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secretgamergirl · 3 months

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I am so sick of poverty.

I am doubled over right now in my broken chair layering my clothes up because it's 20 degrees out and I can't afford heat. I haven't eaten anything tonight because I can't afford food. Things could be worse. I still have electricity. I still have a roof over my head, for now, in a bad neighborhood where I'm too terrified to ever set foot outside and I'm constantly having to deal with screaming, car alarms, and sirens. I have no real way of paying my rent, and haven't in some time. I just keep begging and getting one-off help from people and eventually that luck is going to run out. I genuinely did not expect to still be alive this month, I don't know if I'm going to be a month from now, and I genuinely cannot picture anything that can change my situation.

I'm just sitting here right now thinking to myself, "why is my life like this?" and I really hate how the answer really just is that I'm trans.

If you don't know what that means, and statistically you don't, that means I was born with a really quite boring fluke medical thing where my endocrine system makes certain chemicals in the wrong ratio which, if untreated, completely messes me up with really gross and disgusting physical symptoms and causing all sorts of awful brain issues that make it basically impossible to live... BUT, there's really cheap readily available supplements to get those where they should be and then you're fine. So in a halfway reasonable world, this would just be like how some people need glasses or a hearing aid or any other sort of medication people might need to take for something.

But, we don't. We live in this super messed up world where because being trans is such a rare and uninteresting thing, a tiny handful of weirdos, for reasons beyond my comprehension, have this all-consuming obsession with doing everything in their power to harm trans people, and have spent literally their entire lifetimes spreading utterly bonkers propaganda, lobbying lawmakers, getting onto medical boards, and just acting as traditional good old fashioned stalkers, with the net result being this swirling miasma of false information, stigmatization, mistrust, and of course, depriving people of necessary medical treatment.

One of the nastier specific effects there is that you can't just get the aforementioned medications you need to live a normal boring life as a trans person. There is this whole wild and wacky hazing ritual built into international medical standards where you're literally required to humiliate yourself in public for a good year and make damn sure everyone around you knows you're trans, and can properly make your life hell for it.

So back to my little story here. I'm trans, I decided I would in fact like to have some sort of bearable life with a functioning brain and a minimum of weird gross physical problems, and had to announce this to the world. IMMEDIATELY, I have stalkers out the wazoo. I'm getting death threats. Family isn't speaking to me. Friends aren't speaking to me. People I've worked with/for my whole life cut all ties with me. I just had to sort of start life over from nothing well into adulthood.

And you know, I managed that. I've worked as a journalist and a game designer my whole life, those skills aren't the worst for working on your own, things were starting to get off the ground. This despite/because the whole thing with neo-nazis coming out of the woodwork and attacking trans people both with life-ruining tactics and, you know, guns. But, you know, as fate would have it, some people who don't do proper research put too much stock in some cover stories suggesting that they're actually targeting journalists, and when it shakes out to the contrary, decide to absolutely crush the trans people whose lives are actually in danger and are reporting on this... while at the same time the worst TERF in America is literally getting trans journalists blacklisted, stalking people, teaming up with neo-nazis, all that good stuff.

Anyway, as it happens, basically all the people I've met in rebuilding my life care enough about staying on the good sides of some of the above people, and are all too happy to completely throw me under the bus, not only cutting all ties with me but also starting some horrible rumors and leaking my closely guarded personal details to some particularly frightening people, forcing me to flee my home with just what I can carry out in a day... multiple times. And of course, again, I've lost more or less all of my friends, my ability to find work, and I have the setbacks of sudden homelessness and someone skipping out on a joint charity project with all the donations people had made, burning down all the vital operating resources to boot.

And this of course is all before the whole bit where the site formally known as Twitter spontaneously kicked me off with no chance to exchange alternate contact info with anyone, because wouldn't you know it, the new owner has an irrational hatred of trans people and has neo-nazi stalkers of mine kissing up to him in a way he's weirdly protective of.

But wait, there's more! All these fascist stalkers monitor me at all times to make sure I can't get any work of any kind, and I'm forced to live purely off direct patreon donations and government programs. But that gets into some other fun problems. Stalking comes with identity theft, evading would-be murderers involves changes of legal name and address. These confuse a lot of government databases, so I lack a valid social security card in there somewhere. Also causes problems with paypal. And with medcab programs. And then there's good old fashioned medical discrimination. I haven't seen a dentist in years because the last couple I've been referred to outright discriminate against trans patients. I need some surgery performed, and my health plan keeps telling me I can only see surgeons who have almost no experience if I'm lucky, and a history of horribly botched procedures otherwise.

Oh, and the reason I have no food? I WAS on an assistance program, but in the yearly audit, someone noticed that my rent significantly exceeds my income. You would hope seeing that they'd realize I'm REALLY in trouble and if anything give me more money, but hey, one of those weird bits of propaganda about trans people is that we're all sex workers, so the people handling this case leaned into that bias and are insisting I must be withholding income information with some vague insinuations on what they're speculating, and denying me access to food, BECAUSE I'm losing access to shelter.

So yeah, if people could just be normal about trans people, I'd have no stalkers, still be able to work, see doctors when I need to, and if I had shortfalls still, at least be able to eat. As is... yeah I might just die in the next big cold snap while I try to beg money off people to cover my rent and buy a few cans of soup.

Sorry to be a downer. Patreon link if you want to try to help.

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melusine0811 · 3 months

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Absolutely. We are taught to gloss over emotions, so you feel wrong and weak addressing them. We also prioritize work and "the grind" above all else. So when a person is desperately trying to be the best they can at work (especially with a new job) they ignore mental health because they always assume they are doing something wrong if they have past work trauma. And already existing mental illnesses blow up. It's even worse if you are already neurodivergent. A nuclear explosion with stress added on top trying to care for a family, pay bills, try not to collapse financially, which is completely another problem altogether in this country. We ignore it because we can't afford it. I couldn't afford to go unpaid and have an invisible illness cost so much. But my body decided for me and benched me longer because I didn't take care of myself, I started having panic attacks over and over, became actively suicidal, and ended up in the hospital for over a month. You don't have a choice. You have to get better before you can look after everyone else.

Catch it EARLY, look for the signs. Look for your own cues. Write and develop a crisis plan and figure out what those cues are. Tell those around you WHAT your crisis plan is.

Because November and December were my own personal hellscape because I tried desperately to push through. And people around you don't get that. They won't understand when you don't act like yourself, or can't concentrate, or are going nonverbal at work, or start to dissociate. They attach your value to how you are during a crisis or are affected by your mental illness, when your entire system is going haywire, your whole body hurts, and you can't function. That's what they remember about you. How you are when you're deeply broken.

That's why you try so desperately to hide it. But it backfires if you do that. I am very fortunate because I work with people who are deeply compassionate, and just understood without me having to say anything more. And my boss even picked it out... he knew that I wasn't myself. He knew I was sinking but my stubborn ass wouldn't relent because EVERYTHING is on the table this year, and it all depends on me whether or not my position, my program in the school district will even exist next year. If it fails, I will be utterly heartbroken.

I am better now. While I was in the hospital we found a med combination that works better than anything has for years. I am back to work, and I am joyful about it.

You have to ask for help before it reaches that point, though. Call RESOLVE, call your local hospital and see if their psychiatric unit has an intensive outpatient program. This is the fastest way to get psychiatric care, besides getting a therapist and having them recommend something. But if it gets bad enough, admit yourself. (It's not that bad-- it's not the place that sucks, it's how you feel when you're in there.) Don't let it go as far as I let it...to where my life was hanging in the balance. I was almost there. Every bone in my body almost broke, permanently. And I wouldn't be here anymore.

#take care of yourself #go to therapy #talk about how you're feeling #take your meds #and drink water #depression #anxiety #mental illness #mental health #bipolar disorder #schizophrenia #bpd #adhd

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jaythelay · 7 months

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I'm glad we've put to bed the discussion of "every game should have an easy mode"

what a stupid pointless discussion that utterly exemplifies how little of a shit people give bout art and creation, themselves, and others.

Imagine it like this, media literacy is overwhelmingly poor, should movies be made for stupid people? Should we dumb down people's creative works just so the dregs of society can pretend to be as invested as someone competent and able to watch something actually profound?

"Can every game have an easy mode" of course. Should they though? No. Not ever. Because what you're saying is "I don't want to play your game, or watch your movie, because "xyz" and if you want me to play or watch then make changes for me."

And that is not how people create art. That's not how any form of creation works. You do not tell the artists what to do, you tell the artist how to improve, from your own experiences.

Lemme tell you this, if I ever hear some dumb motherfucker say

"Michelangelo's David would be better without the penis"

I'll fucking break your and my neck with a headbutt.

Games with difficulty modes almost always are worse than when competently and cohesively designed. What people are saying isn't that they want an easy mode, what they're saying is they want a worse experience tailored to them, and again, that's not how a creator works, they create, you interact.

Don't even bother, I see your brain forming the "accessibility!" argument. That's an entirely different discussion entirely from changing the basis of a game's design to be broken, vague, and completely untestable.

Can some games have a difficulty mode? Sure, but it's always always always a fail safe, a crutch to fall back on. Not a default.

Cheat codes.

Remember those? no not mods, not the console, cheat codes! No no no, not the DLC you fucking piece of god damn... point is, what your entire argument boils down to is you want Cheat Codes.

I do too buddy, but we aren't getting those back if you keep telling companies to make mass appeal garbage that doesn't push any creative envelopes. What you're asking for is less creativity and more restrictions.

It's just absurd man. The whole argument is such a face value, first thought come to mind piece, not a worthwhile discussion.

Thankfully, nobody is embarrassing enough to keep saying it, right?

To say "the creator should degrade their work for ME!" when you're not relevant to the entire creation process.

"It's just critiquing the industry!" It's ignorance of game development, art, and the creator.

I'm literally the most pro-consumer person on the planet, so understand I'm not defending companies with this, the fact is this: Your purchase does not affect the art, nor should it EVER affect the art.

What you SHOULD be focusing on, not fucking difficulty modes, is the anti-consumerism, DLC, microtransactions, hiring addiction experts, the sexual assaults, poor working conditions and pay, the blacklistings, etc etc etc etc etc etc etc it goes on a while etc etc etc etc

Just media literacy ignorance, anti-consumerism, and anti-creator disguised as anti-company propaganda. As dumb and telling as saying you can only see 30fps, or that 24fps is cinematic.

#gaming industry #easy mode #easy modes in games #It's telling that they only really play garbage and when good art comes their way the only thing they can think is it's the game's fault #not them being disrespectful and playing wrong #or just not being very good #or whatever reason #point is bring back cheat codes and add accessibility options #but make the fucking game first #ignore that bullshit til the end #Gamerz

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sagegr33n · 3 years

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Today we're thinking about the bnha boys and their love languages.

Summary-simple Headcanons of how the Bnha boys show affection to their black s/o, bc black readers deserve soft things too.

CW-Black reader, Gender non specific , body descriptions , fluff.

Katsuki Bakugou-Acts of service

We all know Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight isn't the best with his words-He cant verbalize affection to safe his life- so he tries to make up for it with by being a man of action.

You need a couch moved? He's got it.

A tv mounted ? Hes already on his way to your place, let him clock out of the agency first.

Help detangling your hair? Hes got the water bottle and brush ready.

Cant fall asleep? Hes right there, full out singing lullaby's and telling stories until you drift off.

Despite being an emotionally constipated idiot at times, he can also be quite adorable, Imagine a big, ripped 6'4 pro hero Bakugou trailing after you like a little puppy, poking at random things in your apartment like

"This need fixing?"

"Katsuki its not broken."

"What about this"

"That's not broken either"

"Well I'm just trynna help shitty extra!"

Shoto Todoroki-Material Spoiling

Shoto is yet another emotionally constipated baby, luckily for him, he happens to be a very rich emotionally constipated baby.

Touch is pretty much out of the window because of how awkward it makes him feel-both giving and receiving- and he never had a very Talkative household -well except for his fathers constant jeering that he had to be the best and surpass allmight - pair that with his naturally stoic attitude , words don't exactly come easy to Shoto , but he figures he dosent need words or meaningless touch when he has millions of dollars .

Anything you want is yours before you have the chance to mention it to him.

He sees you browsing a catalogue , eyes landing on something for too long, its purchased with next day delivery.

Overhears you talking about something to your friends, he's already looking for it online.

You never have to worry about how expensive hair supplies is, or paying for new styles because he has you completely covered, even if you insist that you can take care of it yourself.

You express interest in something while window shopping with him and he is going to walk right into the store and buy it -along with anything else he sees that you might like.

Your standing outside the store all dumbfounded because when you pointed out that "those shoes are cute" You weren't expecting Shoto to walk into the store and buy every god damn pair of shoes in the place.

He walks out , stupid look plastered on his usually emotionless face, as if he just completed some grand service. "Why do you look so ticked, I thought you liked these"

And you're standing their in awe studying the twelve boxes stacked in his hands thinking about what a cute idiot he is.

Hanta Sero- Sleeping

Unlike Bakugou and Todoroki Sero has no problem expressing his love for you in the traditional ways.

He's almost corny with all the adoring praises he gives you throughout the day,

"Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you."

"If you were a vegetable, you’d be a ‘cute-cumber."

"Do you happen to have a Band-Aid? ‘Cause I scraped my knees falling for you" are just some of his most recent corny ass attempts at wooing you.

its almost impossible to pry him off of you, He's constantly poking, pulling and prodding at any piece of you he can get his fingers on, your thighs , your tummy, your hair-all might as well not even belong to you anymore. But despite that, his actual love language is pretty non traditional.

The way Sero sees it, sleeping is the ultimate show of trust and adoration. When your sleeping your completely and utterly vulnerable, so you have to have crazy amounts of trust in someone to sleep around them, right?

Besides , there's nothing sero loves more than coming home after a particularly brutal day of hero work, tracking you down and pulling you away from whatever activity was previously occupying your attention , then dragging you back to his place for a nice, long napping session.

It dosent matter what fight you try to put up

" I'm studying right now"

"Hanta I'm cooking"

"Sero I'm not tired right now"

The night will always end with you on top of him in his Hammock, arms wrapped tightly around your frame.

Kirishima Eijirou- A little bit of everything.

Kiri isn't emotionally constipated, but he does have moments of insecurity, You're like the most wonderful amazing perfect person ever in the world , so he cant help but feel a little inadequate.

Him of all people? Why not someone with a flashier quirk like Bakugou, or Todoroki?

Because of this Kiri does tend to kind of overcompensate when it comes to showing affection.

You want something , he'll pay for it.

Need something done? Whatever it is he can take care of it, he swears.

You've- tried to reassure Kirishima that there's noting wrong with him and you don't need grand gestures of love , but it always end in him denying everything .

"Baby I brought you some flowers, and chocolates , i-Im not sure what your favorites are so I tried to get as many as possible and- He trails off.

"Ei , you bought me flowers and chocolate yesterday" You sigh, at the redhead as he stumbles into your apartment, hands full with boxes of chocolate and at least six different types of bouquets.

"Yeah, but those were only mediocre flowers and chocolates , someone like you deserves the very best."

Lord he was projecting like a mf.

"Ei, you know you're a wonderful boyfriend right , you're not mediocre so you don't have to do all this...every day.." You try again

"Oh its nothing like that, I just saw these and I thought you might like them-there's nothing -it has nothing to do with me."

So much for being the voice of reason.

"You might as well spend the night, there's no way I can eat all of these without help." You sigh in defeat.

Neito Monoma -playful teasing

Don't get me wrong, he can be nice sometimes.

He'll compliment how you've chosen to style your hair .Help you out with cleaning your place, without you having to ask him. Act oblivious when gifts pop at your door.

"Nieto you're the only person I mentioned wanting this to."

"Accusing him, The Phantom Thief of wasting his precious money on waste like you?" He'd never.

But as nice as he can be, He's still Monomoa, and he still likes picking on you. Although he does find himself going a little easier on you.

"You'd better be lucky your cute, because it looks like you got dressed in the dark."

"You could at least try to look nice when I take you out y'know"

"Man, I never thought I'd get with someone like you."

Its not that Monoma wants to hurt your feeling per-se , its just the adorable face you make when your flustered or pissed at something he says is just to delicious to resist. If he ever does go to far with his teasing, the higher than though façade drops immediately .

"Baby, please! You know I was just joking right? I didn't mean it." He'll sob, damn near on his knees trying to convince you to forgive him.

You're well aware Neito didn't mean the stupid shit he said to you, its just nice to see him grovel once in a while.

Besides, he can stand to get off his high horse sometimes.

---

As usual notes and reblogs are always welcome, and if you enjoyed this consider sending in a request, they should be on.

if you noticed in the summary, I stated that " Black readers deserve soft things too" This is because myself and a lot of other black people on this site have noticed that most black fics are often times dark . *There's nothing wrong with dark content , and I enjoy writing /reading it myself, however there is no damn reason for most black fics to have Noncon, Abusive relationship, Dubcon tags. Its slick giving stereotypes and Finding black fluff, or fics where the reader isn't forced or abused is literally hard as shit. So if you're a Non black writer writing black shit step back and ask yourself "Why is this so degrading? Why is degrading content the only thing I feel comfortable writing when it comes to black readers? -Thanks, Management 💁🏾‍♀️

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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ataraxia. - ch. 5 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 5 - regularity's dawn pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of prior-obtained injuries. diluc is rich. uh,,, typical warnings for this series. words: ~1.9k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ] chapter summary: just you (a farmer), diluc (an unknown variable), and a dog (of the canine variety) existing in your house. you, of course, wish there were only two of you there... you think. well, no matter what, the dog is staying. a/n: mmm domesticity except the reader can't handle domesticity. but hold on guys,,, hold on,,, its happening,,, slowly !!! :D sorry it's been 28 years for this update lol

"y'know," you set the bags of groceries down onto the kitchen counter as diluc hobbles into the room after you. "fatui presence in the city is increasing."

today is the twenty-first day since diluc has arrived at your doorstep. things have changed in your home and in the world outside. for starters, you've begrudgingly acclimated to the presence of another within your household. diluc is rather polite, much to your behest. he doesn't pry into your past, he doesn't rifle through your things, and, from what you can tell, he hasn't gone into your bedroom without permission.

diluc respects the boundaries between the two of you and it pisses you off. for a man who showed up half-alive to your place of residence, diluc keeps himself together in a frustratingly fascinating manner. he's gotten accustomed to crutches. he washes dishes for you, despite the cast on his wrist and insistence that you can do it yourself. hell, with his pyro vision, you don't even need to worry about firewood nor kindle for the kitchen stove. diluc is oddly self-sufficient for a man as injured as he is.

however, it's not like you're not looking to take care of him. it's just irritating to see this man being able to pick himself right back up and act like everything is okay, even if crutches are tucked into his armpits and supporting his weight. you're no fool, though. you know things aren't perfect for the redhead. you can see it in the wistful glimmer of his eyes when it rains and you can see it in the way that it looks like he wants to speak but doesn't know how.

diluc picks himself back up from his injuries, sure, but you can tell it's a hollow husk of the person he used to be. besides, you're wise enough to know that a broken wrist doesn't cause the solemnness you see in his expression. the source of that pain likely occurred long before you met him.

"the fatui?" diluc asks and you immediately regret having internally praised him for recovering so well from his injuries. maybe if he hadn't, you wouldn't have been asked such a dumb question.

"yes, the fatui. that's what i just said," you snap in response and, much to your surprise, diluc lets out a laugh. it's short-lived and it's more of a bark of a laugh rather than a wholehearted chortle, but it causes you to glance over at him, shooting him a glare as you angrily unpack the grocery bags.

"you do not talk to many other people, do you?" diluc asks, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. his eyes gleam with a mirth you've never seen before in them and it serves to do nothing but baffle you.

"neither do you?" you respond and your words come out questioning, rather than the harsh retort you originally hoped for. diluc pointedly looks down at his broken appendages and shrugs his shoulders to move his crutches. you stare at him blankly, unamused by his nonverbal sass.

"fatui presence," diluc quickly redirects the conversation before it can fall in to an awkward silence. "are there any recent events that would lead them to increase their numbers in the city?"

you furrow your brow in thought. "i... i'm not sure. i'm not exactly the best informant. outside of what i see at the newspaper stands, there's not much i can go by."

diluc falls silent, expression mimicking yours. "each time you go into the market, could you purchase a newspaper?"

you stare at him, baffled by his question.

"diluc," you begin slowly, as if he doesn't understand. "those are expensive." printing is not yet widespread to teyvat, with most effort going into the publication of books and kamera photography. spending several hundred mora on the weekly copy of the teyvat times is a luxury that someone like you can't afford. most other farmers you had the (unfortunate) pleasure of knowing are in the same boat, with just enough money to live, yet not enough to indulge in disposable newspaper. however, diluc seems to care little about such things.

"i'll pay for it," he says and you narrow your eyes at him. you don't dare challenge him.

of course this random enemy of the fatui has enough money to pay for newspapers. of course! its only convenient that he can just afford whatever he wants. its infuriating. of course he can pay. he always does. he pays for his dumb expensive grape juice, he always offers to pay the bills, he indulges in everything that you have to work so, so hard for while giving absolutely no indicator as to who exactly diluc is.

hell, you don't even know his last name, but you're sure as hell not about to ask. to ask would show an indicator of wanting to get close and you've already overshared with the redhead enough. you bite back a sigh of frustration as he balances on one leg, setting his crutches to the side and begins to help you unpack the groceries.

diluc is only trying to help, you remind yourself. he wants to make life easier for you because you're helping him. yet, you want to scream and cry at him for it. diluc shouldn't be so diligent and determined all of the time. he should be weak, he should be human, but he's not. he's not human to you, not even close.

he's just this stranger who you help to avoid a guilty conscience. it irks you that he's helping you because you're not helping him out of goodwill. you're only helping him so you don't hate yourself later.

you let out a nearly silent sigh, before resting the palms of your hands on the kitchen counter, splaying your fingers out.

"diluc, go sit down," you state exasperatedly.

you need to rest, you want to say, but your concerns remain unspoken. you're not concerned over him, you tell yourself.

"no," diluc states. you press your lips into a tight line as he turns to put a bag of flour in the pantry. yet, even you are smart enough to know this is a fight you cannot win.

you let him stay, you let him pay, you let him win. it eats away at your autonomy and, even though your brain screams at you to hate him for it, a small part of you is thankful for his assistance and company. you feel the familiar rush of angry tears beginning to well up behind your eyes, yet you swallow the lump in your throat.

you realize now why diluc bothers you so much. you realize why you completely and utterly loathe him. you realize why he's nothing but trouble and how you can't wait for him to finally, finally leave.

you hate diluc because he reminds you of what you truly are: vulnerable.

---

you check the kitchen. nothing. you check the bathroom. nothing. you check the living room. nothing. you check your bedroom. nothing. you check the supply closet. nothing.

which leaves one place left unchecked: diluc's room.

in typical "i'm the owner of this house" fashion, you knock lightly on his ajar door and, without waiting for a response, swing open the door. at this point, diluc is unsurprised and you can see his brow furrow slightly in annoyance as he looks up from his book.

good, you think to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

"where is eos?" you ask, eyes scanning around the room. you crouch down to glance underneath the bed diluc is resting in.

"what?" diluc asks, confused. "what is eos?"

you stand up straight, staring at diluc with a nearly aghast expression. you take it back. the dumb, well-read redhead isn't smart.

"the dog," you say, as if the information is obvious (and it is!).

"oh," diluc says. "i was unaware it had a name."

"he has a name. it's eos. it's written on his collar and everything," you state, voice growing distant as you look over the room. determining that he very clearly isn't here (thank archons. you don't know what you would've done if your own dog picked diluc over you.), you narrow your eyes at diluc, staring daggers at him.

"do you know where he is or not?" you ask.

"he," diluc begins pointedly, as if trying to rectify for his earlier mistake. "appeared to need to... relieve himself outside, so i let him out when i was up earlier."

you bite back a groan. the weather today was great, which meant your dog surely wasn't coming back any time soon.

"you can't just let him out," you begin exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down the side of your face. "he likes to bother the chicken coop."

"he had to use the bathroom. in case it is not obvious, i am not quite in a condition to walk him out there," diluc states. you flutter your eyes closed in frustration, exhaling deeply.

don't bicker with him, you tell yourself. it's not worth it. you'll just sound like an old married couple.

wait, what? your eyes shoot open at your thoughts and diluc looks taken aback at your sudden wide eyes and startled expression. old married couple? you ask yourself, wondering what the hell your brain was thinking to make that thought pop into your head.

"whatever," you huff, shaking your head slightly to clear the weird thoughts out of your head. "sorry for bothering you. don't let the dog out again. i'm going to go get him."

you turn to leave, but the clearing of diluc's throat has you stopping in your tracks. you turn to look at him, tilting your head questioningly.

"'the dog'?" diluc quotes your words. the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. "he has a name. it's eos."

diluc laughs at his own joke. it's soft and reserved and beautif-

"yup," you say, unamused, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the way his smile leaves his face. without leaving room for any more conversation, you walk out the room and close the door softly behind you.

idiot, you think to yourself, yet for once, the thought isn't directed at diluc. whatever. no time to dwell. you had a dog to go fish out of the chicken coop before he started barking angrily at the chicken eggs. last time eos had gotten loose in the chicken coop, the chickens were uninjured, but eos' ego was not. they had gifted him with a scratch of their claws, unamused by his barking antics.

you have your dog. you have your farm. you don't need diluc and you certainly don't need the way he nearly giggles at his own little jokes. yet, for some reason, it's all you can think of as you walk to the chicken coop.

"idiot," you mutter to yourself. "should've left him out in the rain."

after all, if you had left him out in the rain twenty-one days ago, you wouldn't be trying to furiously scrub the gentle upward curve of his lips out of your head, nor wishing he reserved such smiles only for you. archons, you are hopeless.

taglist: (please send in an ask to be added or removed to/from the taglist! name in italics means i am unable to tag you!)

@quixoticmirror @fishyfish-y @just-some-stars @karlitaburrito @lotsoffandomstoimagine @zhowongli @yakus-yakult @beanst0ck @nonniechan @justyoureverydayqueer @spice365 @lanicoco-12 @seokflwr @yamssoggyfries @callums-keith @gladly-olus @ferzia @just-some-stars

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact #//ataraxia #axia's writing

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alirhi · 3 years

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10 Sebastian roles as boyfriends

Because... I'm bored and I feel like it. 😂 Probably some spoilers for, like... everything? So yeah... That.

Putting it under here for easy scrolling:

10: Chase Collins

Who doesn't love a goofball? In the first half of the movie, Chase is basically perfect. He's sweet, funny, not all caught up in his ego, and actually pays attention to what the girls around him are saying, not just to what he wants to hear. If not for the whole... it was all an act to get close to Caleb and try to steal his magic thing, Chase would actually be a damn good high school boyfriend. He's adorable and would be a fun date, but he's also only 18 so best not to start making long-term plans lol. Also, y'know... the whole psycho revenge/power grab thing.

9 Jack Benjamin

Y'all. Y'all. Words cannot describe how much I love Jack. Pretty sure I've made this clear. As a person/character in general, he's absolutely in my Top 3 - not just of Sebastian's characters, but any character ever. ❤ But as a boyfriend? Boy's got baggage. It's what makes me so protective of him, but seeing as how he's trapped in the closet thanks to his overbearing homophobic family and the insane expectations heaped on him, as the show left him, he can't handle an honest relationship. He's too easily influenced by all the wrong people, poor babe.

8 Chris (Destroyer)

On paper, undercover cop sounds cool and exciting, but even if you ignore the fact that he, y'know, dies... Chris got in too deep and kinda lost the mission, so to speak. Best case scenario, you're his sexy partner and in on it all with him and end up on the lam for the rest of your lives. Worst case, this man lies for a living, so can you even trust him? And... yeah. The whole dead thing. Chris is hot af but getting involved with him is a recipe for disaster.

7 Ben

Min and Hathor have mercy, I love Ben! He's smart, he's snarky, he's caring and loyal... he's an absolute disaster. He's another one who seems allergic to honesty, until his lying and avoiding nearly kill his girlfriend. Not exactly relationship goals lol. Everything before totally was, though! Ben's adorable, and I love how he stayed up all night to protect his girlfriend (from a ghost/demon thing... with a baseball bat. I said he was smart, not perfect, okay? XD points for effort lol)

6 Mickey Henry

I. LOVE. MICKEY. Oml I love Mickey. He's a spazz and - even more so than Ben - an absolute disaster of a human being, but I love him. Pros for dating Mickey Henry: he's fun, he's carefree, he'll cook for you even though he's kinda bad at it lol, he loves his son and wants to be a good dad, he wants his partner to be happy and to love life as much as he does. Cons, and the reason he's not higher on the list: He's a pushover; easily influenced by the toxic people in his life, and it gets him into a lot of trouble. Being easily influenced by toxic dumpster fire of a human being Chloe almost lost him the partial custody of his son that he barely even had. He's an absolute sweetheart, but he's a complete man-child, and dating him would often feel more like raising him.

5 Frank "Suffer Buddy"

Come on! You know he and Mickey had to be back-to-back - they're practically the same character! 😂 Frank is Mickey... slightly more grown up. He's still a disaster, but he's respectful of boundaries, he's caring, he's funny in a dry, witty way that I just adore, and hoo lordy that man is a giver! 🥴🥵 Honestly, if he didn't smoke and didn't ditch Daphne in the middle of a party hours away from everything familiar to her surrounded by strangers to go do drugs, I'd call Frank perfect. He listened, he respected her wishes, he tried to keep some distance between them when he found out she'd gone on a date with his best friend (it failed utterly and brought us to the "damn that man's good with his mouth" portion of the movie lmao but still)... I don't have a whole lot of experience with men who actually give a shit, okay? So Frank is like a goddamn unicorn to me lmao. But that drug thing... That keeps him at the bottom of the Top 5 for me. Sorry, bb

4 Bucky

I can already hear everyone on here raging at me for placing Bucky so low on this list, but hear me out: I love this man. I love all four iterations of this man. Flirty 40s Bucky was a doll (fun date, not commitment material). Post-POW camp 40s Bucky had a fire to him that set me on fire. The Winter Soldier can choke me any damn day. Unf. And TFATWS Bucky... Oh, lady above, 2023 Bucky is a gem! He's sweet, snarky, and broken. He feels utterly, wretchedly alone in the world, and everyone around him, including his only friend, is telling him to "man up" and "make amends" for shit that was never his fault to begin with, rather than helping him come to terms with all that he's suffered and all that he's survived. Bucky needs and deserves love. A relationship with him would be so solid, if he found the right person... But it would take a fuck ton of work. He needs someone strong, patient, and more stubborn than he is to prod him until he finds a better therapist and actually opens up, and to keep him on track because even good therapy comes with homework. He does have to "do the work," Sam was right about that much, but he was way off base with what that "work" is. Bucky needs help and understanding, and he would be an amazing boyfriend... if he found someone with the strength to help him weather his nightmares and flashbacks, and help pull him out of this PTSD pit he's been in since 1943.

3 Chris Beck

Big brains turn me on, okay? 😂This man is an astronaut and a surgeon! Yes, please! Come here, you sexy genius! He's smart, he's funny - pretty sure Sebastian is incapable of playing anyone who's not delightfully snarky lol. He's pragmatic when he needs to be but there's also nothing he wouldn't do or risk for the ones he loves. This man is husband material and I cannot be convinced otherwise! So why isn't he #1? Cuz of the whole... spending years in space, thing. Super cool job and I'd be his biggest fan on the ground, but god damn, I would miss him while he's away!

2 TJ Hammond

Look, I'm gender fluid and he's a little bit bi 😂😂😂 Let me have my fantasy, okay? TJ's definitely got a lot of shit to work through, but love brings out the best in him. Before that fucking closeted shitbag broke his heart and stomped on it for good measure, TJ was clean and sober for months, he was happy, he was playing piano again, he was pulling himself together. Not only would he be an amazing boyfriend, but his partner would get the extra joy of getting to watch their love and devotion to him be the thing that saves this beautiful man's life. It's not healthy overall to tie your self worth and will to live to a relationship, but if he found the right person who would be there for him through all of life's shit and stick it out, I think he'd be okay. Even after his lowest point and without the support of his family, TJ still had a dream and he still chased it. He's not just the sweetest person to ever grace our screens, but he's ambitious and business-savvy, too. Keep him off drugs and watch this man take over the world, I'm telling you!

So why is TJ only #2? Well, besides the fact that he's like 99% gay and I have no bits he'd be interested in lmao, there's also the fact that this guy owns my heart:

1 Will Franklyn

And not just because we get to see him wet and mostly naked lol. Will is fucking perfect. I would die for this man... because he's already shown that he would die for his love. He almost fucking did, and they weren't even together yet! He's smart and very aware, he's a writer so we'd get to bond/geek out over books together, he's not all full of himself (self-deprecating humor ftw!) and he's willing to help a total stranger despite actual mortal peril, just because it's the right thing to do. Fierce, intelligent, sassy, strong-willed, and a flawless moral compass? YESYESYESYESYES! Forget boyfriend - let me MARRY this man! 😍🥰

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mellie1409 · 3 years

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Moving in with the boys

As the playlist and name of the album had been decided, there was only one thing left to do: start practicing all the dances and performances before recording them.

As having two managers and having separated training schedules would be too complicated it had been decided that you would join the boys manager while the agency looked for a new manager for you solo debut the year after.

Sejin was very sweet and understanding with you as you were the only girl and his first decision was having you move in with the boys as you, after all, were a member of BTS.

This was all communicated to you the last day of training as a trainee. The others trainee only new you would debut, but you weren't allowed to tell them in which group or anything about the debut concept. After 10 hours of training they all gave you a hug and you left to look for Sejin's van. There were no party's thrown or any beautiful words said. But you were okay with it, you knew yourself it wasn't easy to see others debut as you stayed behind for who knew how long. You weren't gonna cry, you told to yourself. But as you walked out of the building in to the van, you eyes got watery. They had been your siblings and moral support for so long. You could only wish them the best.

As you walked in to Sejin's van you put your pet on. Now that you were going to debut as a member of the biggest group in Korea, you had to keep your identity a secret. You weren't allowed to be seen with Sejin until you debuted. For this reason, you seated on one of the back seats were the windows were dark coloured.

As you took a deep breath and shook your tears away, Sejin spoke up: 'We will go get your things at the GFriend dorm and then we will go to your new home: BTS dorm'

You were utterly surprised. 'He wants me to live with BTS? But, but... '

'Yes that's right' he answered. It's then that you realized you were thinking out loud. 'I alredy told the boys about it and they are very excited. They have prepared a room for you. ' he continued.

'But what will people think?' that was actually the only thing you were worried about. It's true that you had only met them a few times, but you could already feel a connection with them and knew living with them wouldn't be a problem at all. But you were worried about the consequences it might have for the boys. If people started shipping you with one of the boys... No, that couldn't happen. You had been told when you signed your trainee contract that you weren't allowed to date anyone in the company and that dating scandals would mean a reduction of your pay. No, you would do your best to not let anything happen.

'It's a new situation for everyone' You snapped back to reality. 'I've talked with Namjoon and he has made the boys very aware of the situation. You don't need to worry about them, they will take care of you as if you were their little sister. And about scandals, as long as you don't give opportunities for it to happen, the company will handle them with no problems. ' Sejin said.

By now you were already close to your old dorms. What Sejin had told you, had defenetly eased your nerves but you were still a bit worried. A voice in your head saying that ARMY wouldn't like you living with them.

As you stepped out of the car, a soft brizzle hit your face, somewhat grounding you from those dark thoughts. 'No, this is my time to shine. I'm not going to let anyone take me down' you thought to yourself.

You stepped into the dorm and the complete silence overwhelmed you. GFriend were still at the company building practicing so you were all alone. It was strange to see the normally so full of cheer and life house so silent and empty now. You were somewhat sad that you didn't have the opportunity to say goodbye to the girls that had adopted you and treated you like one more member. Even though you were excited and happy to debut with BTS, you sometimes thought you would have preferred to debut with GFriend. You were gonna miss them, but at the same time you thought of your bright future. It was a sweet-sour victory for you.

You thought about this as you packed the little clothes you had there. You had left your homecountry with only a few clothes and even though you weren't short in money, the trainee pay wasn't exactly what you would call extensive.

When you were done you took a last look at the dorm that you had so many memories in. The kitchen were you would cook, the living room normally filled with laughter and the room you shared with the other maknaes. You were gonna miss it, but you had a big adventure ahead of you. So you took a deep breath and closed that creaky door one last time before heading back to the car.

Sejin helped you load you luggage onto the back and then you stepped back into the van. It was alredy getting dark and you were tired after such an intense day. As you were driving around Seoul on your way to BTS' dorm, you started to doze off, head filled with wonderful dreams that seemed closer everytime and face full with a sweet smile.

'Y/N, we have arrived. '

You wake up to Sejin opening your door and helping you step out of the van and taking your backpack. As you look around you, you realize it has stopped raining and it's completely dark. You can't see very well around you, but as you inquire in the darkness you start to see the outlining of what you can only call a cute modern apartment building.

You follow Sejin into that building and step into an elevator. As the door open, you heart starts beating faster and faster. You don't know why, but you are nervous. It's true that you had already met them a few times, but this was different, you were about to live with them. See them in their most vulnerable but at the same time most comfy state. You weren't sure if you were prepared to show them as well that side of you.

Right then, you got to the door. Sejin was about to knock on it, when he got a phone call. He quickly answered it and started to leave, turning around to sign you a knocking motion before finally leaving with the elevator ding

You turned around shocked and hesitantly raised your hand to knock. Before you could even give a second knock, the door flew open, two goofy and fun faces apearing through the opening to greet you, together with the smell of meat being grilled.

'Y/N!!! You're finally here!! ' Taehyung says while Jungkook jumps on his back, unable to contain his excitement. But before you can even answer Jimin appears out of nowhere and takes your luggage.

'C'mon Y/N! I'll show you your room! ' he says while starting to run through a corridor to the right.

'No! I want to! ' says Jungkook while jumping off Taehyung's back and chasing Jimin.

You stare at them startled but happy to see they are as cute in real life as in the Run episodes you had once watched and rewatched. Taehyung looks at you with his boxy smile and takes you by the wrist guiding you into the corridor Jungkook and Jimin had once disappeared.

You pass through some closed doors as well as some open ones. You get to peek into one of the rooms and you see a recording studio-like room with white walls and tons of music related stuff. Before you can ask yourself who works there you have already arived where the other two maknaes are.

A beautiful little room at the end of the corridor. It has broken-white walls and a huge window with open curtains. As you look around you start to discover furniture. A double bed in the middle of the right wall, a white wardrobe in the middle of the left wall, a desk in front of the window and a bed side table between the bed and the wall. You can see that a lot of effort has been put in this simple but cozy room, with even a rugmat on the floor in front of the bed.

'Wow, this is just... ' you say as you tear up. You were worried you would feel like a stranger, but this actually felt like home. Them being some welcoming made you emotional and you couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

'Don't you... Don't you like it?' Jungkook asks timidly. You look at the looks on their faces and realize how worried they are.

'No, oh god, I love it. It's just perfect. ' you answer quickly. They give each other relieved glances and as you wipe away the tears that keep falling, Namjoon and J-Hope walk in.

'Boys, what did I tell you? She has just arrived and you have already made her cry? You are unbelievable.' the leader speaks.

The three maknaes at once start running out of the room with cheeky laughters while J-Hope throws a slipper at them in a try to "teach them a lesson".

This whole action makes you laugh and forget about all your worries. This is perfect, this is your new home and those are your new roommates. 'This is gonna be fun' you think to yourself.

After having retrieved his slipper, J-Hope takes a look at you and starts explaining. 'This was our old game room were we would play computer games and just chill on our free days. We did our best to clean it and prepare it for you. We hope you like it. ' he says while smiling.

'We hope you will feel comfortable and at home and please feel free to tell us if any-' Grrrrrr

'Oh no, this can't be happening, did you really just interrupt Namjoon with a rumbling stomach?' you think.

'Woah, someone's hungry! ' J-Hope says with a big smile on his face. 'Jin and Suga are nearly done cooking. '

'Why don't you take a shower and come join us for dinner after? ' Namjoon suggests.

'That would be great, thank you' you agree with a smile.

"Great! Let me show you your private bathroom then" he says while leading the way.

The shower was great, you felt refreshed and confortable in the clean clothes that you put on. And you used the shower time to think and absorb everything that had happened in the last few hours.

As you walked out of you room you guided youself to the living room through the smell of food. You walked into a huge room that combined a kitchen with the dining and living room all in one. As you looked around, you saw everyone was there. Suga finishing the cooking while Jin scolded Namjoon for trying to cut the strawberries for dessert with a butter knife. J-Hope was walking around with a spoon full of food trying to get Jungkook to try out (an experiment he had done) and Jimin and Taehyung were setting the table in a competition to try to make it as beautiful as possible.

Looking at this scene made your heart jump in happiness, you were lucky enough to be able to share one year of your life with this amazing human beings and you were going to make the most out of it, after all, you were the 8th member of BTS. And with those happy thoughts you walked in to join the jolly chaos that was BTS' living room.

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thesickpanda · 4 years

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Where is My Mind?

Stress can make you feel like you're going crazy.

I cannot emphasize this enough. Long-term, persistent and intense stress well above your baseline levels can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Life is stressful and when I think back to when the intense periods of stress started in mine it gets a bit ridiculous because I grew up in a domestically violent household with severely mentally ill parents in a country on the brink of civil war with one of the highest crime rates in the world. So I have been kinda stressed for a very long time. However, in more recent months, the level of acute stress I've been experiencing has made me feel disconnected from reality. I've experienced derealisation a number of times due to Lyrica withdrawal and accidental cannabis highs. But this one is different. The depersonalisation I’ve been experiencing is from pure, unrelenting stress. I really did question my sanity more than once.

In July, I saw my psychologist to describe this feeling to her. She very helpfully drew a diagram which explained the neuroscience of why we feel this way when we've experienced high levels of stress for a long time. It was really helpful to see that because it reassured me that what I was feeling was, as much as this can be said, "normal", given the amount of strain I was under. But the stress hasn’t let up since then and I have been well above my baseline for much too long.

Long story short, I haven't really recovered since my family visited me last year. 2018 was a year from hell. 2019 hasn’t been much better but for different reasons. Basically, the hardships I’ve endured being the leader of a non-profit all these years reached critical mass and finally, at long last, broke me. After 8 years of pouring all my heart, soul and every last spoon I had into it, I quit last month…and to very little fanfare at that. 3 people turned up for our final meeting, and only because we needed to hand them the organization’s physical assets. We had a little unplanned dinner out and that was that.

I'm grateful to the handful of people who have reassured me they will continue its legacy beyond my departure, genuinely I am, but overall I think I stayed in that position at least a year longer than I should have. I feel incredibly jaded and cynical about the whole thing.

And I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but screw Sydney’s activists. The vast majority of them can barely call themselves that. I have never been in such an apathetic, vain, self-centered and lazy city when it comes to political activism. This migrant has had enough of trying to get Australians to care about their own issues. (And yeah, the people I handed the non-profit over to? Also migrants).

It is telling that the final meeting was also the night before we moved house (because we always had to wrap our own lives around the goings on of that organisation, not the other way around, which is another major reason we quit). So after an hour and a half’s drive into the city, we had to get home late to get up early the next day to start that fun process.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Before we ever got to moving day, we first had to find a house. If you haven’t done it before, let me tell you, the process of house hunting on a tight budget in a hostile market is disgustingly stressful.

We were looking from June. The property market in Sydney is unbelievably expensive and even though it experienced a so-called "correction" for a year, (meaning that house prices stabilized instead of continuing to rise), that ended just as we entered into the property hunt. I am extremely grateful that we got the house we did at the price we did, but my God, getting to that point nearly killed me. I keep explaining to people that it felt as if my partner and I ran full blast over broken glass to the edge of a dock, leapt several metres and grabbed onto the barnacles of a departing ship by our fingernails. I really do think we may have been among the last millennials that got on that “property” ship, and it was only because, at long last, we had help from my partner's extremely wealthy parents. After shaming us for a decade for not being able to afford impossible house prices (“ok boomer…”), he finally relented and helped us out. Again, I'm grateful, but also disgusted that this is the world we live in. Housing should be a human right and we shouldn't have this intergenerational greed and infighting over something so basic. Forgive my inner socialist.

Finding the house was only the first part of the equation; moving into it was the next step.

The moving process was incredibly arduous. At the time we should have been packing up the house, my partner's work decided to send him interstate for business on multiple occasions. By the time moving day came round, we were not ready and we couldn't afford to pay removalists. We enlisted the help of two amazing friends and Joe's brother-in-law. Again, super grateful that I had their help, but my God, was it intense. It took the better part of four days to move everything. We had to pay off the mortgage and the rent for the previous place for a two-week period, putting considerable strain on our savings. At the same time, we needed to get some work done in the new house so that was being done while we were trying to sort out the old house. The rental laws in this country are a joke and are widely considered to be abusive to renters, including by many of my American friends who now live here. I doubt we will ever see our bond returned, even though we were treated like crap living there for three years in a house that was not sealed, had no insulation or air conditioning, leaked and was draughty, didn't have proper doors et cetera et cetera. I mean, we had maggots falling from the ceiling… twice. The place was rotting and rotten but because my partner couldn't completely colour match the paint when he tried to cover up what was absolutely reasonable wear and tear on one of the walls, I'm sure we will lose all that. As usual, the landlord will claim it costs our entire $1800 bond to get a $50 an hour painter in to patch up one wall. They always do this. In your contract it says reasonable wear and tear are a few knocks and dings on the wall and that the tenant is not expected to pay for that. In reality, in every rental we have ever lived in, the landlord has refused to refund the bond when there’s been even the slightest bit of damage, even if we had a record of being model tenants. It was almost comical how hard my partner was trying in the middle of the move to cover up a few scrapes on the walls from moving furniture in and out. It all came to nothing because for love nor money he couldn't find the correct match of paint. And then of course he had to mow the entire grounds of the last rental when he really wanted to be using his weekends to sort out and unpack the new house. Good God, it was awful.

My partner and I barely spent any quality time together during this period and he was extremely stressed out and distant from me. I totally understand why but the whole thing flared every single one of my conditions and I needed him as my carer. But he couldn’t really do that, as he was trying to do literally everything else. Moving house is hard on a healthy body, never mind one with two chronic pain disorders, irritable bowel and generalised anxiety disorder. And then (because of course), a family member of mine (one of the abusers) picked that moment in time to start harassing me, thereby triggering my PTSD which led to a nervous breakdown which led to intense depersonalisation, insomnia and nausea. Everyone and everything seemed unfamiliar to me, even my partner. I started to doubt whether or not I loved myself or anyone else anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly disconnected from the world. I began to lie awake at night terrified that I was fading away, that I could no longer feel anything other than fear. All the time, people kept saying, “congratulations on the new house! You must be so excited!” But all I could feel was sickness and dread.

Two weeks after moving in, I had to drop my Lyrica one more time. This drop has been very difficult. All of the stress has led to some dark thoughts in the back of my mind which of course Lyrica then co-opts and exaggerates. I have had a more than a few moments of suicidal ideation. Everything in my life on paper has improved. We are now homeowners, we live in a beautiful part of the world, we've made some new friends lately, things are settling down et cetera et cetera. But I feel like I'm in shell shock after this year and last year. I haven't even had time to process that I am no longer the president of the not-for-profit I founded and formulated an identity around. I just haven't had the time to process literally anything. I've been more exhausted that I have ever felt. Oh, I'm sure everyone will say, “this too shall pass”. But I do not believe that bullshit. Yes, this individual stressor will pass but more horror will come and I know that makes me sound super negative but I just cannot remember a period of time when things were calm for… I can't remember. I just feel like I've been in a hurricane forever.

So yeah, I'm writing this post while experiencing Lyrica withdrawal which makes me depressed and anxious. It's probably colouring my vision on everything. Fine. But I have been going through Lyrica withdrawal for two years, so it’s kinda become my normal. My final drop is on 26 December after which I will experience two more months of withdrawal and hopefully, after that, some semblance of sanity again. In the midst of all this I have to study for my citizenship test which is at the end of this month. I don't get any government support for my disability until I have been a citizen of this country for eight years, and as I’d like to survive my 40s, I need to get citizenship now. But yeah… studying an eighty-page textbook with an addled brain is just so much fun.

Of course, during this time we haven’t have Internet because we had to disconnect the old place and it takes an age for it to get reconnected at the new place. We only recently acquired it at the new house. So there are piles of emails waiting for me. Many of them are from friends and I'm glad for that. But there is also a lot of life admin I now need to do. I have to change my address on every account I hold, which is really tedious. We have also had to organise time with family. Because my partner's family helped us get this house, we feel especially obliged to go to every single one of the family events, of which there are many. He comes from a big Catholic family so every relative who comes to visit, every party that's being held, every birthday, wedding, funeral and religious holiday, we’re now expect to attend. We have several in the next few weekends, taking up most of the time we *needed* to be unpacking the house. We’re obligated now.

In all this negativity, though, I want to say that I am genuinely grateful to be one of the lucky ones to have a house. I know it sounds like I am whining about a good thing. It's not that I'm not glad for this (I know how ridiculously privileged we are). I just haven't been able to really feel it yet. I think that regardless of what happened this year, I’d be feeling this way. Something broke in me last year and just hasn't really come back. I feel shattered.

And all my chronic pain conditions have been wearing me down too. I found out this year that the operation that cost me and my friends so much money (to remove that nerve in my foot) had failed. Or rather, the surgeon had completely botched it up. I have PTSD from that surgery. Just the thought of going back to have it done again fills me with heart racing terror and cold sweats. I’ve had numerous surgeries before that one and been fine, but the reaction I had from the anesthetic last time was so severe, and the recovery so long, that I genuinely fear it more than almost anything else. And yet I need to go in for that nightmare all over again in 2020. I'm going to be asked to trust a different surgeon to do the same so-called “simple operation” to restore some functionality to my left foot. My right knee is probably also going to need surgery since it has been resistant to any physiotherapy rehabilitation. And on top of all this, my poor partner's health has also taken a hit this year from the stress which is worrying me. Because I can always do with some more worry…

But hey! This too shall pass! You should be happy! Life is great now! Yay yay yay!

Fuck, sometimes it just want to be allowed to feel shit and to have other people say “okay you can feel shit now. Yes, some good things have happened but right now you need to process the bad and that's okay too”. My lord, if people could just do that for me. If they could just let me feel what the fuck I need to feel.

What I feel is exhausted, scared, freaked out, traumatized, weird, sick, angry, overwhelmed and fed up. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else.

#rant #Fibromylagia #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronic stress #stress #overwhelmed #personal catharsis

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dr-gloom · 5 years

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idk(how :)) if you're still taking the heart-breaking prompts list thing, but if you still are, maybe 23 and logicality?

23. “I was doing fine. Really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.”

woot okay

should I start naming these?

Death of a Bachelor

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Logicality

Warnings/Tags: lots of angst, past relationship, TV shows, it’s a little ridiculous, happy ending, some swearing

Logan had just come here for a nice cup of coffee, a peaceful atmosphere, and free WiFi. He hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew.

Especially not him.

Logan had just sat down when the bell above the door chimed. He wasn’t really curious, but it seemed almost like human reflex to look over when a door opens. And that’s when he saw him.

His smile was just as bright as the day they’d met, and just as carefree. Logan hated how that smile made him feel. He hated that lighter-than-air feeling in his chest, and how his heart beat just a little faster. He hated that he still felt like this, after all this time.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched Patton practically skip up to the counter and tell the barista a joke as he orders his drink. Logan quickly turns back to his laptop, ducking his head. He prays Patton doesn’t notice him, or if he does he doesn’t approach.

“Logan!”

Shit.

Patton is suddenly at Logan’s side, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. Logan wished he’d forgotten that the other did that. “Hi, Patton.”

“It’s been so long! Oh my gosh! How are you doing?”

Logan sighs. “I’ve been fine, Patton.”

“Can I sit with you? It seems like there aren’t any free tables!”

Logan looks around. Sure enough, every table is taken. Logan restrains another sigh. “Of course, Patton.”

Patton smiles and sits across from Logan, almost instantly beginning a conversation. Logan doesn’t really pay attention to what he’s saying, trying his best to tune the other out and get some work done. Occasionally he can’t help but tune in to a sentence or two, though it doesn’t seem like Patton is really saying anything of substance. He always was one for idle chatter.

“And I told her that I was really sorry, but….”

“So I had to leave! I don’t think they were very happy with me…”

“Anyways, that’s what happened, and I’ve just been waiting for…”

“But I guess people get busy! It’s okay.”

Logan sighs and sets his coffee aside. “Patton, would you care to join me somewhere more…private?”

Patton’s face brightened, though there was an undercurrent of nervousness that Logan couldn’t make sense of. He stood and packed his laptop into his satchel, then led Patton out of the coffee shop. For once, Patton didn’t try to make small talk while they walked, and Logan was left to his thoughts.

He’d met Patton nearly a year ago. His friend Roman had convinced him to try out for The Bachelorette (despite being gay; Roman thought it’d be funny to see his gay friend on TV trying to woo a woman), and he’d actually made it onto the show. Patton had also made it onto the show, and when they weren’t with the woman (Logan’s forgotten her name) they were with each other.

Logan hadn’t liked him at first. In fact, he didn’t like anyone on the show, but Patton had refused to leave him alone. He’d somehow wormed his way into conversation, and Logan had found that his initial opinion of Patton had been wrong. He was intelligent, kind, and completely capable of making sensible jokes.

Before he knew it, he was spending almost every free moment with Patton, even if they were on camera. He began to notice that the two of them were being recorded more often, though he attributed it to the fact that the other bachelors were dwindling. Logan had been watching Patton joke with one of the few remaining bachelors when he realized he was feeling strange. His heart felt like it was fluttering in his chest, and he got a light feeling in his lungs and stomach.

It took him a couple weeks to realize what that feeling was, and when he did he was - dare he say it - scared.

Little did he know Patton was going through a similar crisis in the middle of his date with the bachelorette. He was the guy everyone was betting on since he seemed to click with her so well, and he did like her, but he was just realizing that he liked Logan more. And well, Patton being Patton, that didn’t stay secret for very long.

It had been one of the rare instances where the camera had left them alone, and the two were taking full advantage of the situation to talk about deeper things. They’d been talking on the couch with a movie on in the background, not paying attention to it. Logan can’t remember what they’d been talking about, but he remembers the way his brain had record-scratched when Patton blurted, “I really really like you and I don’t really know what to do about it but I don’t wanna win the show anymore because I like you more than Samantha!”

Ah, so that was her name.

Patton’s rushed confession had led to a long discussion and Logan’s own admittance of feelings. They agreed to play their parts on camera, but every private moment was for the two of them. And it worked too, until there were only three men left.

Logan didn’t get the rose.

He’d hoped that wouldn’t be the end, that Patton would throw in the towel and quit the show with him, but Patton just gave him a sad smile and waved goodbye. Logan went home, broken-hearted. He’d convinced himself that Patton had lied about his feelings and had gotten together with Samantha. He had no definitive proof of that, however; he refused to watch the show.

He didn’t want to see the man he loved get together with someone else.

Logan was brought back to the present when the two men finally reached the park. He guided Patton to a bench far from the park’s paths to give them a little privacy, ignoring the slight feelings of nostalgia. Patton sits beside him, kicking his legs and smiling. “Soooooo, how’ve ya been, Lo?”

“It’s Logan.”

Patton’s smile fades. “Oh. Right, sorry.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “And I’ve been perfectly fine, thank you for asking.”

Patton glances at Logan. “So, uhm… I guess you wanna talk about us?”

Logan takes a deep breath. If Patton needs it outlined for him in bold then so be it. “There is no us, Patton. You’ve made that quite clear.”

Patton blinks, confused and hurt. “I- what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Hart. You know, if you truly didn’t hold feelings for me, there was no reason you needed to string me along. I would have understood; we were, after all, on a television show where we were attempting to woo a woman.” His tone comes off a little more scathing than he really meant, but a hurt little part of him convinced him he deserved to finally let it all out, to let Patton know how he hurt him.

“Wh- but I do-”

“Don’t. We agreed that if one of us got voted off, the other would leave as well. After all it would be incredibly distasteful to pretend to date someone else while the other was watching from home, wouldn’t you say?”

Patton winces. “I-I’m sorry, Lo, I was trying to-”

“It’s Logan. My name is Logan. Only my friends get to call me Lo, or L, or any other asinine nickname they please, and you are no friend of mine. I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back into my life without regard like you didn’t break my heart. I want you to leave. Leave me alone, and leave my life, like you intended to a year ago. Go back to Susan.”

“…Samantha.”

“Whatever.”

Patton sniffles and wipes his eyes, nodding and standing up. “Okay, Lo… I’m sorry.” He walks away, leaving Logan alone on the bench.

Over the next few days, something about the encounter keeps scratching at Logan’s brain. For reasons he can’t fathom he finds himself searching for their season and bringing up the last couple of episodes. He watched the episode where Samantha chose Patton and the other male, and Logan was left rose-less. He watched as Patton gave a pained smile and waved goodbye, as the emotions he’d thought he’d hidden well were written across his face, and then that was it.

He watched the next episode, watched as Patton explained that he’d met someone on the show that he liked, but it wasn’t Samantha. He watched Patton talk about this amazing guy who was funny and smart and kind in his own special way, how he made Patton feel like he was floating on air. He watched as he told the audience that he’d planned to leave the show with this guy but the night before he got kicked off he got the news that his grandma was in the hospital. He explained that he needed the money from being on the show to help pay the bill, and that if this guy still wanted to be with him, to please call him tomorrow night. The producer even let the TV guys put Patton’s number on the screen. And then….

“I love you so much, Lo. Please call me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

“Hello?”

Logan’s heart squeezed at the utterly dejected tone on the other end of the line. “Ah, Patton, I-”

“Wait, Logan? How’d you get my number?”

“I…. Finally watched the last episode. It was on the screen.”

“Oh…”

“Yes. I… I need to apologize. I was being incredibly selfish when I said all those things at the park, and I hadn’t given you a chance to explain your end. I was hurt, but that is no excuse for my behavior. I had no idea about any of that, and if I had, I would not have kept you waiting for a year. I am terribly sorry.”

There’s a brief pause where Logan can hear the faint static over the line and his heart lodges itself into his throat. A brief moment where his brain seems to work at maximum speed to make him paranoid and anxious.

And then Patton laughs.

It’s the same, full, joyful sound Logan remembers, and his anxious and fearful mood is fighting with the utterly in love one blooming in his chest at the sound. They then lose out to his confusion and he gathers the courage to speak up. “…Patton? Is everything alright?”

He giggles. “I just- you- I tried to- when we were having coffee-” More giggling. “I guess you still kinda zone out when I talk too long, huh?”

Logan’s face flushed as he recalled what he could remember of the conversation and connected the dots. “Wh- I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Lo.” Logan can hear the smile in his voice, “You can make it up to me. Let’s say… 6:30, that little diner on Watt?”

Logan smiles, sitting in his armchair. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great, I’ll see you then!”

Patton hung up, and Logan spent the rest of the afternoon fretting over what to wear and what to say.

He even showed up half an hour early, but Patton showed how well he knew Logan because he was there waiting.

And this time, Logan got the rose.

A/N: oh my god I’m so sorry this turned out waaaaayyyyy longer than i intended. disclaimer; ive never seen the bachelor or the bachelorette, so im basing this off of like, the few gifs/clips ive seen through tumblr and shit. hope you like!

uhhhhhhhh i guess i should start tagging these???

@hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2

#sanders sides #sanders sides drabble #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality

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luxazystore-blog · 4 years

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riotgrlpossum · 7 years

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*hands you motivation in a jar and pokes you to go write* Your writing is amazing and I can't wait to read more! I don't really know what prompts you're looking for but I'm always a sucker for Murphy siblings content :D Or dancing!Connor

this was going to be fluffy and then it like ultra was not. upside, i might continue it though and give it a happy ending later. also there’s dancing connor and murphy siblings soooo

(An Attempt To) Grab A Scoop

Connor Murphy x Evan Hansen (implied/set up), Evan Hansen & Zoe Murphy being platonic best friends

Rating: T (swearing, angst)

Word Count: 1725

In the moments before he was murdered by Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen took a minute to exam all the mistakes that had lead him to this point.

He could blame Zoe Murphy, for inviting him out with her after the Jazz Band concert. He’d had to interview Zoe after the concert for the school newspaper, and she’d invited him out for celebratory ice cream. He could blame Jared Kleinman, for being the reason he was at the Jazz Band concert in the first place. Evan wasn’t technically a reporter for the school newspaper, he wrote think pieces and occasionally helped out on the advice column. Jared was supposed to report on the Jazz Band concert, but he’d gotten sick and forced Evan to go. He could blame Alana Beck, for convincing him to join the school newspaper in the first place. He’d made the mistake of saying how his mom wanted him to join an extracurricular around Alana. She’d all but dragged him to the English classroom that served as the newspaper headquarters. He could blame his therapist, for telling his mom that he needed to join an extracurricular. He could blame his mom, for making him go to therapy.

Or, he could blame himself, for being such a colossal fuck up that he worried his poor mother to the point that she needed to pay for him to go to therapy, even though she already was tight on money because she had to raise him all on her own, because his dad had left because Evan was just too much of burden, so really, this whole thing was Evan’s fault, and he’d been leading up to being killed by Connor Murphy since the day he was born.

After she’d convinced Evan to get ice cream with her, Zoe had confessed that she’d needed to pick up her brother first. Connor had apparently texted her, saying he’d been working late and needed a ride. Zoe assured Evan that it wouldn’t be a big deal, and that she would just drop him off at their house, he didn’t have to actually come out with them, and please Evan, don’t let my brother ruin this, and Evan thought for a second that maybe, perfect, shining, talented Zoe Murphy was almost as lonely as he was; but then when they’d pulled into the parking lot, she’d gotten a phone call from her mother and sighed, mumbling that this would take a while, and will you please just run in and grab Connor?

Evan, who had the inability to say no, nodded slightly and with shaking legs, exited Zoe’s tiny yellow bug, facing the frigid November air. He glanced across the dark parking lot to lay eyes on the building where Connor worked.

“Ms. Marya’s Dance Academy.”

Of all the places Evan had expected Connor to work, a dance studio had not even entered the realm of possibility. He walked slowly towards the flickering neon light, the outline of a petite girl in a bun and tutu accompanying the pink lettering. He pulled open the door to the studio, ringing a faint bell. There was no one at the reception counter, or in the waiting room. At the end of the hall, he heard the faint sounds of music. Evan walked towards the sounds, careful not to make any noise. He shivered at the sight of all of the darkened dance studios. The whole atmosphere was creepy, like something out of a low budget Youtube horror film. The hallway ended with an open door, leading to a brightly lit studio.

Connor Murphy stood in the studio, dressed in a skin tight black leotard with his hair pulled into a tight bun. Pink pointe shoes wrapped up his legs. Vivaldi blasted from the speakers. His eyes were closed as he gracefully leaped off the ground, landing in an artful crouch that drew far too much attention to his long, graceful legs. Evan’s heart beat at an unexpectedly fast rate. He had never seen Connor so content. He had never realized how nimble and elegant he was. He was beautiful.

Then his eyes snapped open and filled with his ten times his usual rage. He lunged at Evan, slamming him up against the wall, hand pulled back about to punch him.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing here! I’ll fucking kill you!” It was in this moment that Evan realized everything in his life had been leading up to being murdered by Connor, and that it was all his own fault. If only he could be a normal fucking person, he wouldn’t be on the verge of brutalization via a stunningly attractive sociopath.

“CONNOR!” Zoe’s voice bounced off the walls, angry and commanding. “What the fuck!?”

Connor’s grip relaxed slightly, but his voice remained steely. “Who is this kid? Is he with you? Is this your idea of a fucking date night, Zoe. To bring your little boyfriend out to laugh at your crazy faggot brother who works at a dance studio?”

“No!” Zoe said. She sounded offended, and maybe a little bit sad, that her brother would think of her like that. Evan remembered how lonely she looked when she realized he was the only one who’d come to see her after her Jazz Band performance.

“Then what the fuck are you doing here!?”

Zoe was on the verge of tears. “You… you asked me to come pick you up,” She said, her voice shattered and broken.

“I didn’t say you could bring a fucking date!”

“He’s not my boyfriend! He’s my friend! I’m allowed to have friends, Connor! Maybe you’d be more used to it if you didn’t scare them all off!”

Connor released Evan. “Fuck you,” He said to Zoe, though his voice lacked its usual vitriol. Evan scurried away from Connor. He met Zoe in the doorway. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were glassy.

“I can take you home if you want,” She said, defeated.

“No!” Evan said, even though all he wanted to do was go home. “We’re getting ice cream! To celebrate your performance!”

Connor met up with them, a bag slung over his shoulder and a towel around his neck. His hair was down and his arms were crossed. He stared sullenly at his shoes, which were now heavy combat boots. “What performance?” He asked.

Zoe shoved her hands in her pockets. “I had a Jazz Band concert tonight…” She said, trying to sound casual. Connor stopped. He looked up, something undefinable in his eyes.

“Oh,” He said. “What… what did Larry and Cynthia think?”

Zoe looked down. “They weren’t there.”

“Oh… Zoe I -”

“You don’t have to pretend you care, Connor. You weren’t there either.”

Sadness flickered across Connor’s profile, but before it could take any sort of hold, he shut his eyes and let his face harden.

The three of them walked back to Zoe’s car in silence. Evan wondered if everyone else could hear his heart beating. He wished Zoe hadn’t parked so far away from the studio. It felt like the trek to her bug would take hours.

Once they reached the car, Zoe silently slid into the front seat, slamming the door shut. Evan reached for the passenger seat door handle, but Connor grabbed his elbow and yanked it away, twisting Evan so that the two of them were uncomfortably close. Through the cold air, Evan could feel Connor’s body radiate heat.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, spitting the words out like they were made of acid.

“Wha… um… what?”

“I’m sorry for earlier. I was… I just… I’m not going to fucking say it again, Hansen.”

“H-How… you um… y-you know m-my name?”

Connor’s scowl deepened. “Jesus Christ. Look, let’s just be done with this conversation. It is way too fucking cold out here for all of your… just… for you.”

He released Evan, causing him to stumble back a bit. He needed to take a second to get his bearings. Connor had apologized. Connor knew his name. Connor’s eyes were two different colors.

“And… Hansen?” Connor said, with his hand on the car door. His voice was quiet and bitter. “Thank you. For showing up. For her.”

Evan opened his mouth to say something, but Connor quickly climbed in the car. Evan followed suit.

The silence during the car ride to the Murphy house was heavy. Zoe pulled up in front of their obnoxiously large estate, and Connor climbed out wordlessly, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I… Ice c-cream?” Evan asked weakly once he had gone. Zoe stared at him, and then burst into tears, resting her head on the steering wheel.

“No one… no one came. My mom didn’t even… she called asking why I was out so late… I told them! I told them all over and over again but they were too busy screaming at him or about him to hear.” She sat up, and slammed her hand against the dashboard. “And he’s such a fucking asshole!” Her face was a mess of partially frozen tears and snot. “He asked me… I was just trying to be a good sister! I never miss his fucking dance recitals. Even if no one else comes, even when one of them was on the same night as homecoming… I don’t understand.” A fresh stream of tears fell down her face. “Why does he hate me so much?”

There was so much that Evan wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that Connor didn’t hate her. He wanted to tell her what he’d said out in front of the dance studio. He wanted to tell her that she was so kind and so loving and no one in her shitty family deserved her, but instead he just sat there and watched her cry. After far too long of doing nothing, he reached over and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed into his body, sighing at the touch.

“I’m sorry…” She said, her voice garbled from crying. “I’m just gonna… I’m just gonna take you home. We’ll get ice cream soon though, alright? I promise.”

“O-Okay, Zoe,” Evan said, rubbing her back. “Soon.” He stared at the dark and imposing house, wondering what could go on behind its walls that it could produce two utterly different yet completely broken children.

#dear evan hansen #convan #tree bros #connor murphy #zoe murphy #evan hansen #my writing #it's past one am and i was high key procrastinating homework while writing this but i also kind of love it #kath speaks #kath shut up

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