (job, house chores, master's, family and friends) as best as I can and try not to dampen anyone's mood in the process. When I'm horny, I masturbate and feel much better afterwards. I'm unable to tell you how many negative or positive emotions I have on a daily basis; I can assure I also have very positive ones, like feeling loved or achieving new things in my professional and academic life. I'm not upset nor "unbalanced" (you meant to say "hysterical" but stopped at the last moment?) by what strangers say to each other on the Internet. I am upset (because I'm a human being) by insults, mockery, prejudice, etc. regarding someone's physical appearance or diet because it was worded aggresively and maliciously. If someone insults you and you're affected by it, it's your responsibility to manage it, but you have a right to feel it and defend yourself. On the other hand, if someone talks about weight, physical appearance, and dieting in a neutral or respectful manner, I don't feel triggered at all.

7. May I say, that your rhetoric is somewhat reminding me of DARVO tactics with all the gaslighting and guilt-tripping. "If you CHOOSE to relapse," something "YOU FOUND fatphobic." If I relapsed, it'd mostly be my responsibility, sure, but you don't choose to. In that moment, it's already out of your control. And, ONCE AGAIN, I haven't relapsed. I was talking about a potential trigger. I've fought with this for many years without a single relapse, but I know this illness well enough to recognise potential triggers. And again, these posts are appearing on my dash. I don't follow these people.

8. Last of all, why are you so invested in my mental health all of a sudden? Do you send anons to every recovered bulimic/anorexic on Tumblr? I understand my initial post might have striked controversy but a psychological profile seems a bit exaggerated. And, look, I'm sorry if my sarcasm strikes you as me being "unbalanced" or being "easily upset." But I think, unfortunately, we agree to disagree.

Now, I have work tomorrow and it's quite late here, so if you could leave me alone, I'd thank you immensely. Btw, I'll leave Tumblr whenever I see fit. It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last. But that's my choice and my reasons to stay in it.

[ateezivy]

hurt

( 2019 )

Ivy could apologize a million times and it still won’t change the fact that she hurt him. Mingi doesn’t know what to do. The room felt cold, the only sound was the air conditioner and the ringing in his ears. The summer night heat made it impossible to sleep, so Seonghwa always had the AC on high at night, that explains the freezing air, but not the constant ringing. Mingi sat next to the girl, listening to her every word as she bawled her eyes out, wanting to make things right. But he wasn’t sure if she could do that. She doesn’t even have faith in herself. 

“If you wanted me why did you go out with people?" "Why did you put yourself in scandal after scandal?" "Why did you put yourself in danger?" "Why are you doing this?”

She couldn’t find the words to explain it. She wanted to, she tried, but to Mingi it was just excuse after excuse. Because there’s no reason to put herself in that kind of danger, in the hands of strangers and Dispatch, and if there is one it better be a damn good reasoning. 

She would say, “Because I wanted to move on,” but that wasn’t enough in his book, and if she’s being honest, it wasn’t enough in hers either. Then there was the “I just wanted to try something new,” but let’s be real, Ivy is so extremely anxious around new people. She was going out with people Mingi hasn’t even heard of, where did she even find them?  

So what was the reason? Well, if she’s being honest. She wanted a reaction. In some sick, fucked up way, that’s what she wanted. She wanted Mingi to confess everything to her, she wanted him to bring her back to reality. But she never meant to hurt him. In the beginning, all she needed was a confession. Then these dates started to become fun. Free drinks and food, meeting some interesting people. She felt sort of free, like a normal 18-year-old. 

Isn’t this what young adulthood was about? Dating? Having fun? Experiencing a new view of the world. But she realized she was in the wrong when she came home drunk one night. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were waiting up until two in the morning. They got her to bed, stating that Hongjoong would have a word with her in the morning about how she needed to take some responsibility because she was going to jeopardize not just herself but the whole group. But she left early that next morning without a word. She didn’t need a lecture. But again, she knew she was falling off the deep end at that point. And she didn’t think to fix it until now. But why? 

It felt like an addiction of some sort, with or without alcohol and nicotine. Going out with strangers she met through friends of friends of friends, going out with Somi or some other friends. These moments felt like a drug to her. She didn’t care who she was with, who she was seen with. She was just fucking around for the hell of it, she felt like she was living. 

But at what cost did she live? Was hurting the love of her life worth it? Was it worth some sorority-like living? Hanging out with people she just met in the most suspicious bars, she had nightmares about them.

“Did you stay safe?” His number one concern is her safety. Was she safe? Was she? 

“Not really…” She trailed off. She was harassed, almost got caught up in a fight, left alone drunk in the streets. 

People would grab her, telling her she was gorgeous and they’d just love to do things to or with her. Then saying “You’re that idol chick aren’t you?” No. Her answer was always no. Some drunk college girls would pick fights with her because it would get them some press. Then one of her five actual dates had her pay for everything, then asked her to go to a bar in the middle of town. She went, saying she could use some drinks. And then he disappeared once they arrived. He used her and then left her for dead. Somi picked up a few too many late-night calls from her drunk best friend, she started going with her everywhere, not letting her go into specific places, not letting her meet with people alone. “Your members have got to be worried about you.” She’s said that so many times, it was starting to get on Ivy’s nerves. 

“Oh well” was what she would respond with. 

“Jisoo…” Mingi’s disappointment laced his voice, snapping out of her memory reel. 

“Everything I did, I did it so you would talk to me.” She blurted out, making the taller furrow his eyebrows and look her in the eyes. “And then it went too far. I came home drunk a few times, I got harassed, and I almost got into some physical altercations.” She chuckled at her own ridiculousness, she met his eyes again seeing nothing but a worried expression. He looked like he was going to be sick almost. “Could you imagine me coming home with a black eye?” She joked, but a tear fell down her face before she started bawling. And the next words that left her mouth, the thing she was thinking through this whole situation, broke him. 

“I’m turning into my mother” She sobbed. He knew every story about her mother, every story she could remember at least. The trauma, the abuse, the addiction. Maybe it had played a part in her current affairs. But she didn’t want to admit that her mother’s past actions had this effect on her. 

Mingi held her as she sobbed into his chest. “All I wanted to do was for you to notice me” She wept out. 

“There was no need for it” He whispered as he kissed her head. The boys that had their ears to the door backed away, and a feeling of nausea filled Jongho’s stomach. His best friend was hurting, and he was so angry with her. 

Cries filled the room. You would think someone died. And maybe a part of herself did die at that moment. Maybe she was useless, she felt like it. Like a burden. How could she do this to them, how could she turn out like her mom? 

The cries began to die down after a while. The coldness started to make her shiver, but then again it could be her anxiety, she couldn’t tell, nor did she care. She was exhausted. She was living off of adrenaline, 2 hours of sleep each night, and whatever energy drink she bought that morning. Mingi was still holding her, his back was beginning to ache but he didn’t dare move, not until he noticed how her silent sobs and sniffles turned into soft, deep breathing. Almost snores. He looked down at her, seeing her limp body resting on his. He sighed, leaning back so he laid flat on the couch, Ivy lay on his stomach after jolting awake. “Go to sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning.” 

The next morning Mingi woke up to someone tapping his shoulder. He felt a weight on his chest as he opened his eyes, seeing the weight was Ivy’s sleeping body and the tap on his shoulder was Yeosangs hand. “We’re gonna leave for a while,” the older of the two said softly, making sure not to wake the girl up, “you two still have some stuff to work out, and none of us have been able to go out and do anything when we’re worried about her.” 

Mingi nodded in agreement and waved at the others as they all left as quietly as possible. His phone had been laying on the coffee table, he wasn’t sure when he set it there, and he wasn’t even sure he actually did. He picked it up to see the time, the bright light making him flinch as he read 10:24 AM. He put the phone beside him, plopping his head back on the couch. 

His body ached, he had been laying on this uncomfortable couch that his legs didn't even fully fit on. Ivy had moved around a lot over the night, she somehow went from laying face-first on his stomach to laying on his chest. She somehow fit her body in the small space between Mingi’s body and the couch. She had to be uncomfortable…

He gently shook her awake, surprised she didn’t wake up from his shifting as it was. She didn’t move but instead hummed to confirm her consciousness. “Wake up.” his morning voice made her feel that familiar fluttering in her stomach. “No,” she mumbled and shifted herself in an attempt to get comfortable. 

“At least let me up,” he begged as he nudged her repeatedly. “It’s already almost 10:30. My body hurts, c’mon.” She grumbled and sits off, letting the taller finally sit up straight. They both stretched before Mingi sat up against the back of the couch, just to have the girl plop her head right back on his shoulder. She was still so exhausted from the previous night, she let out a yawn as Mingi scrolled through his phone. She fell back asleep not long after, he could tell by the way she was breathing. But it wasn’t long before he started getting hungry, and he can’t imagine the last time she had a real meal. He gently moved her body so that she went from laying on him to laying on the couch. She grumbled and pouted as she rested on the cold couch, but she eventually dealt with it while Mingi cooked a simple breakfast. The smell of food is what woke Olivia up again a few minutes later, making her sit up with a pout. She could hear Mingi humming from the kitchen, he always does that when he’s doing something like cleaning or cooking. Usually, she can’t recognize the tune and she wonders if he and Hongjoong made it. 

She gets off the couch and shuffles to the kitchen, she fell asleep in her daytime clothes but she didn’t seem to even notice until she stood up and her jeans were twisted around her waist. She makes a turn into her bedroom to change into a pair of boxers that fit like shorts and one of Mingi’s t-shirts before she walked back out. 

“What’re you making?” She mumbled a little as she stepped into the kitchen. Mingi turns and looks at her, “Just some eggs and rice, yours is already done” he points at the big bowl of rice and fried egg sitting on the counter. He put all of her favorite sauces to put on her food, she’s a hot sauce addict so she usually drenches it in sriracha or some other hot sauce. She puts her favorites over her food before sitting at the table and devours the food as soon as Mingi starts eating. 

After eating the two sit awkwardly on their phones. How are they supposed to bring this up? How do they start the conversation? Where do they start?

“You’re not turning into your mother.” Mingi blurts out, taking the girl by surprise. She looks at him with wide eyes and a head tilt “You said it last night, you’re not turning into her.”

Mingi didn’t personally know Nicole, and nor did he really have the desire to, but he knows enough about her to know that she just isn’t a good person. Sure she tries to be, but the things she put her kids through were absolutely horrible, and Ivy is nowhere near that. She’s such an amazing person, does she make stupid mistakes? Sure, but who the fuck doesn’t? 

“I’m scared I will…” It’s her biggest fear, it’s even caused her to not want kids. Well, kind of, she would love to have a kid in the future, she loves children, but she doesn’t want to hurt them. She knows it’s probably better if she doesn’t have kids, at least not until she’s healed. 

“You won’t. None of us will let you, not Jongho, not Hongjoong, not Miya or Austin, not me.” 

He knows Olivia would never turn into her mother, she has too much of a support system to do that. It’s easy for Mingi to say these things, and easy for him to believe them. But to her, not so much. Olivia grew up with so much trauma and history rooted in drugs and addictions. She didn’t believe she could beat that, she didn’t believe that the long line of addictions were easy to beat. She wanted to give up, and she hadn’t even begun. 

“Promise?” She knew it was silly, she felt like a child asking it. But she needed his word. “Promise.”

The hours went by. Talking non-stop about their feelings, their actions, their hurt. It's safe to say they were both in some sort of wrong, Mingi should have confessed or talked to her when he knew he could. Ivy shouldn't have done any of the things she did.

They were both red-eyed from the tears, stuffy noses, and hoarse voices. They both had this feeling in the pit of their stomachs. The gut-wrenching feeling. They both knew the next step in this conversation, and the silence between the two proves it. All it took was a look from Mingi after a few seconds to make her tear up again. She knew what was coming, she knew what they wanted versus what they needed. And she knew those two things had completely different outcomes. 

“We’re not ready,” He spoke silently. “We need to focus on other things right now, we can’t be doing this all the time.” It’s true. Their main focus as rookies should be their careers. They need to focus on comebacks, dancing, singing, and fans, they can't worry about what they are and how they feel at the moment. Maybe in a few months, years, but not now. Did it kill them both inside? Of course. But they need to worry about their livelihood before they worry about them. 

“I know,” she whispered and stared at her fingers as they fiddled with each other. Her feet were planted on the couch, knees close to her chest. Mingi was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head in hands. 

“I love you, Jisoo,” He states, making her heartbeat faster and her eyes finally meet his. His dark eyes were filled with sorrow “But we can’t.” 

These final words make Ivy break out into tears again. She hides her face in her knees and sobs as Mingi scoots closer and holds her. He whispers sweet words and apologies into her hair as his lips plant kisses there. But he has nothing to apologize for. He’s doing what needs to be done. This is how things need to go. It’s not their time right now. 

The two are interrupted by the door opening and Wooyoung’s laughter. Ivy hugs her legs as Mingi looks at the others. Wooyoung looks at them with an uncomfortable feeling as the other members flood into the room. Jongho moves past him to grab the girl to her bedroom, he knows she probably wants to be alone right now, she doesn’t want to be seen. The rapper lets go of her and watches as her best friend drags her away from him. 

“So… I’m guessing you two aren’t together?” Wooyoung whispered as the bedroom door shut. The singer earns a slap on the head from Hongjoong as the taller member on the couch shakes his head. 

“What happened?” The leader asked with sincerity lacing his voice.

"Nothing."

taglist: @atolua @skzfairies @itzy-eve @cixrosie @stopeatread @alixnsuperstxr @smh-anon @txt-yaomi @starmaniic

[house-of-lovin]

am I crazy or is everybody very focused on R’s exes? Very interesting asks at first but now I don’t really see very much questions here that aren’t about that ? Come on bros what about the other kinds of relationships in R’s life ! I’m so curious

(Just my assumptions, I say think a lot sorryyyy)

At what age did R meet Link? I know he’s her best friend and he’s known her since before R had her legal separation from parents at 18!

Also does Link ever feel like he’s more of her caretaker than her best friend ? I know he cares about her but I was just wondering if part of the reason he doesn’t leave even after she’s so difficult is because he feels like he owes R so it’s not necessarily always out of love. (I remember you mentioning R employing him and he brought up how all the money is sent to provide for his grandma)

I know R is close to J’s family now but who is she closest to and why? I can imagine J’s family being the kind of people to wanna care for R as if she was one of their own.

I’d personally assume it’s J’s parents! It sounds as if R’s never experienced a genuine paternal nurturing presence before (I know there’s been mentions about Link being that but I see his presence as brotherly) and J’s family is so family oriented, because of the lack of knowledge they have about R’s family that’s something they’d recognize immediately; R doesn’t talk about her family much.

I would guess they naturally slipped into that role for R, R and J’s parents love language seems to me as if it’s acts of service and quality time for not only giving but receiving. I can imagine there’s things they do for R that catch her off guard

(Ex.

R not mentioning she’s hungry because she doesn’t wanna be a bother but her stomach grumbles. Nat asks R about the last time she ate, R’s response makes Nat concerned so she not only tells R that she needs to eat more but makes her some food. Nat tells R that she has to sit at the table and wait for the food but it’s just so she can talk to R, in passing Nat mentions what she’s making is something her own mom made for her family and that she loves making for her family.

Ed asking R if she wants to go for a drive sometime after she fixes the car. For awhile they’re just aimlessly driving around and getting to know eachother a little better, Ed tells R about the memories each spot they pass by has.)

I think they’d be able to sense these aren’t common occurrences for R and her own family because of how caught off guard she is and how R beams with appreciation of it afterwards, they get to see the little soft kid in R whenever that happens and I think it’d make them a little sad that so little seems like so much to R.

I think because they’re parents they’d see the three consistent people in R’s life Link, Jake and Liz as people who are only there because they work for R (even if it’s not true). To them R really has no one in her corner and she’s been facing everything and everyone with no consistent genuine support from anyone, I’d think this is why they’d be more worried than angry/disappointed about the headlines she’s been making lately. Because to them even if it’s true it’s always been R against the world and thats too much for someone to handle on their own, of course she’d break eventually- she’s never been given a proper chance to breathe.

hope you’re having a lovely day :D

love answering questions like these!

I imagine Link and R grew up in the same neighbourhood, so they'd have met in elementary/primary school.

Interesting take about Link feeling like R's caretaker. I don't really see that tbh (although yes, R is very difficult) this is a friendship that's lasted probably 20+ years (or close to).

Idk if you guys have ever had adult friendships that started when you were very young and lasted into adulthood but those friendships are HARD TO BREAK. It doesn't matter how much you fuck up, that person will always be there for you. (it's a very special kind of bond)

My bsf and I have been friends for like 13+ years and best believe we don't always agree with each other's actions/decisions but that person is... your person. (in chapter 7, Link refers to himself as R's person.) No matter how much they fuck up, you'll always be there for them. I think I lowkey based R and Link on me and my bsf LOL.

I agree with your analysis of R's relationship with J's family and her parents.

I would imagine when R and J are finally dating, she'd be SO close to J's parents. THEY FOR SURE WOULD TAKE R IN AND MAKE HER PART OF THE FAMILY 🥹

J's dad taking R for a drive🥹 (yes for me)

J's mom feeding R cause R probably can't cook, too busy yk (ANOTHER YES FOR ME)

I like how you said they'd be more worried than angry about the headlines... I can def see that👀

(we're gonna see more interactions with R and J's family dw. I dont want give anything away but 👀)

THANKS FOR SENDING THESE ANON! So fun to answer and I love how deeply you thought abt your questions (v refreshing to answer something different lol)

hope you're having a lovely day babes♥️

[trumanjo]

Alan Alda’s Commencement Speech 1980

[I Found this in an old Reader’s Digest magazine, typed this up in 2018 and it sat in my drafts for like 6 years. No clue why I never posted this.]

“THE BEST THINGS SAID come last. People will talk for hours saying nothing much and then linger at the door with words that come with a rush from the heart. 

We are all gathered at a doorway today. We linger there with our hand on the knob chattering away like Polonius to Laertes. Now remember. Neither a borrower nor a lender be... and don’t forget, This is above all: To thine own self be true... 

But the very best things said often slip out completely unheralded, preceded by, “Oh, by the way,” In real life, when Polonius had finished giving all that fatherly advice to his son--who probably wasn’t paying much attention anyway--he must have said, “Oh, by the way, if you get into any trouble, don’t forget you can always call me at the office.” 

As we stand in the doorway today, these are my parting words to my daughter. There are so many things I want to tell you, Eve. 

The first thing is: don’t be scared. You’re being flung into a world that’s running about as smoothly as a car with square wheels. It’s okay to be uncertain. You’re an adult in a time when the leaders of the world are behaving like children.  Where the central image of the day is a terrorist one: humane concerns inhumanely expressed. And the only response to this is impotent fury. If you weren’t a little uncertain, I’d be nervous for you. 

Adulthood has come upon you and you’re not all that sure you’re ready for it. I think that sometimes i’m not ready for adulthood either-yours or mine. 

The day before yesterday you were a baby. I was afraid to hold you because you seemed so fragile. Yesterday, all I could feel was helplessness when you broke your nine-year-old arm. Only this morning you were a teenager. As I get older, the only thing that speeds up is time. But if time is a thief, time also leaves something in exchange: experience. And with experience, at least in your own work you will be sure. 

Love your work. If you always put your heart into everything you do, you can’t really lose. Whether you wind up making a lot of money or not, you will have a wonderful time, and no one will be able to take that away from you. 

I want to squeeze things great and small into this lingering good-by. I want to tell you to keep laughing. You gurgle when you laugh. Be sure to gurgle three times a day for own well being. And if you can get other people to laughter, you may help keep this shaky boat afloat. When people are laughing, they’re generally not killing one another.

 I have this helpless urge to pass on maxims to you, things that will see you through. But even the Golden Rule doesn’t seem adequate to pass on to a daughter. There should be something added to it. Here’s my Golden Rule for a tarnished age: Be fair with others, but then keep after them until they’re fair with you. 

It’s a complex world. I hope you’ll learn to make distinctions. A peach is not its fuzz, a toad is not its warts, a person is not his or her crankiness. If you we can make distinctions, we can be tolerant, and we can get to the heart of our problems instead of wrestling endlessly with their gross exteriors.

Once you make a habit of making distinctions, you’ll begin challenging your own assumptions. Your assumptions are your own windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in. If you challenge your own, you won’t be so quick to accept the unchallenged assumptions of others. You’ll be a lot less likely to be caught up in bias or prejudice, or be influenced by people who ask you to hand over your brains, your soul or money because they have everything all figured out for you. 

Be as smart as you can, but remember that it’s always better to be wide than to be smart. And don’t be upset that it takes a long, long time to find wisdom. Like a rare virus, wisdom tends to break out at unexpected times, and it’s mostly people with compassion and understanding who are susceptible to it.

The door is inching a little closer toward the latch and I still haven’t said it. Let me dig a little deeper. Life is absurd and meaningless-unless you bring meaning to it, unless you make something of it, It is up to us to create out own existence.

No matter how loving or loved we are, it eventually occurs to most of us that deep down inside we’re all alone.  When the moment comes for you to wrestle with that cold loneliness, which is every person’s private monster, I want you to face the damn thing. I want you to see it for what it is and win. 

When I was in college, 25 years ago, the philosophy of existentialism was very popular. We all talked about nothingness: but we moved into a world of effort and endeavor. Now no one much talks about nothingness: but the world itself is filled with it. 

Whenever that sense of absurdity hits you, I want you to be ready. It will have a hard time getting hold of you if you’re already in motion. You can use the skills of your profession and other skills you have learned here, fit into the world and push it into better shape. 

For one thing, you can try to clean the air and water, or you can try to make the justice system work, too. You can bring the day a little closer when the rich and privileged have to live by the standards as the poor and the outcast. 

You can try to put an end to organized crime-that happy family whose main objective is to convince us the don’t exist while they destroy a generation with drugs and suck the life from the economy. 

You can try to find out why people if every country and religion have at one time or another found it so easy to make other people suffer. ( If you really want to grapple with absurdity, try understanding how people can be capable of both nurture  and torture: can worry and fret over a little girl caught in a mine shaft, yet destroy a village and everyone in it with hardly the blink of an eye.) You can try to stop the next war now, before it starts, to keep old men from sending children away to die. 

And while you’re doing all of that remember that every right you have as a woman was won for you by woman fighting hard, There are little girls being born right now who won’t even have the same rights you do unless you act to maintain and extend the range of equality. The nourishing stew of civilized life doesn’t keep bubbling on its own. Put something back in the pot for the people in line behind you. 

There’s plenty to keep you busy for the rest of your life. I can’t promise this will ever completely reduce that sense of absurdity, but it may get it down to a manageable level. It will allow you once in a wile to bask in the feeling that, all in all, things do seem to be moving forward. 

I can see you brow knitting in that way I love. That crinkle between your eyebrows that signals your doubt and your skepticism. Why-on a day of such excitement and hope-shouldn’t I be talking of absurdity and nothingness? Because I want you to focus that hope and level that excitement into coherent rays that will strike like a laser at the targets of out discontent. 

I want you to be potent: to do good when you can, and to hold out with and intelligence like a shield against other people’s wantonness. And above all, to laugh and enjoy yourself in a life of your own choosing and in a world of you own making. I want you to be strong and aggressive and tough and resilient and full of feeling. i want you to be everything that’s you, deep at the center of your being. 

I want you to have chutzpah. Nothing important was ever accomplished without chutzpah. Columbus had chutzpah. The signers of the Declaration of Independence had chutzpah. Laugh at yourself, but don’t ever aim your doubt at yourself. Be bold. When you embark for strange places, don’t leave any of yourself safely on shore. Have the nerve to go into unexplored territory. 

Be brave enough to live life creatively. The creative is the place where no one else had ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition, You can’t get there by bus, only by hard work and risk and by not quite knowing what you’re doing. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover will be yourself. 

Well, those are my parting words as today door closes softly between us. So long, be happy... 

Oh, by the way, I love you. 

Full 62nd Commencement Address. 

[phoenixfangs]

OMG PHOENIX OC PHOENIX OC?!?! SIGN ME UP I want to learn everything omggg For now tho, for the ask mmm lets go with ❗️, 🚨 and 🧣 if its not too much!!

WEEEEEEEEE THANK U THANK U im really happy with the positive reception feigas been receiving, it makes me feel like im Not an insane selfish weirdo for wanting to talk about her and like im Allowed to share my thoughts in a public forum without being beaten to death FDJSKLGHLSKJFDS my brain is broken ❤️

❗️what was the scariest moment of ur characters life? does it still affect them? | HHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMM well i look at her as having two distinct lives with distinct hardships: her childhood and her adulthood. so from her childhood, its definitely nebulous in my mind but its probably something to do with one of her siblings deaths, perhaps it was a very bad accident she was also involved in that she almost died from, but she happened to survive while her sibling didnt. probably a very violent, bloody accident with a lot of pain and suffering and being convinced that she will die without a miracle, only to be met with some cruel neutrality from her parents when that 'miracle' does occur and she survives/recovers. 'oh ur lucky to be alive, suppose it wasnt ur time', no celebration or care. probably put the fear of death in her that she ended up carrying with her into adulthood, one of the few things that Didnt get blocked out. as an adult, its probably her confrontation with riza and being told 'im not going to kill u' after shes been disarmed/beaten in the brawl because, if riza was refusing to kill her, it meant the drachman military would. i think i stole/modified the concept from the venture bros of an elite group of assassins/soldiers called 'the cleaners' whose responsibility it is to 'clean up' botch jobs, like feigas botch job trying to take out riza and roy, and they are much more cruel and sadistic than even feiga was to riza. she knows that if the cleaners get their hands on her, shes not just going to die, its going to be slow, painful, and miserable, and that fear of death, and of suffering, freezes her blood and makes her frantic and hysterical until rizas able to calm her down and agree to help her escape

🚨 whats ur characters relationship with the law? have they ever been arrested? what for? what are their opinions on law enforcement? | she lives outside of it and as an extension of it!! shes a political assassin, her vague 'assassin training' i keep alluding to is vague in my mind because i dont have it Fully fleshed out but to me its affiliated with the drachman military, perhaps a covert branch of some kind thats not officially sanctioned but the people in power dont care because its useful to have unsanctioned power. she has never been arrested in a typical sense, as a citizen who has broken a law, and as far as the upper brass is concerned, she either doesnt exist (to those not in the know about the situation) or, up until her defection, is a model soldier (unofficial, ofc, she has no real rank or place in the military but she is still one of Their dogs), an ideal enforcer of drachmas power. she initially has a lot of pride in her position as the best and most valuable, and is disdainful of any government/military besides her own, and doesnt view herself as the abused attack dog shes been beaten into. so much so that she derogatorily refers to roy and riza as filthy amestrian dogs, mutts, etc., simply for being soldiers, and also she hates them. seeing herself as the best, or being told shes the best, is a delusion/lie that she refuses to let go despite the Material Reality that there are assassins (the cleaners) who are Always going to be in a different league than her because she, unlike the cleaners, is still seen as capable of fucking up and becoming worthless. it isnt until her confrontation with riza and rizas influence telling her 'arent u mad at what theyve done to u?! they broke u until u were their best, and now theyre going to throw u away like ur nothing! the military is ur enemy! dont give them any more of urself, whether its ur body, ur pride, ur loyalty, or ur life! hit da bricks!!' that she decides YKNOW WHAT YEAH FUCK THIS and is able to finally redirect so much of her perceived hatred of riza more appropriately onto systems that lied to her and failed her and actively wanted to hurt her

BUT more broadly. jfdklsjfklsa. yeah shes never been a normal citizen so shes never had real experience with citizen-level crime or police

🧣 answered !

[ghosts-of-love]

only a hundred words i'm afraid x( but i really really love this passage and would love to get your commentary on it :D hope your holiday is off to a good start!

And amongst that, the three of them always meet for lunch every Friday at Kitty’s Café. The Captain makes sure to maintain his façade of careful neutrality when listening to Pat’s stories, not reacting to them with any more or less emotion than a good friend would. It’s a tough line to walk, but he manages it. 

It’s often not just a Pat thing. For example, it is important to him that he doesn’t let any of his friends know how humorous he finds them, except for the eponymous Kitty of Kitty’s Café, and that’s only sometimes, in his moments of weakness. 

Okay so! I know this is a short bit so I'm not going word for word or anything but I've somehow still got a lot of thoughts about it! apologies for what is definitely the most rambling and incoherent response i've ever achieved 😅😅

I think the thing here is that, in the same way that in the Ghosts Archive book the Captain reveals he thinks he has bad posture - this Captain thinks that he must have a very expressive face - it is something he realised as a teenager and tried his best to get rid of going into adulthood. And honestly, yeah he's right, people can tell when he's annoyed or bored quite easily - teachers would call him out on it in class, which is how he realises. It's not a problem as he grows up until he gets closer friends (ghosts gang whoop whoop) and Pat.

I feel like at some point in the past, the early days of their friendship, Pat told a story and the Captain let out an uncharacteristic 'my god, that's outrageous!' and it was so surprising to everyone that he saw them all exchange confused looks - he took it to be a negative thing, whereas they were all just like, 'woah hey, this guy can be expressive??'. I know I didn't mention the other ghosts in this fic but they are there and all friends - I'd hoped mentioning Kitty was enough to show that haha. Anyway later in the bathroom mirror at home and he imagines then studies his own face and thinks 'oh god, i look ridiculously enamoured, everyone must know'. and it's at that point that he knows he's gotta try harder to hide it (at this point Pat is still married and he doesn't want anyone's pity about being in love with a married man, and then Pat is getting divorced and he doesn't want anyone's judgement for being in love with a soon to be divorced man, it's all very complicated, and there's never a good time to admit anything to anyone).

and then whenever he puts on his neutral listening face, he's sitting there nodding and thinking 'i am getting a good grade in friend' etc until it becomes second nature to him after so many years.

it's also like. if he reacts to everyone with the same level of emotion (or lackthereof) then he can never be accused of favouring anyone. but also, they can all definitely see through him. they see the little smiles he does, they see how careful he is around Pat, they might not fully understand why, but they share looks and in the early years they talk about it behind his back (not in a bad way, just in a slightly concerned way) until they forget a bit too and becomes normal for them all.

And along with the being-in-love-with-Pat bit, you've also got that kind, fatherly side to Cap - which we also see when they're hanging out with Joanie's children over Christmas but yeah - that he doesn't want to show to his friends because he thinks it makes him vulnerable. man's not really got a father figure to speak of, so...

Not to be cringe but I actually based this small passage (and all the thoughts and feelings behind it) on specific people in my family and how we all interact - my mum, uncle and granny. they just. idk how to explain it. but the bit about not letting his friends know how funny he finds them is basically what i can only assume is going through my family's heads too. it feels like it's always a competition to be the funniest person in the room, but it can't be loud, outrageous humour. it's like a quiet, dry, clever wit and you've won the family gathering if you get a sensible chuckle out of everyone else who is otherwise pretending they don't find you funny. this makes it sound like i don't like them - they are the better side of the family and i love them so much. but yeah, i often base a lot of the Captain's family dynamics on my own because i think it fits well with his character in a modern au.

I also think in this fic (and all of my fics to be honest) the Captain spends a lot of time trying to make Pat laugh in a similar sort of way (a bit like he does in the show, a bit like my family does) and then quietly (proudly) smiling a little to himself, but only after checking that other people are laughing too so that he can pass it off as laughing at his own joke.

And then, obviously you've got Pat's perspective which is that they're best friends and they're very close and he's met his family and they love him and they have weekly lunches (with Humphrey but still) but the Captain always seems tense in a way he's always had to explain as anxiety or autism or something he can't understand and may never. Ironically the only times he doesn't seem that way are when they're alone together, because the Captain is thinking less about how he's being perceived, and he's able to relax and be more himself.

crikey that was a lot of words and i don't think that any of it actually makes sense haha! i hope that you got something from it though and if you want me to explain anything else more then i can definitely try!!

also my holiday was BRILLIANT thank you for asking!!

[oathbreakerapologist]

i think the way u decided to have gortash drive a wedge between orin and your durge (as opposed to the other way around) quite interesting. what insecurities/hangups do you think he preyed upon to make that happen? what changes did ghost notice in her, if any, and how did he respond? did he suspect gortash had anything to do with this?

ah this is such a fun question!! answer below the cut because this is a long one lol

Orin was brought up in an environment that encouraged treachery with deadly stakes; arguably her most significant formative experience was being attacked by, and then slaughtering, her own mother as a young child, and I can't imagine that was the only time she encountered and overcame a similar threat. As a result, she was primed to expect betrayal—even anticipate it—and react aggressively. After all, she earned Sarevok's favor by doing exactly that. Orin survived to adulthood specifically because she eliminated potential threats before they could eliminate her.

For that reason, then, she was ideally positioned to be turned into a usurper. She was already capable of murdering even those to whom she was closest. But seeing everyone around you as either a future victim or a possible threat leaves very little room for the sort of social bonds that humans, as social beings, tend to need.

One could say Niro was the only person Orin trusted, but really their relationship was built on a stranger sort of dependence than that: they thought of each other as extensions of a single being, the lone two tokens of one type, parts of a whole that would melt back together once there was nothing left but blood, gore, and death. Nobody else thought like her, felt like her, acted like her—he was transparent, comprehensible, predictable to her in a way other people weren't, in a way he wasn't to anyone else. She trusted him because she trusted herself.

So what Gortash had to do was force her to see differences between herself and Niro. He leaned into their differing statuses, involving Niro and leaving Orin behind whenever he got the opportunity. He concocted schemes to draw Niro away from the Temple as often as possible, and added forged letters into the mix of the barrage of correspondence Niro sent back to Orin each time he was away. The letters were easy to forge, too; he didn't even need to match handwriting, as Niro—who is blind and at this point could neither read nor write—dictated all his letters to a scribe. Those letters picked at things Gortash knew Niro loved about Orin, particularly her artistic flair (in my canon the letter you can find from the Dark Urge to Orin criticizing the spectacle of her killing style exists courtesy of Gortash). The letters didn't even need to match up with what Niro would undoubtedly say to Orin in other letters; all Gortash needed to do was introduce inconsistency, confusion, unpredictability.

Soon after Gortash began targeting Orin in this way, Niro noticed her seeking reassurance from him in odd ways, as if she'd suddenly become uncertain again about things like her artistry, her place in the Temple, her place in Bhaal's visions of a slaughtered world. But his responses never seemed to improve the situation; it was as if everything he added to the mix only perturbed her further. Then she pulled away from him, which he found deeply upsetting.

He did indeed consider the possibility that Gortash had engineered this situation, but because of his particularly low opinion of Gortash made Gortash a bit of a blind spot to him. As far as he was concerned, Gortash was useful because of his ability to cultivate alliances and develop technology of war, and just about all else the man did was, at best, pathetic. Niro did not think highly enough of Gortash to believe him capable of meddling in his relationship with Orin. Without a clear reason for their newfound strife, he spiraled, disappearing for long stretches of time to go on murderous rampages through the loosely-settled areas around Baldur's Gate in an attempt to exorcise his fear and grief. Of course, his absences only made the situation worse. There was a time that, when Orin didn't know where he was, she didn't believe him to be off plotting her downfall, but that time was long gone.

Ultimately, Orin betrayed Niro because Gortash, through a lens of falsehood and exaggeration, had forced her to confront something true: Niro was not her. He was someone else, he was someone else in a position of power, he was someone else in a position of power with the knowledge and physical prowess make him capable of doing her harm, and therefore he was a potential threat. And Orin had survived to adulthood specifically because she eliminated potential threats before they could eliminate her.

[autism-unfiltered]

hi, i just got diagnosed with autism at 25, but i'm unsure about it bc i feel like other autistic ppl have/had it harder than me. i've never had a meltdown or shutdown, and despite the social issues i had growing up, whenever i read about others' experiences i always feel like they had it so much harder, like all my struggles were actually manageable, things only started getting harder once i reached adulthood. also the diagnostic process was fairly easy, the therapist said it's because i know myself really well, but now i'm scared i've actually been fooling myself.

Hello,

Firstly, congratulations on taking the step to understand yourself better through your diagnosis. It's important to remember that autism is a spectrum and everyone's experience with it is unique. Just because your challenges may seem different or less severe than others', it doesn't invalidate your diagnosis or your struggles. Many people on the autism spectrum don't experience meltdowns or shutdowns, and others develop coping mechanisms that may make their struggles less visible to the outside world.

Moreover, reaching adulthood can indeed present new challenges that weren't as prominent during childhood or adolescence. The structures and routines of school life give way to less predictable adult responsibilities, which can be more difficult to navigate. It's also not uncommon for individuals, especially women and those assigned female at birth, to receive a diagnosis later in life due to a variety of factors, including the ability to mask symptoms.

Feeling like you know yourself well is actually a strength and can be helpful in many areas of life, including therapy. It's not a sign that you've fooled yourself; rather, it could mean that you've been adept at managing your symptoms. However, if you still feel uncertain about your diagnosis, it's okay to seek a second opinion or ask your therapist to address your concerns. It's also beneficial to connect with the autism community, where you'll find a wide range of experiences and perspectives.

Remember, your experiences are valid, and it's okay to take time to explore what your diagnosis means for you. There's no right or wrong way to be autistic, and no two journeys are the same. Take care of yourself and reach out for support if you need it.

[frengles]

5.16.24 (26 years old and 3.5 months)

When I was growing up, I used to turn on the shower and sit on the bathroom floor while I waited for the water to heat up. It didn't take that long, but I would always pretend it took longer so I could think. I would try and imagine writing a memoir of my life. How I would describe the shape of my sadness, the vectors of my suffering. It was never something I actually tried to write, because I reasoned that it wouldn't be interesting useful or properly uplifting unless I could squarely secure those years as past, precursor to a life wherein one overcame, and overcomes. I would shut my eyes and think how when I was older, I would write things gesturing at, "I was so sad back then. You can't even imagine the miserable little life I lived. But it's ok, now. I have everything I want. I haven't even sat on the bathroom floor in years."

I started writing an old friend a letter this week. She recently got accepted into medical school and is moving out of our home state for the first time and is nervous. She asked me if I had plans for when I come back from Japan this summer, and I responded and told her that I actually decided to stay another year. She hasn't gotten back to me yet. In the letter I started I wrote her, "I think we’ve grown into two very different people in our adulthood, and I admire and cherish that we’ve stayed connected all the same. I’ve come to notice how you are practical, forward thinking, and grounded. You have visions for your life and you work laboriously and methodically to bring them to fruition, and for this I am incredibly proud of you. I, of course, am whimsical, impulsive, and do strange things like move across the globe to hang out in a middle school because I didn’t want to become a lawyer like my dad." It was mostly a joke, but to her it would probably read concerning so I will probably axe it in the final cut.

Tonight, my body hurts, and I am in my bed and not the bathroom floor only because I am a little too sleepy to shower tonight and I already decided to call out from work tomorrow. I am mostly not miserable, but I am also not entirely sure whether my teenage self would be adequately satisfied with the actualized memoir content I have managed to live. Then again, I did have that phase where I told everybody I wasn't even gonna go to college and was just going to work as a barista instead and I actually did go to college and still ended up working as a barista for a while anyways so maybe I did achieve everything I ever dreamed of. I guess the thing was I never really dreamed anything specific except not being miserable. My old therapist told me not being able to imagine the future was a trauma response. A different one told me it could be that and also adhd. But, none of them could tell me what having an incessant obsession with the song "Crash into Me" by the Dave Matthews Band could mean. Curious!

The thing about not being miserable that they don't tell you when they tell you it gets better was that you will still have to deal with monotony. You will still get your period, you will still have to eat dinner even when there is nobody there to make it for you, and you will still miss your boyfriend from college sometimes even though you weren't right for each other because it was so nice to always have somebody to talk to who you were allowed to bother whenever you wanted. When I was younger I thought I would never find love because I was too ugly and fat. Now I think maybe I might never find it because I have a very specific thing that I want but I don't seem to know what it is but I will keep trying at it because I don't know what else to do, really. It's like the hatch from LOST. Maybe if I type 4 8 15 16 23 42 onto someone's body enough times something will happen. There is no way to know unless I keep doing it.