#like I can deal with constant pain? like I’m used to that. pain in multiple places? whatever. but just. the stomache plus the leg pain plus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stoat-party · 1 year

Text

My Joshua Graham take (alternate title: stop beingng mean to him!!!!!!)

Now I’m not a Joshua-did-nothing-wrong girlie (I mean, if you can’t recognize his flaws then you get his bad ending, so there’s that), but I gotta defend my boy for a minute. I’m gonna try to tie things back to the facts of the game, but there will obviously be Themes and Context that I can’t even begin to get into, and your mileage may vary.

Mitigating factors

We’ve gotta keep in mind that this guy is in severe and continuous chronic pain. Now, that doesn’t make you a bad person — one of the most loving and giving people I know is disabled with chronic pain, and of course everyone starts dealing with some form of it as they get older. But it can definitely affect how people relate to the world, and the preoccupation of being in constant pain means it takes more effort to act the same as they used to, (assuming they were a good person even then). I’m just saying that I would be a little more prone to anger if I had to tear off and replace my skin every morning.

Also, he and Daniel are both in grief — the Wiki places the sacking of New Canaan in 2281, and while it could have been earlier than that based on the minimal evidence we have, that’s still an extremely fresh wound. Joshua implies he either has or had family in New Canaan. With their numbers reduced to about thirty, he’s undoubtedly lost multiple people, in a violent and traumatizing way, while also dealing with the guilt of having (indirectly) caused it. He’s not acting totally rationally here.

Claim: He spent thirty years acting as a warlord and committing total cultural annihilation in service of a maniac

Hey, granted. That did happen. He doesn’t offer much of an explanation for it, except that he first did it to survive and then kept making compromises until he’d completely lost his sense of morality. And explanations aren’t excuses, we know this, but they do make redemption arcs more palatable. Personally, I don’t understand being against redemption arcs in fiction. They’re my favorite thing.

It’s important to note that the narrative does punish him for his actions — the guy he committed all the atrocities for betrayed him, he has the aforementioned chronic pain and disability now, and then the war machine he created to destroy cultures destroyed his own. So if you’re the type to think redemption needs to include suffering/death, there you go.

Claim: He is racist

The most literal form of this claim can’t be accurate, because everyone in Honest Hearts is GECK-coded as Caucasian (except the caravan company). The tribals actually have races created specifically for them (to account for their tattoo styles), but they're still white. They weren’t all supposed to be white, but that’s how it turned out in the game due to extremely limited production time. The Sorrows are descended from American schoolchildren, the Dead Horses are descended from Germans and Native Americans, and the White Legs are descended from Shoshone, Latin-Americans, and Americans (they’re also the palest of the three, not that it really matters).

Claim: Stereotype of the “white man’s burden”

This is a bit more Doylist than Watsonian, but it wasn’t intentional. Daniel was supposed to be Asian, but again because of short production time he ended up white. I interpret him as biracial.

Claim: He’s culturally elitist

He does believe his religion is the best one, though IMO everyone should feel that way. But he doesn’t think of himself as above the tribals — he considers himself a tribal, and shows distaste for “civilized” places. Daniel is actually worse about this one.

Claim: He’s Mormon

Well, yeah. I take issue with this being considered a punishable offense on its own — unless it’s combined with anti-blackness or child marriage or something, it’s just a religion, and there’s no evidence of the Future Mormons practicing anything like that.

Claim: He’s a missionary

As above, judging based on this without any specific evidence of wrongdoing is a little bit ignorant. Most modern missionaries are basically aid workers with a religious motive, and they make an effort to culturally assimilate with the host community, if it wasn’t their country to begin with. (Are there horror stories, sure. Like I said, Themes and Context.) Based on Joshua’s (and Daniel’s) responses when you openly mock their faith, there’s no coercion going on.

Claim: He’s committing cultural imperialism against the Dead Horses

He did do this as Legate. He visited Dead Horse Point to prime them to join the Legion, teaching them warfare and allowing them to basically worship him. Follows-Chalk says he saved their tribe from extinction, but obviously he did that intending to wipe them out. However, Burned Guy Josh came back to prevent them from joining the Legion, and his track record since then shows a pretty high regard for their culture.

In Follows-Chalk’s quest, Joshua is concerned about influencing them more than he should. Follows-Chalk says he’s the tribe’s leader, but Joshua actually explicitly denies it, the implication being that he’s a little uncomfy with being more than a military advisor. He even says that there are better role models than him.

Claim: He wants to commit genocide

There’s one big misconception I want to correct: The White Legs don’t live in Zion, they live by the Great Salt Lake. The group we meet are a war party. At worst, they had a support staff of non-combatants.

They were trying to commit genocide against the other three factions. You can be on Daniel’s side in the big debate, but the Sorrows absolutely had a right to defend their homeland from people tasked with killing then all, whether or not it was a good idea in practice. (The Dead Horses are also visitors; they originate from Dead Horse Point.)

He does hate them, hence the racism accusations, but according to Ulysses, they really are violent raiders (he and Joshua both call them mongrels, actually). Again, they kinda burnt Joshua’s family to death. His prejudice comes from their collective actions and their affiliation with the Legion, not their race or lack of technology or anything like that. He calls Salty an animal, but he also says that he relates to him from his days in the Legion. His brutal tactics were wrong and that’s the point, but he didn’t want to commit genocide.

Claim: He’s a hypocrite/He uses religion to justify doing bad stuff

Yeh! That’s the idea, and getting him to admit he’s wrong about it is one of my favorite scenes in the game. It’s especially poignant if you’re religious, because you’ve undoubtedly seen others commit this sin and maybe struggle with it yourself. Admitting the motives you’re hiding from yourself, accepting responsibility for your actions, and forgoing revenge on someone who’s seriously hurt you are all really potent character moments, in the game and in real life.

Claim: He extorts the Courier by trapping them in the valley until they do a bunch of dangerous quests for him, then makes them pay for medical care and weapon repairs due to said dangerous quests, and oh whoopsy doo there’s no way of making money in the valley except collecting stuff and selling it to the general store, but MAMMA MIA GUESS WHO RUNS THE GENERAL STORE??

Okay, I’ve never actually heard anyone say this, but it’s true. It’s all true.

#fallout #new vegas #fallout: new vegas #fallout new vegas #honest hearts #joshua graham #daniel fallout #daniel new vegas #fnv #f:nv #fonv

73 notes · View notes

pagingdoctorbedlam · 11 months

Text

I’ve written a few fics about Czerny now, and at least one specifically around the idea of him being autistic. I received a lovely comment where a reader was interested in the idea and was curious about textual evidence, and seeing as others have written in-depth posts about autism headcanons...well, I decided to do the same, and to post it here instead of in a long rambly comment-response!

So without further ado...some headcanons on Czerny, how he could be read as autistic, and how this influences his character, under the readmore. Light spoilers for Lingering Echoes, Ebenholz’s operator record, and Czerny’s trust files are included for those who haven’t read. (And for those who don’t want to read: enjoy this art from his creator!)

I didn’t set out to headcanon Czerny as autistic when I first read him, I swear. However, as I read through his dialogue and operator files, as well as overanalyzing some of his design choices, I realized that an argument could at least be made for him having a Sensory Processing Disorder (something that runs in my own German/Swiss-Austrian family). Thus, let's start with some of those points:

Stimming. He outright states this one in a trust dialogue: "My hair, well...I often unconsciously grab at it while composing, if that explains its current unruliness".

Speaking of hair: in both his official art and all the art by his creator, he always has his hair braided directly above his ears. The outfit, collar, and even his eyewear changes, but that element of his hair remains. Wouldn't it make sense if he's overly sensitive to his ears being touched by stray hairs, so he takes extra pain to maintain those braids?

Issues with food. There are repeated comments about Czerny not eating when he's in the throes of composing, which at first glance I took for hyperfocusing on his work. He's also the most wary of Hibiscus's cooking in Lingering Echoes, which is clearly meant to be played for laughs regarding her cooking. However, I also read it as someone who's used to having his food a very particular way, and when the food is changed up or replaced entirely, adapting to new textures and flavors can be difficult.

It makes sense that Czerny would take special care of his hands, and this comes up in a lot of dialogue. The medics even comment that he'll panic if he has "so much as a hangnail". But if he's sensitive to touch and texture, AND he takes extra care over his hands, an overblown reaction like that would make sense.

Now, as I was reading into his files and dialogue for these points (as well as other fic research), I was struck by a few other elements.

One is his blunt, honest manner. Both in-universe and as noted by fans, Czerny can be a harsh but fair critic. He himself states that "Any charm or taste I may have had has been poured entirely into my compositions." For the most part, he doesn't concern himself with pleasantries or making nice; if he has an opinion, he'll state it. But he's not one to lie, and even espouses the importance of earnestness to Ebenholz during Lingering Echoes.

Despite this though, Czerny does have to hide a lot of his own emotions in order to deal with his circumstances, at least in Lingering Echoes. He has to bow to Nobles and their whims despite his loathing for them, and there are numerous points where he holds himself back from voicing his opinions in public. He also identifies himself as a coward, and has multiple dialogue lines denoting his own fear. "I'm terrified, Doctor. Always have been."

Looking at these elements together, I'm under the impression that this man has learned to mask a lot in order to survive. And when under the constant pressure of not only poverty and illness but also supporting an entire community? No wonder he’s considered tempermental.

The only times he seems able to truly express himself is through his music (note how he emphasizes the importance of emotion in music during his 2-star clear line) and in battle, where he goes from polite to screaming at his enemies. We also have the note in an operator file from a professor that Morgen und Abend was one of the few glimpses through his "iron body". And there are multiple times in both files and dialogues where it’s noted that he’ll refuse to budge from his desk until a composition is complete...that moment, perhaps, when he finally figures out the feelings in his heart and how to express all the things his words fail to convey.

Music is how Czerny expresses himself, though one should also note that empathy for others is also important both in and out of music. After all, he corrects Ebenholz that Morgen und Abend wasn't written from his own grief, but out of indignation for how she suffered. He gives up the rights to his music in order to save the people of the Afterglow during the events of Lingering Echoes. Hell, even in Ebenholz's Operator Record, Czerny is touched that Ebenholz is the one defying orders and performing for the Afterglow's residents, but also begs him to stop in order to keep him safe. He loves music, true, but he loves people even more, and he cares so damn much he’ll repeatedly put his life on the line for them.

So, whether or not it was intended by anyone who worked on his character, Czerny reads to me as autistic. Passionate about what he loves, keyed into the feelings of others while having notable difficulties with conveying his own emotions outside of music, and processing the world a little differently from those around him. And I think that’s all key to not only how he creates his music, but how he connects with others, and how he’s learning to move on in a world so much bigger and stranger than where he grew up.

And even if he's still figuring out how to balance the new and familiar...even if he's scared of it at all times...Czerny keeps going anyway. He helps others with music and arts. He expands upon his own skills, even developing new hobbies in habits. Hell, he even gets a motorcycle to go exploring across “those faraway lands roaring through Czerny's mind without abate.” He's going to be okay.

(And watching Czerny be brave and move forward in the face of so much change...well, it inspires me to bravery too.)

Well, those are my thoughts with evidence on the matter, and I’m sure I'll pick up more when I do a full reread of Lingering Echoes. In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed reading!

(and have some more creator-art because I am incredibly gay for this image okay byeeee)

#arknights #arknights czerny #bedlam rambles #arknights headcanons #autism headcanon #bedlam essay #arknights essay

39 notes · View notes

rainteaanddragons · 1 year

Text

I wrote this one for @cluelesslesbian who did the sweetest piece of art that I just had to write a fic for 💜

You can find the art here 😊

Couples(?) Costume

Keith had sworn to himself, even back when he started at the Garrison, that he would never be seen at a Halloween party, especially in costume, yet here he was. Shiro had pushed him unceremoniously through the front door to Lance’s parents house insisting that it would be “fun” and that he [Keith] “needed a break”.

To Keith, the latter of those two statements was actually true. They’d been back on earth on and off for nearly a year at this point and Keith had thrown himself into his work with the Blade. It was easier dealing with the aftermath of all he’d experienced by working. By being useful and keeping busy.

Keith wondered if it was Shiro coming to check on him in his old place he’d lived in before and finding him passed out, still in his Blade uniform that tipped him off that he needed a break. Or maybe it was the week old milk in the fridge. Keith couldn’t be sure.

So that was how he ended up at Lance’s parents' place in the country, in a cowboy costume that consisted of all his own clothes, a hat he’d stolen from Lance an age ago, and a wheat stem he had collected along the way. A wheat stem he realised he would now have to remove from his mouth nearly every time he talked unless he wanted to sound strange.

Deciding that getting a drink was task one in this costumed nightmare, Keith heads towards the kitchen. Keith notices that the closer he walks to the kitchen the more whispers follow him.

“Are they-?”

“Is that a couples costume?”

“I didn’t know they were dating.”

Now Keith isn’t a stranger to whispers. They’d been his constant companion since the first time he was nearly thrown out of the Garrison, and the second, and the third.

This though?

It didn’t make any sense in the slightest. Couple’s costume? Dating? Dating who? Keith is as single as a lone plant dreaming of water in a desert. The water in this painful metaphor being Lance.

He is tugged abruptly from his thoughts by a tall squishy, purple and blue sleeping bag plastered with multiple eyes and spikes. On further inspection it turns out to be Hunk, in what Keith now can only guess is a Weblum costume.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Hunk asks in a tone that clearly says he has more of an insight to the whispers than Keith does. Though that isn’t difficult.

“What,” Keith throws up his hands, nearly knocking his hat off, “are they talking about?”

“Oh,” Hunk looks crestfallen, “you didn’t plan this?”

“Didn’t plan what?” Keith asks in a low voice. A thousand possibilities running through his mind.

“The matching costumes.” Pidge says from behind him, moving to stand next to Hunk. They are wearing what looks like a home made copy of the official Green Lion halloween costume.

“The matching costumes?” Keith splutters.

“Yeah, more commonly known as a ‘couples costume’.” They point out gently. “You usually plan it, as a couple.”

“I’m not dating anyone. Plus these are my normal clothes!” His voice raises in pitch as he speaks.

“Calm your farm Keith.” Hunk grins.

Keith chooses to ignore the pun. “Who am I matching anyway?” He asks at the same time that his mind starts wondering where Lance has got to.

“Who do you think?” Pidge asks.

“Why do you think we got so excited?” Hunk is looking at him incredulously from the head gap in the sleeping bag.

The dots connect quickly after that with a little oh occurring in his mind. Of all the people.

Keith knows Hunk and Pidge know about his feelings for Lance, he also knows Shiro knows. Suddenly Keith is wondering if Shiro knew about this costume thing from the start. This is when Hunk points to a spot behind where Keith is standing.

Keith turns around to see Lance standing there staring at him with equal confusion.

For a moment Keith can’t work out how their costumes could be a couples costume at all. Then he takes in the white sleeveless shirt Lance is wearing that is covered in what looks like hand painted black splotches and matching jeans. As his gaze is pulled to Lance's face he notices the hand made ears that are sticking up from his brown hair on either side of his head. He had even drawn a black splotch on the end of his nose.

Oh. Keith feels as a blush spreads over his cheeks and wishes the floor would swallow him up.

Thankfully, Lance comes out of his stupor first, a wide smile brightening his expression. “Keith!” He exclaims, “you said you weren’t coming.” As Lance leans in for a hug Keith notices the blush that has spread over his cheeks too.

“Shiro said I needed a break.” Keith managed a smile in return as he broke away from the hug. “Nice costume.”

Lance’s blush deepens. “Nice costume yourself.”

“I’m going to get a drink.” Keith says abruptly and heads towards the kitchen. To his dismay, Lance follows him. He had been hoping to deal with his embarrassment in peace. Once in the kitchen Keith downs a shot of whatever is closest, then turns to Lance. “Shiro suggested it, the Cowboy costume I mean.”

“Hunk and Pidge name dropped Kalternecker too a lot over the past week.” Lance narrows his eyes.

“Are you thinking they played us?” Keith was going to murder Shiro when he found where he’d very conveniently wandered off to.

Lance nods. “Strangely though, I don’t mind that they did.”

“Huh?” Keith’s heart rate goes up tenfold. What does he mean?

”It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around. You sorta dropped off the radar after we returned to earth and everything was sorted.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to see a friend?”

“I thought you and Allura would be busy unifying the galaxies or-”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-” Keith quickly counters but Lance interrupts with a shrug and a smile.

“Oh, don’t! We figured out it wasn’t working, for both of us. We get along well enough though.”

Lance then sighs, and not a frustrated sigh or a I don’t want to explain this again sigh. To Keith, it seems like a ‘I want to say something but I’m not sure how’ sigh.

Keith smiles warmly, taking in Lance’s expression and loving the way his nose scrunches up a little in thought. For once the little bubble of hope in his chest grows a little.

“Lance I-” Keith says at the exact same time that Lance says “Keith I-”.

“You go first.” Keith says with a small nod.

“Keith,” he starts, but for a moment seems unsure for how to continue, then, “you remember the day I came and found you sitting on the Black Lion with Kosmo watching the sunset? The day before launch day, when I’d asked Allura on a date and I was all worried about Altean customs. You calmed me down and sent me on my way.”

Vividly. “Yeah…” Keith trails off, wondering where on earth he is going with this.

“Well I’ve thought about it a lot since then, and I think-” he pauses, nose scrunching, “I think, for a moment there, you wanted to say something else.”

Shit. Lance wasn’t wrong, he’d been moments away from telling him the truth that evening (the other truth - every word he’d said to Lance that night had been true). Lance had been so vulnerable with him, and bathed in the light of the sunset he’d looked so, so beautiful. That evening though, Keith couldn’t find it in him to do so. It would have ruined Lance’s night, or so he had thought back then. Telling that truth now though, Keith was just as hesitant, but for different reasons. His indecision must have shown on his face as Lance spoke again.

“You did, didn't you? You wanted to say something different.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your night by possibly confusing you.”

“Then tell me now.”

“What?” Keith gaped, feeling as a faint blush spread over his cheeks again.

“What did you really want to say that night?”

“Everything I told you that night is true, but-” Keith pauses, fumbling over his words.

“Go on.” Lance gives him an encouraging smile.

“But, until you’d said you were going on a date with Allura, I had wanted to say that you mean more to me than I could ever put into words. That I’d had feelings for you for a long time, and that if we made it through the end of the war that I wanted to ask you out.”

There is a long silence. Or at least Keith thinks it is a long silence. It feels like it. His heart is thudding somewhere in his throat and his stomach churns as if he needs to be sick. He places the wheat stem back in his mouth after speaking as if the act of doing so might calm his nerves. He watches Lance carefully, but his expression is unreadable. Then Lance smiles and Keith has never seen something so warm, so genuine from Lance in a moment that is all for him. He thinks his heart might burst, and if it hadn't right then, Lance’s next words were enough to make it so.

“That’s good,” Lance says, still looking at Keith like he is the world, his world, “because that is all I’ve wanted to hear from you for quite a while.”

Lance steps towards where Keith is leaning against the kitchen counter, and reaches over to gently pluck the wheat stem from between Keith’s lips with delicate fingers. Lance sticks it in Keith’s hat before leaning in slowly to kiss him.

The kiss is warm and gentle, but it is also tingling and fireworks, and when Lance’s hand rises to cradle the back of Keith’s neck and his fingers twine in his hair Keith thinks that maybe, just maybe, he is finally home. All that matters is Lance kissing him in his kitchen in silly matching costumes that up until that moment Keith had thought would be the mishap to send their friendship slowly into ruin.

“How about next year we plan a couple’s costume?” Lance asks softly against his lips when he pulls away slightly.

“Absolutely not.” Keith replies with a soft chuckle.

The expression on Lance's face when he leans back completely tells Keith that for Lance, he will probably have changed his mind on couples costumes by this time next year for more moments like this. When Lance offers him a warm smile, leans in and kisses him again Keith is sure of it.

I hope you enjoyed this, and that it was what you hoped! Thank you again for letting me write it! I hope this fic brings you as much joy as it did for me writing it!

I changed a few little cannon things because the ending of this show hurts my soul, it made sense I hope! Also I HC Pidge as non-binary, and I'm in the habit of writing them like that now, I hope that's okay!

#Voltron #klance #klance fanfiction #klance fanart #keith kogane #lance mcclain #this is so fluffy #with a dash of pining #because it wouldn’t be an Anna fic without it #I hope you enjoyed it!

33 notes · View notes

death-himself · 1 year

Text

Immobile

Summary: Nico wakes up being unable to move, Will comes to help him out. This is my gift for @unhinged-corvid for the @rrversesummerbang gift exchange :) Prompt: Disabled/chronically ill Nico laying in bed, but then will shows up to care for him

Word Count: 1,278

Warnings: one mention of surgery and broken bones/injuries, multiple descriptions of pain

(AO3 Link)

Waking up to find that he was unable to move was not how Nico wanted to start his morning. As he laid there staring out at his empty cabin, he tried to lift his arm, just for a streak of searing hot pain to jolt through his muscles. He hissed through his teeth, allowing his body to go limp again.

He didn’t know exactly why this was happening, it had never happened before. Sure his body was in constant pain, but he could at least get around with a cane or crutches pretty easily. He’d never been immobile, and most of his pain was in his back and legs, not his arms, so he should still be able to use those at least, right?

Nico glanced over to his bedside table, eyeing the small prism sitting below his lamp, a few drachmas scattered haphazardly around it. If he angled it right, he could send an Iris Message to Will, or maybe Jason. He tried to lift his arm again, feeling like an idiot when he felt another shock of pain.

“I didn’t want to actually call anyone anyway.” He huffed, glaring around his cabin at nothing in particular. Well, guess he was trapped here with his thoughts. Alone. Until someone remembers he exists and comes to check on him. That’s not good.

Nico had his eyes closed in an attempt to go back to sleep when he heard the doors to his cabin swing open. “Okay, it’s almost 3 pm, I’m guessing you just wanna stay in bed all day, so I brought you some food.” Will shouted, his voice echoing slightly in the silence of the large cabin.

Nico opened his eyes slowly, turning his gaze to his boyfriend. “It’s 3 pm?”

“Yeah.” Will set the food tray on Nico’s bedside table, sitting at the foot of his bed. “I’ve been busy in the infirmary all day. Got a bit worried when I didn’t see you by lunch, but then I had to perform surgery on this new kid that got here this morning, one of his ribs broke and punctured his lung and ambrosia wasn’t cutting it so I had to go in and take care of it myself and it was a whole mess.” He let out a small tired sigh, picking at a spot of dried blood on his scrubs before turning to look back at Nico.

“Anyway how’s your day been?” Nico blinked, staring at him for a moment.

“Oh, you know. Good. Can’t move, but that’s fine.”

“You can’t move?”

“Yeah, I mean I can. But it hurts, you know? One of my muscles twitches and I blackout for a second, it’s no big deal.” As he spoke Will’s eyes widened with concern, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“That sounds like a big deal.”

“It’ll go away eventually.”

“If it’s your chronic pain being really bad today, then I guess kinda. But that’s not good.” Will paused for a moment, looking Nico over for a moment. “Are you in pain now? Or...more pain than usual, I mean.”

“It hurts like normal, but then when I move I feel like I’m gonna combust.” Will hummed, turning his gaze to the ground for a moment, his hand pulling at a loose thread in Nico’s blanket as he thought.

“Alright, well...you’ll still need to eat, and then I’ll run to the infirmary to grab some painkillers.” Will stood up, before pausing for a moment, glancing at the food on the table, then at Nico. “Can you sit up on your own or do you need—”

He had already begun sitting up, wincing as lights danced before his eyes almost mockingly, his blood rushing in his ears being all that he could hear. He felt something warm take hold of his arms and guide him up, leaning him against the wall. As the lights faded he realized it had been Will’s hands.

Will took a seat next to him, taking the plate of food and setting it on Nico’s lap. “What about eating on your own?”

He made no attempt to reach for the fork, his head still reeling just from sitting up. His cheeks began to burn. Can’t even feed himself, this is embarrassing.

Will seemed to read his expression, taking the fork and picking up some food. “It’s alright. I’m happy to help you.” Nico’s cheeks burned even hotter, but now he couldn’t discern what exactly they were burning from.

Roughly half an hour later, Will was running back from the infirmary, carrying two heating pads and a plastic bag full of a large variety of medications. He plopped down on Nico’s bed, having changed out of his scrubs into a t-shirt and shorts. “Alright, got the painkillers!”

“Will, did you just shove a bunch of unlabelled pills into a bag together?” Will shrugged.

“I know what all of them are. This one,” he pulled out a circular red pill, “is ibuprofen, which is what you’ll be taking now.” He pulled out a second and held them out, waiting for Nico to open his mouth to pop them in.

After Nico drank some water the two worked to pilot him back into a lying down position in as painless a way possible. He still saw the lights before his eyes, but they felt less mocking than before, so he took that as a good sign.

Will pulled his blanket off a bit, holding out the heating pads. “Now where does it hurt the most?”

“It hurts everywhere, Will, I don’t think some heating pads’ll help.” Will nodded, pursing his lips together.

“Yeah, I expected you to say that. Heat’s good for chronic pain though, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I was only able to steal two of these, though, so we’re gonna have to make do.” Nico buried his head into his pillow a bit further, a twitch in his hand causing him to wince.

“Both under me on my back maybe?” Will quickly moved to do so, gently helping him lift himself up and placing the pads below him. Feeling the warmth course through his body did make him feel better. It felt almost like someone was holding him.

Will let out a yawn, stretching a bit. “Does that feel better?” Nico nodded.

“A lot better.” He looked over to Will, noticing the slight bags under his eyes. “You tired?” Will shrugged.

“A little. My siblings told me they’ll take care of any more patients today though, so that’s nice.”

“Cool. Do you...have anything to do today?” A grin spread across Will’s face.

“Sounds like you’re asking me to spend the day with you.”

“No! I was just—I just was wondering if you had anything to do. Is all.” Will opened the drawer of Nico’s bedside table, placing the pill bag inside before moving to stack the drachmas.

“Well no, I don’t. But,” he reached into his pocket, pulling out dramatically with two fingers a phone, “I snuck this into camp last time we went out to the city. And my mom uses the same password on every streaming platform she has. You know what that means?”

“What?”

“Since you can’t move, now’s the perfect time to introduce you to Star Wars.” Nico sighed.

“Oh gods.”

“The time has come!” Will laid down next to Nico on the bed, holding the phone up between the two of them.

“What is it with you and Star Wars?”

“It’s simply the best franchise ever, and you’ll come to realize that soon enough.”

“I doubt that.” Will smiled, turning and pecking a small kiss on Nico’s forehead.

“Keep doubting, Dark Lord.”

#got back from work at like 4 played stardew valley for an hour then passed out for 2 hours but hey its still the 30th where im at #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo

13 notes · View notes

dissociativediscourse · 2 years

Note

Today I got told by my therapist that if I want to schedule bi-weekly sessions rather than weekly, shes either going to “help me find another therapist within the practice to discuss my treatment plan with who MIGHT be ok with bi-weekly sessions” or shes dropping me as a patient, strictly because I have DID. She told me that she sees it as unethical on her part not to do weekly sessions, and that for some of her DID patients, she says them three times a week. Forgive me, shrink, but I dont want to focus on trauma recovery every single week when I JUST got out of a constant fight or flight state for the first time in my whole life recently. Why do I have to become trauma to get care? Why am I not allowed to have a busy, functioning life and DID at the same time? I was desperately looking for a great therapist that would specialize in trauma and dissociation, and she does, and I got that, but now its under the condition that I bring everything that I dont even have access to to the surface every single fucking week, something I dont have 1. time for, 2. energy for due to being chronically ill (which is where most of my fucking trauma and dissociation came from in the first place), 3. the space to fucking care about it when Im busy being able to look outside and know its not a literal firey apocalyptic wasteland out there. Theres grass outside. Theres trees and forests and wind and bubbling water and cold things and hot things and all these wonderful plants (I love plants) and animals and so many lovely things, and Im seeing all of that for the first time, and she wants me to see the earth burn again every week? Im not fucking Prometheus and she cant make me do shit. I fucking abhor how DID is somehow synonymous with such intense suffering it renders you either clinically inept or clinically insane. No, motherfucker, I survived. I fucking survived, you think my brain would do all of that just to leave me with dementia-like behavior? Fuck you, how dare you.

This just seemed like the perfect blog to send something like this in, I just had to get this out and I feel so alone with dealing with this shit. Trauma recovery should never mean removing the survivor from their present moment and bringing them back into trauma, especially WITHOUT CONSENT which is all Ive been fucking getting no matter how blunt and upfront I am about controlling my own care. I just want her to see a person, not pain. Why is there no nuance? Why cant I be a person in pain sometimes and a pained person other times?

I am glad you sent this here. I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to respond. The way October is for me has just made me step back a little.

It sounds like this is a blessing in disguise. (Signaling you to RUN!!) Because your therapist is doing so many things wrong I doubt they should be treating anyone with DID. I mean, the fact they’re trying to get you to do trauma work multiple times a week when you do not want to or threatening to drop you is one of the biggest therapist red flags I think I’ve ever seen. And it sounds like a tactic an abusive parent would use. Trauma therapy can be and is retraumatizing if it is not done right, and this is especially the case with DID. That’s why there are phases to its treatment.

You are supposed to be *reasonably stable enough to be able to handle any of the consequences that occur and to be able to cope with what you go through* when you start to deep dive into trauma. The VERY FIRST phase of treatment is stabilization. And it sounds like you are just being forced straight into constant… This? No!!! This is not how you do it!!! This is not therapy!! This is forcing someone to have flashbacks at your will and threatening them if they don’t!! How is that okay?? It’s not!!

And this isn’t even to MENTION that if you are not ready, or say you do not want to do trauma work that day, or are severely uncomfortable or a host of other things— the therapist SHOULD NOT be either making you do it or even allowing another part to try to force you into it for self harm purposes.

I’m so sorry. Please find another therapist. Let her drop you. That threat was a blessing in disguise. This is a situation that cannot end well, and I worry about her other patients if she acts like this is standard. She needs to deal with her own issues before she should be anywhere near others’. If you need resources for help finding therapists, please send an ask or a message my way letting me know or and I’ll help you out. There are also some in my #advice asks tag.

Trauma therapy should not torture you, it should not hurt like this. It hurts, but it should not be this way. And there are good therapists out there, it just sounds like you haven’t found one yet. And I’m really sorry for that.

If you’re an adult and you want someplace to gather resources for finding therapy/advice from others/to chat about any of this, it seems like you might have some use for the Survivor’s Network? It’s a discord server and it’s in my pinned. I know a lot of members have been through similar therapy situations, and when you are going through that, it’s nice to have a purely recovery-oriented space to help out. (Not trying to plug, just seemed helpful, lol.)

#advice asks #advice #asks #dissociative identity disorder advice #osddid #osdd advice #therapy advice tag

14 notes · View notes

itcamefromthetoybox · 2 years

Text

Elvis Sighting In The Toy Aisle

I know I promised two reviews this week, and I do occasionally keep my word, so here’s the second review! Once upon a time, the gimmicks wrestlers had were absolutely nuts. One of the most famous wrestlers was an undead cult leader whose crazed brother burnt their house down, one was a US drill sergeant/beloved “GI Joe” character turned enforcer for a brutal Middle Eastern warlord, and then there’s today’s guy, whose deal was that he was “Elvis but an asshole.” When I first saw him at Walmart, I was absolutely delighted and knew I had to have him. The question is, though, do you need him too? So to answer that, let’s look at “WWE Superstars The Honky Tonky Man!”

With retro-style toys being huge these days, the WWE has decided to cash in on the trend by bringing back old toys with modern engineering. In this case, that means the return of toys from the 80’s and 90’s. I know, this is starting to sound familiar. That’s because it’s the premise behind our previous review, “Masters of the WWE Universe Macho Man Randy Savage.” The difference is that the “WWE Superstars” toyline is both still on shelves and is trying to recreate the original toys as closely as possible instead of combining pro wrestlers and He-Man.

The “Superstars” line is a Walmart exclusive toyline aimed at collectors, with each figure coming with a delightful amount of accessories, much like you’d expect from a collector-aimed line. The figures do use the “Masters of the Universe Origins” bodies, which makes sense, considering they’re emulating a toyline that looked very similar to the original “Masters of the Universe” bodies and are being made by the same company as “Origins.” What that means for us that they have absolutely stellar articulation and honestly do a great job of recreating the looks of those old toys.

Honky Tonk Man comes with multiple accessories, some of which are not immediately obvious from how he’s packaged: his jumpsuit and scarf, which are both removable, two extra sets of hands, and his guitar, which breaks apart into multiple pieces. From how he’s packaged, it’s easy to miss a lot of this. In fact, the way I found out about the guitar being able to break apart was I removed a plastic band from it and it fell into five pieces in my hands. So don’t open this guy where you can lose parts, is what I’m saying here.

Not pictured: The Ultimate Warrior coming to beat his ass.

Changing out Honky Tonk Man’s hands is very easy, just like it is with the “MOTU Origins” line. Just note that issues with individual figures and constant hand swapping can make the connection loose over time. He can also hold his guitar by the neck very nicely, which is great because it breaks apart really easily, so you don’t want him dropping it. Seriously, it falls apart at the snap of a finger and has to be reassembled in a certain order to make it hold together even as loosely as it does. It’s a real pain and I kinda regret removing the plastic band that was keeping the whole thing intact.

Later when I moved him into another room, I realized I had misplaced part of the guitar. Took about 5 minutes to find on the floor.

The accessory I have a problem with, however, is the jump suit. It is removable, and Honky Tonk Man does have his wrestling tights painted on under it. The issue is that it’s a real pain to remove. It’s a cloth outfit that’s surprisingly tight around the shoulders, so when I tried to take it off for photos, I ran into some challenges. In the end, I had to give up and settle for some open shirt pics because I was getting terrified of ripping the outfit. So if you grab yourself a Honky Tonk Man, be careful about that or learn to sew.

What started as the closest I could get to removing his outfit without fear quickly turned into the fanservice photo.

Honky Tonk Man and the rest of the “WWE Superstars” line are all Walmart exclusive figures and go for about $20 right now. So the question comes down to if he’s worth that. Honestly, I’d say no. Yes, he’s a good figure and fun to play with, like any figure using a “MOTU Origins” mold, but he’s not worth that big price tag, especially when you can find him right next to the “Origins” figures that use the same bodies and go for $10-$15, which feels like adding insult to the injury of spending that much on him. It feels like you’re paying more because of the accessories, which include a jumpsuit I was scared I was going to damage if I removed it and a guitar that will fall apart long before he can hit anyone with it. If you can find him on discount, though, then consider grabbing him. He is aimed at collectors, which makes a ton of sense since his mold means he won’t match most wrestling toys kids these days have and he’s a wrestler most kids these days won’t know. If anything, they’re going to think he’s the actual Elvis. So unless you’re a collector or just really like his gimmick, like I do, then I’d pass on him or wait for a sale. This is JL signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

#honky tonk man #wwe #wrestling #toys #toy #review #reviews #toy review #wrestling toy #wrestling toys #wwe toy #wwe toys #wwe superstars

5 notes · View notes

fakearoon · 7 months

Text

It’s been weeks since it ended and I don’t know how to feel still. What happened throughout the years of dealing with the constant abuse of multiple men has broken me. I put my trust into people who never cared for me and only saw me as a toy to use every day. The constant fighting and cut-offs in connection has distorted how to view anyone around me and makes me feel anxious with new people. The relationships that were just novelty towards these people has made it hard for me to feel like it’s worth continuing to date my current partner as I feel like she will do the same. I can still feel those extreme feelings of lust from when I was around them, but now I feel extremely guilty for it and any form of love. It’s stuff that will take a long time to move on from and I still fear them being able to come back into my life and causing more issues to me. I’m trying hard to focus on a lot right now, but the work of just a few people has broken that focus into just me not being able to strive for anything. I want to just say the most vile shit to them and completely break them mentally, but all I can really do is just cry and feel so much shame for letting it happen. I want to pray to god for something to heal, but the same people who hurt me are the children of god and I don’t want to pray to a force that created what I want to heal. There’s not much for me to do other than sorrow in the pain and wait for it to heal, but the pain just makes it worse to deal with every day. I’ll just have the emotional torment of the aftermath continue to haunt me for so long and I’ll only be able to say how It’s been weeks since it ended and I don’t know how to feel still.

0 notes

thepragmaticwarlock · 1 year

Text

Honestly cannot be assed about Amanda’s death. I’ve been playing Destiny since D1 and this death feels so out of left field. I get they were dropping some foreshadowing w/ her language and some lore stuff. Just bc you randomly drop some foreshadowing to a characters death doesn’t make the death narratively compelling. Not to mention this seems like the worst way to add complexity/intrigue into this season. We still don’t know why the black legion/ Witness is taking prisoners. Mostly bc it seems contradictory to everything the witness has done so far. Like clearly the Witness did not launch an all out attack on Guardians/the Tower and earth in general. It’s attention was focused solely on the Traveller so what point is there in taking random prisoners and a war that’s not really being waged? If this was a Red War-esque scenario I could see prisoners being taken making sense. But that’s not what’s happening or at least not what Bungie has shown us.

I honestly was hoping for a darker twist this season esp since we had mentions of the air in the prison ships being different/hard to breath. Like maybe the Witness was trying to corrupt people over to his side and against Guardians/the Traveller. Something maybe parallel to what Mass Effect did with indoctrination w/ the Reapers. To me it makes more narrative sense and is more in line with original Destiny and the purpose of Guardians to have protecting people and the last city be an essential part of this season rather than ANOTHER character death with another revenge arc. It just would have been more compelling if we saw that actual humanity (rather than just the Traveller and named NPCs) were in serious peril. I also think it would have helped ground the DLC, which is dealing with these huge paracasual entities that are seemingly beyond our understanding in something more tangible to us as players. Made the Witness not just a threat to the Traveller but also the Last City and all it’s people.

I also think Amanda’s death also could have just been done better. Like even more so than the fact they killed her they did it in such an impersonal and awkward scene. A random explosion, our guardian walking out fine (presumably after being exploded and rezzed?), Eramis being there after a bunch of random cryptic warnings. And like rescuing 6 ppl. It was just not a compelling death in any way.

Then I will touch on the weird Crow/Amanda stuff going on. And I will immediately preface with Bi ppl exist. Ppl can have relationships with men and women and be attracted to people of all genders. So the fact Uldren had a relationship w/ a man prior to be a guardian and now seems to have had feelings for Amanda is not something I see as inherently awful or queer baiting. Same w/ Amanda flirting with a women Eliksni. (Also she obviously did not reciprocate Crows feelings so irrelevant imo) But as a bi person I kinda don’t mind them having characters that are attracted to multiple genders. I still think Crow/Amanda was a very forced pairing and felt awkward throughout the season. I also do not think they necessarily killed Amanda for the sole purpose of giving Crow man pain? I mean it’s too early to know what direction Bungie will go w/ the rest of the season so we’ll see what happens. I wasn’t particularly attached to Amanda. But I do think the decision was still shocking to me, I mean to me it was in the same vein as if they decided to kill off another well established vendor/NPC. Like Shax or Eva Levante. Like these characters have never had a lot of in game narrative purpose but have been constant companions to our guardians. And I’m purposefully ignoring lore as many NPCs have a much bigger role in lore but writing good lore for a character doesn’t make up for lack of in game content that’s actually directly communicated to players. You can’t have an entire game built on lore or having to read lore for context to understand what’s happening (which is what Bungie is doing).

Also Mara Sov at this point I’m like is this character development or are they just writing you as a completely different character? It really feels like Mara wouldn’t have given a shit about Amanda’s death or been this empathic to any of the other characters of this happened during Witch Queen. I don’t know if Bungie is trying to recoup how they wrote Mara earlier in the game to frankly be a complete bitch to be more like able now or this is like a driven character arc. I wish I remembered more dialogue from her from earlier seasons but it really feels like Mara is a completely different character at this point. (I don’t mind too much bc well she is actually likeable now).

I really feel like the current trajectory of the seasonal story really just cements the fact Lightfall wasn’t a particularly compelling narrative and that I am very nervous about the resolution of Destiny’s story. I feel like they are going to fall into Mass Effect 3’s trap of not being able to resolve such a massive IP w/ such in depth world building within studio/industry constraints.

#destiny the game #destiny 2 #d2 #lightfall spoilers #d2 spoilers #destiny 2 lightfall #d2 lightfall #i just know D2 is gonna have a ME3 esque ending #also Bungie stop putting 98% of story content in lore challenge #you can just tell!!!! you have to show!!!!!

1 note · View note

wallbrat · 1 year

Text

Darkness Perpetual?

Intro I'm fighting a migraine. I should go lay down but my mind won't let me. I've avoided doing this multiple times and now my mind is forcing the issue. Yes, my mind. If you have a mental illness then it's you against your mind and both of you against societal stupidity. Don't believe me? Gather around, young padawans. Genesis I know where my mental illnesses started. I'm ADHD and I fight depression. I was born with both. I have screwed up brain chemistry. We can thank Ritalin for that one. The rest is from the mass of trauma I've lived through, inflicted and self inflicted. I, at least, understand where everything came from. That helps in some respects yet solves nothing. There's always a ledge and I'm always standing on it. The reality is that most of us that suffer from a mental illness will never see old age. Our minds will get the better of us and win the battle. Most of us don't want to be here. I certainly don't yet I'll remain. Darkness Specific The specifics of my trauma don't matter. Writing about it won't help because every person is different. What is traumatic for one is a walk in the park for another. What matters is that I had to make a deal with my mind to remain. I gave it a specifically worded promise as to when it can take me out. Certain conditions have to be met. It guarantees that I'll see my 75th year before it's even possible. That keeps me here but doesn't solve anything. My first week in this apartment was almost my last. The cats saved me then. The promise came after that. I'm basically a prisoner. I'm in pain all the time. I'm not happy. I'm broken while trying to heal. My body feels like it's slowly falling apart. My demons come out at random times and floor me. I'm lost and alone among people because so few understand. I'm always on the ledge, looking down. I long for peace and I'm constantly denied because my brain won't let me rest. I sleep when I'm exhausted and not before. Throughout all of this, I maintain a manufactured facade that hides the truth when I'm in public. Reading helps. Certain people are a balm. Music is a gift from the universe. Savin Me and Lullaby, from Nickelback, have saved me more times than anything else. The battle is constant and never ending. It pushes me to the rim of the ledge often yet the promise keeps me here. Publication So why publicize this when so few will understand? Because a few will. If it helps them or they help others then its worth the effort. I'm not looking to be the poster child for mental health. There are other more worthy of that. Selena Gomez and Taylor Tomlinson, just to name two. I'm just trying to do something positive in this shit storm. Balance is important and there's been very little of it, in my life, lately. Finally, it's not about if you understand or not. It's about support. So many of us lack that. It's truly terrifying to realize how little most people care about mental illness or how many pretend it doesn't exist. It's always been with us and it always will be. I'll end by paraphrasing Taylor. Knowing you have a mental illness is simply information you can use to better take care of yourself. You just have to remember to take your arm floaties.

0 notes

sp00kysk3lly · 1 year

Text

I spoke to the GP this morning about my constant pain I feel when I walk, the bad pain in my chest when I walk and breath when I walk, my sleeping which I am now using alcohol to deal with (not that I told them that yet).

What did they say? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Literally just told me that the pain is caused by my multiple chronic illnesses, which it’s not. There’s no evidence of that. Yes type one can cause nerve problems, but it’s not that. I know it isn’t. I’ve been tested for all of that. And every test has come back normal.

Then they told me that I can’t have any more sleeping pills because they are “addictive” and “wouldn’t work”. So what? Am I suppose to drink vodka every night when I go to sleep? It’s like they want me to mess up my life and become an alcoholic. Because that’s what it’s going to come too, I’m going to rely on it to get me to sleep, then what do you think is going to happen? You’re the doctors, you tell me!

But they did prescribe me my eye drops so that’s all ok then! As long as I got my fucking eye drops, it’s all ok. Even though I wouldn’t need the eye drops if I could fucking sleep.

Honestly think the NHS just don’t want to help me. They see my name pop up on the system and think, “nah, we ain’t helping him. We’re sick of him even though he has done absolutely nothing wrong to us!”

Just want to punch and kick these doctors until there’s no more of them. I should be the doctor, I’ve got more experience with medical issues than they clearly do.

I’m the one that diagnosed my diabetes before they did, I’m the one who knew I had a bowel condition before they did, I’m the one who knew I had a bladder problem before they did.

One doctor even said I could walk on a broken hip???? Yeah, no. No you can not, Dr Do Fuck All!

Damn these people just piss me the fuck off now. I don’t know what I’ve done to be treated this way by the whole of NHS, but it’s really affecting my mental health and it’s honestly making me just want to die sooner.

0 notes

lancecharleson · 1 year

Text

Well well well...

This one goes out to all the tumblr influencers who helped much of this site’s userbase migrate to Twitter.

I have a lot of things to say that I know some of you don’t want to hear.

But before I do, I want you to know that I am fully aware that Apple's policies and Tumblr (circa 2018)'s irrational decision making is what resulted in The Tumblr Exodus of 2018 happening. What I want to talk about is how many of you with more clout than most were ready to flock, nail and rivet yourself to the birdapp, let complacency run it's course, and why there needs to be accountability from those who influenced the direction of the Exodus. So...

Congratulations! You ended up wasting so much of people's precious time, forcing them to rebuild their audience again on a platform that was doomed from the start to be taken over by genuinely godawful people (thanks largely to how the site's algorithm works). If I were you, I wouldn't plan on sticking around to see it get worse with Lonnie Muskrat at the helm, who's planning to allow all the cultists and bullies who were banned 2 years ago (for PR reasons and not the constant breaking of community guidelines) back onto the platform, who continue to pretend having no semblance of an ethical compass is the same thing as having a "differing opinion." But no, you keep insisting: "OH but there are people on there who can't afford to start over again!"

"OH but it's the place where everyone and everything is (no it's not)!"

"OH but the alternative sites you recommend aren't the jack of all trades social media sites that twitter is!"

"OH but there are extensions to help you block out all the horrible stuff and curate the site in a way that makes twitter a more """comfy""" experience!"

"OH but-

OH SO WHAT?

Some of us were telling you for YEARS since The 2018 Exodus to seek alternate sites that aren't like Twitter, or at least diversify to multiple sites and use your influence on the birdapp, to spread the word around to help people connect with each other (if you're reading this right now and you're someone who's done any or all of these things, then disregard this rant).

Yet you didn't want to listen.

You made ZERO effort to plan in the long term how to keep your social presence on the internet known by alternate means, just in case a catastrophe like the twitsla merger happened. You had MONTHS in advance to make a good head start on just that, and you chose to stick to that hellsite.

I don't care what you say to convince me there is no alternative to Twitter, I am never going back.

This is the final straw. I've had enough.

I have always hated Twitter, ever since I moved there.

4 years of experience on there has resulted in far too many painful memories to count than good, and I’m not staying to make more.

The first year I spent on there wasn’t so bad, but then 2019 was the year when I was given a glimpse of just how awful that particular side of site’s userbase can be.

Beyond that though, the site is dogshit when it comes to elevating artists, it’s limited word format has destroyed attention spans, there is no way to sort or archive posts, it has a genuinely triggering trend feed designed in such a way to solely generate clicks, and it has a heavily biased algorithm that does not favor voices who genuinely want to be a powerful force for good in this world.

But worst of all, I am disgusted to even occupy the same space as the billionaire worshippers who laugh, circlejerk, and delight in their insatiable desire to destroy democracy, society and human life. Bullying and harassment from those bad actors has always been a big problem on Twitter, a problem that, believe it or not, was actually getting close to being solved by the site’s software engineering team, who’ve been pushing for algorithmic transparency and choice, and inventing and building ethical AI tooling and methodologies to deal with the problem. Too fucking bad that’s been thrown away by a multi-billionaire manchild, who has signalled loud and clear he intends to exacerbate that problem, as he’s fired the team, without notice no less, along with another notable team that is vital to ensuring hate speech isn’t normalized on the platform.

Those bastards are coming en mass to harass and dox all your friends who either come from marginalized backgrounds or don't have the same level of clout as you do, and I highly recommend you start instructing them on where to branch out and ensure them you have their backs every step of the way right now.

Despite what happened, communities on Tumblr continue to thrive, and while it's nice that the site’s company is more lax about artistic nudity in the same vein as DeviantArt (to whatever extent that is), I still wish they did more by, at the very least, doing what Discord did and only restrict access to the nasty stuff to Apple users only, rather than the scorch-the-earth approach they did 4 years ago.

There's also places like Pillowfort, Cohost, and if you're an artist specifically there's sites like DA, Newgrounds and Itaku. There are many more sites that I’m probably missing that some people know about (and can recommend in the replies), but they exist. The key is to spread the word around and let your friends know where you are.

There’s also the spiritual successor to Twitter coming soon called BlueSky, being developed by jack and all the former employees that muskrat fired, which began right as lonnie announced his intentions to colonize Twitter. But who knows how that’ll turn out. Whether or not they’ll also take onboard the HR team and the software engineers to continue working on their ethical algorithm and AI projects, remains to be seen.

I can already see coming from a mile away all the people coming to tell me “All those sites are shit because of one or two flaws” or “Barely anyone goes there forehead, it’s a ghost town.”

What is stopping you from trying anyway?

You want to stay on Twitter so badly? Fine, more power to you.

But I promise you moving shop is better than being on a social media site that is quickly becoming an amalgamation of everything wrong with Youtube, 4Chan and Facebook.

If you made it this far into the post, thank you for reading, and welcome back.

#Influencers #Welcome Back to Tumblr #Tumblr Revival #Long Post #Twitter #Tumblr Exodus of 2018

0 notes

boomerang109 · 3 years

Text

me: has five days to do assignment

day one: has other assignments to do/deadline is to far away so i don’t care yet/assignment hasn’t actually been posted

day two: i should really do this assignment but i can’t make myself sit down to do it and the professor still hasn’t posted it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

day three: due to not sleeping, i am physically and mentally unable to do this assignment (a combination of pain, exhaustion, and lack of focus)

day four: (today) i once again did not sleep so my pain has managed to increase exponentially. i have, at 6pm, only just managed to get myself out of bed. i need to do this assignment (and others) but do not know if i will be able to.

day five: that’s tomorrow and the day the assignment is due. here’s hoping i sleep tonight and tomorrow is miraculously the day i can both focus and don’t have excruciating pain 🙂

#everytime i have a headache day like today i am simply blown away by my body’s capacity for pain #like it physically should not be possible to hurt this much #and yet I’m still expected to go about my day as normal cause there’s ‘nothing wrong with me’#and so I had to attend two classes and work with kids for my job #and then I’ve just been laying in bed and now I’m trying not to cry and I just don’t know what to do #I remembered Advil existed so I took that but it doesn’t usually help anyway. nothing does #and the worst part is I was doing better but then [REDACTED] happened and fucked up my whole eating and sleeping routine #like I can deal with constant pain? like I’m used to that. pain in multiple places? whatever. but just. the stomache plus the leg pain plus #the worst headache you can possibly imagine?? like I literally don’t know how to deal with it #everytime it happens I just lose my mind as if I don’t have this happen all the time. it never gets easier #and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do #and it’s not like I can ask my professor for an extension cause I’m just gonna keep being in pain anyway?? and I’m already behind in all my #classes? and if I can type all this out then I should be able to type about whatever ducking shit I’m supposed to be learning about #but I just hurt so fucking much and I hate it I hate it I hate it #negativity #life of a boomerang #vent #fuck chronic pain and fuck mental illness #I almost did work last night too but then I had to ducking spiral instead cause I’m mentally ill. like how am I supposed to function pls lmk

28 notes · View notes

softiem · 3 years

Text

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face.

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

801 notes · View notes