you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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Hey, all! Happy Pride and BLM! I'm going to be auctioning off some copies of Scarlet & Blue with original artwork! All proceeds will be donated to The Bail Project!
The Venoms will both come as a set, so you could get two books! I will also be restocking my store after the auctions are concluded, so if you're unable to get a special art, you can still get a copy.
Stay tuned for more info!
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Can we get uhhhh
Faekonig reacting to liebling dropping the mask being tender or genuinely affectionate after a moment of anxious vulnerability for the first time around him, maybe something from trying to figure out how to manage the store has her break down a little?
The first time Liebling dropped her mask around König? Yeah it would have to be something related to the store or her personal life.
Tw: for a full on panic attack, also squint and you miss it abandonment issues, + shitty exes
You can feel the edges of an anxiety attack creeping in. Your stomach hurts, nausea rolling through you hard enough to make you wonder if your spontaneously caught a stomach bug. You check your phone, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to bruise. Your fingers hover over your keyboard. You type and delete, type and delete. Set your phone down and rock on your heels as you lean against the counter.
It's suddenly too bright and too loud in the shop. You can feel your bones. You can feel your clothes rub against your skin like sand paper. You can feel your heart squeeze painfully behind your rapidly constricting ribs. You check your phone again, look at the time. Not even a minute since you last checked it. You open your phone again, sure you'll type something this time. Text your ex and ask them to fucking stop.
Your fingers- your hands shake, your screen unreadable behind the static buzzing in front of your eyes. You can't breathe. You want to curl up in a ball in a dark corner, and also you want to run, and also you sort of feel like you're actually dying? You set your phone face down on the counter and push the door open to the back of the shop as quickly as you can manage.
You can feel the eyes of your fae customers follow you. Monsters ready to pounce at the slightest sign of weakness. Probably aiming to eat you alive, bones and all. Your whole shop will probably be burgled while you're stuffing yourself into a corner behind one of the inventory shelves in the back. Then you'll be broke and dead. Your two least favorite things to be. At least back here no one can see you pull your knees to your chest and cry.
You heave in a breath, shuddering before your whole chest hiccups on a sob and suddenly the waterworks are flowing. God, everything is so bad. Your shop is overrun with monsters, your friends don't want to hang out with you anymore because you see monsters everywhere you turn, your ex is talking about your nudes on Twitter, you own a whole ass store that you don't want and taxes are so complicated!! You sob into your hands, trying to feel less like your skeleton is trying to shake its way out of your skin, like your heart has completely stopped beating. Hell, you barely can breath enough to sob with how tight your chest is.
There's a soft click as the door to the shop latches, you don't hear it over your absolute despair. You do hear the soft rustle of fabric as König sits down next to you. Feel his hands as they grip your shoulders and pull you out of your fetal position to rest against his chest. He curls around you like a huge protective teddybear, arms and legs bracketing you(small and safe and warm) with his lips pressed to the top of your head. You don't know if he pumps you full of his warm calming magic or if it's the way your ear presses against his chest but his heartbeat fills your perception. Steady, even, slow and calm.
"It's alright Schatz, I have you," he murmurs into your hair. You grip his shirt and press closer, curl up into your ball again and let him squeeze you tight. He keeps repeating it, that you're safe, you're alright, he's here and won't let you go. Everything you've always hated to be told, everything you've never believed. König doesn't lie, can't lie. You think that's why his voice settles you so well.
You hate crying in front of people, hate feeling so powerless, so worthless, around other people. So, why are you letting König comfort you?
He smells good, like dirt and crisp autumn air, like dead leaves and rain. You press your nose against him and breathe. You don't know why it's OK for König to be here, maybe it's because he seems to actually care for you, maybe it's because you can't string together a thought long enough to tell him to leave, but he's helping. You stay like this for a while, wrapped up in König's arms, breathing in his scent, listening to his heartbeat. Just until you don't feel like you're dying.
"Don't tell anyone I cried," you mumble, trying not to wipe your nose on his shirt, probably your least favorite part of crying.
"Your heart rate was too elevated for just tears," he tells you evenly, smart-ass.
"Don't tell anyone that either." You take a quiet moment for yourself, fingers toying with a loose string on König's shirt. "Can we stay like this for a while?" You almost hope he doesn't hear you, pathetic. König nods, you can the way it moves your head a little as well.
"As long as you need Liebling, any time you need. I won't let anything hurt you." Big promises, you think, ignoring the weight it settles in your chest.
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