#this is my mantra anymore lol

[leothelionsaysgrrrr]

I have been making some progress on writing The Swim Upstream since playing Veilguard, but going between the two has been pretty jarring. I’m proud of Rook!Rexus. I’m SO proud of him. He’s still got some issues with acceptance of his past and the person he used to be, but he’s done the work to rise above it, own his mistakes, learn from them, and be better. He can be a good friend and part of a team, love genuinely and selflessly and push himself to do the right things, even if they’re hard.

Meanwhile, TSU!Rexus is a hot mess who treats every interaction like a power struggle and is currently bemoaning the consequences of coercing a bar maid into rifling through Emma’s room at the inn for him and then telling her boss she did it so she would get fired and he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore while telling said former bar maid it was actually all her fault.

Oh well. At least I know he’ll get there eventually.

[ahalliance]

vi arcane is making me see the naked but bandaged chest potential and i may be making adjustments to my post code death qetoiles design

[thatone-churro]

dauntless update looking so bleak it’s got me checking out monster hunter

[salemlunaa]

success story!!!!

OMG SALEM SALEM SALEM, U AND UR WISDOM LITERALLY SAVED ME

idk if you're going to see this because you don't seem as active anymore but i literally revised my entire school life thanks to you!! this is like the first really huge thing i manifested (even though there's no such thing as big lol but you get what | mean)

this success story is gonna be superrrr long but it’s worth it i promise!!

For context im from the UK, and in the last 2 years of school is called a sixth form or called a college (16-18) and you can either transfer schools or stay in the one you were already in for 5 years.

I decided to move (like 80% of the people in my year/grade 💀)  i wanted change and to meet new people, but my entire friend group and so many people i love stayed in my old school.

I found out the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and let’s just say i really did not like the change, i felt fomo from my friend group and all of them expressed how deeply they missed me and how much i should’ve stayed and so i started to feel regret. 

And if you’ve ever felt regret to a significant amount, you know it’s the worst feeling you can ever feel, it’s like your insides are twisting, it’s like beating yourself up over and over again. And it got really bad. It lead me to a deep depression where i barely focused on my studies, and it showed with recent test scores. But I read your post and so many others and realised: i’m not stuck, and never will be, I can go back if i wanted. And so that’s what I did

No one really speaks about revision, not as much as i’d like as someone who now owes revision her life lol, so i was a bit nervous and super doubtful, but i looked at revision success stories and told my self if someone can revive someone back from the dead, someone can revise a serious diagnosis and another can change their age, you can revise the fact that you ever moved. 

I really hung on to your posts that drilled it into our heads that it’s already done and there’s nothing to do. And tellafairy’s posts about how we can change our lives from the comfort of our own beds. Even in my darkest moments i repeated that mantra and it calmed me down. 

I wanted to use the void but realised i probably would’ve have put it on a pedestal and most likely would’ve gotten so hung up on it, so decided to use SATs and choose the reality where i never moved schools and school life was so perfect.

I fell asleep on the first few nights, but then one particular night, i felt really fulfilled and floaty so I just kept visualising a day at school with my friends. AND I SWEAR TO WHOEVERS UP THERE I WOKE UP AND I FELT LIKE SOMETHING SHIFTED, LIKE I REGAINED ALL THESE MEMORIES

I LOOKED AT MY PHONE AND MY SCHOOL EMAIL WAS MY OLD ONE WITH ALL OF MY OLD TEACHERS AND I WENT TO SCHOOL IT WAS LIKE I WAS ALWAYS THERE AND NEVER LEFT

it felt weird when i woke up, like i felt a change, but it felt like i was supposed to be here, like i was at peace with what happened. 

I also used blanket affirming and manifested some things on the side too:

appearance changes

being sooo good at school

school rules being more lenient

change in subjects and more new friends

a school fine shyt Imao

more money +desired family

I really wanna thank you and and @tellafairy @itsrlymine @pineapplepr1nc3ss888 @scentedpeachlandcreator @sugarplumfairy777 @catherineaboutlife @authenticbunni @empyrealoasis @joc3lynn+ youtubers Rita Kaminski, Sammy Ingram and a youtuber called The Power of I AM (he’s sooo underrated but a literal gem) ik at the end of the day it was all me BUT THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY I AM WITH MY LIFE RN

If you’ve made it this far, please i’m telling you don’t give up, I was at the lowest of low, like seriously i didn’t even know if i wanted to be here, remember this: you are not stuck , you can manifest absolutely anything, yes, even that thing that seems impossible, and please remember that revision is real and it’s not only for small things like erasing an embarrassing memory or something, you can use it to change the trajectory of your life and i can swear by that as you can see!

you are so powerful you can change the past, please believe me when i say you shouldn’t give up, trust me if i, a D1 procrastinator, someone who was a super doubtful person can do this YOU CAN TOO AND I CAN PROMISE THAT.

it's already done, think as if you have it, and for those who are going through a lot mentally, you. are. not. stuck. that's something i had to remind myself. you can change anything and everything instantly and at any point in time, these circumstances aren't your home.

you don’t have to be a passenger of life, you are the author and creator, please remember that if anything.

i love you so much sai okay byeeeeeee 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

i was lurking through my asks for post ideas and oh my lord. i think this is one my favourite success stories, like ever. I rarely answer asks due to repetitive nature but i had to share this success story

YOU FUCKING DID THAT BABY!!!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU AND IM SO HAPPY YOU’RE HAPPY 💘💘💘

i honestly love a massive revision story because these just show how powerful we are and how nothing is real except the now. and we REALLY CAN change ANYTHING

please please please listen to anon and keep going and and listen to them when they say you aren’t stuck, think as if. there is no such thing as failure.

you can change your life with loa. mark my words

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 01, 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙧.

“I wish I was a normal girl, oh, my How do I be,

how do I be your baby?”

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— synopsis: tell the truth?

𐙚— rosie note: ahh first chapter! i’m really excited to see how this series goes..(i hope you guys are too). i do wanna say I will not be dropping chapters back to back just because ik each chapter will be long enough and also i have other things to do. but you never know what i have up my sleeve sooo just wait! i actually did cry a lot writing this so yw. happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—themes: hurt/comfort, mentions of depression, some fluff

enjoy!!!

May, 2014. Virginia MN

Azzis days felt like she was wading through an invisible fog, where each step felt heavier than the last. She moved through school in a daze, surrounded by classmates and noise but feeling distanced from it all, as if she were behind a glass wall. Teachers spoke, friends laughed, yet nothing seemed to reach her, and nothing seemed worth responding to.

She leaned against her bedroom wall, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the thoughts came like waves, too heavy to escape but too constant to ignore. At home, the silence only deepened. Her puppy was her only real source of comfort, a small warmth that reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.

Yet, even with him there, the sadness was like a relentless wave, threatening to pull her under. As she lay in bed, Azzi’s mind circled around her own thoughts, dark and tangled, the weight pressing down on her chest. Sometimes, she felt the urge to cry, but the tears would stall. Other times, they would pour out uncontrollably, as if her body knew it needed to release the heaviness she carried.

Azzi remembered words that lingered in her mind like a mantra:

“Cry. Cry for an hour, cry for a day, cry for a week. Cry until you can’t cry anymore, until the tears stop coming, until you feel better, until you heal.

Crying is your body’s way of releasing sadness; let it out and then let it go.”

But the letting go part felt impossible.

She knew she was lucky—talented, even—but that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on her, making everything she did feel more like a chore than a choice.

Sometimes it felt like she was just going through the motions: school, basketball practice, homework, repeat. But there was a deeper loneliness, one that made her question what any of it even meant. Every now and then, she’d think, Would anyone even notice if I disappeared for a day? A week? That quiet thought haunted her, lingering in the back of her mind as she navigated her days, waiting for someone to prove it wrong. But no one ever did.

Grabbing her laptop, she opened up her anonymous Blogspot account. Writing had become her escape, a safe place to let her thoughts spill out without anyone knowing they were hers. She’d been posting as @unicornpuppy35 for a while now, hoping someone out there might understand her, even if they never knew her name. A new notification popped up.

Azzi blinked at the screen, surprised to see a comment on her latest post. It was from someone called @boogers_p.

“hey, I saw your post about feeling stuck. I get that. I feel like that a lot, too.”

For a moment, she almost ignored it. Just another user on the internet, right? But something about the way they’d phrased it struck a chord. She found herself typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say.

unicornpuppy35: Oh yeah? What’s got you feeling stuck?

The reply came quickly.

boogers_p: lol, how much time u got? but mostly… everything’s just movin’, and i’m still here. it’s like ur doing all this stuff, but half the time u can’t even tell if u actually care abt it.

Azzi frowned, feeling that weird sense of familiarity in the words.

unicornpuppy35: Exactly, like a constant loop. But what’s the point, right?

boogers_p: fr! it’s like… i’m goin’ thru the motions but who even knows why.

A smile tugged at her lips. Whoever this was, they got it. They actually understood what she was feeling. And it was strange, but it made her feel just a little less alone.

unicornpuppy35: So, what’s your thing? Like, if you had to pick.

boogers_p: lol basketball. but sometimes i’m like… is this all there is?

Azzi blinked. Out of all the things they could have in common, it was basketball. Funny, or maybe just ironic.

unicornpuppy35: Wait, seriously? Are we living the same life or what?

boogers_p: guess that means we’re stuck in the same boat, huh?

Azzi let herself relax into the conversation, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to a stranger. She leaned back, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: So, if we’re both stuck… what’s the plan? How do we get out?

boogers_p: girl, if i knew, we’d be out already, trust. maybe we keep chattin n figure it out.

Azzi laughed softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there.

unicornpuppy35: Deal. Looks like I just made a new friend.

There was a pause, then @boogers_p’s next message popped up.

boogers_p: btw, ‘unicornpuppy35’? gotta ask: what’s the story there?

Azzi rolled her eyes, smirking as she typed back.

unicornpuppy35: What? You don’t like it?

boogers_p: nah it’s cool, just funny. u like unicorns that much?

unicornpuppy35: Who doesn’t like unicorns? And I have a puppy, so it made sense at the time.

boogers_p: lol alright then, unicorn girl.

unicornpuppy35: “Boogers” is somehow less embarrassing to you?

The reply was fast.

boogers_p: hey! don’t come for my name. so do u even keep up w ball like that?

Azzi laughed, a real laugh, and typed, I mean, I love the game, especially the wcbb, but I barely keep up with men’s college basketball.

boogers_p: WHAT i can’t believe that …u at least know who Kyrie is right??

Azzi smiled, rolling her eyes as she typed, I know who he is, I just don’t watch him like that. I’m more into Breanna Stewart.

boogers_p: ohh okay stewie’s dope. but trust, kyrie’s handles r insane. hold up lemme get u the link.

Azzi barely clicked on the link before skimming, smiling at Paige’s excitement.

As Azzi sat back, scrolling through this user’s texts, a small part of her was overwhelmed by everything, like a weight on her chest she couldn’t quite shake off. It felt strange how this stranger’s blunt and funny messages could draw her out of her own head—even if just for a bit. She was used to feeling invisible, yes, her struggles buried under her quiet exterior, but this strangers presence, even from behind a screen, felt real.

A few seconds ticked by as she sank into her thoughts, that weight of loneliness and uncertainty creeping in again. She knew people saw her as the “soft one,” but beneath that, her emotions felt raw, and she wondered if anyone truly understood.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up with rapid notifications.

boogers_p: hellooooooo? did u leave?

boogers_p: r u asleep already or smth??

Azzi’s lips turned up in a small smile. She quickly replied.

unicornpuppy35: “Geez, relax. I’m still here.”

boogers_p: “finally! thought I lost ya for a sec. kinda rude to just ghost me like that, you know?”

Azzi smirked, typing back slowly.

unicornpuppy35: “Yeah, yeah. Guess I was just thinking.”

boogers_p: “Ooooh, deep thoughts? Or like… deep-deep thoughts?”

Azzi hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but she quickly brushed it off.

unicornpuppy35: “nope, just regular deep, I guess.”

boogers_p: “good, I thought you might’ve been drafting your escape from my endless questions.”

unicornpuppy35: “ y’know you’re kind of funny , i’ll give you that. lol”

boogers_p: “ik ik. btw, where do you go to school? And don’t tell me it’s some fancy private place or whatever.”

unicornpuppy35: “Haha, what are you, a stalker? why do you wanna know?”

boogers_p: “what? nah, just curious! alright, lemme guess… you seem like a midwest kid. Iowa?”

unicornpuppy35: “nope, not even close. Try again, Sherlock.”

boogers_p: “alright, alright… new jersey?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head at her screen.

unicornpuppy35: “nope. You’re pretty bad at this, you know.”

boogers_p: “whatever, I’m warming up! Um… cali? bet you’re like, all into the beach.”

unicornpuppy35: “keep guessing P! maybe you’ll get it right before I graduate.”

boogers_p: “damn, you’re killin’ me here. fine, one more—Texas?”

unicornpuppy35: “Guess you’re gonna have to stay curious, stalker.”

“P” sent a string of laughing emojis, clearly frustrated but amused.

boogers_p: “oh, okay, I see how it is. mysterious and all that. fine, keep your secrets.”

Azzi smiled, finding herself genuinely entertained by Paige’s playful determination to figure her out. It was nice, having someone care enough to ask.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at the sight of P typing “helloooooo?” over and over.

unicornpuppy35: Still here! Just still laughing at your terrible guesses.

boogers_p: ohhh shut up 😆 one day you’ll tell me!

As they continued chatting, Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

————-

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my screen. Midnight. Crap. How had it gotten so late?

unicornpuppy35: alright, P, it’s late. I should get some sleep—school tomorrow and all 😊

I typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send. I didn’t want the conversation to end, not when it felt so… easy.

The reply came almost instantly.

boogers_p: lame but yeah, same here. don’t oversleep, though, or I’ll roast you about it next time

I smiled softly, my fingers moving across the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: gnn P

boogers_p: night unicorn, catch you later.

I closed my laptop, leaning back against my pillow with a soft sigh. My room was quiet except for the gentle snuffling of my puppy curled up at the end of the bed. I hated how much I didn’t want to stop talking to her—or whoever she was—but I could already hear my mom’s voice in my head if I overslept tomorrow.

Still, the flicker of warmth in my chest wouldn’t go away. For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel so alone.

————-

The warm weight of my puppy’s paws jolted me awake, followed by his enthusiastic tongue licking my cheek. I groaned, shoving him away gently before squinting at my phone.

“Crap.” 7:40. At least practice was after school today, but I still had school before then.

“Azzi!” Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and frustrated. “Do you even know what time it is? You’re going to be late—again!”

“I know, Mom!” I called back, stumbling out of bed and tossing clothes around my room.

When I finally trudged downstairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, she was waiting, arms crossed. “Do you? Because this is becoming a habit. You need to start taking this seriously, Azzi. Coaches notice stuff like this.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a grabbing a piece of nutella toast from the plate on the counter. “It’s not like I’m failing or anything.”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice rose a notch, and I flinched. “You’re juggling basketball, school, and everything else. If you can’t manage your mornings, how are you supposed to handle the rest?”

“I’ve got it under control.” The words came out sharper than I intended, and guilt immediately twisted in my stomach.

She softened slightly but shook her head. “You have so much potential, Azzi. I just don’t want you to waste it. That’s all.”

I sighed, hugging the puppy briefly before heading out the door. “I won’t.”

Her voice followed me, softer now. “Make sure you don’t.”

As I stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit me, making me shiver slightly. My puppy barked once from the window, his tail wagging furiously. I couldn’t help but smile, even as Mom’s words echoed in my head.

She wasn’t wrong, but sometimes it felt like the pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations, especially hers was just all so suffocating. I jogged toward the bus stop, earbuds in, my mind already racing through the day ahead: school, practice, and maybe—if I had time—another chat with P.

The bus ride wasn’t much better than waking up. Just the usual hum of the engine and kids mumbling into their phones. I leaned my head against the window, the cold glass biting at my cheek, and zoned out. School wasn’t exactly a place I looked forward to.

By the time I walked into first period, I was already tuning out the chatter around me. The teacher called for us to break into groups, and I found myself sitting with three classmates who barely glanced my way.

“We should start with the data chart,” I said, glancing at the worksheet.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them mumbled, already scribbling something down.

Another classmate leaned over to add something, completely ignoring what I’d just said. My lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t new. It was like my words existed in a bubble, bouncing off everyone and disappearing into thin air. I tried again.

“If we divide the work, we’ll finish faster—”

“Wait, no, let’s do this first,” someone interrupted, their voice cutting over mine.

I stopped mid-sentence, letting my pen drop to the table. They didn’t even notice. Just kept talking like I wasn’t there.

I didn’t bother saying anything else for the rest of the class. It wasn’t worth it.

By lunch, I was drained. I slid into a chair at the edge of the cafeteria, next to a group of friends who were already knee-deep in some conversation.

“Azzi, did you see that ridiculous shot Ty took in practice yesterday?” one of them asked, barely waiting for my answer before launching into their own commentary.

I nodded, offering a small laugh. It wasn’t worth jumping in. Every time I tried to add something to a conversation, it either got talked over or shifted in another direction.

But it didn’t stop me from noticing.

As I picked at my food, my thoughts drifted back to last night’s chat with P. They actually listened. Responded. It felt… different. Maybe that’s why it was still on my mind.

————-

By the time I got to practice, my head was already in a fog. It felt like no matter where I went, no one really saw me. At school, at home—was it too much to ask for someone to actually listen?

“Azzi, let’s go! You’re up!” Coach’s voice snapped me back. I jogged to the front of the line, grabbing a ball. Simple drill. Layups. Easy.

Except I missed.

“Come on, Azzi!” one of the captains called, exasperation clear in her voice. My jaw tightened.

I grabbed the rebound and tried again, but my footwork was off. The ball clanged off the rim.

“Focus, Azzi!” Coach barked.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and got back in line. When my turn came again, I nailed the layup, but the damage was already done.

As we transitioned to scrimmage, it only got worse. I called for the ball—wide open on the wing—but my teammate didn’t even look my way. I sprinted to the other side of the court, yelling louder this time. Nothing.

“Azzi, move the ball!” someone shouted when I finally had possession, cutting me off before I could even make a decision.

It was like being invisible. Nothing new though.

By the time practice ended, my legs ached, and my chest felt even heavier than when I’d started. I stayed behind to shoot free throws, trying to shake off the weight.

One ball after another swished through the net, but the sinking feeling didn’t budge.

By the time I finally walked out of the gym, the sun had dipped low, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. My legs felt like lead, and I slung my bag over one shoulder, the strap digging in just enough to annoy me. God.

I spotted our car parked at the far end of the lot, Mom’s silhouette visible through the windshield. She was scrolling on her phone, waiting. I sighed, tugging my hoodie tighter as I trudged toward her.

As I got closer, I caught sight of my brothers in the backseat. Jose was watching something on his tablet, headphones on, and Jon was playing with a Rubik’s cube. Lucky them—they didn’t have to deal with “the talk” I was sure was coming.

The second I opened the door and tossed my bag onto the floor, Mom started in.

“So, your coach called me today,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled.

I froze, mid-seatbelt click. Great.

She said you’ve been distracted. Not focused. Is something going on?”

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Azzi, ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re not putting in the work, and it’s starting to show. You need to get your head in the game. You think colleges are going to be interested in someone who’s half-assing it?”

Her words stung, but I bit my tongue, glancing at Jose and Jon in the backseat. Jon was tapping away on his tablet, and Jose had his headphones in. Good. I didn’t want them listening to this.

“I’m not half-a wording it,” I said quietly.

“Oh, really? Because that’s not what I heard today. Your coach says otherwise.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to argue. I couldn’t let this turn into something bigger, not with my brothers right here.

“Mom, I said I’m fine,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Azzi, you can’t afford to slack off. You’ve worked too hard for this. Don’t throw it all away now.”

I stared straight ahead, tuning her out as best I could. My chest felt tight, but I refused to let it show. I nodded along, letting her words wash over me without sticking.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I bolted from the car, mumbling something about needing to shower. The second my bedroom door shut, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

For a few minutes, I just lay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me. Then I grabbed my laptop and opened the chat.

unicornpuppy35: “hey, you around?”

The reply came quicker than I expected.

boogers_p: “yup what’s up?”

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How much could I even say without sounding like I was whining?

unicornpuppy35: “rough day.”

boogers_p: “wanna talk about it?”

I stared at the screen. Did I?

unicornpuppy35: “not really. just needed a distraction.”

boogers_p: “fair. ok, here’s a distraction: what’s your dream ice cream flavor? like if you could invent anything.”

I blinked at the random question, a laugh escaping before I could stop it.

unicornpuppy35: “that’s… so random.”

boogers_p: “that’s the point. distraction, remember?”

boogers_p: “but… you do know you don’t have to push it down, y’know? sometimes it helps to just let it out. Especially with me.”

My chest tightened again. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk—I just wasn’t sure how.

unicornpuppy35: “oh um okay, it’s just been a lot. school sucks, practice was worse, and my mom’s acting like I’m throwing my whole future away. But what’s the point in saying anything? It’s not like it changes.”

I stared at the screen, half-wishing I could take it back. But, I typed again.

unicornpuppy35: “it’s like… everybody talks to me like I’m supposed to change. like they’ve already decided what’s wrong with me and what I need to do to fix it. but how am I supposed to change when I don’t even know who I am yet? it’s like no one cares about that part.”

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

boogers_p: “damn, unicorn. that’s real. people are so quick to act like they know what’s best for you, but they don’t live your life. you don’t owe them anything.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I stared at P’s message.

unicornpuppy35: “exactly. like… they’ve already made up their minds, and nothing I say matters. but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be yet. And then when I try to figure it out, they’re just like, ‘No, not like that.’ it’s so exhausting.”

boogers_p: “i get it. they want you to follow their script, but maybe their script sucks. you’re allowed to write your own, even if it takes time.”

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard. I feel the tears running down my cheeks and falling onto the keypad.

unicornpuppy35: “sometimes I feel like I’m never gonna figure it out. like I’ll just keep messing up until everyone gives up on me.”

P didn’t reply right away, and for a moment, I worried I’d said too much. I’m trying my best to wipe the tears that are falling, but they just won’t stop coming.

But then their message popped up

boogers_p: “ listen to me. you’re allowed to take up space, to mess up, to figure things out in your own time. screw what everyone else thinks. you’re not a project they get to fix.”

A shaky breath left my chest, and I swiped at my eyes before more of my tears could fall onto the laptop.

unicornpuppy35: “thanks, P. I mean it. you’re the only one who really listens.”

boogers_p: “anytime you’re stuck with me now, remember?”

I didn’t mind that one bit and for the first time all day, I let myself breathe.

————-

March 21, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I stared at the screen, the cursor blinking against the blank message box. Her words replayed in my mind like a song I couldn’t shake off.

“Nobody listens. Nobody sees me.”

I didn’t know what to say back, not really. Azzi didn’t just sound tired—she sounded done. And it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“Azzi…”

I typed..wanting to send but no.

I couldn’t. Not yet.

————-

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @lupinqs @d3arapril @pboogerswbb @imaginespazzi

₊˚ෆ always lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist muah ₊˚ෆ

[anithemonsterlover]

There's an element in many BATB stories that I feel goes a little unnoticed by the general audiences, and it's something lost in the year of white feminism / pearl clutching / Buzzfeed media analysis, that categorizes these stories as "problematic" and in that...when you strip these stories down, these stories are about disabled people finding humanity. Abuse survivors attempting to gain control of life after years of trauma.

I mean it's a bit obvious, but you take out the allegory, the fantastical elements...the Beast is disabled, in a way, that their physical functions can't allow them to function in society.

Like, even Quasimodo is mute. the fantasy isn't even that dense some times lol.

Their abusers (and often the true villains) are often figures in power: parents, religious leaders, politicians...Precisely the type of people in reality that mistreat the disabled in the first place, from abusing at home to passing laws in society that invalidate and downright exterminate their existence.

Like, there's no coinicidence why a lot of these stories shaped the horror genre. and how both genres attract a lot of neurodivergent or queer fans.

So to see these stories being transformed to be thought of "ew creepy incel nice guys" fantasies is so tone deaf. Men dont fantasize being ugly, traumatized and living isolated by society, fam. they like imagining themselves being either the Luke Skywalkers or the world or the Darth Vaders, lol. Something active and with power. (And why Fr*llo in Hunchback isn't the same- he has power and represents society, but that's a talk for another day)

And if you think disabled, deformed, neurodivergent people aren't mistreated, mocked or osctracized anymore...like girl what fairytale you livin' in. i want in lol.

And why these stories hit stronger when the Beast was born a monster (or deformed as a child), instead of a relatively "normal" man committing an accident (but that's just me). Life can be cruel to you just for something you can't control, and a lifetime of pain changes you, not often for the good, but it's real. (and also why that mantra of "abuse turns you kind" can be very very dangerous talk, not all victims respond the same to trauma)

And that's also why BATB adaptations where the Beauty also is an outcast herself (Elisa, Entrapta, Dea, modern adaptations of Esmeralda), and can relate to the Beast's alienation, hit stronger in my eyes. Because compassion is often the key to these stories, and well, who understands your pain better than somebody who's gone through the same thing? (and also why "female monster"-type characters are also very fascinating to read about but also rarer to see ).

[ghoulification]

[SSE] Expansion and Romance for Miraak Follower Dialogue Overhaul - 1.1.1 UPDATE

This mini-update removes the mask conditional from his player home dialogue, to make it easier to trigger. I recommend keeping his mask on him until after this conversation for maximum immersion lol.

Download from my Proton Drive

Previosu Update: 1.1

implements the fixes added since version 1.71 to Miraak Follower Dialogue Overhaul by Yogibir (Mantra lip sync, new script to fix Bend Will's usage on him during the battle), as well as fixes an issue that prevented some of his new lines in "Anything on your mind" from playing, and missing audio and data for one of these lines. Now, if you're romancing him, he won't be shy anymore, and will say his new lines.

Safe to update mid-save as far as I can tell. Same information from the original post applies. This may receive future updates in the form of additional lines if I have time and patience to sort that out haha.

[bikananjarrus]

someone to stay (velcinta oneshot)

for the sw femslash february bingo prompt: only one bunk/cot bedroll

rating: gen | word count: 1k | ao3 link

everyone say thank u to velcinta and @chipthekeeper for inadvertently breaking me out of my writer's block! specifically this post from chip, which got the gears turning in the first place. which also gave me the excuse to incorporate this headcanon into something!

(and i think this is my actual first finished velcinta fic?? everything else up to this point has been half finished, unpublished snippets or headcanons i occasionally throw to the wind. could have reallyyyy dug further into this, but i desperately needed to finish a wip and not make it 10k words long lol. next time <3)

::

For years now, Cinta had operated on one short mantra: keep moving.

She couldn’t risk looking back, so the only solution was to go forward. She had nothing and no one waiting on her, so constant motion was easy enough. And she never stayed long enough to risk making connections that would anchor her in place. Staying meant getting comfortable; staying was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford.

Because stay sounded too close to home, and she hasn’t had one of those since the Empire violently stole hers away in a blaze of fire and bloodshed.

Still; she couldn’t help the slight hesitation before saying yes to the job on Aldhani. It was no more than a secondary hiccup, very quickly outweighed by the prospect of doing some real damage to the Empire. But there was a lingering apprehension knowing she would be rooted to one place with an unchanging group of people for months on end. Three to six, they were predicting. Anything past the three month mark would be the longest she’s stayed in a place for as long as she can remember.

::

Once on Aldhani, though, the routine and underlying tension of their slowly approaching heist were enough to keep her from getting too comfortable. It also helped that knew how this ended. Either it went poorly, and she’d be dead; or, if successful, she would leave this place behind, covering her tracks as she went, never to see any of the crew again for their own safety.

Except—

Looking at Vel’s sleeping face in the gray dawn light, so close to her own, she wasn’t so sure about that last part anymore.

The thought of walking away felt akin to severing her feet from her body. She would do it if she had to, but it would be an agonizing crawl to leave all this—to leave Vel—behind. A new hold carved out of her heart that had no hope of ever being filled.

She’d been on Aldhani nearly four months. Four months of secretly rewriting her own rules. Four months of her carefully constructed walls being chipped away at. She hadn’t even realized there was a crack in them at all until one day, two months in, when Vel had offered to help with the dray.

There had been some initial complications with the dray, and for the first month at their encampment, they’d only had a single one of the animals to take care of. Cinta had gladly taken up the task. But when they’d finally gotten the rest of the promised herd, it helped to have extra hands.

Cinta knew from Vel’s interactions with their first single dray that she wasn’t at all used to being around livestock. It was amusing—but nothing much Vel had to worry about, and Cinta didn’t put in too much extra time thinking about it.

Until they had more of the beasts and Vel offered to help tend to them, that is. Cinta had stood off to the side, watching and waiting to see how Vel handled it. Poorly, was the answer.

It happened fast—one moment, Vel sitting on the squat wooden stool, metal bucket under the female dray’s udder to milk it; and the next, the dray was letting out a high-pitched bleat, bucking away and knocking Vel over. She landed on her ass in the mud, and at the look of astonishment on her face, blue eyes wide—Cinta promptly burst into laughter.

She’d meant to keep it contained as quiet giggles. But once the laughter started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

Vel’s shock twisted into a scowl, carving a line deep between her brows.

But still Cinta had laughed. Until tears pricked in the corners of her eyes and her ribs ached. Until Vel’s face softened and she started laughing too.

When her peals of laughter finally started to recede, she came to two conclusions. One, she was quite certain she had not laughed that hard since before her family was murdered by the Empire. And two, the ache from her ribs remained, tightening around her heart as she realized it was Vel who was the source of her joy.

That crack in her façade revealed itself, whittled away by the woman in front of her, just large enough for her to squeeze through.

It doesn’t matter. You’re not staying once this is all over, she told herself. Even as she reached out a hand to Vel, smiling a quick “sorry, let me help,” and trying not to blush when Vel smiled back, muddy hand wrapping around her own.

Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving, she chanted to herself later as she washed Vel’s muddy fingerprints from her hands.

::

In the two months since then, the crack had only widened, the space now big enough for Vel to lay beside her in a shared bedroll.

In that time, she’d gifted Vel more smiles, more quiet laughter when they were alone. She’d let Vel comb through the long locks of her hair, squeezing her eyes shut against tears as she was reminded of her mother’s fingers deftly doing the same. Vel’s newly calloused fingers were gentle; her lips equally so when she’d kissed the tears from Cinta’s cheeks.

And last night, with Skeen and Nemik gone out of the valley to trade supplies with some locals, and Taramyn on watch duty, leaving the two of them in the main encampment by themselves, she’d finally let Vel strip her bare.

It hadn’t been particularly neat—a tangle of limbs and clothes left half on to protect against Aldhani’s chill; a hint of chattering teeth between panted breaths; all over far too soon, without the luxury of time or true privacy or a real bed. But the bliss buzzing in her blood afterwards was unlike anything she’d felt with anyone before then.

And from the haze-happy grin on Vel’s face as they’d layered back up into more clothes and tucked themselves together in to share a bedroll, Cinta knew she felt the same.

Now, blinking awake to the dull light of dawn, Cinta couldn’t help but stare at Vel’s soft sleeping face. Her forehead was smooth, free of the usual lines of stress brought upon by her role as leader. Their legs were tangled together under the blankets, as much for warmth as to be close to one another. Cinta’s gaze drifted down, to where one of Vel’s hands was loosely curled into the front of her vest. Like she was afraid Cinta was going to slip away, even in sleep.

Cinta supposed in the past that would’ve been true.

Any intimate relationships she’d previously had never lasted more than a night. She’d always snuck out before morning. Mostly to keep them from asking her to stay, but also to keep herself from accepting the offer.

Keep moving. Don’t look back.

No such morning after urge to walk away rose up in her now.

It was a far more terrifying feeling that crawled into her throat as she tucked herself closer to Vel, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of her nose.

She felt steady; grounded. Like she didn’t want to leave, maybe ever.

It felt a lot like staying.

And maybe stay sounded like home; but home was starting to sound a lot like Vel.

[end]

[gingerteawrites]

Babysitter - Geto Suguru

A/N: One of my lovely friends mentioned this idea in passing and I have NOT been able to stop thinking about it. So enjoy reading my brainrot lol. Definitely the start of a series hehe.

Content: geto suguru x female reader, dad!Geto, college student reader, non jujutsu au, angst, fluff.

Divider by: @k1ssyoursister

School be damned, the economy be damned. In fact, the entire world be damned. Making ends meet these days was becoming an achievement. And your little college student pockets hurt (more accurately, they were utterly and desperately empty).

You had applied for every open position you came across; on-campus, barista at your local cafes, server at that one sketchy bar and even dog walker but nothing seemed to last. Interviews went awry, creepy bosses drove you to the end of your wit and bad pay was routine. You sighed, beyond exasperated as you flopped onto your tiny twin bed.

Selling feet pics was starting to look a little too enticing of an option.

You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your email inbox, hoping to see something positive from any of the positions you had recently applied for.

**ding**

The pop-up of a notification draws your attention away from the endless emails --mostly unanswered-- and you open the text.

[girly I think I found you a job]

You immediately sit up, the words from Kugisaki leading fresh hope to bloom in your heart. Your fingers tap quickly across your keyboard.

[wait fr?? istg if you're playing with me]

[if you think i'm lying then i won't tell you what it is anymore]

[no, no come back] you send a string of crying emojis, imagining the smirk on her face before the typing bubbles reappear on your screen.

[since you asked so nicely! Babysitting job. A guest lecturer for one of my classes. Really chill dude]

You sighed, shoulders drooping as soon as your brain registered the message. You were about to turn your screen off when the bubble appeared again.

[I know you don't like babysitting jobs, but give this one a try okay? Plus the guy pays really well] attached was an email address, certainly that of the one looking to hire.

[Thank u, I really appreciate it <3] you typed back, flopping back onto your bed.

Your sighed again, and closed your eyes. It was so cold. Your town had been victim to a series of winter storms. Even nature seemed done with the world's shit. But the prospect of having to deal with another high electricity bill if you turned the heat any higher led you to your closet, grabbing one of your thicker hoodies instead.

You should be grateful. You muttered to yourself, heading to the bathroom and splashing water on your tired face. Financial aid covers tuition, and you are not homeless. You turned the faucet off, watching the heavy bags in your reflection. The person in the mirror looked so tired, life slowly drawn out of her. You should be grateful. The mantra had long lost its desired revitalizing effects but you kept at it regardless. Repeating it to yourself incessantly.

Somehow you managed to find leftover takeout in your tiny fridge, eating your dinner to the sound of your old radiator using the last of its life to barely warm the place. You sighed again, eyeing the email address your friend had sent you. She wouldn't recommend someone untrustworthy. She would never put you in harm's way.

Resigned, you drafted an email. The usual pleasantries, introduction and intent for the position. As soon as you clicked the send button, you pushed your phone away. It didn't matter. The person would probably ghost you anyway.

And then, you really would have to look into feet pic selling forums.

He had replied. In record time actually, only a few hours after you sent your email. Your eyes scanned over the words of the email again, in partial disbelief.

[Thank you for your interest. An interview with me and my girls is all I need to see if we would be a good fit. Please let me know your earliest availability]

Straight to the point and maybe a bit dry, but it was much better than most of what you had been getting. You chewed on your bottom lip, deep in thought.

Being in a strange man's house for extended periods of time was still unsettling.

You should be grateful for the opportunity. Are you really going to let your trauma get in the way. Stop acting so weak.

A reply was typed in before you could psych yourself out, sighing as you put your phone down. He better pay as well as Kugisaki promised. Well, you would find out soon anyway.

What kind of people were Geto Suguru and his daughters... And would this job finally allow you some respite? A hint of stability in these tumultuous times?

Trying to get myself out of a writing rut ughhh. I hope you enjoyed this one though, I'm really excited about starting another series. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

WIP Word Game !

Thank you for the tag @ollypopwrites ! I think this is such a neat little idea, thank you for including me! 💜 the excerpts from yours were très magnifique and I encourage everyone to check them out!

Rules:

You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that start with each letter of your word.

My key word is DEMON

I'm gonna do all the letters from my one WIP Actus Contritionis that I've teased already. I really want to see it through, so I'll hold myself accountable by giving it all my attention from hereon lol *insert obligatory rough draft warning here*

Do you like my dress, Father?" A question that crucifies, every breathy syllable driving the nail. Deeper, messier. He almost chokes aloud, knowing he'd spit thick crimson if he did. You look up at him with the shadow of the cross in your pupils. Fluttering lashes brandished like floggers, merciless and stinging. Whispered to him as if there's someone other than just him in the room. Maybe to keep God from hearing. Good faith discretion for a little of his honesty. Even tamed to but a murmur, the presence of his voice in your ear throbs penetrative, each pause an emptiness that aches for more. A gravel you’d rest on with bare knees just to rid yourself of the itch. The chapel, hollowed as it is, quivers to the sound of him, bends and ripples like black-top baked in sun. Towards the middle back in an empty pew, rubbing arms and elbows, he leads you in prayer, then consultation. He hides from your slip of leg behind the advice, offered like fingers forming a cross outstretched to ward off any sudden moves, any advances. Your fidgeting latches to a bracelet, a link of delicate chain, in hypnotic motion as you work it round and round, flicking your grip with your wrist pinched between. A wriggle in his stomach, the louder it growls the louder he prays. The Sarum Primer a mantra at the fore of his mind; God be in my head and in my understanding; God be in my eyes and in my looking-

My period." He runs so hot it's burns him frigid. A cough swallowed to a grunt, eyes sent upward his closed lids. Drawing the curtain. Shrouding what is surely to be a punishing conversation. He grasps at tact to navigate such foreign soil, steadies to keep fumbling to a minimum. He governs the spirituality of young women at an all girls school. He has for years. They've all had the social graces to not deign his listening ear with such impropriety. Another mold you shirk, vehement, rebellious. Confinement's a shackle, one to which you're ill-suited. Other times you're in the rectory, and he sits across from you and feels so bold as to grasp your hands and keep them. Soft palms and warm fingers swallowed by his mitts, wide and meaty with knuckles sharp and veins dark. He holds you without force in his grip, lame and lax as you clutch at him for guidance, for understanding. Crazed by righteousness he thinks of anointing you. Callouses and greed slick with oil he paints over your flushed face, your nakedness. A false modesty that blushes and burns under his trail, candle light caught in the glisten. Lubrication for his annexing, forbearance that dismantles you piece by piece. Each limb, each plane, each pore singled and sanctified for consecration, catalogued for future adoration. Scrupulous passes down the bridge of your nose, along the ridge of cheekbone. Tracing your lips curve, dragging a stripe down your chin.

Not in the shower, not anymore. Showers cleanse and rid the evidence. The water washes away his filth even as it splutters, vicious and final. His room is suffocating, sterile with his smell, his heat. A miserable bed for a miserable man that catches it all and holds it displayed. A shame that stains. Purged lechery, not in full, but a slow, painful trickle. A blood-letting. Sopped bedding that awaits his atonement, a reek of adolescence outgrown. Stretched tight, a nooses weight and shape. A Rorschach in the cotton as it dries and solidifies his ailment. And do you abstain, Father Brennan? Sinks back in through the post-exorcism haze. The hairs at his nape on end, scraped by a demon. His trembling stroked still by an angel. He wished he knew which one he could label you. A pendulum in swing, it never glances either side long enough that one might stick.

No pressure tags! : @emmg @jainydoe @aldisobey @xxnashiraxx @bardic-inspo @thepatronsaintoffilth @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @nerdallwritey @pinkberrytea

Your key word, should you choose to accept, it is: Satin

[justice4billy]

That's what you get for waking up in Vegas

Warnings; Billy being Billy lol

Chapter five

"You can do this Han" Heather stated her hands braced on either side of Hannahs arms. "Think of the money" she reminded her. It was the same mantra she had been repeating all morning and even on the way to Billy's apartment.

"The money" Hannah muttered reminding herself of the ultimate goal. It was all that mattered to her, she was strong, loyal and competitive. There is no way she was losing at this game.

Hannah turned taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. She became annoyed as the girls patiently waited for an answer, raising her fist in the air and landed another hard knock.

"Jesus, I heard you" Billy grumbled as he opened the door, a snarky expression on his handsome face. "Oh it's you" he grumbled stepping aside to let the girls in.

Hannah rolled her eyes shoving her way past him and into the pokey apartment. It was small she noted, a couch and a TV which she guessed was the living area followed by a small open plan kitchen.

"I'd give your a tour but I don't want too" Billy stated plopping down on the couch.

"Real mature" Hannah spat walking towards a closed door and peeking in. This must be her bedroom she thought, noting a small double bed in the centre and a tattered brown couch underneath the window. "It stinks in here" she gagged placing her bags down and opening the window.

"Well, it's nice" Heather hesitated bringing in the rest of her stuff. "I'll leave you to get acquainted with the place" she stated giving Hannah a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Please don't leave me" Hannah begged.

"I have to get back to work Han" Heather reminded her. "Call me later and we can talk and try not to kill each other" she waved over her shoulder as she exited the apartment.

Hannah sighed grimacing as she noted the strange smell still lingering. "What the hell is that?" She muttered taking the cover and lifting it up. She gagged when she saw a used condom in the bedsheets.

"See you've found our room" Billy stated, making Hannah look up at him in disbelief. He was leaning against the open door with his arms folded.

"You mean my room" she sassed stripping the bedsheets.

"Your room? Hey, the hell are you doing?" Billy asked furrowing his brow.

"I'm not sleeping with you and I'm also not sleeping on that ratty couch" she stared. "I'm going to wash these gross sheets" she finished stripping the bedding.

Billy scoffed. "You're forgetting this is my apartment" he stated.

Hannah smirked. "Not anymore" she replied holding up her ringed finger in a rude gesture. "Whats mine is yours, remember?" She smirked.

Billy glowered. "Stuck up brat" he threw out turning on his heel.

"Asshole" she shouted back at his retreating form.

She bundled the sheets in her arms and carried them into the living area, she thanked God that Billy at least had a washing machine in his apartment  she thought before placing the diseased sheets in the wash and turning it to sixty degrees.

She huffed before stomping back into the room and retrieving her anti bacterial spray before spraying down the mattress and headboard.

"You're a complete nut job" Billy stated.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh it's you again" she sassed. "Have you nothing else to do?" She asked.

Billy chuckled. "What? Other than watch my wife carry out the duties God intended?" He smirked.

Hannah narrowed her eyes. "Great so your also a sexist pig" she spat.

"Better than being a control freak" he muttered bored.

"Why don't you go and shave your chest hair?" She threw back.

"Aww is someone on their period?" Billy mused. "Don't worry ill be sure to get you enough pills to knock your ass out" he added.

"Dick" Hannah fumed aggressively unpacking her antibacterial wipes.

"Yeah I've got a big one, shame you'll never get to see it again" he smirked thrusting his junk forward in a crude manner.

Hannah picked up a shoe launching it towards him. Billy chuckled as he shut the door in time, the shoe narrowly missing his head.

She couldn't even deal with him for five minutes. How was she expected to cope with him for six months?

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hii!! 🤗

your dun!x reader fics they’re so *chefs kiss*

i’d love to see one where tyler is sleeping over and the reader is going through a breakup. and tyler hears the readers muffled sobs so he tries his best to comfort her. just some gooddd fluff 😁

Breakup - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Dun!Reader - Platonic

Warnings: Breakup - not with Tyler lol. FLUFF

Word Count: 1404

A/N: WELCOME BACK! Hope you like this one and please request another one! It's not super long but I think it's cute so... 🤷‍♀️

Tom and I had been together for a year and a half when he decided to end things. He asked me out on a "date," knowing full well it would end with us breaking up. Despite spending hours getting ready, hoping to impress him, I came home a wreck.

“It’s just not working anymore,” he said, standing up and leaving me alone in the café. I watched him walk out, sighed, and stared through the window as he drove away. Gripping my coffee, I gave the barista an apologetic smile before heading out. Each step toward my car felt heavier, my lip trembling. The sad playlist in my AirPods matched my mood perfectly, every song amplifying the ache inside. My mind spiraled into a numb mantra: You’re worthless.

Once in the car, I connected my phone to the radio, my fingers fumbling as I pulled up my texts with my brother.

I’m coming home. Tom and I broke up. Please don’t ask. – Me

Ok. I love you. Tyler’s staying over tonight, just so you know. I’ll tell him not to bother you. – Josh

Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. – Me

Your call. Get home safe. – Josh

As the music continued to play, I drove through the now-empty streets of Columbus, the city feeling as desolate as I did. Rain began to pour, each droplet striking the windshield like the tears streaming down my face. Tom had been my person—the one I told everything to. Now, I couldn’t stop wondering: What would he do with all that he knew about me?

The trees blurred together as I sobbed, my chest heaving with the weight of it all. When I finally pulled into the driveway, Josh was waiting on the porch.

“Hey, you,” he said, opening his arms and pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you said not to ask, so I won’t. But I’m here if you need me. Tyler and I will keep our distance. You’ve already eaten, so you can head to bed if you want.”

Josh was the best brother anyone could ask for. He’d always taken care of me, in his own protective way. I tried to smile, but it came out crooked and awkward, making me wish I hadn’t bothered.

“Hey,” he said, gently pulling back to look at me. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

I nodded, adjusted my tote bag, and slipped into the warmth of the house. My gaze stayed glued to the tan carpet as I quietly made my way to my room, shutting the door just enough to hide my tears.

For hours, I lay on my bed, listening to the muffled conversation between Josh and Tyler from the other room. Their voices rose and fell until, around 10:30, Josh finally went to bed. I hadn’t moved from where I lay, sprawled out beneath the huge gray blanket Tyler had given me when I redecorated my room. It was soft, soothing in a way that eased the throbbing in my head. I stared up at the roof of my room, the crushing weight of the breakup causing endless sobs to fall from my mouth. The ‘I love you’s we’d said meant nothing anymore and the darkest truths I’d told him were gone. This wasn’t going to be it, this couldn’t be it for me. I would find someone. Slowly my sobs grew louder as I felt certain both the boys were asleep. 

I couldn’t stop the tears. The more I tried to stifle them, the harder they came, shaking my body as I buried my face into the pillow. I didn’t hear the soft knock at the door until it opened slightly.

“Hey…” Tyler’s voice came in gentle, cautious. “Are you okay?”

I quickly wiped my face and turned away from him, mortified that he’d heard me. “I’m fine,” I managed, though it was clear I wasn’t.

The door creaked open further, and Tyler stepped into the room, his presence bringing a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed. “You don’t have to say you’re fine if you’re not. I can leave, but I just—” he paused, standing awkwardly by the door. “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

For a moment, I considered asking him to go, letting the walls I’d built around my pain hold strong. But when I glanced over at him, his eyes were soft, full of understanding. Tyler had always been a good friend to both me and Josh, more like family than anything else. Maybe that’s why it felt okay to let him stay.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He moved closer, cautiously sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Wanna talk about it?” Tyler was the therapy friend. Despite having his own issues, Tyler always had the best advice. It was like a gift. He was able to do it in music and he was able to do it in person. I nodded, moving aside so he could climb into the bed with me. “What happened?” 

“You know my boyfriend, Tom?” I started, sniffling slightly. 

“Yeah?” His eyes searched mine. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I rubbed my eyes, tears flowing uncontrollably down my face. Tyler said nothing. He looked around my room and let out a loud sigh. My heart was thumping within my chest and I wanted to run away. 

“Breakups suck,” he said after a long silence, looking straight ahead as if he wasn’t sure if he should even be here.

I nodded, my throat still tight with emotion. “Yeah. They do.”

Tyler exhaled slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been there. It feels like the world is caving in. Like… nothing makes sense anymore.” He glanced at me briefly before looking away again. “But you’re not worthless. I know it feels like that right now, but you’re not.” Hearing those words made something in me crack. I couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. I pressed my face into my hands, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. Without hesitation, Tyler shifted closer, hesitating for just a second before wrapping his arms around me. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t weird—it was just what I needed. A human connection, someone to remind me I wasn’t alone in this pain.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as I cried into his shoulder. “You’re going to get through this, I promise.” I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, crying into his hoodie as he sat there, rubbing slow circles on my back. Time seemed to blur as the hurt poured out, and for the first time that night, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely shattered. When my tears finally subsided, I pulled back, embarrassed by the mess I’d made.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

Tyler shook his head. “Don’t apologize for feeling stuff. That’s what makes you human. Plus, I’ve cried harder over a pizza delivery that took too long, so you’re good.”

A small, unexpected laugh bubbled out of me, and Tyler grinned. “There it is,” he said, clearly pleased with himself for breaking through my sadness, even for a moment.

I shook my head, smiling despite the tears still clinging to my lashes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but that’s why you keep me around, right?” He raised an eyebrow, making me laugh again.

For the first time all night, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter, the storm inside me beginning to calm. Tyler leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s going to suck for a while. There’s no sugarcoating that. But you’ve got people who care about you—Josh, me, your friends. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a little steadier, a little more grounded. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving me a soft smile. “Now, do you want me to stay, or should I head out? No pressure, either way.”

I hesitated for a second, then scooted over slightly. “You can stay. If you want.”

Tyler smiled again and grabbed the spare pillow from the other side of my bed. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

And for the first time since that awful café breakup, I felt a glimmer of hope that things would eventually be okay. Not tonight, not tomorrow, but someday. And until then, I wasn’t alone.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Thursday:

"Responsible Adults", the sequel: Jak tries to do a regular Jak Stunt and is shocked that it doesn't go over well

(Roughly a week after this one ends. Long post warning, as most of these are lol)

Night terrors were not an uncommon experience for Jak. They may not have been his nightly companions anymore, but when he did have them, they were intense. He woke up in a corner of his room, wedged beneath the sink. There was a vague sense that he was taking cover from something, or someone.

Blessedly, he remembered no details of the nightmare. But the terror still sent his guts quivering the way they had in the prison. Huddled under the cot both for warmth and silently praying the boots wouldn't stop at his door. That he wouldn't end up Tyber's new punching bag when he got bored of the old man in the cell above Jak's.

Tyber is dead. Errol is dead. Praxis is dead. I watched them die.

Jak repeated the words like a mantra until he could move his limbs again. He crawled out from beneath the sink, but the lingering fear made his room feel claustrophobic. Smaller than it really was.

At least he hadn't woken Daxter this time.

Jak put on his boots, but didn't bother getting fully dressed. He didn't even know what time it was. Why bother if the doctor and the king guy were just going to nag him about being sleep-deprived anyway?

It must have been early morning, before dawn; the moon had vanished and people were outside doing repair work on houses and fog-catchers.

Early morning was the best time to get any outdoor work done in Spargus. A small girl led a flock of caprids out of the stables and towards one of the other districts to graze on the cactus there, and a gang of trainees only a little older than Jak were taking advantage of the temperature to do an endurance run around the city.

Personally, Jak didn't see the good of such things. You learned to be fast enough or smart enough to escape your enemies, or you didn't. He'd learned through life and death experience, not a footrace with no winners.

"Easy with the straps there!" A stocky man backed into Jak, calling up to a team of three people.

"Ope-! Scuse me there, pipsqueak." The Wastelander stepped to the side as if Jak was barely worth noticing.

"Howland, that thing ain't cinched tight enough!"

They seemed to be trying to remove a corroded beam from the supports of one of the multi dwelling houses. It was already leaning at a precarious angle, as big around as a grown man. If that beam came down the wrong way, it would take a lot of the adobe structure -- and probably a lot of people -- with it.

"It's fine, Daru!" Howland complained, "I just cinched it!"

"Well cinch it again! That sucker’s leanin'!"

Jak frowned, but let his curiosity wash away the dregs of the night terrors.

"What's wrong with it?"

The unofficial foreman tugged at a bushy red mustache and shook his head. "Don't rightly know yet. Could just be age. Sand storms and salt air will do a number on this kind of metal after a while."

Jak wondered if that had anything to do with Sandover using wood and stone almost exclusively. He was about to ask why it had been anchored to a mud wall when there was a loud metallic clang. The last bracket holding the beam snapped under the weight, and the straps weren't enough to hold it.

Jak didn't remember moving. But then he was there, with the beam on his shoulders and the foreman on the ground, having narrowly avoided being crushed to death. Cold metal dug into his hands, pressed down against his head, and Jak knew that by rights he should've been dead.

There was a thrill of revulsion in his chest when he reluctantly acknowledged that the only reason he was standing right now was that the dark eco experiments had lengthened his muscle strands to twice the size of a normal hu'men's. It wasn't just in his dark form. That element of...unnatural...was just with him. Every moment.

"Frith! Oh my- HOWLAND! GET DOWN HERE!" Daru roared, "YOU COULDA KILLED SOMEBODY!"

"I got it," Jak said through gritted teeth. "Is there a place to put this thing down?"

"Not yet," Howland admitted as he shimmied down a ladder.

"We were going to cut it into pieces once it was secure, transport it that way to be recycled."

Jak craned his neck, but the motion jarred the beam. Hastily, he adjusted his grip.

"What's- What's around me?"

"Too much," said Daru grimly. "Just- Hold on, kid."

He winced at the boy's flat stare.

"Er...no pun intended. We're gonna, gonna get you out from under there, I promise!"

"Get it cut up first," Jak grunted, "And you won't have to worry about getting me out."

"And what if your hands get sweaty, huh?" Daru demanded, "Fat chance, little man! We're going to find something to hold this up!"

The other two men hurried down from the roof with saws in hand.

Oh gods. Handsaws. This was going to take a while.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Honestly, Damas should have been expecting trouble when he didn't start his day with a free heart attack after seeing eyeshine in the kitchen. The kid was diametrically opposed to the concept of sleep, so he wouldn't have been in bed. If he was off his routine -- and by now Damas had learned to dread something interrupting the kid's self-imposed routine -- then there was probably going to be trouble later.

When he refilled the fuel in the Beacon, fed the birds, and actually had a cup of coffee uninterrupted, he was suspicious.

When the sun rose and there were no echoes of truncated curses in the halls from guards running into Jak, he started to wonder if the kid had decided to work outside. Unusual, but as long as he didn't do anything that would make Dr. Petros yell at them both, more power to him.

But when the talking ottsel showed up in the throne room about an hour after dawn, frantically demanding to know where Jak was, Damas was concerned.

Those two were attached at the hip! Jak wouldn't have gone to look for work without Daxter.

There was a small crowd forming by the time Damas stepped outside. People were shouting encouragements, or conflicting advice about pulleys and snatchblocks. Had something fallen? Damas hadn't heard any impacts. As he began to pick his way through the crowd, the shouts took on new meaning.

"He's slipping! Somebody get under there!"

"How many more hands do you want? There's ten people holding the beam up!"

"Why won't he just let go?!"

"Standing this long, maybe his arms locked up-?"

A beam? People holding a beam-?

An accident. There'd been an accident and night watch hadn't caught it.

Thoughts of crushed citizens and mangled houses circled Damas’s imagination as he pushed through the rest of the crowd, close enough to hear the rasp of handsaws and the buzz of a lone angle grinder.

"Get the cart back in!" Someone yelled, "Next piece is almost off!"

From the looks of things, a crew of four had reduced a two-story high support beam by a third.

Ten Wastelanders were beneath the colossal pole, hands and shoulders braced against the metal as it shrieked and groaned. If even one of them slipped-!

Damas threw down his staff without thinking to join them, racing to catch the end beginning to slide.

"What happened?" he demanded, straining with the others to keep it from crushing the houses and themselves.

"Tie straps broke!" a man three people down called back, "If it weren't for the kid, it woulda come down right through the roofs of a couple houses!"

Kid?

Oh gods don't tell me...

Jak was standing in the very center of the line. His arms trembled, and sweat poured down his face. He didn't seem to hear anything happening around him, too focused on keeping his grip. He was beginning to pale.

"What's he doing here?!"

"Dunno!" A woman to the left answered. "He was already there when me and the girls showed up, but that was two hours ago."

"Hours?!"

Jak had been out here for hours, trapped, and Damas had been none the wiser?

"Why hasn't anyone gotten him out yet?!"

"We tried! The poor kid froze up!"

Damas gritted his teeth and pushed away images of the kid standing alone under that crushing weight for hours until help had woken up.

"Get a truck and winch out of the pit!" He ordered, "Forget damage to the streets, we'll fix it later! I want this thing taken care of now."

It took a full twenty minutes to get the Dozer through the narrow streets of the tower district. By that time, those who had been holding the beam first had cycled out for fresh arms to allow for water and eco. All except Jak. He'd accepted some water that someone poured into his mouth earlier, but still seemed to be unable to let go. He was at the fulcrum point, he insisted, and he wasn't going to let it tip. (Not that he thought he'd actually be able to move at this point.)

Fifteen people attached pulleys and cables to the beam from above, careful not to dislodge the hands of those below. When the cables had all been hooked to the Dozer's winch, the weight began, at last, to lessen.

There was a ragged cheer from the assembled Wastelanders as the end of the beam tipped up and the rescuers eased the other end to the ground. There would be extensive damage to infrastructure to deal with. But nobody had died, and there were no major injuries, and Damas would count that as a victory. Shaking out aching arms, he hurried to the center of the line, where someone was physically holding Jak upright. Damas took hold of the boy's stiff arms carefully.

"It's gone," he said, easing the limbs down, "It's gone, let go, Jak. Come on, you're done."

The kid made a sound, a soft rasping whine that might’ve been words. Then he collapsed.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When the world drifted back into focus, Jak didn't know where he was. The smell of eco lingered around him, confusing the other scents that could have identified his location. He couldn't move his arms. Why couldn't he move his arms?!

It took a massive effort just to pry his eyelids up. Jak’s breath caught harshly between his teeth as he forced himself onto his side.

Well, that explained the lack of mobility in his arms. He ached like he'd been fighting beyond his limits again. The injection sites would be agitated again, he knew without looking. The pain radiated from his shoulders to his fingertips, skin, muscle, and bone.

The room was a blur. Brown and yellow slowly settled into more colors, ending in something either white or pale blue in front of his nose. The longer he stared at it, the more detail he could see. Pills of thread, clinging to loosely woven fabric. The texture and shape of the warp and weft shifted as he tried to move his hand.

He hissed in pain.

"Well that's what happens when you try to make a career as a load-bearing wall."

Jak tensed. Not alone. Not with Daxter.

Biting down on the pain, he dug his fingers into the pallet beneath him and forced himself upright.

This wasn't the hospital -- small blessings -- but it wasn't his room either. There was a low wooden bedframe on a wall a few feet away, on the other side of some kind of half partition full of plants.

"Where...?"

"Well you're about to think of it as prison," Damas answered from the opposite direction.

He was sitting at a table, hunched over a cup of coffee. The empty pot beside him was a story of its own.

"By the way, you're grounded."

"What?!" Jak sputtered. He started to get up, but fell back onto the pallet with a grunt of pain.

"Like rot!"

Damas glanced back over his shoulder. "Take it up with the doctor. He put you on bedrest, not me. Better yet, blame your own self! You could've let go at any time once the rest of the district turned up to help!"

"The whole...district?"

Jak blinked.

"I don't...remember that..."

Damas sighed and peered into into his mug.

"You've been sleeping most of the day, I'm not surprised. Even with the eco you'll probably be sore for a while."

"How -- ow! -- long was I out there?"

Jak cringed at the look in Damas’s eyes when the man turned around fully.

"Four. Hours. Four hours! Why didn't you let go when others arrived?!"

Was this a trick question? It had to be a trick question.

"Be...cause...I'm not supposed to let other people get hurt?" Jak answered with slow confusion.

Damas stared in complete silence for several seconds. Then,

"You're insane. My foster-son is insane. That's insane! In what world is "throw the youngest under the pillar" a rational solution?!"

"Uh. Haven?" Jak muttered peevishly. He tried to sit up again. "Look, just. Tell me which way my room is and I'll get out of your hair."

Damas pushed his chair back with a scraping sound.

"Mn. No. What part of "bed rest" didn't you hear?"

In brusque motions, he knelt and pulled the blanket back over Jak.

"You are not to do anything even mildly strenuous, or Petros will strangle me. And since I apparently can't trust you not to willingly walk into harm's way unsupervised, you get to camp out in here, and I get to work from home for the next few days to make sure you don't go try to lift a car or something!"

Jak was appalled. "You can't do that!"

Dry as dust, Damas retorted, "First of all, I'm king. Secondly, I'm your legal guardian. Yes I can."

Jak groaned in frustration.

"Where's Daxter?"

"Not grounded."

"Oh come on!"

[fyeahdprian]

fromm

DPR IAN fromm March 22, 2025 2:30pm

A good morning to you all or afternoon I should say ~ 👋🏼

Gosh l've been so busy .. as always haha I feel like answering some of your questions today !! So hit me with them (not literally)

Curly fries / I have eaten today I had steak and eggs :) / some music l've been listening to is the new stuff we been working on and.. loris barks / kiwi lan ? Haha / surprises many many ! Will update soon / happy fasting in Indonesia 🙏🏻 / I loved New Orleans especially the vibessss I wanna go back / 퍼팝에 머리 멋있을꺼에여 .•. 쫌 기 르는중 일단 / 운동도 열심히하는중..진짜.. 힘듬 / ahh yes the bike is in the house because I'm scared someone might steal it lol / i had tacos yesterday / babe i will always be happy and grateful :) / I don't get nervous before stages anymore rather excited / lan album coming later this year Translation: “my hair for SuperPop will be cool… i’m growing it out a bit first haha” “i’m still diligently working out.. it’s.. challenging”

A scholarship thanks to my music ??? Mindblowing / I loved the hat Thankyou ❤️ / fav MCR song (the ghost of you) and yes / future music will have a lot of my rock influences / something big related to the new channel will be dropping soon / I do in fact have a new hobby (it will be revealed soon) / fav dpr song now is welcome to the other side / love cats in fact I'm a scaredy cat / regular fries all the way / a place to work on music ? I always wanted to go visit Mexico to make songs or even somewhere in Europe / how to gain rizz? Be yourself :) / my Mantra in life right now is make the most of everything when you can in the best way possible

Any regrets ? Sometimes I regret some of the decisions I made growing up but I've learnt it's what you make of it and come of it ! If you are trying to improve always and learn then you are growing for the good regardless of the mistakes you once make the power is in now not before or later / mito movie is still in talks / nose piercings I always just get the rings 👍🏻 / new genre l've been getting into is probably more house / fav snacks will still be the red Wiley wallaby licorice / Lori is sleeping I'll send pic soon / anxiety before tests will always come so have to learn to embrace but what you can always prepare for is how much you prepared for it that will give you less or more anxiety for it 😅 don't worry even if you fail it's not the end of the world trust me you can always comeback from anything / 저도 늘 감사해요 :) 그 리고 너무 다행이네요 그랬다니 ! 항상 응원합니다 / yes do come to hitc will be showing a lot of new stuff / fav memory in Mexico was being with my fans there and that show was something and the food !! / Btw lori rn Translation: I'm always grateful too :) And I'm so glad it was like that! I always cheer for you

[hismercytomyjustice]

My husband effortlessly outmaneuvered my OCD today. I am still in awe.

I didn’t want to go to my piano lesson. Last week was ROUGH. On top of still struggling with this more advanced piece, I had major migraine brain fog.

The good news is that I didn’t want to fake my own death or wind up in near tears after. Yay, progress! But it wasn’t the best experience otherwise. It was just really frustrating and humiliating to struggle so much.

This more advanced piece has been triggering my OCD like crazy too.

I told him I didn’t want to go today because I hadn’t practiced enough.

He responded with “So?”

It was exactly the right answer. Even though I still tried to push back with, “I haven’t made enough progress.”

And he was just like “The point of you going is to practice. And you did practice.”

“I haven’t practiced enough.”

“Not going isn’t going to help with that.”

T^T !!!

(extended OCD rant below the cut)

I had similar convos with my therapist where she’s insisted that the only thing I need to do for piano is show up for my lessons. That is the only expectation.

My piano teacher would disagree with that, lol. But I get what she’s saying. Because my desire for “doing it right/enough” is my perfectionism OCD talking.

Which is why piano is such good unintentional ERP for me. Because it upsets my perfectionism OCD so much. My therapist has said this multiple times now.

Lol, I also finally told my piano teacher I have OCD and that my OCD loves piano. In that it loves to tell me how bad I am at it. He was telling me last week, “Just play through, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Which has become his new mantra for me lately. orz I was playing some for my husband too to show him how far I’ve come and he said the same thing because I kept stopping when I’d mess up. “Just play it through.”

It is SO HARD TO though. Especially with how hard my OCD focuses on every single mistake I make. Which just leads to building anxiety and more mistakes.

I’ve had moments where I’m struggling while practicing and have literally had to tell myself “practicing will only help, it can’t make you worse at this.”

Because lord knows avoidance is one of my favorite compulsions. Because you can’t be bad at something if you don’t do it, amirite? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

God, I also realized my OCD has eased up a bit when it comes to writing (sort of), but now it’s decided to focus on replying to comments on my fics instead. Something I genuinely enjoy doing because getting comments fills my heart with rainbows. It gets riled up with me trying to leave comments too.

My perfectionism OCD has decided this is a great time to overthink every single word I type. Just a constant stream of “You have to give the perfect reply to a comment, otherwise people won’t think you’re grateful enough for them taking the time to comment and they won’t want to read your fic anymore and they’ll hate you.”

And “You’ve left comments on other fics that people have said made their day. If you don’t leave a good enough comment or if you don’t comment at all, they’ll think you don’t like their fic anymore. You know how happy getting comments makes you. If you don’t comment on everything you read, that makes you a bad person.”

None of that is true, ofc. I know it’s not true. I know it’s not even logical. But it is all triggering my avoidance SO HARD. Because I can’t mess it up if I don’t do it at all! So now I have a bunch of comments that have piled up and a bunch of fics I’ve read that I haven’t commented on and I’m starting to ruminate on all of it.

And it’s just like…so objectively ridiculous. That’s not self-compassion, I know. But like, it feels so absurd to be in an OCD spiral over this. Where I am actively spending more time agonizing (ruminating) over the fact that I haven’t done either than it would take to just…reply or leave a comment on a fic.

Like. This is not a life or death situation. This doesn’t even have to be a situation! And yet the spiral continues. I stress, I avoid, I stress about avoiding. And I waste time and energy and brainpower on all of it.

I have the same issue with the other fics I’ve promised too. I’ve been deep into the final chapters of my kid!Alastor fic and hyper focusing on it as a result. But I have been talking about posting Part 8 of my Radioapple series for so long. I threw 8k words at it like a month ago and then started overthinking it and then started worrying about falling behind on my kid!fic. The same for the BG3 oneshot I drafted. All I need to do is edit it so I can post it. But editing to me = executive function (writing somehow does not…?). And, again, I wanted to get caught up on my kid!fic. So now I feel guilty for not finishing it and posting when I said I would.

None of this is anything I should feel guilty for! And I know that. I am doing all of this FOR FUN.

It is supposed to be fun!

AND YET.

Ugh. Not me over here like “My OCD hasn’t been that bad! Why can’t I get anything done?”

Because it picked new things to obsess over and I was late to the party on realizing that. ( ˶ •̀ ⤙ •́ ˶ )

I’m glad I’m meeting with my psychiatrist tomorrow. My depression has been better but now that I’m aware my OCD is ~clinically severe~, I’m hoping maybe she can help get me on something that will do more to help with it. Because while the meds I’m currently on are preventing me from a full blown relapse, I don’t think they’ve been very effective at straight up treating my OCD otherwise.

I’m really hoping a different medication will help. It’s just frustrating to be putting all this work into therapy and all, but not seeing more of a reduction in my symptoms.

Literally one of the questions on the YBOC is: “How anxious would you feel if you were prevented from performing your compulsive behaviors?”

I told her it wouldn’t make me anxious because I don’t WANT to do the compulsions. And if I had a magic button in my head that would make them easier to resist, it would be the greatest thing ever. The compulsions are what’s making me anxious. Most of the time I don’t realize I’m obsessing or compulsing.

So then I get frustrated and upset at myself for not getting things done and it’s only then that I’m like, “Wait, is this an OCD spiral?”

If I could get better at recognizing them sooner and acting sooner, I think it’d go a long way toward helping me. The thing is, I don’t know if this is a medication thing or a me thing and tbh I’m worried it’s a me thing. That I’m not doing something right, and that’s why I’m having such a hard time with it all.

I really hope that’s not the case. Like, I am DESPERATE to get out of these never-ending loops. I just really, really hope that the will is already there and that a different medication can help get my OCD under control enough for me to actually make progress.

T^T Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Lol, not me stressing now that my psychiatrist is just gonna be like “Your problem is that you aren’t trying hard enough!” Because I think my problem is trying so hard to the point I unintentionally actively sabotage myself… Like I’m trying to fight perfectionism OCD with gasoline instead of water or something.

Ugh. Fingers crossed she can give me some better insight into all this tomorrow.

I’m just curious now too if my OCD has always been this bad and I’m only just now realizing it, or if it’s just been worse in general over the past year or so for whatever reason.

FIX ME, SCIENCE! FIX ME!!!