#the past 2 hours have been hell on my mental health

[star-critter]

🐾 🪵 Anti-Hero 🪵 🐾

A Coastal Wolf, Taken From Its Habbit

Misplaced From Its Home

[novasolstarr]

BLEGH Man I was having an unreasonably hard time drawing this bastard what the hell

Uhh still not very happy with these sketches besides the horrible feral one but also my desire to ramble about this version of Arius is overwhelming my need to have better sketches

SO THIS FUNNY BASTARD ALRIGHT Based off of another version if him, therefore I'm gonna be kinda mismatching the two's lore

Gravekeep, Spectator, Undertaker; Z-32 has been assigned several names over the years.

However, most have familiarized themselves with Z-32 to be Arius.

Arius is an anomalous entity that previously was completely unrelated to Urbanshade as a whole. In fact, several attempts had been made to remove Z-32 as a whole. This included luring it out, locking down the facility, trapping it with other entities, and so on. These attempts, however, were stopped after Urbanshade attempted a more violent method and ended up with... a few casualties [sketch 5]. Surviving spectators described Z-32 as being "fearsomely animalistic," which was an unusual change from Z-32's normally docile [albeit, cryptid] nature.

Despite suffering several what should have been fatal wounds, Z-32 seemed to recover without assistance.

The injury exposing the right side of Z-32's jaw is completely irrelevant to Urbanshade. He had arrived at the Blacksite with this wound. Along with this, it would seem that Z-32 has shape-shifting qualities, as several personnel have noted his appearance is not the same as his first arrival. It's assumed these changes are an attempt to better blend in with the fellow entities.

Z-32 gathered its names the "Gravekeep" and "Undertaker" due to its habits of cleaning up gruesome scenes, regardless of whether it's an experiment or personnel. Though normally the task of janitorial staff, Urbanshade higher-ups were not about to complain about the free labor done at an exceptionally spotless degree. For several years, it was unknown how Z-32 so cleanly disposed of the bodies with little to no evidence. Up until personnel noticed Z-32 pull apart its very own chest cavity [sketch 4] and lower several corpses into this opening.

Much to the surprise of Urbanshade scientist Z-32 was not only cooperative but also willing to allow personnel to run a few tests on him. Here, it was noted that the opening Z-32 was superficial, housing normal organs just beneath the skin here. Along with this, the opening itself could stretch from the underside of his jaw all the way to its pelvis. Other additional notes thus far are inorganic objects can be kept within this "pocket dimension" indefinitely. Organics, however, appear to be affected by this strange occurrence, with it being noted that the longer organics remain the further they're degraded. Hours 1-2 had no effect. Hour 3 began to show signs of this breakdown. Every additional 30-45 minutes after this point would break these organics down further until the previous item was completely unrecognizable from a black sludge puddle. Even when contained within an inorganic item, such as a Tupperware box, these organics still decomposed. Unfortunately, it's unknown how it affects living organics, as Z-32 avidly denied allowing such tests to be run. Attempts to force Z-32 to comply were fruitless endeavors.

Information about Z-32's past is just as mysterious as his appearance. He refuses to speak upon himself and even appears cautious not to share such information. Its unknown what this reason could be.

Z-32 has been noted to be surprisingly social, commonly engaging in conversation with other personnel regardless of the individual. Though it has been noted that his body language and speech patterns change regarding the individuals in question. At first, it was assumed to be a morality related issue. Further studying found that he seemed more likely to engage with the more "unfortunate" personnel of Urbanshade. Those who had a lengthy criminal record publicly known or not, mentioned hardships or mental health concerns seemed to be his primary conversators. When questioned about this, he merely mentioned being "drawn to disaster." No further explanation was provided. Urbanshade employees were not the only individuals either. Fellow entities were regular companions for Z-32, seeming to have an easy time communicating with even some of the most unruly of experiments. Younger individuals he spent his time around the most and even appeared parental towards these particular few, noticeably being more easy to agitate when around them. This agitation would never be directed to the younger individuals.

This rambling is getting very lengthy and my brain is exploding again so uhhh.. if anyone's curious about him further, feel free to ask [He's my little mental illness. I love him]

[theweirdwideweb]

we want the work blowout deets

I'll give you the tea but it will be lengthy and I'm going to cry.

Thank you for asking anon. To be honest with you I've been crying in bed about it for the past couple hours. I stood up just now and went to the bathroom and saw two big wet patches on my smiley face tshirt and it sucks so much. I'm so sad.

I could really use some feedback on this situation to be honest. OK. So the long story short is that I got a new supervisor a year ago and my work life has been hell ever since. First off, she doesn't understand what I do. She's never done my job. And she is THE micromanager from hell. For the first 7 months of the year she had me turning in a time card every week showing everything I did down to 5 minute increments. I turn the spreadsheet in on Friday, then every Monday we'd have a meeting where she'd tell me she just doesn't understand how I use my time. Why did it take so long to do X amount of invoices? She estimates it should take 2 minutes per invoice, but it took me 4 minutes per invoice. Like I said she knows nothing about my job and as many times as I've explained it she still "doesn't get it." It was demoralizing, nerve wracking, and frankly so insulting to my competence that I went to her boss (my old supervisor who I love). When she did nothing I went to HR with serious concerns about discrimination----it's no coincidence that I was granted some medical leave at the beginning of the year to address mental health concerns.

Yada yada yada, we made some changes and I don't have to turn in the spreadsheet anymore, but she is still making me email her every week with a list of tasks I didn't complete from the week before. It's still insulting but at least she agreed I'd only have to do it for another 3 months. Actually she said 1 month, but she's such a bitch that by the next HR meeting she claimed she never said 1 month and switched it to 3 months. She's a fucking moron, reader. She's dead fucking stupid. I really can't stress that enough. Dumb. It took her 15 years to get the position I got within 3 years of starting. The only reason she's where she is is seniority, personal relationships with management, and being a fucking bully. A dumb bully! Telling you how to prioritize your work! She's accused me recently of being unprepared for a meeting---a meeting that I hosted, provided all the material for, wrote all the notes on, fleshing out a new process she told me to start implementing but had zero idea how. She just tosses ideas at me and I'm left to figure out any kind of practical way to do it because---AGAIN---she doesn't know how to do my job. There've been other things too. She's a sneak humiliator. She's a button pusher. She's a moron. A big fat ugly moron who looks like Roz from Monster's Inc.

So on Thursday at 4:30pm, end of the day, suddenly a meeting with HR and this cunt appears on my calendar for 10am Friday (yesterday). I'm like---well here we go. She's either going to fire me or put me on a formal PIP. I'll be honest with you, I'd already decided to quit but I was holding out for my bonus in December. I entered the meeting feeling tranquil. I thought, "Do it. Pull the trigger. I'm ready for the end. Just fire me. Let me go. Release me."

But when the meeting starts it's just a touch base with our HR rep to see how everything is going. Are YOU fucking KIDDING me. Anyone would have thought the same thing I did. Of all the things my supervisor sucks dicks at, communication is the worst of all. She can't even spell. She can't string a sentence together. I mean it's shocking she writes at like a 6th grade level. I've seen emails she sent that are so garbled they are literally incomprehensible.

So I'm PISSED. I express how nerve-wracking the previous evening and all morning had been. We're off to a great start. She lets me know she's going to try to end the email process early. OK good. She tells me she's concerned because I haven't been providing personal feedback to her when prompted. Easy enough to explain: I hate your fucking guts, I'm trying to be a grey rock until I can quit. But I can't say that so I'm just like Alright.

Now here comes the bullshit! 1) She now wants me to ask permission in advance to work on weekends. I'm so overworked and stressed out I work like every weekend and now she wants me to ask her permission for the privilege of working on my day off. Guess who's never working a weekend for this company again. 2) The emails that just contain a list of tasks, right? Was 1 month, now 3 months, etc. She also changed the rules so that I have to provide a count of all the claims I processed across multiple platforms. And well---she just doesn't understand how I processed X number of claims and it took this long. In fact, she said, she counts 8 hours reported on my timecard she can't account for last week.

I lost it. I was openly hostile and belligerent. Fuck this fucking bitch. I cannot work for this vile idiot anymore. I actually used my IRL voice to poke holes in what she was saying and pointing out how fucking stupid it all is. Then she comes at me for not respecting her authority. As a reminder, just minutes before she'd complained about me having no feedback for her.

I left the meeting by refusing offers for additional time with the HR rep. I was in no place. I barely worked the rest of the day I was so upset and I didn't send my email, didn't complete my tasks, and didn't ask her permission to finish it up on the weekend (lol). I don't have another job lined up but this is the last time she's going to question whether I'm just straight up lying on my timecard or some kind of moron. That's it. This is her 100th strike for me.

Now here's why I'm so conflicted. 1) My previous supervisor (now my boss's boss) is going on a leave of absence like THIS WEEK for about a month and a half to treat her cancer. I care about her very much. I don't want to stress her out at the last second like this. 2) My bitch boss is also having a sudden serious health problem requiring her to be at the hospital multiple times a week. 3) On top of that, this stupid fucking cow has to take over my boss's boss's work while she's out for cancer. 4) They are absolutely fucked without me. For me to leave right now is a disaster. Add to that---the one person I manage and have a 100% rock solid relationship straight up told me that she's going to quit at some point and that if I quit she's walking out right behind me. She said this to me unprompted and I discouraged her from quitting. 5) I have a heart. The boss and the boss's boss are both having life problems that are more important than work. I think it's immoral to leave them in the lurch right now. They have serious health problems. As much as I hate my boss, at one point we were friends. My heart is breaking.

So I'm crying in bed. I can't live this way anymore. Toxic work stress has taken over my life. I get so miserable, but then some days it's just a job. It's a job I know how to do. I've been here 6 years. The health insurance is spectacular. I've got nothing lined up. I have adequate savings to get through a couple months of unemployment, but it's no guarantee I'll find a position that suits me in that timeframe. I have all these personal relationships at work (a mistake I will not repeat). I've let this job become part of my identity. I'm getting older. I'm 37 and I'm tired and I'm crazy and I just want peace. This position is fully remote---what if the next guy makes me work in person? My whole life will change. I just want this job to work like it has been for the 5 years before she took over. I'm so sad. I've felt this way so many times.

I want to quit first thing Monday. But I want to offer them the option of staying on until good boss gets back from cancer leave, so long as I don't have to work with illiterate cunt boss any more than is absolutely critical in the meantime. What do you think guys? My heart is breaking.

[rainworlddramablog]

why not the most pressing topic

(be warned, armchair phycology inbound)

oh Pansear highlight of this community (past tense) they made amazing things, such as the kiss me kill me map, their comics period, and left an empty wasteland in their leave.

God what a fucking mess, they closed off there final message, leaving the rumors to run rampant only for the source to let the blame fall a step down the chain.

I dont blame Azriel, i find it hard to do that, they are just a minor, just like me. They take just as much responsibility as us, the spread it without fact checking, you know who else did that? And they had an excuse, mental health and a particular distain for our long gone friend. (Witch mind you in fact is totally justified, they where the one wronged by Pansear, its up to morals for us to forgive Pan, but Azriel is under no such obligation.) And hey, look at that, the internet beat the shit out of them, doing exactly as I expected and not thinking a single intelligent thought.

Speaking of which I need to real quick give some sympathy to those poor bastards I just insulted. excuse me if this might get long, but I find it eager to attempt an understanding for each party in this shit show:

You, a young teen, have looked up to a famous artist for making works that you personally relate to. You follow them religiously watch there every step and treat them like a king, their word is law. You have had their work lift you, help you though the days where it just doesn't feel like you can make it. You might even find someone who kept fighting on because of that work, it might have saved someone's life.

one day you wake up to find a post, something about how pansear is a pedophile, about how they support grooming, about how they are a bitch and deserve to rot in hell. Well, you might have seen that last part, I'm sure it was out there some where. Needless to say you were devastated, it was now dangerous to even support this person you loved, and had helped you though maybe even your darkest times.

It's a hit, but you survive, Pansear assures you of that. They continue to post, they seem pretty down, and you feel very down, the whole situation tugs on your mind, not all the time, but in the late hours of the night, where instead of sleeping, you think, you think about how it all could have gone better.

then tragedy strikes again, something far more conclusive, the claims previously put out now spread like open flame, lit by the gasoline of 4 screenshots.

it hurts, it hurts a fucking lot, you cry, you cry a fucking lot. Worse, Pansear isn't here to defend them self, they left, Pansear left. If it was harder to ignore, now its impossible, you cant focus, you cant even talk about it, then you would be "defending Pansear."

that would hurt, that would hurt a fucking lot. And you have not choice but to let this rage simmer for about 2 weeks, and after that time.

you find reason to let it boil over. Who could blame you, no where to put this stress, no where to put this anger, you go to whoever you can, and (for lack of a better term) beat the shit out of them.

excuse my writing, i got a habit of that. but i should clarify, i was not there, this is a prediction of how i would have reacted if i where a bit farther down the rabbit whole. I know Pansear was popular, it gives me reason to believe that this might be a common experience. Or perhaps it was different. Perhaps for some they had a server, a place to talk about there feelings without judgement, where they could prosses loss. (i know by way of my self that this might have been the first time someone truly lost someone else)

So take that story with a grain of salt, but i do find it rather important to ask you, why? Why did we have to be so cruel to each other, could we not have taken a step back and realize that name calling and death threats only made things worse.

There is a reason, even for the most extreme situations, that someone says "do not harass anyone." When did we forget that?

I should clarify, I'm not sure how the fandom as a whole responded, I'm not on twitter (GTFO of there if you are) and where I am on tumblr, it was not common mention. I've reason to believe that the story is not entirely of my mind alone, simply because with size it becomes harder and harder to not have one of each person.

i think this will be my first rant, i have only spoken on one of the things i want to talk about i have thought a lot about this, in the dead of night. i dont think ill forget this, but i will chose to remember this as something positive, what ever positivity i can get out of it.

to anyone out there reading this i think its important to let you know what i believe is the final message sent in Pansear's discord server, not the emote ones but the forest.

to anyone struggling out there, remember, Pansear believed in you. i take solace in this message, you should too.

[lz-didyounotice]

The girl with a thousand faces : Part 2

this gif doesn't belong to me

Hey! Me again, the part 2 is finally out ! There is still one chapter coming up next week. Warning : English is not my first language, so there might be some spelling mistakes. Be indulgent. Hope you enjoy,

Froggit-

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

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

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

Fourteen was when you started to remember who you were in your past lives.

It first came in dreams, nightmares, flashes when touching certain things, objects you didn’t even know. At first, it was scary. It also didn’t help, to for once in your many cycles, don’t understand what was happening. At your young age, you had already seen too many psychologists to even think it was normal.

 You were prescribed too many drugs for you to even count, but you never wanted to take any of them, as if you knew there was something more to it than fleeting thoughts, making you want to disappear.

Everyone in the family was worried about your mental health, and thought something was wrong. Why wouldn’t they? It was keeping you up day and night. For Donna, on the other hand, it was nothing of the sort. Somehow she was the first one there when a nightmare happened, when something you saw made you unable to breathe. It was like she knew every part of it, but didn’t want to put word on what she thought. 

You had told her what went through your head, as stupid as it could have sounded. And all she did was listen to everything and lull you back to sleep without asking anything in return. If it weren’t for her, you probably wouldn’t have been able to start remembering. And be stuck on those damned antidepressants.

It had come to this every night. And by the time you were twenty-five, your memories had reemerged. The only part that wasn’t clear was the way your last death went. You remembered meeting a man, running. But running from what? You didn’t quite know. All you knew was your promise. To see him once more, even in another life. If you weren’t sure how you could keep such a promise, you needed to keep it.

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

Today was supposed to be a beautiful day for your sister. And yet, here she was, disappearing into thin air in front of everyone's eyes, a yellow glow pouring over her before it disappeared into the ceiling along with her.

All hell broke loose, and everyone was searching for her, including you, as your mom was on the phone trying to see if she hadn’t run away back home.

To be honest, you were happy that Lance didn’t get to marry your sister for an hour more. Something with him didn’t fit right. The way he would look at her, his comments always holding something more hurtful. Just by checking his hand, you knew something was up with him. You did tell Donna about what you thought of him, but she was desperate, and against your advice, she thought marrying him was the better option.

So when you saw him tell your mom he didn’t find her, a smooth smile was plastered on your lips, while you tried to retain all your hatred for the man.

The afternoon was spent waiting for her return. You knew she would be back; it was her who proposed to Lance after all, and she was too excited to marry him to have disappeared on purpose. Unfortunately, each family didn’t want anything to go to waste, and so the reception was held as intended, but without the bride.

You weren’t happy about it. Far from it, to be exact. You were at the back of the room, trying to think of something other than Lance dancing with a blond girl half as gifted as your sister.

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

The music was blasting, everyone seemed to have a blast, dancing, singing, having fun. When the doors opened, you were relieved to see Donna still in her dress. It had picked up dirt for some reason, but that wasn’t important. She was there, safe and sound.

As you looked behind her, a flash came into existence. Red and loud alarms echoed everywhere. And this man, in his long brown trench coat, whom you had promised to come back to, was running to escape what was to come.

Pulling out of the flash, you heard Donna trying to keep it together as she watched both parties having a wonderful time while she was gone. Passing through the crowd, you took a step up to her, before hugging her like your life depended on it. Relieved she was okay, making everyone stop questioning anything.

“We got you back, that's all that matters okay?” Kissing her forehead was all it took for her to feel safe again.

“Now come on, we have a party to celebrate, don’t we?”

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

The party couldn’t be more of  a disaster. Everything went wrong, and Donna was nowhere to be found once more. She was off somewhere, without saying anything. While you didn't know where she could be, you had to take care of the guests and help bring them out of the building before it could go any further south.

Once home, You had took a seat outside the door, jacket pulled closer to your core, watching the stars align, hoping to see Donna being brought home by the Doctor. Your hands were cold, but it was a small price to pay to make sure she was okay.

Soon, a weird noise could be heard, and a blue police box came into sight, materializing in and out of existence before landing completely. At this point, nothing could be worse than an invasion of robot Santa Clauses trying to get your sister.

As the doors opened up, Donna was the first thing you saw coming out of that damned blue thing. Running as fast as you could, you took her in your arms, twirling her before putting her back on her feet. You took her face in your hands, examined her, making sure there wasn’t a scratch on her skin.

“Thank God… you’re okay…

-I’m okay… I’m fine (Y/N)

-Good god… please don’t run off with strangers again, I was so worried….” Pulling apart, you noticed the absence of the man who was supposed to marry her. “Where’s Lance?”

“He… didn’t make it…

-Oh god… I’m so sorry …

-It’s fine… he didn’t love me anyway…

-I’m not gonna say I told you so, but… Ow”

Donna had slapped you on the side, your exaggerated cry making her laugh a bit.

“There is that smile that I love!” you said while still holding your side. “Oh come on, you will find someone better than him… I know it…” You looked at her with a bright smile. 

“So… gonna present me to your doctor friend over there, or is he gonna stand there doing nothing but watch us?”

As Donna turned around, the doctor was patiently waiting outside of his box, trying to look elsewhere, having been caught red-handed in his observations. Taking a few steps toward the man in question, Donna addressed him to you, crossing her arms on her chest.

“Well, I suppose, um… doctor, this is (Y/N).... She’s my sister.

-(Y/N) hm? Quite a fitting name.

-Doctor is not bad either. Better than John Smith, isn’t it?”

The doctor seemed a bit concerned. Many times he had used this alias on Earth, but today wasn’t one. How could you know? No, it couldn’t be. Probably, he was imagining it. John Smith was common, maybe a bit too much. He shouldn’t worry.

“Wait… are you telling me that it was the man running in your dreams the other night?

Donna seemed to finally break through. She was a genius in her own way; even Lance couldn’t bring it out of her.

“So it means…

-Yep…

-I’m so sorry… And to think mom sent you to all those damned therapists…”

Donna started to cry again. And the doctor still didn’t understand what was unfolding before his eyes.

“Um… excuse me, but, what is going on?

-And I thought Donna could be a thick one… You don’t remember, do you?

-Remember what?

-Paris, 1970, mid-summer, Sontaran soldiers trying to make a whole city explode.”

As you finished your sentence, the doctor’s confused face transformed into one of astonishment when it hit him.

“I promise you, I'll always come back. No matter what. Might take a few human years, but I'll always be back. No matter the life.”

That woman… Was here, alive, but with a different face. How?!

“How?!

-I told you I’ll always come back, didn’t I? No matter what, life.

-But how..?

-I was hoping someone could enlighten me on this point.”

The doctor looked excited. Mysteries were something he loved to resolve, and this one seemed to be quite big. He knew he shouldn't; Rose had just got away, but just thinking of being alone once more made him want to ask. Thinking of it, he needed someone else to go on adventures with.

“...I mean, I could lend you a hand on that.” Did the doctor finally let out.

Beside you, Donna was getting more nervous. She knew you’ve always wanted answers on what was happening to you, but she wasn’t sure she wanted you to go with the doctor. At least not after what she went through today. As your sister, she wanted you to be happy, to finally break through this mystery, maybe put an end to it so you wouldn’t have to go through it once more. She was worried to never be able to see you again.

“(Y/N), after what happened today, I’m not sure I want you to go with him… But you’ve been waiting for this your entire life. I don't want to take that away from you.

-Oh Donna… my beautiful and wonderful sister… I’ll always be there… You know it.” Caressing her cheek, you looked at her tenderly before kissing her forehead. ” I probably won’t be your sister if I disappear once again, but I won't forget, and will always find my way back to you, you can trust me.”

“I trust you, maybe not the block behind you though," she commented. It made you snort, trying to not lose the hold you had on your tears.

“One last thing before I get my answers… Donna, I know you don’t like Christmas, but I couldn't help myself from buying you a few presents. It’s not much, but I do hope they will brighten up the spirit a bit. They’re underneath my bed, in the big pink box.”

Retaining tears, Donna hugged you a final time, before letting you free.

“Tell mom that I'm off finding the truth about myself… And most importantly that I’m safe. Okay?

-Okay…

-Goodbye, Donna…”

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

And so it was decided. As you entered the Blue box, your eyes glowed bright, enlightened by the colors of the console. A yellow glow bursting to life, as you stepped closer to the large column in its middle.

Machinery sounds could be heard, as the madman before you pushed a few buttons and pulled some of the levers.

“So what’s your ship called?

-She’s called the TARDIS.

-TARDIS?

-Time And Relative Dimension In Space.

-I like it. Does this mean you can go anywhere in time and space?

-Pretty much yes..

-So that leaves me a single question, what are you? 'Cause you aren’t human, that's for sure.

-I’m from the planet Gallifrey… I’m a Time Lord…

-any more particularities I should know about you?

-I’m the last of them…

-Ah…- Sorry to hear that…

-it’s nothing…”

Pouching one final lever, he he looked at you with a small smile before let it the rule of the  Tardis.  Always hold on to something on take off.

Taking his request into consideration, you got up to the railing, practically missing it with the violent movement of the TARDIS. Minutes later, you were back on your feet, the ship having stopped its course.

“Now tell me, how come you ended up with a new face?

-I don’t really know why, but I think I know how.

-Go ahead then… I’m curious.

-I think that, when I die, my conscience is not lost, not entirely at least. It is saved elsewhere, in another brain, a new brain and a new body. For me to be transferred, the brain needs to be brand new.

-So you need to be uploaded into something that is not really functional yet.”

The only way for it to even be possible would be for you to be reborn in a new organism at the first stage of its life. In that case, a human fetus.

“I come back as something that needs to grow once again. The only problem is that I don't immediately regain my memories. As I grow older, I access it more and more. Normally, by 20, I remember everything that has happened before.”

For her to take this much time to remember, the memories must have been flowing for a while. This made him wonder how much you got through?

“If you don’t mind me asking… for how long have you been going through this cycle?

-I won’t be able to remember the exact number. Been alive way too long.

-Can I guess the period at least?

-I mean, why not. Be my guest..”

And while guessing, the doctor had opened the doors of the TARDIS, inviting his newfound companion to sit beside him to observe a brand new nebula.

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

“How about the Roman Empire?

-Nope, not even close.” Did you answer with a large smile, laughing at the eleventh failed attempt of the doctor.

“Edwardian times ?

-You already gave me that one.

-Argh… you know what, I quit, I don’t know.

-That’s surprising coming from you.

-Well, I gave everything I could.

-Sure, you can just tell me you’re tired of guessing, you know?

-Nah.. Never…” Did he say, making you laugh a bit. 

He was beautiful under the starlights, looking far in the distance with that smile that made you want to trust him the first time he offered it to you. There was no denying it.

“The first life I remember ever living was in the Lower Paleolithic. So approximately 3 million years ago.

-H- what? You're older than me-

-Why so surprised? How old are you, spaceman?

-I’m Nine hundred years old… more or less.

-Only? I would have guessed a bit more…”

The doctor looked at you like you had grown a second head. You would think it would have been normal for him, but apparently, not that much.

“What? I have something on my face?” You asked while looking at the beautiful view that was gifted to you.

“Do I seem that old to you?” He seemed too offended to not laugh at the face he made. His brows crossed, mouth slightly opened, trying to understand what was just said.

“I mean…

-Now that's just wonderful- How could you call me that!” You tried to not fall as he pushed you with his elbow.

And suddenly, as you looked at each other, you started to laugh at the impossibility of the situation. For once in a long while, you had finally felt freed from the burden you carried. Finally telling someone about it without having the sensation of being crazy. Knowing you wouldn’t be judged for it.

The moment felt magical. You almost never wanted to let it go, fearing something might happen to take you away once more.

“So.. do you think you can help ?

-I might be able to run some test. Identify the energy. But if it is that old, i’m not sure to find it.

-It’s worth trying, no ?”

“It’s always is…”

[r473n]

Fic number 2 of the day and my first UraMayu. Now, I'm not a massive fan of Urahara, he's too shifty. But rewatching TYBW I felt like he and Mayuri got along much better than normal, and it made me think... and this came out.

Also, very much influenced by my shitty mental health atm, so be prepared for a long-winded first couple of chapters with lots of talk about depression, coping with loss, etc.

NSFW, angst with fluffy smut, UraMayu. Finished work, just needing to do final touch-ups, will post within the week.

Read on ao3

Grief

Pair: Mayuri Kurotsuchi x Kisuke Urahara

Bad TW: depression, mourning, suicidal thoughts, drug misuse, weight loss, lack of self care.

Not so bad TW: smut, fluff, oral sex, anal sex, anal fingering.

Chapter 1: Akon’s treachery

Kisuke Urahara followed the young scientist down yet another serpentine corridor, staring around in awe.

The SRDI had changed so much since the last time he’d been there, only a few months past, that he was truly grateful to have a guide. He wondered silently if Kurotsuchi had purposefully designed the new building to be such a maze or if that had been an unfortunate side effect to the ambitious size of the reform project. He had a sneaking suspicion it was the former.

He sighed to himself as he mindlessly followed the trail of smoke left behind by the cigarette held loosely between Akon’s fingers.

The war had been devastating, terrible in its cruelty. It had taken many lives and destroyed most of the Sereitei as he knew it. Yet in amongst the chaos and tragedy, he’d managed to experience a sliver of heaven.

Well, perhaps calling it heaven was a little much. After all, working with Mayuri again had it’s challenges… but it certainly had been a blessed few days. Under the time constraints and dire situation, the Captain of the 12th had pushed his old feud aside and they’d easily fallen back into their old routine as if it’d only been a day since Kisuke had been exiled.

And Mayuri had dazed him with his brilliance. As always.

He was the only soul in existence that could keep up with him, and on many occasions, it was he, Urahara, who struggled to catch up! That never happened to him! Most people’s minds were so simple that it was almost risible. But Kurotsuchi was as complex as he was difficult.

He’d felt so close to him again, working together in his private lab, developing tools against the Quincy and helping Kurosaki and his friends.

He felt ashamed to admit he had hoped the battle would last much longer. He had hoped they didn’t need to intervene.

But fate had different ideas.

And then Nemu...

Akon had filled him in on what had followed after she passed during their call.

At first, Mayuri had gone manic. For weeks he worked non-stop to rebuild the 12th, endless hours, day and night. Energised by some cursed sense of impending je ne sais quoi. A something he seemed to hope to find in amongst the wreck and rubble.

An ill-fated trepidation that had him in a constant state of overdrive. He stopped sleeping, he stopped eating. He became even more impossible to work for.

Despite surviving through hell, everyone at the division remained loyal to their captain and navigated his tempestuous moods as well as they could whilst internalising their own hardship. But the worst didn’t come until it was all finished. The day after inaugurating the new and reformed SIRD.

It felt as if Mayuri’s excitement had been in crescendo for weeks, and in the end, his bubble had burst into a huge pile of disappointing nothingness. What he had been expecting, no one knew. What was he hoping would be at the end of the rope? What did he think would happen once the hard work was done?

For as long as he could focus solely on the grind, his feelings had been nicely contained to the far corner of his mind. But once everything on the list was ticked off…

He lost it.

Badly.

He blew up, like a nuke, in the middle of the new computer room, flattening everything with his blast. He went so unhinged that Akon had to intervene, fearing he’d actually kill someone, only when Mayuri turned his attention to him he could hardly move nor speak - frozen with a cold panic he hadn’t known before. There was nothing in Mayuri’s eyes but a bitter void, his empty glare pierced through him without a glint of recognition. And Akon knew he was going to die.

It wasn’t until the edge of Ashisogi Jizo started digging into his neck that Mayuri’s features changed. A flash, a flicker, almost imperceptible if not because time had congealed for the young scientist. Mayuri had stilled his hand at the last second, leaving a tiny scar that Isane hadn’t been able to erase.

The captain had been holed up in his new quarters since, in complete isolation.

He hadn’t answered any messages. Hadn’t come out. Hadn’t ordered anything to eat or drink and hadn’t let anyone in, not even to clean or tidy up.

After two months, and many fruitless attempts, Akon couldn’t bear it anymore and called the only person he thought could reach him. Even though he knew that Mayuri would never forgive him for such betrayal.

To be fair to the young man, Urahara thought, he hadn’t technically betrayed Mayuri’s trust. He’d just called him for a friendly chat. The action was simply so alien that it triggered all of Kisuke’s alarms. When Akon extended him an invitation to visit the new institute, as homage to him for being it’s original creator, Kisuke knew with certainty something was terribly wrong with Kurotsuchi. Either that or he was stupidly walking into some twisted trap. But he didn’t think so - something in Akon’s tone had made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

“And these are the Captain’s quarters. Obviously, they are out of bounds.” Said the young man offhandedly before taking a long drag of a cigarette that was mostly ash.

“I see!” Urahara’s voice sounded animated but his eyes were covered in shadows.

“Oh, sorry” Akon took a glance at a small electronic screen he just pulled out of his pocket. “I'm afraid I need to get this.”

“No worries, Akon-san! I’ll find my way back. It’s been nice seeing you.”

The young shinigami nodded, as Urahara tipped his hat, before walking away. Taking a last glance at the tall ex-captain, who was simply staring at the door and stroking his chin in thought, Akon turned the corner, feeling a pang of regret twist his stomach.

[wellerwitch]

Stayed Gone (Japanese -> English Translation)

Because I'm a weeb, I wanted to translate the Japanese version of some songs.

I fought with myself between making it literal (does NOT make for a good translation) and using the original English lyrics when they match up, so it ended up as some Frankenstein of words (makes for an even worse translation).

Anyways.

Stayed Gone

Vox: Welcome to the world starring TV I’m gonna make you regret coming back!

Director: “Camera, speeds. Rolling in 3, 2…”

(Welcome to the show)

Vox: “Top of the hour, looks like someone’s been spotted in town after a seven year absence! Did anyone notice? Who’d be happy about it anyways! Let’s get right to it!”

“Looks like Radio Demon’s back in town! But why? What does that mean for us? No need to worry! He’s a loser, a fossil, and I don’t want to sound hostile but…” \He’s a damn coward!/

“This is fate! Everyone pay close attention to the TV! Radio’s out of style! A waste of time! No point listening! Dunno if he had a nice vacation…” \But he should have stayed away!/

Since he disappeared, it’s been TV’s time to shine Radio’s a relic of the past Hell’s been better since he split!

Alastor: “Salutations! Now then, it’s time for the radio! Regrettably, it’s been a while since Hell was treated to a broadcast with class, sorry to keep you waiting!” (Vox: “What a dated voice!”) Alastor: “Rather than call that second-rate bluffer ‘television’…” (Vox: “You little…!”) Alastor: “More like an unstable, clingy idealist box! Always obsessed with the latest trends!” (Vox: “Enough with the nonsense!”) Alastor: “Looks like nothing goes your way!”

Vox: “TV is the future!” \He’s the shit that comes before that!/

Alastor: Is that charisma of his the real deal? Or is it all thanks to his friends? (Vox: “Oh please!”) He even asked me to join that team. (Vox: “Hold on!”) Looks like he’s suulking over the rejection!

Vox: “Okay that’s it. You’re getting fucking RATIO’D.” Alastor: “Uh-oh, the TV is buffering you know?” Vox: “I’ll fucking end you!” Alastor: “TOO BAD! LOST YOUR SIGNAL THERE!”

I’ll show you who exactly is starring in this world I’m sure you’re full of regrets, ‘cuz now I’m back (Laughs)

Vox: FUUUUCK!

---

Some notes:

When Vox is on air, he speaks more formally, so I tried to reduce the contractions he does in the original version. Until he gradually loses his cool, that is.

Alastor calls Vox "menhera box"... Okay first the obvious thing, Vox and box sound similar so it's funny. Second, the term menhera technically comes from "mental health" (mental illness) but in net-lingo/most modern form it refers more to clingy, obsessive kind of behaviour. From what I've seen at least. So I tried to reduce this to "unstable, clingy".

If you watch a lot of anime, you know that personal pronouns can say a lot about a character. Normally Alastor uses the polite/formal "watashi", but at the very end he uses the masculine/rough "ore". Yes, he also uses "ore" in his little breakdown in the Finale song.

Ratio'd: 'public execution' (literal translation) is a term for 'public embarrassment' so I turned this into ratio'd. idk.

I think Alastor would not usually contract "because" to "'cuz" but... That's the vibe that "ore" gives... in my opinion... (and the syllable count is better)

[ihateapbiology]

Noted

part 2 enemies to lovers

brief mention of addiction/getting sober

You heard your name get called and you stood up from the coffee shop table to grab your maple latte. You settle back into your booth to get to work on a new story you were writing. The shop was packed which wasn’t super surprising for a New York City coffee shop on a Saturday but still you couldn’t help but just look at anything besides your work. You stared out and then you heard one of the baristas call “Julien.” No way you thought to yourself. You turned to look thinking there was no way in hell, but then you saw the short brunette woman walk up, thank the baristas with a sweet smile (one you’d never seen before) and turn around to look for a seat. You feel kind of smug knowing it was going to be hard as hell for her to find a seat at this hour. Not realizing you were still staring until she was right in front of you.

“You were staring at me.” she bluntly says.

“Oh.” you flatly say you feel your cheeks heating up.

“I’ll take that as an invitation to sit down.” she smirks putting her stuff down in the seat across from you.

“Are you se- whatever” you didn’t want to be in a fight you just wanted to work.

She nods and opens her computer clearly getting to work on something that engrossed all her attention.

2 hours of intense work later she taps your forearm.

“I’m gonna get more coffee and food- want anything?” she asks.

“Oh uh yeah yes please whatever you’re getting I’ll just get as well.” You’re a bit shocked, this was nice, she was being nice.

She comes back with two coffees and two muffins.

“Thank you.” You take a sip of the coffee “ow fuck hot.”

She chuckles “watch out coffees hot.”

You flip her off and roll your eyes but more jokingly than actually pissed.

“Are you always like this to people you just met?” You ask feeling like at least there’s a little thaw in your relationship. “Only to you sweetheart.”

“Seriously though, did I like wrong you in a past life or what?”

She sighs “truthfully you caught me on a bad day that night Phoebe brought you over, and then I felt bad, and when I feel bad I just bunker down on making the person hate me.”

You nod “I know that strategy quite well I’d rather have them just hate me then pity me and be all merciful or whatever.”

She closes her computer “yes 100% that is exactly how I’d put it, but I’ve been working to get better at it.”

“May I ask what happened that night?” you ask nervous that she’s gonna think you’re overstepping, but she had brought it up

“Just someone from my past, who really was not good for me and my mental health, a lot of like feeding off of eachother’s negativity and issues, and I I got sober, he didn’t and I mean you get the gist.”

You nod “wow congratulations on getting sober that’s huge I’m proud of you that takes a lot of strength.”

She brushes it off “mmm thanks, anyways I’m not a complete ass and I apologize.”

“Apology accepted I guess.” You joke.

You both work a bit more until both of yall are completely fried. “Would you mind quickly reading this.” you hold out your computer “it’s only like a 4 min read.”

She reads it so attentively. “It doesn’t suck.” She says with a shit eating smile.

“I hate you.”

“It’s amazing y/n it’s clear, concise, unbiased.”

“Thank you!” you blush.

“So was this a lot like your Yemen article and trip” she says not really thinking.

“Yeah- wait you’ve read my stuff?” You beam.

Her mouth opens as she goes to protest and she flushes so deeply. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She says as she grabs her stuff. “I hope I see you here soon though, you owe me a coffee and a muffin.”

“I’ll probably be here Monday morning so…”

“Noted” she smirks.

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 6 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I’ve provided more of my thought process at the end as I don’t want to spoil the plot up here, but it’s there if you want to take a look beforehand!

As always - here's the ao3 link.

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Word count: 5,532

Content warnings: smut, discussions around mental health

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn’t the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.  

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you’d be finished with lectures for the term.  

Fast-forward to then, he’d picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he’d rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.  

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn’t have much time to explore, since as soon as you’d entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I’ve missed you he’d said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.  

“I was thinking,” he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, “we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?”  

“Sounds good,” you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. “Where’s there to eat around here?”  

“Uh,” Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, “there’s not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here.”  

“Either will do,” you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you arranged this.”  

“Well, I knew you couldn’t weasel your way out of it if we had something booked.”  

“I don’t weasel my way out of anything -”  

“No?” Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, “assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?”  

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “All valid excuses.”  

“Whatever you say, miss,” he chuckled light-heartedly. “I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration,” he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.  

“Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?”  

“I believe,” he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. “You’re now halfway through your time at university, correct?”  

“Sort of,” you took the glass from him, “technically, it’s not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though.”  

“And,” he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, “it’s been a year since you and I met.”  

“It has?”  

“There or thereabouts. You came over just before Christmas.”  

“Oh yeah,” you tilted your head, recalling the first time you saw Dutch casually lying on his sofa. “So it has.”  

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” Dutch scoffed, swilling the champagne around his glass.  

“Aw,” you said patronisingly, “I didn’t realise you’d been counting. Do you have a journal filled with my initials and hearts, too?”  

Dutch narrowed his gaze, a stern breath out of his nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”  

You smirked, clinking your glass against his and have a swig. “To romance.”  

With a scoff, Dutch leaned over to place his glass on the table. “Last time I do anything nice for you -”  

“What are you doing?” you gasped, picking his glass up and shunting it into his hand.  

“What?”  

“Drink it! It’s seven years of bad sex if you toast without having a drink afterwards.”  

“You know that from experience?”  

“Just drink it,” you tapped the bottom of the glass reprimandingly, and he did as you asked.  

“I didn’t have you down as the superstitious type,” he put his arm around you, amusement lighting up his face.  

You leaned into him all the same. “I’m not, exactly. But I don’t want to take the risk. I’m quite a fan of our sex.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, taking another sip. “Are you glad your first semester is over?”  

“I will be when the exams finish. But by that point, it’ll be second semester and I’ll have to do it all over again,” you responded begrudgingly.  

“How’s John getting along? He doesn’t tell me much.”  

“He’s fine,” you shrugged, not wanting to be the middleman between the two.  

Dutch let out a sigh and stretched his back. “I should’ve known you’d be no help on that front.”  

“I am not getting involved,” you laughed. “If you want to know how he’s doing, ask him yourself. Plus, I’d rather not be reminded that he’s your son.”  

“Can’t run from the truth, darlin’,” he mused, and the two of you took another sip.  

“I’m not running. I’m just ignoring it.”  

“How’s that different?”  

“Because I said so,” you shrugged, shifting slightly to look around the room. “I like it here.”  

Dutch glanced around too. “We’ll do it again sometime.”  

The statement hinted at a future, the thought of which had been ruminating around your head as of late. You pushed it back, not wanting to divulge away from the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Instead, you snuggled up to Dutch and sat for a while until your conversation was filled with more yawns than words, at which point you turned in for the night.  

-

Waking up laid on Dutch’s chest wasn’t something you were used to yet, but it was something you enjoyed greatly. So much so, that once you’d awoken the next morning, you remained in your position and didn’t check if he was awake, wanting to savour the comfort and warmth he provided.  

That was, until he shifted, and you heard him pull something from the draw, then a lid coming off. You peeked upwards, finding Dutch taking a swig of water and screwing the lid back on a bottle of pills that he hastily put back in the drawer.  

“What are those?” you asked, leaning up on your elbow to look over at his nightstand.   

Dutch tensed, slowly shifting his eyes to meet yours before swallowing down the tablet. He looked like he’d been caught in a questionable act, the expression on his face one you’d never seen there before.  

Shame.  

You put a hand on his arm, a minor attempt at soothing whatever worry had been prodded awake in his mind. “What is it?”  

“I - they’re -” he began, looking back at his glass of water and sighing deeply. “I suppose you had to find out sooner or later.”  

“Find what out?” you sat up, facing him as concern began brewing in your mind. “Dutch, are you okay?”  

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. They’re just,” he leaned back against the headboard, decompressing as his panic turned into acceptance. “They’re mood stabilisers.”  

“Oh,” you responded, glad to hear that none of the worst-case scenarios in your head were true. You wanted to know more, but this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  

He looked at you with mild surprise, blinking a few times to glance down at his hands which he was wringing together. You placed your palm over them. “I don’t necessarily want to, but it’s about time you knew about it.”  

You nodded, allowing him to go at his own pace, your heart wrenching at how raw and exposed he was for the first time since you’d met him.  This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from this weekend.  

“Not now. How about we go on a walk after breakfast? It’s a lovely part of the country,” he gestured out the window, hopeful.  

“I’d like that.”  

The two of you spoiled yourself with breakfast at a local café, idle chatter and comfortable silences accompanying your meal. Part of you wished you could go for a nap but walking it off was the more sensible option. Besides, you didn’t think letting Dutch hold that extra weight on his shoulders for any longer than necessary was a good idea.  

You walked from the local village to a nearby trail, with open fields and sky that stretched out for miles. You’d gotten lucky with the weather, despite not being hot, the sun was out and made for a nice addition to the scenery. After only a few steps, Dutch casually took your hand in his and the two of you began the walk.   

“I’ve been on them for years,” Dutch’s opening sentence was soft, as though he’d been deep in thought about how to begin the conversation.  

“Have they helped?” The question felt like a silly one, you doubted he’d take them if they didn’t, but you weren’t sure what to ask at this moment, or whether you were to ask anything at all.  

“Yeah. A lot.” He sounded almost glum.  

“That’s good.”  

“Was Arthur who got me on them in the first place.”  

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling for a boundary you didn’t want to cross. “What are you like without them? If you don’t mind me asking.”  

“No, it’s fine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you and felt reassured. “Uh, I think Arthur’s word for it was ‘unreasonable’. Though I think he was being nice, to placate me.”  

“On account of your unreasonableness.”  

“Exactly.”  

The silence extended, and you enjoyed the singsong of birds nearby while you waited for him to find his next words.  

“Arthur... he’s put up with a lot. A lot more than the other two. I half wonder how he still tolerates me.”  

“By put up with, do you mean with regards to you specifically?” you pried gently, hoping you weren’t putting words in his mouth.  

“Unfortunately. After Ann -” Dutch stopped, giving you a sharp look at the realisation this was the first time he’d mentioned his late wife.  

“You can talk about Annabelle,” you reassured him, “I’d like to hear about her.”  

He nodded, relieved. “After she - Annabelle, passed away, I guess I sort of changed. Well, John doesn’t agree with that, but -”  

“Agree with what?” you asked, unsure what he was referring to.  

Dutch sighed, visibly uncomfortable but with a lingering desire to continue his explanation. “John reckons I was always this way. Just that the circumstance brought it out,” he looked to the ground at the stones shifting beneath his steps, and you ran your thumb over his hand that was still clasped around yours. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.”  

Hearing him speak without an air of self-assurance was almost jarring, as though no matter how hard he tried to plan out the words there just wasn't a good way to say them. “It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to Annabelle’s passing?”  

“Right, good idea.” Dutch paused for an extended moment, ordering his thoughts. “I was so angry. That’s what I remember the most – just pure rage. She was a good person, and then she was gone.”   

You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was your place to ask but decided it might help you understand Dutch that little bit more. “How did it happen?”  

“She got sick.” That was all Dutch said, and that was all you needed to know. “We had a home, a good life, a family. Then it was just me, with these kids and I didn’t know the first thing about how to bring them up. Arthur was a teenager, poor Tilly just a toddler.”  

“But you’d brought them up until that point?”  

Dutch nodded diplomatically. “I suppose. Annabelle did all the tough bits, though, as most mothers do. But it wasn’t just that. The worst part was that I -” he trailed off, looking across the horizon and unable to hide the pain on his face. “I didn’t want to.”  

Your brows knitted together. “Bring them up?”  

“I just remember them wanting to... go away. I was heartbroken, I didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts too. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he looked at you, eyes sad and riddled with guilt.  

“Grief’s a funny thing.”  

A short, humourless laugh left Dutch and he turned his attention back to the scenery ahead. “Arthur,” his voice cracked on the name, “perceptive as he is, ended up doing a large part of that job for me. Mainly because I let him.” The pair of you took a few more steps, allowing the silence to dilute the tense air building around Dutch. “I resented him for it.”  

“Why?” you asked gently.  

“The kid was a better man than me. He’d lost his mother, and he had it in him to support his siblings. I just felt weak, almost like they’d -” he swallowed, his jaw ticking, “like they’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”  

“Oh, Dutch -”  

“Don’t,” he warned, not meeting your gaze, “it’s not sympathy I deserve.”  

While you didn't completely agree with that statement, you opted for doing as he asked and kept quiet on that front.  

“After a while, I got paranoid. I thought Arthur was trying to replace me, and I started to accuse him of it in not-so-many words. One night, Arthur did something he’d never done before.”  

“What?”  

“He shouted at me. Yelled at me. At that moment it was like seeing my own rage reflected, as he whittled off everything he hated about me. I was speechless. And at that moment, I hated him too.” Dutch’s face hardened with the memory, and he consciously shook it away. “The next day, Hosea – you remember him? I’m not sure you’ve met.”  

“I remember,” you nodded. Dutch’s best friend, the one he worked with. You’d never spoken with him, but you were sure you’d seen him at the barbeque back in summer.  

“Well, he came around. Sat me down with Arthur and they had an... intervention of sorts. He was more of a father to Arthur than I was at that time, and I hadn’t even noticed just how much he’d been there, taking the kids out and such. But I trust Hosea, always have.” For the first time in this conversation, Dutch’s eyes misted up, but he blinked it away. “He told me I needed to get help, and I did. I couldn’t have done it without him and Arthur.”  

You walked some more, Dutch’s hand comfortably intertwined with yours. “Shit,” you huffed, wishing you had better words to articulate your thoughts. “I - that’s a lot. I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It mustn’t have been easy, accepting you need help and then seeing it through to this point.”  

He looked at you, still a little puzzled.  

“You’ve come a long way,” you shrugged, and Dutch’s face softened as though viewing his progress as an achievement wasn’t something he often did. That didn't surprise you, for as hard as could be on his kids he was noticeably harder on himself. “I didn’t know Annabelle, but I like to think she’d be proud of you for it.”  

Dutch nodded, again looking at the countryside ahead and when his lip quivered you stopped walking, turning towards him and he mirrored your actions. You brought a hand up to the side of his face, running a thumb under his eye to catch one of his less-stubborn tears. “You’re very understanding,” his voice was weak as it carried the words, an odd thing to hear from such a proud, strong man.   

There wasn’t much you could say, really. John had never mentioned anything about this, and your initial thoughts about their perfect family life were far from the truth. Their money wasn’t enough to save Annabelle, work through their grief, or avoid the inevitable trauma that followed. The life they had was built from the ground up on a rocky foundation, and it told you a lot about Dutch to know what he’d worked through to get to this point. You wrapped your arms around his waist and embraced him, the two of you remaining like that for a short time before continuing the walk, a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you for the rest of its duration.  

-

After the walk, the two of you were hungry enough to go out for dinner earlier than planned, and promptly returned to the cottage once fed.  

“What did you do with the rest of that champagne?” you called into the kitchen, fiddling with the cardigan you’d draped over your shoulders.  

“I stuck it in the fridge with a spoon in the opening. Should be okay – do you want some more?” Dutch called back.  

“Well,” you shifted on the arm of the sofa you were perched on, “I was thinking we could give that hot tub a whirl.”  

A comical pause of silence preluded Dutch appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raising when he was met with you in your bikini. A half-smile inched onto his face, and he licked his lips absentmindedly. “You are full of good ideas,” he leaned up against the doorframe, his voice dropping in pitch. “You don’t think it’ll be cold?”  

“Not in the hot tub,” you shrugged. “I’ll go figure out how to turn it on.” With that, you stood and walked away, smirking at the lack of movement on Dutch’s part.  

Eventually, he pulled himself together and you were already relaxed in the warm water when he came outside, in his own shorts with the champagne in hand. The smile he couldn’t keep off his face was contagious as he placed the drink down and stepped into the water to sit opposite you.  

He did look undeniably cute surrounded by bubbles.  

Once he’d poured a glass, he handed it over and you held it up expectantly, waiting for his toast.  

“Oh no, you were rather critical of my toast yesterday,” he said amusedly, pouring his own glass. “If you want one, you do it.”  

You smiled surreptitiously, tilting your head while you thought. Once one came to mind, you flicked your gaze to his and cleared your throat. “To plentiful sex.”  

Dutch tipped his head back as he laughed, eyes shining when they met yours. “Well, the gods of toasting do seem to have a lot of power in determining sexual relations, it seems, so that is fitting.”  

With a nod of agreement, you extended your arm out and Dutch tapped his glass against yours. He made a show of retaining eye contact while you both took a sip. You jolted when something came into contact with your foot, but relaxed upon the realisation that it was just Dutch’s own foot inching towards you. Your body grew warmer at the insinuation, now heating up from the inside as well the outside thanks to the steamy water. He crept further up your shin, over your knee and up your inner thigh, then paused. He shunted his foot upwards, knocking your glass of champagne and did a good job of spilling it down your front.  

“Dutch,” you cried in a half-laugh, sitting up straight and shivering at the cool alcohol on your skin.  

The man just laughed, but soon leaned over onto your side of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, taking your glass and setting it down along with his, “I’ve got it.” With that, he brought his head to your chest and licked the champagne from your cleavage, all the way up to your neck. Your shock swiftly moulded into arousal, sighing softly and arching into his touch.  

“You’re a bastard,” you said despite yourself, but even that came out all breathy.   

“You love it,” he said against your skin, continuing to clear it of the spilt champagne. “Besides,” he lifted his head, “it’d be unfair not to test that toast of yours.”  

“Unfair?” you repeated, running one of his damp curls between your fingers, “unfair on who, exactly?”  

“Me, you, the toast gods...” he said in-between pecks to your chest, trailing down to venture between your breasts once again.  

Your fingertips ran into his scalp, spurring him on. “Well, we can’t have that.”  

Dutch kissed along your clavicle then brought his face to yours. “I admire your fairness.”  

After sighing out a laugh you pecked his lips, and one turned to two which turned to many. He tasted of champagne, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands moving behind your back to untie your bikini. Without breaking the chain of kisses, you made a joint effort to remove it and he instantly found your breasts, caressing them in his hands.  

You moved your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head, keeping his lips pressed onto yours. Dutch brought his hand to your face, reciprocating your desire until the kiss broke and you brought a palm up to his cheek, the pair of you catching your breath and observing each other as day turned to night. “Are you sure we can do this in here?” you asked.  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the wait to do it anywhere else,” Dutch huffed and that was more reasoning than you needed; you weren’t sure you’d survive it yourself. You encouraged him to sit where he was previously and straddled him, the warm water sloshing around your bodies.   

Dutch hummed as his palms felt their way up your thigh and you angled yourself so that his cock was pressed against you in just the right place between your combined swimwear. His fingers trailed around, squeezing your ass then trailing further still to press over your cunt. Thankfully, he couldn’t tease you for how wet you were this time.  

Your whine in response was likely enough for him to figure it out anyway, and he deftly moved your bikini bottoms to the side so he could slide a finger in, and you clenched around it, searching for more.  

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice thick and breaths short. You ground your clit onto him while he pumped his finger, soon after adding a second. It was greedy, but you always wanted more when it came to this man. His other hand brushed up your flank to reach your breast, running his thumb over your nipple as he intently watched the pleasure spread over your face. “You truly are magnificent.”  

You tutted, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Hush.”  

He shook his head with a smile. “Never.”  

Reaching down to remove his shorts, he lifted his hips to assist, and you decided you might as well go completely bare too. After untying your bottoms, you flung them over the side with his shorts and immediately ground onto his length. Dutch whimpered weakly as you lined up and slowly sunk down onto him.  

“Oh my,” Dutch breathed and held your hips in his hands, keeping your crotch anchored to his while your walls fluttered around him and got used to the feeling. His body was growing familiar, a thing you anticipated but admired all the same just as you had the first time you’d become intertwined.  

You shifted your knees and pressed your torso into his, a gentle hand on his neck to persuade him to look up at you. He did, and with a stifled sigh, you pressed your lips to his. Dutch was oddly pliant, allowing your tongue in and following your lead as you explored his mouth. Experimentally, you raised your hips some and sunk back down, finding a tender rhythm that made him dig his fingernails into your flesh.  

While the air was cold, the two of you were burning hot. Manoeuvring yourself up and down Dutch’s length allowed for a measure of control you hadn’t had previously, and the quiet praise he repeated as you moved told you all you needed to know about his thoughts on the matter. His thighs twitched occasionally, him fighting the urge to pound into you and rush to the finish.  

Leaning back from him, you took in the sight of his steamy, soaked skin, the pink flush that resided there and the defined curls, some of which fell forward onto his face. He was drinking you in, too, your wet skin and exposed nipples, along with the lust-filled expression on your face as your lips parted and eyes grew heavy. The angle allowed for a repeated pressure over the sensitive spot in your walls, and you dropped your head back with a moan as the intensity increased with each thrust.  

“Dutch,” you whispered into the evening air, thoroughly and contently filled with him.  

“I know, darlin’,” he agreed, enamoured with the view of you falling apart right on his lap.  

Dutch’s muscles, highlighted thanks to the blanket of water covering his form, grew taut with the strength of which he clung to you. He squeezed your thighs, dragging his fingernails over your skin and his carnal need flashed dangerously over his eyes. With a growl, you found yourself losing the rhythm you’d built as Dutch forced his own, pulling you down onto him at a much more brutal pace.  

You cried out, Dutch hissing through his teeth as his features scrunched. “Oh, yes,” he said approvingly, “I finally get to hear your pretty song.”  

The more noise you let spill from your mouth, the harder Dutch gripped your flesh and used your body for his enjoyment, the two of you slippery and still yearning for more. You wanted it so bad it hurt, your abdomen burning up as his cock fucked you further and further into a state of euphoria. It was just you and him, able to be animals of your own accord, nobody around to tell you it was wrong or immoral.  

But that was why you liked it. This older, mature man saw the value in you, grew almost obsessive at the thought of your body and the back and forth in your mind slowed every time he showed you just what you did to him. You clouded his judgement; you were worth the risk. You had him panting, pulling your body to his as he claimed all that you were. He had the same effect on you, you supposed.  

Dutch shifted in his seat, digging his feet into the bottom of the tub to try and get further in, to fuck you harder, deeper. “Fuck, darlin’ -” he moaned, tailing off almost into a whimper. “Oh my, my girl. You feel so good. So good.”  

His babbling praise filled your ears, seeped into your skin and fed your very soul. Making him lose his well-practised control only heightened your lust. You whined, feeling over the flexing muscle of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you floated right up into the stars above.  

“Shit, I can’t -” he grunted strenuously, “I’m gonna, sweetheart, I’m gonna -”  

And he did, pulling you as far down onto his cock as he could and dropping his head to your chest, his thighs twitching beneath you as he filled your pussy to the brim. You cradled his jaw, laboured breaths leaving the pair of you as he looked up with those dark eyes of his. He tutted at himself, muttering an apology and you chuckled as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing across it and pressing down at just the right moment.  

His teeth attacked your neck, and you knew he’d leave a mark but screw it – regardless of anything you couldn’t deny that you were his. It felt too good, his cock and his fingers and his lips exploring every avenue of your body. “Come, darlin’,” he said lowly, his voice hoarse, “let me feel you come on my cock. That’s it. Good girl, come on -”  

Your toes curled and your eyes tightened shut at the feeling that shot through you, a hot wave of shock that buzzed into your appendages. With a moan of relief, you dropped your forehead to press against his, still feeling the after-effects of your orgasm. “That was so -”  

Dutch hummed in agreement, and you were glad he understood.   

Tenseness turned to relaxation as you melted into him, and your body felt weaker and more fucked-out than it ever had. Dutch’s big arms wrapped around you when you rested your head on his shoulder, and you could happily fall asleep right there – even if it did mean you’d look like a prune come morning.  

“I think someone’s ready for bed.”  

“Oh no,” you yawned, “I’m full of energy.”  

Dutch snickered, and you groaned when he shifted, but he shushed you gently. “Just sit there for five seconds, darlin’.”  

You did, begrudgingly, and watched him step out of the hot tub and find his shorts from the floor, pulling them up before turning off the hot tub. Then he reached in and took you in his arms, cradling you as though you were his most prized possession. It was a fair trade, and you wrapped your arms around your neck as he walked into the house and carried you into the bedroom.  

“Now, tell me, you don’t exactly want to get this bed all wet, do you?” you raised your brows at him suggestively, and he shook his head in mild disapproval. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”  

“No,” you gave in, “I don’t.”  

“Right. So, I’m gonna stand you up here, wipe us both down with a towel, and then we’ll get comfy. Deal?”  

“Deal,” you parroted, leaning in to press your lips to his.  

Dutch followed up on his end of the bargain, gently dragging the soft towel over your skin. You climbed into bed while he dried himself. He changed into some dry, charcoal grey shorts and glanced over to you. “Would you like your pyjamas?”  

Your answer was a shake of your head, and his expression grew pleased. “Good. I’ll just be a second.”  

He left to lock the doors and turn out the lights and then returned to climb in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest and you wrapped your leg over his, attempting to get as close as you could.  

“You’re a special girl,” he hummed into your hair, and it was the last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off.  

-

This must’ve been on record for the most showers you’d ever taken in a weekend. Dutch had the expected reaction come morning to your nude form lying half-on him, and you didn’t blame nor begrudge him for it. The two of you were squeaky clean once again by the time you sat down for late breakfast Dutch had insisted on cooking for you.  

“I wish we could stay here,” you said melancholily, leaning back in your chair and taking a swig of orange juice to wash down your food.  

“Don’t tempt me,” Dutch agreed, resting his open palm on the table.  

You placed yours over it and offered him a bittersweet smile, the unfairly quick passing of time feeling almost like a robbery of sorts. Here, you'd been away from your troubles and stress at university, and you'd been able to just be with him without worrying about who'll hear you. It was just what you'd needed. “Thanks for bringing me.”  

“Of course. Fancy enjoying the view for the last few hours?”  

With a nod you stood, and Dutch led you outside, taking a seat on the bench facing the outstretched scenery and you took a sit on his lap in turn. He lit a cigarette and you relaxed into him, glancing up at the hard line of his jaw while he pressed the smoke to his mouth.  

It was so cliché, but god did he look hot while he smoked.  

“I was wondering,” he began, “why don’t the lot of you live in the same flat?”  

“We were meant to. But because I didn’t let the accommodation office know, nobody did.”  

“You really are the good girl of the group.”  

“Hardly,” you huffed, gesturing a hand to him.  

“Touché,” he smirked around his next drag. “Will you next year?”  

“Yeah, either merge our flats or rent a house. Whichever is cheapest.”  

Dutch hummed. “That’s pretty close quarters.”  

“Mhm. So you won’t be able to sneak into my room should you decide to come up again.”  

With a laugh, Dutch gently ran his hand up and down your back. “I won’t need to if you agree to spend the odd weekend with me.”  

“I will,” you relented.  

“Promise?” he asked, and you pecked his cheek.  

“Promise.”  

End Note: Lemme preface this by saying I am not a professional on psychiatry or anything related to it, however, a common opinion about Dutch in the fandom is that he suffers with BPD or something similar. I agree, to the end that I had a family member with it and with a bit of extra research the symptoms do line up with Dutch’s personality. With this being a modern AU, I wanted to delve into how his life could’ve differed with the advancement of medicine and knowledge. That being said, I only have the internet to guide me so I apologise if any part of it seems inaccurate - please correct me if that’s the case! For that reason, I didn’t want to go too deep into it and be irresponsible, but I do love picking this man’s brain apart and it felt wrong not to address it at least a little. I’m not entirely sure how common it is for people with BPD or similar illnesses to reach a level of self-awareness like he does here, but I know it is possible in some cases, and with Dutch being rich it makes sense that he’d at least be able to get access to decent treatment. What we do know from R* is that Dutch struggled with being suicidal (if you haven’t played RDR1 or at least watched the scenes he’s in I highly recommend it) and it ties in well with his circumstance so again I wanted to touch on it.

[dsnzfb]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡ No pressure though!

🥹 omg youuu

1. My ocs!! They hold a permanent and deep place in my heart and brain and I love thinking about and talking about them w people 💖

2. Whatever the hell I'm hyperfixated on at the moment. It's an indie game with a small fanbase right now so I can't say it here or I might be found 💖 but previous hyperfixations give me joy still too! Sonic Adventure 2 (actually the entire sonic franchise), Final Fantasy IV, Megaman, Gundam, Puyo Puyo, Hollow Knight, all of it. I find such joy in stuff like that, it makes me happy.

3. Good food! My appetite isn't quite back yet to how it should be, but when I'm back to my usual fatso shenanigans you KNOW I'm gonna have me some sushi, burgers, yakisoba, anything comforting and warm. I love food!! I love enjoying food! I love sharing food!

4. Creation. I love drawing and writing stuff. I don't do it as much as I'd like to, but you can only do what you're able to, right? Don't be hard on yourself and burn yourself out, take things at your own pace. I'm just recovering from my animation burnout, so the joy in creating things is relatively new after the past 2 years have been create create create for 9 hours a day, 5 days a week. There's only so much you can continue to come up with when your animatics leave a LOT to be desired, usually being like, one picture per scene and little-to-no character direction. And the AMOUNT of full shots with 6 characters that last AAAAGES... Girliepops, zoom into the heads more, please... Anyway, I'm complaining now. I'm happy that the show's over so I'm making things for me! Maybe I'll actually do some animation for myself in the future.

5. Spending time with my friends! This sounds SOOOOO fuckin cheesy, but I've been spending a lot more time with my buddies recently. We don't even end up doing anything, we just chat, eat, show each other memes, and watch silly stuff on YouTube together. Even friends on discord are bringing me joy recently! I appreciate whenever anyone chooses to talk to me 🥹 my mental health has been rocky for a long time, but new meds and new friends are helping a whole lot.

[yourmomni]

Fix You 5

A/n:🥲so sad to say goodbye to this story i honestly had fun doing it and I love how it's made me notice so many things about my writing 1).I'm not good a schedules 😂 and 2) I'm a very interesting person well I hoped you enjoyed the ride. I'd theirs anymore request just let me know and I'll it ok adios 🥲🥰🥰 p.s. @loveyouselfalways thank you for being my first request 🥰

You Spinned in your chair that was in front of your desk waving at your computer.

" Hey ENGENES, how are you guys today?" You began drumming your fingers on the table music playing in the background from your iPad.

" I missed you guys too, it's been so long since I last did one of these, almost 3 months wow." The comments were moving so quickly

Jakesgirl: Hii y/n I missed you

Nikinum12: You look so pretty

Jaysguitar: girl where have you been

"I know you guys have a lot of questions on why I haven't been on live or social media for awhile,and I feel like I owe you an explanation. I decided that I would take a break from social media to focus on my mental health and on myself. I started noticing that I had a lot of unhealthy habits and they were affecting my mental stability very much. So I decided that the break was the best for me."

Jake: We love you y/niiie

You smirked seeing your member in the comments supporting you

" But I couldn't have done it by myself. I had my awesome members supporting me through the difficult times and helping regain everything I lost such as my confidence, my will to work, and my happiness and I will forever be grateful for them."

After more songs and interesting conversations you had with them you were ending the live.

" Okay well I will definitely try that brand of chapstick soon thank you for the recommendation, well guys it's been almost 4 hours and I think it's time for me to go."

Sunomono: Byyeee come back soon

Makiey: bye love you

Porlocksung:thank you for spending time with us

Heesgirl: is that your snorlax pushing on the bed I thought you liked bulbasaur

you quickly turned around seeing the huge snorlax sitting on your bed staring back at you.

" shit."

Nikiwiki: Omg is it niki's

Engenes4life:omg niki likes snorlax wtf

Heesgirl: why is it in your room….teaaaa

Y/nlover: omg y/n+nikiAHHHHHHH

Jungine: guys stop they all live together maybe they have movie nights or sleep overs in each others room

You nodded " Yeah guys we have sleepovers all the time he just forgot it in here don't worry guys." You laughed nervously " Okay byeee" you waves trying to end the live.

You exhaled taking your headphones off, next thing you knew you were tackled to your bed with a huge weight on your back " that live was so long I almost died from boredom." I laughed, turning my head to see niki smiling at me.

" hi." He smiled back at me " hello" He kissed my lips softly." I think I left me snorlax in here from last night's movie date" I raised my eyebrow " You think?" He laughed getting off of me and pulling me up wrapping his arms around me and he rested on the headboard of my bed

I rested My head on his chest, throwing one leg over his.

" I'm so proud of you." I looked up at him and he ran his index finger over my cheek. " You've grown so much in these past months don't you think?" I nodded, hugging him close to me.

" I can finally look at myself in the mirror without feeling disgusted at what I see so thats a positive." Niki smiled kissing the top of his girlfriend's head lovingly

" And that's all I ask for, all I want is for you to love yourself more and more everyday. I know it takes time and practice and I'm here for it all."

Niki pulled you closer and nuzzled himself in your hair smelling your conditioner you used the morning of.

You wanted to stay like this forever cuddled up with the person you love in your new headspace where you're finally getting comfortable in your own skin. You knew it would take a while for you to be 100% hell you didn't even know if you would get to 100% but if niki and the members were by your side the whole time, you knew you could do it.

" Yall are just adorable." The boys were standing there with their phones out taking pictures and videos. Niki sprung up chasing after them causing you to laugh.

You pulled Pokémon close to you once again sighing into the pillow like material.

In that moment you knew you would be just fine. And niki didn't need to Fix You.

[jcinkbabble]

Yo Fox. Are you done now?

TW for self harm/suicide urges and alcoholism. If you can't handle that, please don't read.

There is a painful irony in making a blog like this, in order to call out the harassment campaigns harming people offline, only to be targeted by one myself. The past 24 hours have been pretty educational on just how people react to attempts to change things.

I think this ask perfectly exemplifies it. After a barrage of hate on Tattler, the messages in my inbox, and the asks I've gotten in less than 12 hours, I think making me "done" was the point.

But I am, yes, because after tonight, I need to put the people around me first.

I still believe in a space like this. I still believe in positivity, in change, in doing good. However, the result of just 12 hours was me almost breaking my sobriety. There are bottles of alcohol downstairs right now that I want, that would numb the pain of this. But I am almost 2 years sober, and I fought to stay this way, so I will. The result of the past 12 hours is me remembering where every knife is in this house, and knowing what I could do with them. But I swore off self harm years ago, so many I've lost track, and I won't break that now. And finally, the result of the last 12 hours is knowing exactly how many ways I could kill myself, so no one in this house would have the ability to save me.

To the people sending me threats, wishes of harm, and gleeful desires that I suffer... Y'all are just not okay, are you? I know that pain. I remember being on top of the world, the one doing the hurting, the accusations. It felt good. It made the pain I felt go away, but only when I won. So I had to keep "winning". Which, really translates to just hurting people. Over and over and over until everyone's scared of me, and I feel powerful.

Then I realized that's a shitty fucking high to chase, and all.

I know I made myself a target. I did this to myself. I have no problem accepting that. I'm stubborn, headstrong, and want to make a change for good. I believe honest discussion can make positive change. I still do believe that, but I'm not gonna sit here and continue to let myself and others be harmed for that change.

Yes, anon, I am done now. I know you feel proud of this. I know this is a victory for you. You never really understood that I was never unreachable. You saw me in IC. You knew me. You could have messaged me, talked to me. You could have approached me with your concerns, your frustrations, any response to anything I've said. You chose Tattler, then acted like you had no choice but to sling hate there and in my inbox. Like I made you do that.

But I can tell you right now, not a single one of you has ever approached me about the things said on Tattler tonight, or in my inbox. My first and only intro to the issues an anon stranger has with me, were hate. Hate vitriolic enough to put me on the phone with a crisis line, hate vitriolic to make someone who has endured quite a bit of trauma, flinch this hard. I'm pretty sturdy, but tonight reminded me of the power of hate. Of malice, of gleefully inflicting pain.

You didn't want anything but to drive me - someone you've never interacted with - off the internet and keep Tattler open. I hope you can admit it to yourself. And maybe ask why you chose that route.

I have people relying on me offline. As much as I love the idea of this blog, and want to change things, I can't put them on the backburner for it. And I can't risk my own mental health like this, because they rely on me. Like I told someone else recently, don't stick your hand on the hot stove. You know you're just going to be burned. It's not worth it.

Maybe this blog will make a comeback. Maybe not. Who knows? Maybe some of y'all will make your own, and do a hell of a lot better than I ever did. But if you wanted to make me ashamed, scared, and small, I'm sorry. You failed.

I'm not ashamed. I'm not afraid of you. And if you want to talk to me, I'm right here. Fox Lokison, friends. Come have a chat. I'll still be around, chatting about things. But you'll have to come off anon to actually reach me.

I've posted the last of the positive asks so y'all can reblog and interact with them, because I feel like they're discussions worth having. The people coming here to do good should get their chance at being heard. Turning off anon asks now, though. For all the decent asks, there's multiple bad ones.

To Tattler - your blog has hurt a lot of people. And while I know some of your followers think it's deserved, tonight I almost took my life over the crime of opening a blog criticizing your blog, because of the hate you allowed on your platform, and the people coming from it, into my inbox. I do wonder what crime would have deserved that end. I wonder what you'll do if your blog does push someone past the threshold.

Let's hope none of us find out.

[olderthannetfic]

Alright I got kinda a bananas questions for you, but how much time do you think should be divided up between work, hobbies and people. Actually wait more specifically what do you think is a good goal to just sit down and do work, but like actually doing work. Like sitting down for 90 minutes and finishing something not working on said thing for 5 hours then finish it. Over the past couple years I kinda erm, just sorta stopped? My mental health has steadily going to shit and covid fucked that all to hell and I was spending so much time in what was essentially a state of panic(didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s essentially what was happening) that I was too exhausted to do anything and just kind of stopped. I didn’t realize it the time but now that I’m finally getting better Ive noticed how little I was doing and how doing little really negatively effects me. Its become a good marker for me to check that I’ve been actually painting, seeing friends, going for a swim but sometimes it still all goes belly up and I’m trying to figure out what is a good goal.(and whats a good marker for when fucking up) Like a realistic long term goal I can strive for and keep track of. I could real easily just say “go for a swim everyday” but that feels unrealistic. In fact I put exercise in same spot as painting so it would be more like “do hobby for an hour a day” but even that feels like a lot. The thought of that feels exhausting so at least for me it should probs be do hobby thing at least 5 times week. Big goal is to swim 3 times and paint twice or vice a versa. its just hard to do that and then I’ll feel like crap and then notice that I haven’t exercised at all for 8 days and I just don’t move around enough to do that. I’m like a dog or walking house plant that needs to go outside and move around for sunshine and blood flow otherwise I start to physically and mentally feel awful. Its just hard to notice you know? Ugh its annoying because there’s so much shit. Its not just that I need some kinda exercise I also need to do some kinda hobby thing for me and other shit that I like to do. And that isn’t even including the work I need to do. I wasn’t even working before I cannot express enough how much of “doing nothing” I was doing. I’m doing better know with meds and therapy and what not and it is helping but I’ll still get home at 7 and just look at my phone and do some combo of read fanfictin/ play sudoko till I get tired and fall asleep. Then I wake up and shocking, I’m still on bullshit. Sometimes its feels to much to shower (at least with that one I know that I can get away with one at most 2 days with out shower so if I didn’t shower the day before I can mostly just force myself into the shower) that’s what I’m trying to figure out for everything else so I can look at my self force my self to stop looking at phone and paint a shitty flower or something. I was doing pretty good but The other week I house sitter for a friend and was immediately back on bullshit. I barely left her apartment the entire time I was there I’m sure that if I actually went to class, got exercise, painted (I brought all my paints then did fuck all) I would have been able to get more work done. I think Im only actually productive when I’m actually getting up and doing crap. I’m in a contact state of “working” and doing nothing but time is moving forward. I have no idea what this anon is. Ugh whatever I’ll submit it anyway

TL;DR trying to be better at actually do stuff and not doing fuck all. Any idea on what’s a good goal to strive for and what’s a good marker for shits getting fuck go for a walk

--

Social time is going to be extremely variable. I'm an extrovert and thus lots of social time is no problem. I also do okay not seeing people though as long as I'm busy.

Exercise should be prioritized above most other things, much as I hate this. You should be doing something basically every day. I agree that swimming is likely not realistic on that schedule, but maybe a walk around the block? It sucks, but forcing yourself to get off your ass every day will help with the rest of it. Also, exercise that takes you out of the house, even if only briefly, requires that you put on clothes, which is also helpful.

Get off of social media. If you're having trouble managing things, now is the time to take a break from anything that involves doom scrolling and time just disappearing.

(I say from my bed where I'm wearing the dirty sweatshirt I slept in and no pants while answering asks instead of working on my next novel. Hmm...)

It's obviously important to you to prioritize painting, but I see the difficulty there: you have to get set up and clean up afterwards, and you can't leave paints sitting around or they dry out. I'd try to schedule one longer session per week for now. If you have something else like sketching, you can schedule more frequent shorter sessions because that's easier to pick up and put down without a lot of prep/cleanup.

I do find little morning rituals like making tea helpful. They pry me out of bed and add some structure to my day.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

thank you for answering my question about matt at the con! one last question and then i will stop bothering you i promise: would you say the way matt answered the question about nettles being like as a joke or he genuinely don’t know who she is?

I just want to give a disclaimer for future reference that also serves as an answer: I don’t remember the exact wording of every question or answer because 1) the first talk was a year ago while the second was 4 months ago, and 2) both talks happened at the very end of their respective days, literally after-hours of the con, and so while attending both of these talks it was after having spent a VERY long day in a VERY busy environment, made doubly stressful by issues related to my autism (comic cons are both amazing and an absolute hell for me sensory wise), so please bear in mind that I was very much out of spoons by the time both of these talks happened.

Another disclaimer that right now I am also out of spoons, not just for today but for the past few weeks as a whole because I work full time in a new nursery job, my pantomime that I’m performing in opens in four days time, there’s family things going on, and just in general my mental health is not great. Apologies in advance.

Anyway, a fan who was given the mic asked what Matt’s thoughts on the “whole Nettles storyline” was and what he thought it meant for Daemon and Rhaenyra, and that’s when Matt went “…who?”. Someone then mentioned Mushroom, who of course was responsible for all those rumours about Daemon and Nettles, and he coyly remarked “no one can trust Mushroom”. The topic moved on fairly quickly because he made a joke again about how we all seem to know more than him and asked if any of us worked for HBO. A lot of audience members were also calling out things, and the moderator of the talk got kind of pissed off because “it’s not a call and response, guys!”

Matt could have been joking to be honest, he spent literally all of his comic con appearances in London borderline-flirting with fans (I myself was called “darling” and “my love”), cracking jokes with fans and just in general trying to make everyone smile. Then again, he also claimed to not know about the deleted scenes like Daemon hugging his daughters so who knows? 😅

[kfedup]

another Sunday, another seven

1. I was supposed to be in Boston this weekend, but I waited too long to buy my ticket and the price doubled, so I had to postpone. So disappointing, but so it goes. What the hell is up with airline tickets right now? Such greed. Sure would be nice to live in a place that has high-speed rail. Best developed country in the world, my ass. 

2. I applied for a director of marketing and communications position in VT last week. It was such a great exercise shaping my resume to suit the position. I’ve never been this excited about the possibility of an interview before. I’m feeling so burnt out on B2B/B2C copywriting and miss using my talents and skills to drive a mission-focused organization. When I saw the listing, just an hour after they posted it, my entire being shouted YES and I got to work on the resume immediately. Hell, I didn’t even realize I was open to a full-time job, but I sure am. Continuing to work strictly from home in the long term is not going to be sustainable for my mental health. Lort, it feels so good to admit that. 

3. My latest therapy journey is more productive than any I’ve had before and I think it’s because I entered it in a space of calm readiness, looking for help moving forward. We touch on the past because that’s where the patterns originate, but I’m not sobbing my way through each session and have had one major breakthrough nearly every week. It’s helped me come unstuck and open myself to possibilities, and it sure feels as if the universe recognizes that I’m ready for change. A plan B emerged yesterday that feels true and viable if the VT org doesn’t feel I’m the right fit. 

4. I noticed that with the plan B idea forming, my mind immediately tried to tell me to focus solely on that because VT is never going to happen. I spent some time talking with that voice in my head, reminding her that we don’t need to catastrophize and we can continue prepping for the interview so we put our best self forward. It’s such a relief to have words to sooth that part of me that wants to protect me from being hurt by avoiding putting myself out there. I thank her for her service all these years and let her know that I’ve got her, go ahead and sit in the back of the bus and relax and enjoy the ride. 

5. During all of this, I’ve had 4 Rolfing sessions in 3 weeks and my body is changing radically. I was finally ready to take the connective tissue healing to the next level and I noticed while sitting meditation this morning that I can breathe more deeply. It feels like there’s room inside my body in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. The education I receive in these sessions is finally starting to sink in and exhibit in my daily movement. I’m so aware of how my scoliosis has been this driving force in my body for most of my life and I only last year began to address it. I am aware of my body in space, the spacious dimensionality of it, the way joy and pain exist together because I am in a body. I’m so interested to see the bones of my sternum relaxing so there isn’t such a pronounced bump at the top of my chest anymore. And now I feel it acutely when surfaces I’m interacting with are uneven - chairs, tables, floors. My body was so twisted before that I didn’t even feel it. 

6. I’m writing a book about how having scoliosis that was never treated - in fact was diagnosed and summarily forgotten by everyone in my family - has shaped my life. And how beginning the healing and acceptance process 43 years later is changing the shape of both my body and my life. My spine will always be shaped like a question mark, but now I am rising to the questions it poses and exploring the possible answers. 

7. All juju, vibes, mojo, good thoughts, prayers, and hire Kelly energy accepted with deep appreciation. Let’s do this thing. 

[kafus]

i've really been struggling mental health wise the past few days so i decided i needed an activity to distract myself and for some god forsaken reason i was like wow! i haven't done rng manipulation on retail FRLG in a few years! it was hell last time! why don't i do it again! and i took on the tedious task if trying to figure out my SID and get a shiny starter through rng manipulation on a fresh save.

the process basically involves roughly timing when the game generates your SID, getting a list of possible SIDs based on that rough timing, and then rng manipulating starters that would be shiny if it had that SID, rinse and repeat until you find which SID is your actual one... i successfully RNG manipulated four charmanders before this one that ended up not having the right SID. every single charmander is essentially hitting 2 frame perfect inputs in a row at 60 fps with no indicator of when to press A other than a timer on my computer. Awesome. each one took anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half, but this final charmander took 2 hours for some reason LMAO but i've improved a lot at rng manipulation since last time i was doing this stuff... FRLG retail used to take me a minimum of 4 hours per target dsfjfdks

anyways i love rng manipulation and think anyone who likes old pokemon games should try it but don't start with retail FRLG you will hate yourself LMAO i only did this cause i know what i'm doing. if you wanna rng manip in gen 3 start with some basic shinies in emerald i beg