#i've just been so worthless and i feel like i need a bit of reassurance

[bengiyo]

The Novelist: Playback (2021) Stray Thoughts

We've watched The Novelist, Mood Indigo, and Spring Life. Let's watch these two try to survive long distance.

Yes, please recap for the people who maybe got dragged to a theater for this.

No car BJ? So glad I watched Spring Life already.

Oh, we're getting a bed scene. I forgive them.

Finally, we're talking about insertion and then immediately going to realistic angles. Good job, BL.

I like the way the age gap is playing into how Rio handles his disappointment that Kuzumi frequents sex clubs with his senior.

Oh, I like that we're getting more interactions with Kamuuda.

Rio's sister is always punking him.

"People who are happy have no need for art or literature," is such a cynical read.

Wow, there is a lot of resentment here.

Oh shit, this woman took out his writing hand. That's ironic. I am amused.

Oh my goodness, are we going to make an even younger boy write for him??

Never have I been happier that a boy was illiterate.

No man is immune to Kijima's sexual energy if he turns it on them it seems.

OR WOMAN, IT SEEMS!

Poor Kuzumi. Rio is a hard man to love.

Oh lord he got this boy doing the writing now. Goddammit.

Oh good Kuzumi is here. Please fix this.

I'm so glad Kuzumi caught him with the boy.

HE REALLY SAID THAT HE ACTUALLY HURT HIS HAND THIS TIME!! 🤣

Is this the first time Rio has said his given name?

I love this woman.

Oh, please don't slow zoom onto just Haruhiko to tell me that they're not going to make it.

Oh, I shouldn't have gotten attached to Haruko.

Interesting. I suppose they did foreshadow that Haruko is popular with men.

I'm going wild over the cinematography of Rio's pacing during this fight. Incredible acting from both of them in this long take. Rio can be such a jerk.

Did Rio never recognize the crazy in Haruhiko's eyes? It was the first thing I noticed about him.

Japanese characters are so good at staying still and pretending to sleep when someone looms over them.

I just love Japanese filmmaking. I love trusting actors to act and I love the composition of these shots.

"It's not about being tough. You become tough when someone is important to you." Come through, Haruko!!!

I'm fond of Shizuo.

I'm glad Kuzumi didn't answer his phone and Kijima has to take the leap of going to Tokyo without reassurance.

Kido, you have a daughter. Why ask that question?

Finally a forthright, vulnerable apology and confession from Rio.

I love that these two always kiss like maniacs.

I just love trains.

Families are difficult, but Rio is still loved.

Hands only, baby!!

Y'all awfully vocal for hands only.

The moon is beautiful tonight.

Wow these two have incredible blissed-out faces.

Oh, Rio. I felt that wall breaking. Goddamn Takezai Terunosuke is good.

"Is there really such a life without loneliness?" is a great rebuttal to Rio's cynical view.

Aww, she smiled for her brother.

I'm so glad things ended well for Haruko and Shizuo as well.

Final Verdict: 10, If You Are Male and Queer Please Watch This Franchise Immediately. I'm giving this movie a 10 for the way the entire franchise has been the most satisfying experience I've had in BL in a really long time. I keep begging for realistic approaches to male-male intimacy and relationships, and this franchise hits it constantly. Rio is layers of bullshit hiding an incredible loneliness and sense of worthlessness, and it was so satisfying to see him claw his way out of that because he found someone else who finally connected to him. It's been a really long time since I felt this good about going back to something I skipped over for one reason over another, and I can say confidently that I fully trust @lurkingshan recommendations. If you are gay and feeling a bit displaced in BL, please watch this, and then ping her, me, @harurio @ginnymoonbeam or @waitmyturtles. I promise it will be worth your time.

#the novelist #Pornographer #the novelist: playback #pornographer: playback #Japanese BL #bl series #lgbt film #Ben watches

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi! This is my first ask, I hope I followed all the rules, I'm 🪐, and I just wanted a bit of advice/reassurance

TW: descriptions of religious trauma, physical/emotional abuse, descriptions of trauma symptoms such as gaps in memory

I'm leaving home for university soon and I've wanted to, for a long time, have some space from my family and the church I grew up in. I don't know what I believe, but I'm sure that don't align myself with what I was raised to believe growing up, and I have a lot of trauma and self worth issues due to a lot of the teachings. I don't know what my purpose is or how to think for myself because I've learned to believe that my life is worthless without god, all the achievements I have are not because of me but because of god (hence the imposter syndrome I have) etc etc. The problem is, everyone expects me to go to a branch of the church where my university is. I don't want to and I know it will warrant questions and anger from my family and church community and I don't think I want to face that.

My mum and I have had a rocky relationship throughout my life. she's hit me (and threatened to hit me) multiple times when I was younger as part of "discipline" (and due to my bfrb), as well as invalidate my feelings and forced me to obey her every word because the Bible said I should. Even though now we are on better terms, she's learning to apologise for things she's done in the moment, she doesn't hit me anymore and she actually listens to me sometimes, I can still see the impact my childhood experiences have had on me. I'm horribly afraid of making mistakes, I've internalised her criticising attitude towards me, I cannot articulate my feelings because I'm so used to burying them, I'm a people pleaser and other things. She's also homophobic/transphobic (due to my church's teachings) so I've been hiding my identities from her every since I've learned more about myself. Sometimes I even doubt my own identities because what if she's right? What if I'm just demonic and confused and that I've been indoctrinated? (I know I haven't but still, thoughts like this creep up on me)

[I've had therapy for a few months which has help unravel some of this but I'm leaving school so I need to find a new therapist, which is very daunting]

What I don't know is whether it's justifiable to want to have space from her and not talk to her for at least the first year of uni. I don't know how I'd explain these things to her since I get quite emotional/cry a lot and I don't have the language to articulate exactly what's wrong. Equally, a lot of my childhood memories have been "blocked out" (there are extended periods of my childhood I don't remember) possibly due to trauma so I feel like I won't be able to defend myself.

I also really want to leave this church, but I'm scared. It's all I've ever known for as long as I remember and sometimes I get plagued with guilt/fear of eternal punishment for not believing in what I was taught to believe. I also don't want family members and people from there to try and convince me to return or try to talk my out of it, because I'm scared I'll crumble and go back to that environment where I'm instructed to be a certain person and want particular things from my life. I feel really trapped. It's going to take me a lot of time to untangle everything, and I really want to, but I'm also scared I'll never find a solid community and place to exist outside work and school (especially in times like this). I desperately want to feel okay and not be so afraid of the future and living life for myself, but I understand that it'll take me some time to trust my emotions and ability to make decisions and to learn how to find community again. It feels so big, like it's casting a shadow on my everyday life and I can't enjoy anything anymore.

Any advice on how to navigate these big thoughts would be appreciated!

-🪐

[I hope this wasn't too long!]

Hi 🪐,

I'm happy to assure that your ask was certainly not too long, and would like to extend my sympathies for your experiences and current struggles. To me, it makes all the sense in the world that your day to day, and foreseeable future, are deeply impacted by the events of childhood and current situations. You were not modeled healthy emotional regulation by your caregiver, and sadly were abused by the one person who you should have been safe with. From personal experience, I'd like to extend an extra gentle hug for the grief, and full range of emotions, that might crop up during your untangling process as you continue down your healing journey.

I wasn't 100% sure if you were looking to potentially still be part of some kind of religious/spiritual community, heal from the current one, or a bit of both? But this ask includes several books, and a work book, about healing from spiritual abuse, yet aimed for people who still have some sort of faith belief and hope to continue with some kind of spiritual practices (however, this is aimed for Christian spiritual abuse, and if you're looking for a different faith group resource, my hope is that the links/hashtags/words included in the book references might be a good starting point on a Google search). I also had an ask for someone who was exploring a different religion, seeking community, and yet the guilt, too. You can find my response to that here, but here's a highlight I hope might resonate with you, too:

I still think that anyone interested in spiritual practices can decide the boundaries for themselves on what uplifts them, what brings joy and connection - because religion and spirituality, though possible to do with others, is still, at the end of the day, a personal experience.

I think with you transitioning to college, there's a cultural understanding that you'll be exploring things on your own a bit, and though yes, it is quite possible that your family, and/or community might imply pressure as to what exploring those dynamics might look like for you, there's opportunity for freedom here.

What I mean by that, is it's fairly easy to get off the phone when you say, "Gotta study" "Gotta get to class" etc - if someone in your classes, or a student in the hallway tries to bring up a subject you're not comfortable with, I'd encourage you to share that you aren't going to discuss something, but it's certainly not rude to share you're busy and would like to circle back to another topic, another time (because you'll definitely be busy with uni!).

If someone actually has the gall to follow after you, or I don't know, unexpected family visits - you have the right to seek safety and shelter, and discuss with campus security what your options are. Though this is the most extreme example I can think, and I only bring it up to assure that you have the power to set the boundaries of who has access to you.

I'd imagine the biggest headache might be the breaks/holidays, where you might go home (or not, nothing says you have to, and you could always be needing to stay on campus to catch up on projects). But if you do, here's an article about setting some boundaries with family during the holidays (and one more) that I hope might encourage you.

Regardless of the process, length of time it take, or the winding journey as you heal - you are worthy of people in your life who love, and encourage you. You are worthy of healing, and I'm proud of you for taking the steps towards independence with both therapy (and wish you luck on finding another soon - definitely ask your campus for some mental health resources, they might have some therapists there!) and seeking higher education. Wishing you all the best ~

- Mod Kat

#trauma talks #mod kat #religious trauma #physical abuse #emotional abuse #familial abuse #trauma details #🪐 #tw emotional abuse #tw religious trauma

[forlornputato]

I have never really successfully listened to my body and my thoughts post-exhaustion or mental breakdown. I've always been so good at ignoring myself when I don't feel like confronting my worst enemies. But today, it's a little bit different.

Last Sunday, I finally mustered the courage to go to the hospital and have the bump on my bum area get checked. Right there and there, I was told that I needed to be admitted because it was infected and it needs to be surgically removed/drained. I had my doubts. I had my worries. I didn't have any emergency savings for this. Sure I'm earning above the minimum wage but I only just started with my 3rd client. I need to send money to my mom, need to send money to my brother as he's graduating from high school. I didn't have any money with me.

Leanne convinced me though, and I am so glad she did! The operation did it! I can now sit, walk and stand without the excruciating pain. The last week was hell. But to tell you honestly, my entire stay at that hospital was worse.

I was in an "isolation" room with no sunlight. Time was an illusion inside that room. I was in and out sleeping, or crying, or in agony. I had a withdrawal from not being able to smoke for days. I couldn't eat the normal way because my blood sugar was high. I couldn't sleep because emotionally, I wasn't doing well.

There came a point when I begged and begged people to let me out, and smoke. I begged and cried to my girlfriend, I screamed and thought everybody was trying to keep me their prisoner. I was hysterical. I needed sunlight, I needed my cigarette. I thought the doctors will kill me in the OR. I was fucking hysterical. I saw my girlfriend's struggle when she was trying to calm and reassure me. I saw the exhaustion in her eyes when I begged her to let me out.

To cut the story short, the worst was over. Everything went well. Nobody killed me. I finally had my 1st cigarette Tuesday afternoon. All's well that ends well. And so I thought.

But here I am, 1 day post-hospitalization and I am feeling a surge of guilt and self-loathing. I hate myself for putting Leanne through the experience. It feels terrible knowing that she didn't know what to do with me when I was hysterical. I feel terrible knowing that she had to support me physically, mentally, and financially ALONE. She had to spend her savings so we can settle the bill and I know how protective she is of her money. AND FOR GOOD REASONS. But because of me, she had to let them go.

There's this guilt inside me, eating me alive. Do I deserve this kind of love? After all the stress I put her through? I fucking feel so worthless. I didn't have any money for myself because all I ever did was spend and give them away. I feel so terrible and small and just worthless.

And now I feel guilty for feeling all of these. Because I shouldn't be feeling any of it. I should have my shit together and go back to work so I can pay her. I should fucking feel thankful and not hate myself. I should be okay.

Maybe this is normal? I don't know. I should have learned my lesson years ago but here I am again, spiraling for the same reasons. I fucking hate myself. I am so worthless.

[cat-eared-rose]

This post is gonna be talking about some heavier stuff, so please be advised!

cw for: abuse, mental health, and trauma

I've been spending a lot of time recently taking a closer look at myself and my past, and it's definitely been a bit of an eye opener.

This started because I recently stopped talking to my parents, completely. A very uncomfortable phone call about me being trans and very minimal celebration (if you can even consider it a celebration) of me getting married (I got two "congratulations?" And then my mom just made it about herself, asking why she wasn't told sooner 😞) was really the last straw for me. I yelled at my dad, telling him I wasn't going to have this conversation with him, and blocked both their numbers.

It was a really scary thing to do, because it's difficult for me to imagine my life without my parents. Not that I enjoyed their presence, or that they were doing anything significant for me right now, but it's just scary to think that could be it. Like, I feel it's my responsibility to talk to them, and keep in touch, but I know it's best for me not to reach out again, considering how they make me feel.

After a few days of being nervous my parents would show up at my doorstep because I had the audacity to not talk to them, I started researching a bit more about child abuse. I definitely knew my childhood wasn't great, but I needed a little extra reassurance to help me stand by my decision.

I started looking into things like verbal and emotional abuse, narcissistic family structures (I'm almost certain my mother is a narcissist), and what sorts of things can stem from that.

I ended up learning that I was abused in ways that I never even really recognized, nor cared to remember.

My mother is definitely a narcissist since a majority of what she complains about with me is that I make her look bad to other people. She used to force me to get good grades in school (Mostly As and some Bs, Cs weren't ever enough) and I'd get spanked if I didn't do s good job. And when I did, I'd basically get "that's what you're supposed to do. You want celebration for doing what you're supposed to? Fuck off", and a ton of other shit like that which really made me realize that a lot of the praise i got from my parents was just shit they wanted me to do, and even then it felt pretty superficial....

My mom also used to hit me a lot: spanking me, slapping me, she used to hug me, and then either dig her nails into my ribs or squeeze my back very sharply like she was trying to snap me in half. I was super scared and uncomfortable with personal contact for a LONG while because of this, and I'm still a little edgy about it at times.

My dad wasn't as bad as my mom, at least from what I thought, but I also realized from reading that he's actually just as bad (if not worse) because he would enable my mom's terrible behavior. When I used to go to him and say my mom said something mean to me, or hurt me in some way, he would tell me I was overreacting and that "she's just joking with you, bud", and I never really received help...

When I was 16, my mom told me my life was worthless, and by then, I was so numb I didn't even really care.

After realizing that a lot of things were worse than I remembered (way more, but I'm not going to recount my ENTIRE life story lol), I started looking at what kinds of issues people going through this sort of thing can run into, and figured out that I had PTSD because of a lot of the trauma I'd gone through.

This came to a head when about a day later, I remembered that I was afraid of the dark because when I used to sneak food at night (because I was hungry, and never ate breakfast due to stomach issues), my mom would stand in the dark waiting for me to pass her room and grab me to scare me. Then shed yell at me, tell me I'm being too loud and waking everyone up,.and make me out the food back and go to sleep. It makes more sense, in retrospect, that whenever I imagined something scary in the dark, it was a woman with long, dark hair (how my mom looks)

Remembering this gave me a really intense flashback, and I had to take the next day off of work because I just didn't get a good rest that night....

I never really felt any positive emotions for a long time, and I just thought it was how I was, but after receiving a lot of support and love from all my partners, I actually started feeling happy, and excited for things, and realized that the reason I didn't feel those emotions was because of the PTSD

My parents of fucked me up so God damn much, and I'm remembering more shit all the time. I'm honestly more upset I didn't make this decision sooner, but I don't blame myself. My years of trauma made me think that I was destined to fail, and that i was going to have to go back to my parents. But I know how the best thing for me to do is just to cut them out completely and pick up the pieces left behind.

I also never realized that not remembering, basically any of your childhood, is not a normal thing and that these memories are instead most likely repressed in a section of my brain I don't really access due to the harsh events associated with them. Hopefully soon, I'll be able to work through a lot of this, and maybe reclaim some of my childhood by regaining those memories.

It's one more step forward on the path of self understanding and recovery, and although it's been quite difficult for me to think of and process all of this, I can already feel that I'm getting better, even after a few days of recognizing this (I'm not as scared of the dark anymore knowing my mom isn't waiting there to get me, so that's a plus :3)

Just wanted to talk about it, so if you read all this, thank you for listening 💖

#rose bud #cw abuse #cw mental health #cw PTSD #ask to tag

[greengrungeemo]

Parenting: Why ANY physical punishment is BULLSH*T!

TW: Bad parenting, spanking, abuse, serious and sensitive topic.

It seems apparent to me that this topic is unfortunately still, to this day, a bit divisive. It also seems apparent that many individuals who were physically hit by their parents make the claim, "Well, it happened to me, and I turned out fine, so it's fine". What? How? I'll never understand that one-dimensional line of thinking. Just because you were never affected doesn't mean that the rest of the population of individuals who were physically punished were never affected? People minimize their world view solely based on their own life experiences without considering the overall impact of everyone as a whole.

I've done some research in my own time on this topic. I looked into ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and how spanking has not been considered part of that. Crazy right? Thankfully, there's tons of research articles that implore it to be an ACE now, which will ultimately result in it being widely regarded as child abuse. The most recent research article by Afifi (2017) on spanking and its correlation to adult mental health clearly demonstrates that spanking your child results in adverse impairments and effects later in life, "Respondents reporting exposure to spanking compared to those reporting no spanking had increased odds of depressed affect, suicide attempts, moderate to heavy drinking, and street drug use while statistically adjusting for sociodemographic characteristics". It also compared those results to other models of physical/emotional abuse without spanking and if there was any sort of variance towards the odds of depressed affect, suicide attempts, moderate to heavy drinking, and street drug use between the models. Seriously interesting and important stuff. Check it out.

That being said, many men in particular deflect this with a statement that they "turned out fine". I guarantee that there's a lot of emotional masking there. I admit that I'm still deeply affected by the few times I was hit hard. It felt personal, it felt diminishing, it felt dehumanizing, it felt like I didn't matter. How cruel of an action is it that a child, filled with immense wonder, excitement of discovery, and unmatched worldly whimsy, should feel worthless in those few seconds? It doesn't make sense.

Everyone remembers their first-time being spanked. I remember it vividly. I was begging and exclaiming that I was sorry, over and over, praying my sheer desperation would latch on to my parents that I GOT IT. Like I understood why what I did wasn't right? It's a telltale sign. Yet, even with the begging and apologizing, I got spanked several times and it followed with more exclaims of, "Please stop!!!" etc. It sticks with you. I don't even have any memory of what I did wrong, but I do remember my punishment.

If you're emotionally connected or sensitive to those around you - you'll remember. I never hit my parents, ever. So why should they have that right? Why should any parent have that right to do so?

It hurts thinking and writing about it, so I suppose the point is that we need to stop making excuses, full stop. When I eventually become a parent, I will only use reassuring and explanatory words and warnings. Being clear, concise, try to understand, open outlets for my child to release their emotions like journaling or sitting down with them and talking about it without any judgment or any of those "you should have done this or that" None of that, just get everything on the table and understand and listen. There are ways to promote good behavior without resorting to damage that will ultimately lead to scarring. Parents may resort to physical punishment likely due to impatience? Like they don't have the time so they try that to cut corners and put a stop to the behavior immediately? Sure, you get your respite as a parent for that time being, but the one who's hit will carry that. They'll carry that memory. I did. Many others do too.

My family politically is left-leaning, so unfortunately, this does happen to any household regardless of political affiliation, but it seems most defended by right-wing advocates.

I do forgive my parents for those instances and everything bad that they've ever done. I love and care about them, so... that's that. I guess I wanted to share this and let others know that they're not alone on this whole thing.

Perhaps as a future psychiatrist, I can do further research into the topic and really make a more modern and in-depth peer-reviewed paper on this sort of thing. There needs to be even more scientific proof that this harms more than anything. This needs to be stopped.

As time passes, I'm quite certain it will.

#personal thoughts #parenting #family

[foxships]

I'm sorry if this is annoying, but I'd really appreciate some nice asks, if that's okay

#it would be super nice but don't feel obligated or anything ! #i've just been so worthless and i feel like i need a bit of reassurance #i hope this is okay to ask djsshajsjsj #sanura rambles

[dabiboy]

Did someone order angst? Here it is! My heart broke while writing this, but I promise you, read all of it, it's angst to fluff and together with my broken Dabi piece this became one of my favorites too.

TW: blood, violence, death, curses. Also some manga spoilers.

In a Million Years

All of his body hurt. Different types of pain. What had happened? How much time has he been there? Hawks didn't know, and what woke him up was the annoying white light coming from the roof, that, and the blood dripping down his forehead.

The pain and the lack of weight on his back made him aware or the missing wings, but it was still hard to focus and to process how he got there.

"Are you finally going to tell us where the documents are, bird shit?" A male voice said out of nowhere. What documents?

"I don't know what are you talking about" He said weakly. His hands were tied behind his body, all of his limbs were in pain. And there were no feathers around to help him.

"The documents, now!" A kick in his face. Where the hell where his wings? Not even feathers?

"I have no idea what are you talking about!" Keigo hissed, trying to stay firm and not to break in front of those unknown man.

"Boss, the pidgeon won't talk"

"Oh, is that so?" Another man knelt down in front of him, pulling his golden locks to make him look up "Then let's make the bird sing" They laughed, standing up and walking away from him "bring the kid"

At the selection of words, Hawks eyes went wide open. Did they kidnap a kid? Was it the name of a villain? Fuck, wait a second. It couldn't be. His heart started beating faster and harder against his chest, hoping he was wrong. And then, his soul left his body, replacing it with fear and despair. When the huge metal gate opened, he saw it. A large man's hand on a tiny shoulder, a shaking shoulder. Haru had a bruised eye, tears were still wet on his cheeks as he hold on to his dino plushie, cucumber, with his last bits of strenght.

"Daddy!" He screamed and try to run to him, but the man didn't let him.

"Haru!" Keigo screamed, losing his mind, breaking his voice "What the fuck do you all think you're doing!" He tried to get away from the ropes grip, but it was impossible "Let him go! Please! He has nothing to do with all of this!"

"Are you gonna speak then?" One of the men asked.

"I know shit! I-I swear I don't just let him go" He kept moving, but when he did the man that was holding Haru pushed him down to the floor, his knees getting hurt. He started crying again.

"We'll start plucking him if you don't speak, fucking pidgeon"

"I swear I know nothing, I work for the commission, my father was a thief and a murderer, I was undercover with the league, I- I fucking killed Twice but please just don't hurt him, he's just a kid, he's just-" they cut him off when another kick was given to him, making him spit blood.

"Don't hurt my daddy!"

"Shut up you too" The other man did pressure, making Haru legs hurt thanks the hard concrete beneath him.

"Hey, hey kid. Look at me, it'll be fine, ok? It's fine. Just hold on a bit longer, I'll get us out of here" Keigo said with a trembling voice, blood covering his face together with sweat and dirt.

"And now you're lying to him. So pathetic." Haru's plushie was taken away from him, and the man kicked him towards Keigo's direction. "Fucking speak or next will be your damn child!" Rage was the only emotion in his voice, and Hawks was helpless than ever.

"I already told you everything! I-I don't know what the hell you're talking about," a sob "listen, I've got money, I can give you everything the fuck you want you can even kill me right here but let my son out of this" he spoke through his teeth, pain more evident than ever.

"You are worthless," their boss said "let him go, and the child to" a man started cutting the ropes that were holding Hawks, finally feeling peace "get rid of both of them" and with that last sentence, everything went to shit.

Haru was free from his grip too, running towards his dad who was still weak on the floor, and just two steps before he could make it to Keigo's arm, a deafening noise filled the room. A gunshot.

Hawks didn't even have the time to scream when his son fell to his arms, blood dripping his shirt.

"Haru!" He said, moving as he could, laying him on his leg as he pulled his bleeding torso to his body "No no no no, you fucking bastards!" A piercing scream left his throat, but the men were already gone. "Baby, baby come on. Look at me, please" he gave little slaps on his cheek, trying to make him open his eyes, while his free hand tried to put pressure on the wound. "Haru I need you to wake up, please my boy come on, stay here" his chin was trembling, tears running wild down his dirty cheeks "Someome help!" Keigo looked around, but it was only him and Haru.

"Dad?" He said weakly. "Where's... Cucum..." He was already slurring his words.

"What? Cucumber, your dino. Right here baby, there" after looking around, he streteched his arm towards the stuffed animal, giving it to Haru.

"Come on chicken wing, talk to me please. We-we gotta go home, to mommy, to your friends, come on" it was impossible to describe Keigo's emotion at thar point. He was broken, more broken than any other man in history.

"Daddy I'm... I'm scared" Haru finally opened his golden eyes, breaking Hawks's heart even more "I'm cold"

"No, no, don't be. It'll be fine I promise I, please I-I will take you home now. Haru? Hey, Haru!" Keigo held him tight against his chest, his mouth wide open but no sounds leaving, just drowned screams full with sorrow. His boy, his precious boy was suffering and there was anything he could do about it. He was about to leave. And he knew it, he fucking knew it. Keigo's lips were on Haru's forehead, whispering words of hope, promises that he was not going to be able to fulfill. Not anymore. His hand was on Haru's head, afraid of let him go. But after short seconds, the green-like dinosaur plushie fell to the floor. Free from Haru's hug. Keigo's throat almost bleeding from the strength of his painful scream, of his cry for help.

And then, he woke up.

Hawks sat abruptly on the bed, cold sweat covering his whole body as his erratic breath kept him unaware of his where being. A comfy bed, natural sun light, smell of cookies, fresh mint, perfume. Home. He was there and he couldn't tell. It was his room, the room he shared with you. Pictures of Haru, you and him were on the night stand and hanging on the wall. His cheeks were still wet, he was crying in his sleep. Keigo got up, the similar pain on his limbs returned, but also did the weight on his back. His wings were there too, big and strong as always. Giving a fuck about the pain, he walked out the room. The hallway that led to the living room was empty, also the bathroom, the guest room and Haru's room. But there was noise coming from the living room. And when he got there? His heart skipped a beat, his shoulder resting on the wall when he lost his balance.

"Daddy you're awake!" Haru said happily, setting his dino book aside. "I will call mommy, she said I should call her when you-" Keigo interrupted him. He had walked towards him when he was still talking, and kneeling on the floor he hugged the kid tighter than ever. "Uhm, are you ok?" Haru asked with curiosity. "You're sweating! Maybe you have a fever, I gotta call-"

"I'm fine, my chicken wing" a sob, followed by a smile "I'm better than ever" gaining distance, Keigo cupped Haru's face in both hands "I'm just very, very happy to see you" He laughed just a bit, combing his hair and kissing his forehead. He pulled him in again, his hand caressing Haru's hair. And then it hit him. He was on a mission, and a wanna be villain with a strong quirk disabled him and made Hawks fell to a rooftop, hitting his head and vanishing. Everything was a dream, a nasty dream.

"Did you have an ugly dream? I have those sometimes too" Haru said, trying to look at his dad, whom nodded.

"I did. It was, uhm... A very ugly one" Keigo tried to smile, reassuring his kid that now he was fine. He got free from his grip and ran to grab his plushie.

"Here! You can hug cucumber, I hug him everytime when I have ugly dreams" Haru smiled widely, giving Hawks his most precious item.

"Thank you, chicken nugget" Keigo hug the plushie and kissed it's head, but then placed it on the couch. "Wanna eat some fried chicken, and a huuuge milkshake? Whadaya' say" again he didn't even care about his pain, he grabbed Haru by the waist so he could lift him in his arms. "We can even call mommy and tell her to leave the agency earlier, sounds good?"

"Yes!!" Haru raised his arms in victory "can cucumber have a milkshake too?"

"He can have two milkshakes" Keigo kissed his cheeks, making the child clap in joy. "Hey, kid" this time, Haru tilted his head, showing he was paying attention and that, at the same time, he was curious "I love you. So, so much. Never forget that, ok? I will always protect and take care of you, got it? You're my chicken wing, I love you," a kiss on his temple, "I love you" another on his forehead.

"I wub you too, daddy! And Cucumber loves you as well" Haru smiled widely, giving Hawks's heart the peace he needed.

"Yeah, there's love for him too" Keigo laughed and started walking towards the kitchen "Now, let's order some food and call mommy, ok?" Haru held tightly to his father's neck, resting his cheek on his shoulder. And Keigo? Keigo held him with all of his strength. He was not leaving his baby boy. Never, never in a million years.

#hawks x reader #hawks headcanons #mha hawks #my hero academia hawks #hawks #hawksbnha #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #keigo x y/n #bnha keigo #keigo takami imagine #keigo takami mha #keigo takami #takami keigo x reader #mha takami keigo #takami keigo #Spotify

[canmom]

[spell to make this as unweird as possible] hey, i've followed your stuff for a while, and have never properly given my appreciation. i love your insight, your passion, the way you threw yourself into animation (i've learned so much from just reading your animation posts tho i haven't joined a stream!), and your analytical posts, your baru essays (absolutely incredible). it's just a strange moment of syzygy this midnight. i've been wracked with poisonous self-pity & annihilating disappointment--

--and retraced my steps to seth dickinson's story Please Undo This Hurt, which i've probably read like 50 times over the last year. and i saw your comment there. i hope this doesn't come as creepy (terribly fearful it does) but really, it just hit me that moment there, so. i just wanted to thank you, and thank seth for that story, and send via bits and bytes a small token of joy and appreciation, enough to keep hanging on. i hope you're doing well, and that your friends are too.

goodness, thank you anon. that really does mean a lot. I hope you too are doing a bit better now. i'm really glad that my writing has meant so much to you, and i'll try to remember it next time i'm in that hole, telling myself i'm worthless etc. i really appreciate you writing.

it's funny, i left that comment on a very bleak day when i was really feeling like i needed to reread that story too. it's definitely one i come back to at certain times. i don't know if seth will ever see my comment there, but i'm glad someone got something from it <3 it's such a powerful story, all the more so for the uncertainty of its resolution. but seth's great ability to think in system dynamics terms - if this existed, it would result in... - is such a left-field answer that it breaks through in a way a lot of personal reassurance doesn't always.

i really hope you're are having a bit of a better time of it now 💜. i have gone through a lot of doubt about what all this writing is for, and outside of just, helping my process stuff, the main hope i have is that all this writing can help someone in that kind of grim place to make the necessary break they need from the systems that hurt us, or failing that, at least provide some company out there in the void. you're certainly not being creepy, and fwiw, if you ever want to message off anon, it would be cool to say hi...

(also, the animation notes are coming back! i'm just finishing off one now in fact~)

[jojolovenotes]

hiii hope you're doing well :D i've been in a depressive slump lately and feeling kinda worthless, so could i get a little comfort/reassurance letter from doppio please?

I’m sorry you’re going through a rough time right now, sending good bibes your way <3 ---

☎️ Hey you, 

I heard you haven’t been feeling so great lately. That makes me sad to hear!! I wish I could give you a big hug and kiss right now. Did you know that there’s a hug quota that needs to be filled? I heard it’s like people need about 8 hugs a day or something! I mean I could give you way more than that if you’d like, but I’m sure that should help improve the mood at least a little bit right? You’re gonna get through this rough time I promise. I know depression can try to convince you of all these negative things, but I promise you that your brain is just lying to you about these things. You’re gonna be ok, I promise!

Love,

Doppio 

#received transmission ✨ #love notes 💕 #⭐ the secret Joestar technique

[chaos-event-horizon]

📻 Hero!All Might

Oh gosh well jsjdndnd

~~~~~

I used a randomizer to get this song but tbh it was the one I desperately wanted to do, because of how meaningful it is to my feelings about Toshinori. Putting it under a cut due to length.

When I listen to it, it always... Feels like a conversation between him and I. "She" in the original song obviously gets replaced with "he" for us.

"Something Just Like This" -- chainsmokers

I've been reading books of old

The legends and the myths

Achilles and his gold

Hercules and his gifts

Spiderman's control

And Batman with his fists

And clearly I don't see myself upon that list

~

But he said, "Where'd you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I'm not looking for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody I can kiss

I want something just like this"

As a hero, I have a bit of a complex, and a lot of guilt, because of the nature of my Quirk. A power like mine that's just a glorified portal-creator makes me feel... Distant. Like I shouldn't ever be in any real danger. I don't feel heroic. Why should I? I can clothesline a bank robber from a hundred yards away and have him subdued before he knows which way's up. Theoretically, dodging is a breeze. My power lends itself to running away, not protecting people or stopping bad guys. On its own my quirk is worthless in a fight, and the only reason I can use it for anything at all is because I'm stupid and creative enough to use it in tangent with boxing, free-running, and martial arts.

But Toshinori always says that isn't true. That it isn't my superpower that makes me a hero any more than his makes him one. He says that what matters is my heart and the fact that I don't just use it to run away. He isn't interested in me because of my quirk or because I'm a hero. He's just interested in me.

~~~

I've been reading books of old

The legends and the myths

The testaments they told

The moon and its eclipse

And Superman unrolls

A suit before he lifts

But I'm not the kind of person that it fits

~

He said, "Where'd you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I'm not looking for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody I can miss

I want something just like this"

Likewise with how he reassures me, I have to reassure Toshinori. Especially after Kamino, he often laments the fact that he's no longer "strong", or powerful. While he's resigned to his fate and accepts the end of his career as the acting top hero, he thinks he can't do anything as just a civilian. He feels like the light and hope he used to give off have been eclipsed by how "weak" his real self looks. Sometimes he looks at his old hero suits and wishes they could still fit.

But then I remind him that he risked so much, and made the only good choice in order to stay alive and continue helping to shape the future. He might not be able to bench press a freight train any more, but the weight of the future rests very well on his shoulders. People still count on him, and look up to him, and believe in him. He saves so many of us every day just be being there. He's still our hero, even if he has to wear a different kind of suit now.

I don't want a larger than life, untouchable hero that lives on a pedestal. I want someone I can really get to know, and grow old with, and spend days and nights with. Someone I can miss, who I won't find just by turning on a tv. Who isn't missing out on our lives because he's so busy keeping up appearances. I love Toshinori as All Might, but I don't need the strength or the cape in order to be in love with him. I want Toshi.

We love one another other very much.

#mightspace #sunflower nebulas

[kuroosweakness]

I've just been feeling rly insecure lately :( and like the ppl who used to be friends with me, we keep drifiting apart and it feels like it's my fault :( like i know i'm a pretty bad person, but i thought at least rhey wouldn't leave me like everyone else? am i just that worthless? that bad of a person? everyone leaves me eventually though. it just comes with who i am. i drive people away, i hurt them

do you know why they’re not friends with you anymore? :(( what do you mean by “pretty bad person” ? if you really are a “bad person”, it would be pretty obvious why they wouldn’t want to be friends with you.

they could’ve left you for their own good...maybe they thought it was better.

how can you stop hurting them? how can you stop driving them away? feeling insecure is one thing, acknowledging your mistakes, fixing them, and becoming a bette person is another. i know i’m being too straight forward and i really want to comfort and reassure you but ... your friends leaving you can have multiple reasons. you won’t know unless you ask...

no, you’re not “worthless.” don’t ever think you’re worthless; you’re worth so much. and don’t have a fixed mindset!!!!!! if you don’t like who you are, CHANGE. it’s easier said than done, but sometimes it needs to be done.

i had a really close friend who was a toxic person at times but she was so kind and funny.

but also toxic, and said hurtful things, and made many many mistakes. her past friends left her, and i felt bad. but i can also see why they left her.... she always talked about how she’s a “bad person” and i would always run to her side and be like “no, you’re not a bad person, you’re amazing. you’re really nice, you’re a good friend etc etc” but honestly, she was toxic :// i can’t change that. she needs to acknowledge it and change if she wants friends.

people want good friends. they won’t stick around with people who hurt them. they shouldn’t stick around with people who hurts them. no one is obligated to stay in your life. it doesn’t exactly mean you’re a bad person when others leave you, it varies in different situations

i once heard a quote that said, “you can’t change someone. people only change when they get tired of themselves” ...

i know i didn’t exactly comfort you but i hope it helped a bit :’) please remember that you are loved and worthy!!

#lia convos

[hiredhorse]

Sirry prompt: Harry ressurects sirius with blood magic post ootp and they live together in peace. I've been listening to Hozier recently (specifically 'like real people do' and 'work song') and thats just big sirry energy to me :)

Holy four-letter-word, anon, I am deeply in love with you. 

The soundtrack you gave me is fueling a huge project for which I have absolutely no time but, nonetheless, a sudden furious energy. In short I don’t know when there will ever be more, but because I feel like I can’t go another month without expressly responding to your ask, here’s the first chapter:

Now.

Sirius was slumped over the table in the kitchen, the room where he’d more or less set up camp the past week. He barely left it for the other parts of the house except for when he felt desperate to look out a window. It was a little better than being penned in his room. He’d thought of getting out of Azkaban as coming back to life, and when they’d made him go to the house that time, his old room had seemed like the best option. It made him feel like a teenager. It reminded him of his friends. And though the deepest sorrow of his life was tangled up with James and Lily and Peter, all the joy he’d ever known was there, too, inseparable.

But now that he’d been truly resurrected, and somehow was trapped here again, the last thing he could stand was thinking of James. Not that it could be avoided, with his son —

The Floo chimed and Sirius stood up from the bench, his heart racing even though he’d been expecting Remus, stepping out onto the hearth then just looking at Remus. Harry came through behind him, stumbling up against Remus’ shoulder. Remus turned slightly toward him with a reflexive smile.

“Harry,” he said lowly, “like I said, I’d like to speak to Sirius alone.”

Sirius looked at Harry and then was torn between the urge to look anywhere else or to stare at him forever. Everything about Harry, now, was a wave of commingled delight and horror for Sirius. His shoulders, skinny but suddenly broad enough to stretch out the shoulders of Dudley’s old hand-me-down t-shirt, which was pulled loose around the collar, flashing a prominent clavicle. The belt bunching the waist of his too-large jeans tight around a narrow waist that Sirius wanted to pull loose for a dozen reasons, among them the desire to replace Harry’s every article of clothing with the sort of fine, tailored stuff his posh dad had liked and also to cinch Harry’s wrists together over his head and…

Sirius blinked. He looked at Remus. Remus was staring back with an expression of naked rage, like he’d read each and every one of Sirius’ thoughts. It startled Sirius. He’d never known Remus to get angry, truly, even when he should be. 

“I’ll just be…” Harry gestured vaguely toward the door, sidling toward it as though he wasn’t willing to turn his back on them. “Will you two…?”

“We’re only going to talk,” Remus promised softly, but even though he was speaking to Harry, his voice had an undertone of danger that made Sirius want to flatten his ears and growl.

Harry was frozen with his hand on the door. Sirius looked at him and smiled. Reassuring. He didn’t have to look at Remus to know how this was fanning the flames; he half-expected his oldest living friend to combust in Fiend Fire. But he just looked at Harry, trying to radiate good feelings while fighting the urge to crawl out of his skin, to be a dog and cower or run or raise his hackles and fight. 

Harry swallowed, throat bobbing, managed a shaky answering smile and slipped out the door.

“You piece of shite,” Remus said as soon as the door closed. He took a step toward Sirius, which brought him down off the hearth at last. His footstep seemed to echo in the room; Sirius winced at the sound. “You worthless, cowardly — “

Sirius cut him off, eyes narrowing, “It isn’t like I did the ritual, Moony!”

“Don’t call me that.”

They stared at each other. Remus took a step again, this time sideways, his head lowered. Then another. One at a time, slow and deliberate, like he was stalking something he wanted to kill on the first try. Unthinking, as Remus moved, Sirius did too, so the table stayed between them.

“I know how you are. You’ve already looked everything up, right? You know more about the spell than I ever will? Well, then you know I couldn’t hurt him. I couldn’t do anything he didn’t want…”

“It’s not right,” Remus bit out. “Don’t try to justify it. It’s sick and it’s unforgivable, and I should do him a favor and…” His shoulders went tight, and Sirius realized what was going to happen a moment before it did. Remus leapt onto the table and then back to the floor in two inhuman bounds, putting him face to face with Sirius, his wand suddenly in his hand.

Sirius didn’t draw in return. He did reach out on reflex and grasped Remus by the forearm. Remus’ pupils were huge, his breathing harsh. He looked so old, this close. It made Sirius wonder what James would have looked like, how he would have grown up. It should be him here, murdering Sirius for Harry’s honor. A part of him wanted to bare his neck to Remus, James’ proxy in this righteous execution, and welcome a final ending at last.

But. There had been so much cold darkness. Not just in death, but before. Wandering through the years in Azkaban, then Grimmauld Place, subhuman. A wraith. When Harry had pulled him from the veil it had felt like going into heat and light at last, painfully intense and pathetically welcome. Sirius wanted to live. 

“What was I supposed to do?” he murmured, searching Remus’ face for some shred of understanding. “Was I supposed to just stay dead?”

Their faces were close, and he saw that it cost Remus nothing at all to hiss, “Yes!”

Sirius’ heart seized at that. He shoved Remus with unconscious strength—shoved him harder than should have been possible. His body was so much stronger than it had ever been. Even when he was a perfect, vital twenty-year-old still bright-eyed over a new war.

So strong that he knocked an angry werewolf all the way back against the far wall. There Remus stood, arms spread to either side as though plastered, eyes wide, so pale his scars stood out all over his face in dark red relief. 

A little of the venom went out of Sirius. His hands were fisted, and he flexed them open. His palms were stinging where he’d accidentally cut himself with his fingernails, four bloody crescents on each palm.

“Well,” he said roughly. “If that’s how you feel, I guess you can fuck off.”

Remus shoved himself away from the wall and summoned his wand, which he’d dropped somewhere midway. He didn’t look at Sirius, only at the floor as he strode back to the Floo, grabbed the powder and muttered his destination tersely. Sirius stood transfixed, watching the flames shrink back when he was gone.

Harry came in. Of course he noticed Sirius’ hands immediately, and picked them up with a little cry, rubbing each cut with his thumb. Sirius tried not to wince. It wasn’t hard; though the touch stung, Remus’ words had left deeper wounds.

Or had they? Had he really been surprised?

“You have to be careful with this stuff,” Harry muttered, cleaning the blood with his sleeve. “I don’t want to have to give you any more,” he added, and Sirius was startled enough to look at his face.

Harry smiled wryly.

Sirius snorted. “You have a dark sense of humor,” he noted. “I say that as someone with Black humor, so I should know.”

Harry’s smile deepened. He was swiftly healing each spot on Sirius’ hands with his wand. His magic felt sinfully good on Sirius’ skin. 

“The darkest form of humor is punning, of course,” Sirius said, only half-conscious of what was coming out of his mouth. He grimaced. “How much of that did you hear?” He couldn’t imagine that Harry hadn’t stayed near the door, and Remus had been in such a state it hadn’t occurred to him to cast any spells for privacy.

Harry nodded, finally looking up, though he still held Sirius’ left hand. He put his wand in his pocket. Sirius reached out, helpless against the urge to touch. He cupped his hand over Harry’s neck and rubbed back and forth the way Harry liked. Harry stepped nearer so they were fully in each other’s space and rested his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder.

“He didn’t mean it,” Harry said, sounding sure as anything. Both his hands, and one of Sirius’, were now trapped between their bodies. Harry stroked Sirius’ stomach with his knuckles.

Sirius grunted and didn’t reply. Of course Moony meant it. If their roles were reversed and it was Moony who’d let Harry fuck him back to life — repeatedly — then Sirius would have done more than wish him dead. He’d have killed him.

Here was his final proof, if he needed it: he was as bad as any of his ancestors. Worse, maybe, because there was nothing Sirius loathed more than a hypocrite.

[shipersanonymous]

A Flash fan fiction ❤️

By ShipersAnonymous and Annasorayasmith

....

I remember.

I remember it all. In flashes of red. The agony. The betrayal. The sound of my heart breaking. The silence as they each forgot about me.

As they left me behind.

I remember. And I don't intend to forgive.

..................................................................................

Author's Note:

A-hoy there shippers!

So I've been biting my tongue to keep this in cause I'm terrible at keeping secrets! But it's finally here!

I can't tell you how over the moon I am at this collaboration with @annasorayasmith who trusted me enough with her thoughts and let me put them into words.

I've never done anything like this before and this story has so much it's a challenge to find out which angle is better suited to tell the story (their all so good!). I hope that together we can do the story justice and hope that you enjoy it!

We've mixed a little Godly mythology into this with a bit of romance, a lot of familial drama and a splash of angst! It's a Barry/Eobard fic but to my shippers out there don't worry West-Allen will still form apart of this wild mix!

To my lovely co-author, thank you a million times over for sharing your imagination with me and believing in my skills enough to let me copilot. I look forward to reaching our destination but I'm stoked for the journey we're embarking on!

All aboard!!!

XOXO

💜🖤

*************Cliffhanger Warning*************

Prologue

His chubby fingers curled over the bar of gold that formed part of the crib’s frame. With curious eyes, he lifted himself onto the tips of his toes and peered inside. A flushed face, wrinkled and topped with a thin sheet of glossy, auburn hair, rested soundly against the mattress. The creature looked so small and fragile, like if he reached in hard enough he could hold its head between his infantile hands and squeeze with enough pressure to make it burst.

He smiled at the malevolent thought. 

As if sensing his darkened intent, the babe’s lips trembled before a holler, loud and panicked pushed out of them.

Strong voice for such a tiny thing.

His mother came rushing in, the worry in her eye unmistakable, fuelling his hatred. She swooped the hollering child into her arms and pressed it against her bosom. With the honey milk voice she used to reserve just for him, a song echoed from her chest and ruffled the clouds that they called home. The love in each note pronounced. The admiration and affection clear in each word.

The lullaby breaking his heart.

He shuffled to his mother’s side with his head hung in sadness. With the gentleness mastered only by a child, he tugged at her skirt for attention.

“Ami?” he called, a name he’d lovingly kept from his days as a babbling infant learning to speak, but his call went unanswered. Her attention had been captured by the creature that now laid still in her embrace.

The embrace stolen from him.

“Ami?” he tried again and this time her gaze turned towards him, her body continued its gentle sway as she danced with the little god.

“Achilles, my sweet, hush a moment and let mama put Apollo to sleep.” she pleaded softly, the affection in her golden eyes shining through like the rays of the rising sun. He could never deny her a wish when she smiled at him so warmly. So he swallowed down his pride with hopes that his good behaviour would win her favour enough for him to keep her love. As she carried on singing and swaying, he diligently held on to her skirt.

His tiny palm began to sweat and he tightened his grip. His unripe muscles thumped with a dull ache and stiffness, yet little Achilles persisted.

He was too afraid to let go.

At last she replaced the child in its bed of gold and turned her full attention onto him. His heart beat hopeful that his determination had paid off and when she smiled down at him he reached out his arms, begging her to pick him up. Needing to be encapsulated by her warmth, reassured that he hadn’t lost her. Instead she knelt down before him and drew him in for a hug.

“My sweet, sweet Achilles. I’m afraid I no longer poses the strength to carry you like I used to. You’ve grown so much,” she says once they pull apart and her eyes sparkle with a gleam of sadness, coloured by a hint of maternal pride. But little Achilles, small as he was, failed to read the emotion on her face and simply attached meaning to her words.

Was he now too big because she had a smaller model to compare him too? Was she now too weak because her strength had been exhausted on the creature that lay fast asleep in his crib? Regardless of the reason, there was a single common thread in both explanations.

Apollo.

This fiend he had to call brother had stolen from him the one thing he treasured most. The one fortune the stars had granted him. The love of his mother. He could feel it in the core of his very being.

“Iris!” his father’s thunderous voice boomed from a distance and she turned her head towards the sound.

“In a minute my lord,” she called back.

“Your father is in need of me, I must make haste. I plead thee, Achilles, do not wake thy brother,” she asked and he nodded.

As a reward for his compliance he received a kiss on the forehead before his mother took her leave. He waited till he was truly alone and approached the sleeping babe. Peering into the cot once again, he was filled with a dark determination to see his beloved mother rid of the parasite that harmed her so. With no one there to bare witness his eyes flickered a deep red and the corners of his lips turned up into a grin that rid his childish face of all its innocence. The old woman had warned him that the child that grew within his mother would bring nothing but misery. If she was right about that she must have been right about his quest.

It was his destiny to save his Ami. To rid the heavens of the abomination that shared his father’s blood with him. To be a hero that only a son of Zeus could be. As the seed planted itself into his naïve little heart and took root, the red glow died out of his eyes but it did not disappear completely. It simply slumbered behind the hazel of his irises, awakening each time he laid eyes on his bother.

…

The red in his eyes glows brighter than ever before as Eobard, triumphantly gazes down at a semi-conscious Barry. The loud roar of thunder drowns out Barry’s pained whimpers but the grimace on his bloody and bruised features is enough to appease Thawne’s sadistic hunger for the time being.

The blood stained rain drops, drip from his fingers to pool at his feet where it joins the river of red streaming from Barry, whose breaths are shallow. Each inhale agonising as it vibrates through his shattered ribs. Each exhale bringing him closer to his end.

Barry’s vision is blurred from the swelling of his eyes and bloody rain that wets his lashes, and yet he can still make out the haunting red orbs that glow like demon flashlights.

“W-Why?” he manages to whisper, searching for closure. A reason for his sudden and unjustified demise. Eobard let’s out a spine chilling cackle that slices through the night air, bleeding into the symphony of the storm.

“Poor, unsuspecting fool,” he spits.

“So naïve!” he punctuates his point with a kick to Barry’s side. The young man groans out in pain, a soft, tortured sound as he is too weak to scream.

“So unaware…” another kick.

“…Of the gift you’ve been granted. The honour bestowed upon you. So unworthy of the blood of Zeus.” A sneer of disgust crosses his lips as he gazes down at the weak, trembling figure at his feet. The thought that he is somehow connected to the whimpering mess, shames him. It dulls the glory of the Godly name bestowed upon him.

“Your existence is a mistake! A universal miscalculation. An error bound to bring misery to who’s ever path you cross.” Eobard sneers as he takes the two steps needed to close the distance his kicks had opened between them. Barry simply lays on his back, barely conscious, his eyes closed, his mind flipping through his memories with Iris to help ease his physical pain.

Her smile. Her touch. The sweet smell of her skin. The softness of her lips. The feel of her hair between his fingers. The lively sparkle in her eyes.

“But I intend to fix that.” Thawne declares as he sinks down on one knee and violently grabs Barry by the collar. The brisk movement sends a shock wave of pain through the injured boy’s body and forces his eyes to open as much as the swelling will allow.

Fear slithers into his heart.

“It’s why I was born. My destiny. And believe me when I say….”

Thawne holds his free hand up for Barry to see and though his vision is still impaired, Barry hears the moment his hand begins to vibrate. It’s a gut twisting sound that creeps into his bones and paralyses him. He’s never heard it before but something in him recognises it as a bad omen.

Death is coming.

“… that I’m going to enjoy the honour of ending your worthless life.” An evil smile of satisfaction thins Thawne’s lips as the prospect of his victory gives him the last bit of strength he needs.

A bolt of lightning lights up the sky with the brilliance of stadium lights.

A thunder clap, deafening like the roar of a mighty lion, rattles the wet earth.

Thawne, oblivious to it all, begins to lower his deadly hand onto Barry’s chest.

#the flash #barry allen #eobard thawne #iris west #gods #speedforce #flash fan #fan fiction #flash fiction #romance #drama #family drama #heartache #Multiple dimensions

[actuallyadhd]

Do I really have ADHD or am I just trying to excuse my laziness? I'm constantly confused and afraid that I'm capable of keeping up with everyone But I just don't. My guilt and sense of worthlessness is weighing really heavy. I don't know how to talk about it with anyone when I don't seem visually distressed. I've been assessed with a 90% of inattentive type but I still don't know. No one else has noticed so maybe I'm lying to myself that I'm struggling? I don't know what to do

This is a pretty common feeling, especially for those who have (or lean) Inattentive, partly because Inattentive symptoms aren’t as noticeable by other people since people who have Inattentive ADHD are often quiet and non-disruptive and stuff. I want to reassure you that if you feel that you’re struggling, you are.

Something that often happens with ADHD is that we know we’re capable of more than we’re doing. Like, we know that we can do better; we just don’t, for some reason. We struggle because we know that we aren’t reaching our full potential, but we don’t really know how to make that happen.

This is because of the way our symptoms impact us. They make it difficult for us to identify our goals sometimes, and then if we know what we want we have trouble breaking down the steps we need to take to get there, and even if we know the steps we have trouble actually following through and completing the steps. Executive dysfunction screws us over a lot.

An example: I really like organizing and planning things. I’m actually pretty good at it. But I have ADHD, so can I actually maintain organization and follow through on my plans? Of course not! The day I realized that if I didn’t have ADHD I’d probably be a really organized person was the day I really began to take in just how much ADHD impacts my life.

See, I’m capable of organizing my stuff. I’m also capable of keeping it that way… if ADHD doesn’t interfere. Which it always does. I have the skills needed to do the organizing and so on, but I don’t necessarily have the ability to use those skills all the time.

It’s a really exhausting disconnect between what we know we could be and do, and what we actually end up being and doing.

So, that’s all kind of discouraging, but here are a few thoughts that I hope help you feel a bit more positive about things.

First, recognizing that you have skills but that your ability to use those skills is inconsistent is actually pretty empowering. Now that I know that I’m good at organizing but struggle to maintain it, I can work on systems that will help me maintain that organization once I’ve got it in place.

Second, if you struggle, you struggle. Your struggles might be different from other people’s struggles, but that doesn’t make them less valid or less real. Period.

Third, no matter what you struggle with, you matter. You are worth people’s time and energy, including your own. Because you are here, and that makes you important.

-J

#Anonymous #ADHD #Actually ADHD #asks #potential #success #identity #impostor syndrome

[dirtycreekwater]

I've never done this but can I request a sfw hc for what the sides do when they're having a bad day/ what the other sides do when they see the other having a bad day?

im assuming this is for the LRVerse even tho you said “sides” remember ya’ll this is a human!au so they’re technically not sides in it. i know it’s not that big of a deal but it kinda confuses me so i just wanna clear that up!! but yeah i love this a lot let’s gooo

tw for insecurities/negative thinking, anxiety attack, & brief self harm mention

-If Virgil’s having a bad day it’s usually cos he’s thinking about past trauma, worrying about the future, stressing over school & work, wondering if Logan & Roman actually love him, worrying that’s he not a good boyfriend or a good friend to Patton, or just thinking really irrationally. sometimes he’ll have anxiety attacks. sometimes he’ll just cry.

-Logan and Patton are usually the first to notice when Virgil is having a bad day. if Logan notices first he’ll go to wherever he is, pull him into his lap, and ask him what’s wrong. he’ll usually get three different responses. “Nothing.” , “Everything. Fucking everything.” , and “I don’t know.. Just stay with me.” they’re worded a little differently every time, but mean the same things.

-If he gets the first response he’ll say something like, “Okay. I won’t force you to tell me. We can just sit here for a little while.” and Virgil will always open up to him after a long time of comfortable silence.

-If he gets the second response he’ll lift Virgil into his arms and carry him to the couch. he’ll get Roman & Patton if they’re home. Patton will grab snacks and make hot chocolate for all of them. Roman will get the fluffiest blankets & pillows they have and one of his or Logan’s sweatshirts/hoodies for him to wear. Logan will put on his favorite movie. then they’ll all sit with him on the couch and Logan and/or Roman will hold him close until he eventually falls asleep. the next day Logan & Roman will ask him if he wants to talk about what was wrong now. he’ll usually say yes and tell them everything. if it’s something that can be fixed immediately they’ll do just that. if it’s something that’s been tormenting him for a long time they’ll validate his feelings, and remind him how loved he is.

-If he gets the third response he’ll bring him to their bed, and hold him until he either figures out his feelings or falls asleep.

-If Patton notices first he’ll sit with him, and wait for him to speak first. Virgil will usually say something like “Hey, Patt.” or “Hi, dad. Why are you here?” Patton will usually say something like, “Hi, kiddo. You seem a little down. Just thought I’d check on you.” Virgil always frowns, and curls up to Patton’s side. Patton hesitates, but always pulls him close and holds him for as long as he needs him to. Virgil doesn’t always tell him what’s wrong so Patton’s always really happy when he does. he always does his best to help Virgil.

-If Roman ever notices first he’ll ask Virgil if he can hug him, and if he gets a no he’ll sit with him, and wait for him to make the first move/say the first word. if he gets a yes he’ll wrap his arms around him in a strong, protective hold, and whisper reassuring things to him like, “I don’t know why you’re upset, but your feelings are valid. Don’t for a minute dare to think that you’re stupid for feeling the way you do.” , “I love you so so much, Virgil. So does Logan, and so does Patton. You’re our baby, and his son. Don’t ever forget that.” and “If you wanna talk you know I’m always here to listen. If you don’t that’s okay. I’m also good at just being here, and holding you.” they always end up laying in bed and watching Disney movies or their favorite shows together.

-If Virgil’s having an anxiety attack whoever’s there will sit by him, and guide him through a breathing exercise until he’s breathing normally again. once he’s calmed down a bit they’ll ask if they can touch him, and if the answer is no they’ll stay back and ask him questions that’ll ground him (bring him back to reality) cos he usually ends up in a dissociative state. Logan’s the one that figured this out, and learned how to help him. if the answer is yes they’ll hug him and try to ground him by saying things like, “Hey, Virgil. Listen to my voice. Feel my skin, or my shirt. You can feel me right? I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not gonna leave until you’re okay.” sometimes they’ll give him his fidget devices/toys if he’s still shaky/restless. once he’s back to normal they’ll ask if he wants to talk about what happened. if he says yes they’ll sit, and listen to him. if he says no they’ll just sit with him for as long as he needs them.

-Sometimes his anxiety attacks are a little more violent. whoever’s there has to forcibly pull his hands off his arms or neck so he stops scratching, and then run him through the breathing/grounding exercises and/or give him his fidget toys. once he’s calm down they’ll clean/bandage his scratches and listen to him if he wants to talk.~

-Whenever Roman has a bad day it’s usually cos he’s in a creative slump, or isn’t feeling too confident in his acting/singing skills or appearance. Virgil or Patton are usually the firsts to notice, but Logan does notice quite a bit.

-If Virgil notices first he’ll go sit in Roman’s lap, and ask him what’s up. if Roman tells Virgil he isn’t feeling confident he’ll immediately say, “Give me a random line from a play you haven’t been in. Don’t think about it. Just do it. Go.” Roman is a little taken aback every time, but always comes up with something quickly and delivers the line perfectly. Virgil will say something like, “Listen to yourself, Roman. You deliver a line from a play you’ve never acted in on the spot perfectly every single time I ask you to. If that isn’t considered skill then fuck I don’t know what is.” Roman grins wider, and hugs Virgil a little tighter every time. Virgil will then ask Roman to sing to him. he’ll try to refuse, but Virgil is insistent. he always ends up gently rubbing Virgil’s back, and singing a calm, beautiful song to him. it’s a wonder Virgil never falls asleep. when Roman’s done Virgil gives him a sleepy smile, a kiss on the cheek, and tells him how amazing and soothing his voice is. Roman blushes without fail every time and will tell him to be quiet and/or go to sleep. Usually he listens, but not one particular time. This time he whines, and says, “Noooooo. I’m not sleepy. I need to tell you how amazing, and talented, and handsome, and beautiful you are.” Roman chuckles, “There. You just did. Thank you, my love. Now go to sleep. You’re exhausted.” Virgil concedes, and falls asleep in his arms. Roman watches him, and thinks about how grateful he is for this adorable boy.

-If Patton notices first he’ll sit with him, and ask him how his story writing or drawing is going. Roman will usually tell him that it’s not and that he feels bad so Patton will say something like, “I’m sure whatever you create will be amazing, kiddo! Come on. Show me something.” Roman reluctantly shows him some drawings he did recently, or sometimes lets him read small bits of stories he’s been writing. and every time without fail Patton will grin, and yell something like, “See! These are amazing!!” and always mean it. Roman will smile and lean his head on Patton’s shoulder as he says, “Thanks, dad.” Patton will always hold him close and one time he told him that he can always come to him if he needs some encouragement cos he really does love the things he creates, and would hate to see him ever give up on them.

-If Logan ever notices first he’ll waste no time, and pull Roman into his lap and start whispering reassuring things like, “You’re incredibly talented, Ro. Don’t let yourself believe otherwise.” , “You’re incredibly handsome, and beautiful, baby. I don’t wanna hear you ever say otherwise, okay?” , “I love how creative, and passionate you are. Promise me you’ll never stop creating the things you love?” , and “I love you so so much, Princey. You’re so important to me, Virgil, & Patton. We’d be a mess without you.” Roman sometimes ends up crying and always ends up thanking Logan by hugging him tighter and giving him tons of short & sweet kisses.

~

-If Logan’s having a bad day it’s usually cos he’s overworked himself/stressed himself out or is feeling really insecure, worthless, and unwanted (thanks abusive ex boyfriend)

-If Virgil notices first and it’s the first reason he’ll sit in his lap, and tell him to stop overworking himself, and to take a break. if it’s the second reason he’ll tell him how he makes their relationship complete, and amazing. how it should be impossible to love him as much as he does. how his feelings are valid, and he’s allowed to feel them, but that he shouldn’t forget how loved he is. Logan always hugs him tight and gives him tons of sweet, chaste, thankful kisses.

-If Patton notices first he’ll make them coffee or tea and sit with him in the kitchen or his office and just let him feel whatever he’s feeling for a little while. if he wants to talk they’ll talk. if not they’ll just sit there and enjoy each other’s company.

-If Roman notices first and it’s the first reason he’ll pull Logan into his lap, and beg him to take a break and hang out with him. he won’t stop until he agrees and leaves his office. if it’s the second reason he’ll still pull him into his lap and tell him how much he loves him. tell him how amazing and beautiful he is. that he and Virgil are the best boyfriends he could ever have. and he won’t stop saying those things until he believes him at least a little bit. they could sometimes stay like that all night.

~

-If Patton’s having a bad day it’s usually cos he overworked himself/stressed himself out or feels really bad about being aro/gray ace or sometimes just feels sad for no real reason.

-If Roman notices first and it’s the first reason he’ll make Patton go to bed, and take on his role as backup chef, and even do his usual chores. if it’s the second or last reason he’ll remind Patton that he isn’t broken. he’s the way he’s supposed to be, and that’s not a bad thing at all. he’ll remind him that he & the others love him the way he is. that they wouldn’t change him for the world. or he’ll tell him that he’s allowed to be sad, but he’s not gonna be sad alone. he’s always gonna be there for him.

-If Logan notices and it’s the first and/or last reason reason he’ll do the same thing Patton does for him. make them coffee or tea and just sit for a while. they’ll just sit, and relax in each other’s company. if it’s the second reason he’ll remind Patton that not experiencing romantic attraction and rarely experiencing sexual attraction are perfectly normal things, and he shouldn’t feel ashamed about it. he’ll go on to explain that some animals reproduce asexually, and no one thinks they’re weird so why should he be considered weird? his sexual and romantic orientations aren’t choices. it’s just how he is, and that’s okay. ((i know asexual animals aren’t really the same thing as asexual people i just think it’s kind of a comforting parallel imo idk))

-If Virgil notices first he’ll make them hot chocolate and rest his head on his shoulder and just let him have a bad day. when it’s over he’ll ask Patton how he’s feeling and if he wants to talk. if he says he doesn’t want to Virgil will remind him that he loves him and let him be alone. if he does want to talk Virgil will sit and listen to him for as long as he needs him to. he’ll of course validate his feelings, remind him that he’s loved the way he is, and/or remind him to take more breaks cos he’s just as important as everyone else, and needs to take care of himself too.

#sanders sides #polyamsanders #logince #analogical #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #olishc #LRVerse #insecurities #tw insecurities #negative thoughts #negative thinking #tw negative thoughts #anxiety attack #self harm #tw: self harm

[mannapolis]

9 August, 2019

I've never been convinced that talking about the rape was something that could do me any good. I mean, it surely would have done some good if I could have shared that terrible experience soon after it happened but there was absolutely nobody that I could trust to such a degree and my mother was and is the last person to whom I would like to talk about it. I don't remember how I managed to conceal from her my black eye and swollen nose that was probably broken (I never had an x-ray done to confirm that).

Recently, I came across a documentary about a Romanian woman who was kidnapped when she was eighteen, if I remember correctly. She was raped by a gang of men who kept her captive for a week or so and who then sold her to another gang; she was again raped by its members, taken abroad and forced to prostitute herself… She had no sexual experience before those things happened. It's absolutely impossible to imagine what she (and tens of thousands of other violated women around the world) has gone through. I know that even I can't imagine that although I was a victim of a brutal gang rape. But it wasn't my first sexual experience. I considered myself rather experienced when it happened, although I was only sixteen. And my ordeal lasted ”only” a few hours.

As I'm writing this I realise that there is a strong resistance in me against recalling that event. It's the most natural reaction and I keep wondering whether it's useful to dig up that grave. Perhaps, it is. That documentary made me realise something that I wasn't aware of. It isn't the rape itself that constitutes this tragic event. The rape itself was ”just” an unwanted sexual intercourse. I don’t want to belittle that part. It's a horrible thing to be forced to sexual act with three disgusting, stinking, aggressive, drunk, old men. This horrible memory is something I got and cannot, no matter what, get rid of.

But I forgot about the thing I have LOST, that I will not, no matter what, get back. The documentary about that girl made me realise it. She was talking about her experience with emotionless tone of voice that often shocks people (I remember that reaction from my group therapy where I mentioned the rape for the very first time). People can't understand how someone can talk about such horrible things showing absolutely no emotions. This is how we protect ourselves. I was caught by surprise when I started crying and couldn't stop sobbing as I was watching the documentary although I have never shed a tear for my own suffering.

What have I lost? Things that we take for granted (again). The sense of feeling secure in the world. Sure, I had known that evil existed but to know about evil and to be touched by it are two different things.

I've lost my innocence by being forced to perform sexual acts that perhaps I'd never have chosen to perform of my own will. I didn't lose my virginity but I lost my purity. Once you lose your purity, you can never be completely clean again. The touch of evil leaves a stinking stain on your soul and there is no such thing as soul cleaner.

I've lost a sense of personal boundaries. They had never been developed properly but an experience like this demolishes your boundaries to the ground. Some women having experienced sexual violence close themselves up completely. It's their way of re-establishing personal boundaries but such rigid and impermeable boundaries become a personal prison cell. Other women drop their boundaries completely and become sluts. I switch between both modes.

I lost the sense of being in control of my life. Again, it wasn't well developed to begin with but I definitely lost the possibility to develop it properly. Somehow the reins of my life keep sliding out of my hands as if they were covered with grease. I expect a catastrophe every single day and it's difficult to plan and implement while being in the state of constant threat.

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

I thought I should elaborate on the peace of mind I wrote about a couple of days ago. I realise that this expression quite vaguely describes the state I was in.

What did I mean by the peace of mind? First of all, two days later I'm not experiencing it quite the same. Maybe I'm getting used to it or, more likely, I'm slipping back into old thinking habits.

Back then, before the final cut I lived in constant anticipation, anxiety, longing and heartache. My heart was like a skittish animal, always trembling, insecure, jumpy. My mind on the other hand was continuously analysing my status in relation to F. I was continuously trying to figure out if he cares about me, how much, why not, whether there was anything I could do to show I'm worthy of being cared about. These questions were mixed with self-provided answers which I used to torture myself. Let's have a look at the rich repertoire of torture tools:

He doesn't care about me. Of course he doesn't care about me. He would if I was actually talented, smart, successful, young, beautiful… He would if I wasn't such a pathetic lobster from the bottom of the social hierarchy. I don't deserve a loving man because I'm a terrible mother, a completely worthless human being with no right to live among people. I should try and do something useful and meaningful with my life to win his love but I can't. I'll never do anything useful and meaningful with my life. A sad forty-two year old woman is of no use for any decent man. All I can hope for is a dick in my mouth… Oh god, could someone just end this torture and thrust a dagger in my heart? No, of course not. I don't deserve a noble death. I should slowly rot alive. That's my future…

All I ever wanted was to find someone to love who would love me the same way, someone I could trust completely, someone to share my dreams and nightmares, joys and fears, pains and pleasures… But what do I know about love? Apparently nothing. I look around and see people enjoying the comfort of deep and committed relationships and I keep asking myself: what is wrong with me? I've always known that I'm not a typical desired wife material but I thought I could find a compatible puzzle piece to make a great team. I guess I'm a broken puzzle piece and there is no way I could pair up with anyone for life. I know that deep inside I still have some hope but I also know that I will never make it to the happy ending. My Groundhog Day will always be the same...

Farewell peace of mind. Hello darkness my old friend…

How naive it was to think that peace of mind would stay with me. The only thing that will always be there for me is my depression, my only true companion till death do us part.

4 September, my own reply:

Darling!

I'm SO sorry that you have felt that way. I know it was awful. You felt so terribly mistreated and you thought it was your fault because due to your childhood experiences you have learnt to blame yourself for other people's lack of respect for you.

You are not a broken puzzle piece! And there is nothing inherently wrong with you! You just need a lot of love! And I'm going to give it to You! I love You! I love you very much! I'm sorry I haven't told you that before. I… I was confused myself. But I think I finally caught the Ariadne's thread and now I can slowly guide us out of this maze. Please, be patient with me. I can still get a bit confused at times but it doesn't mean I stopped loving you. It only means that I need to come back to my senses.

Please, reach out for me any time you need me, any time you feel that you are falling back into old thinking habits. I'll hug you, and kiss you and reassure you of my love.

You wrote: ”Oh god, could someone just end this torture and thrust a dagger in my heart?” See, your request was granted. F thrust a dagger into your heart. A few conclusion on that:

Ask God, and he will listen and give you what you ask for if he decides that this is something that you need.

Don't ask God for stupid things (I know it's not always easy to know which things are stupid but you can learn to tell stupid from smart)

God decided you needed to have that dagger thrust into your heart because it was the only way to make you realize that you have to PROTECT your heart, instead of just throwing it at random people hoping they'll catch it. That's not the way to treat your HEART. I understand that nobody taught you how to take care of it but finally I am here to do that. Actually I don't know how to do that, either, but I'll be reading, studying, learning, meditating and, most importantly, LISTENING TO your/my heart attentively.

Ok, maybe it was a bit naive to think that peace of mind will stay with you. It's not a thing, not a person or an animal. It can't just stay with you. It's a state of body and mind that can be achieved through conscious effort (at least in the beginning). And don't expect it to be permanent. We'll find eternal peace after death but here, on this planet, we live in a constant flow of different emotions - it's called life 😊

”Think of all the desperate, wounded people there are on the treadmill of what they think is love, and yet they can’t get off.

They’re searching for someone who will heal them and make them feel whole, but that person is not out there. No one can meet our deepest needs, no matter how hard we try, but yet we keep on searching.

My mom used to say, It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.The only problem with love addiction is there isn’t even a needle to be found.”

https://www.thehopeline.com/24-is-there-a-cure-for-love-addiction/

”To get free from love addiction, we must clearly understand how deeply the cravings for love penetrate our hearts. It’s what comes out of our hearts that affects everything else we do. There is no deeper emotional desire we have than to love and be loved.

King Solomon, whose been called the wisest man in the Bible, said:

Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.”

”Emotionally, our hearts are extremely fragile and can be easily hurt, therefore sending us in the wrong direction of life. Our innermost being started out as a beautiful creation of God, but with wrong choices we can easily trash it and leave it sick and in great need.

Picture in your mind for a moment a beautiful white carpet (perfectly white). Then picture someone coming in to the room where the white carpet is, and throwing garbage, manure, and staining paint all over the carpet. The white carpet was never designed to be trashed like that. Something beautiful has become disfigured. That is a lot like our hearts. We, and other people, do not guard our hearts and therefore they become stained and damaged.”

”So where does the healing for love addiction begin? It begins by admitting our hearts are priceless, and affect every area of our lives. We must make a commitment to protect our hearts and not just throw them away looking for love in people and places where love cannot be found. Let us all respect our own hearts.”

”Love Addicts usually didn’t have enough appropriate bonding with their caregivers. Caring transmits the messages, ‘You’re important, you matter, and you are loved,’…when children do not get enough connection and nurture from a parent, they experience serious difficulty with self-esteem. Love Addicts usually experienced much deep pain and sadness and an acute sense of loss during childhood, because a part of themselves was denied the opportunity to grow properly when their caregivers failed to take care of them. This pain and sadness I call ‘the pain of the precious child.’ It goes very deep and back far beyond the earliest conscious memories. As children, Love Addicts experienced enormous fear because they were helpless to create a connection with their caregivers. In counseling they often describe that child-fear as a sense of having a loss of their own breath, as if their air supply had been cut off and they were literally dying [I write this a few months ago as I was trying to write my biography: The first memory I have which includes other people takes place at my grandparents’ house and my mother is there. I was very ill with pneumonia and I was suffocating!!] They also describe being empty because they weren’t filled with nurture by their caregivers. And because they weren’t nurtured for who they were, they had trouble being or liking their natural selves.”

”When you’re hungry, even what tastes bitter tastes good.”