#working on projects so backlog again

[dailyfalsesymmetry]

day 42

this might be the finest piece of Art i have ever created. truly captures the essence of falsesymmetry

[tokyomiracle]

Chapter 4 Page 3 just released! New pages every Thursday!

[READ TOKYO MIRACLE CHAPTER 4 HERE!]

[outeremissary]

Blacklistable tag update: in the next few days I will probably put up one or two original posts related to BG3, one of which will be art (assuming I finish my shit at a reasonable time). I will likely be posting these under "emi plays bg3" and not "bg3"; large fandoms make me nervous. I wanted to be sure I was clear so that folks could filter things out. I will try to be more consistent henceforth with using that or the normal fandom tags on posts. If you are looking to catch my characters from that and a recent PF campaign (I know I often don't fandom tag asks), "kasander" and "asperia" should cover your bases.

I will try to reblog this a few times at some more decent hours.

[the-shy-artisan]

thank god i have a stretch of free days coming up, i need to play catch up with my sewing ;;

[sysig]

I'm almost finished with this notebook with it's horrible paper, and I just finished the first page of my Big Project

[verittean]

sometimes it's cool to have a little guy in your brain but then if the hyperfixation turns evil they refuse to leave and it's not as fun anymore

[headspace-hotel]

any other autistic people have to drop out of college and have stories to share about what they did/how they managed to find a job and a bearable life?

I'm considering it again and there's a good chance I'm actually gonna do it

I'm only a year away from graduation, but...I've been having this deep sense that "this is wrong, I'm on the wrong path" for a while. I've never been able to convince myself that I should stay because it's what I want, only push down the feeling and try to convince myself I have no choice.

Despite many good things that happened, 2024 was almost definitely the worst year of my life (which is saying something, considering how 2021 went for me) just in terms of how much of it I spent utterly miserable.

I'm about to turn 25. I am so sick of being around 19 and 20 year olds, not that there's anything wrong with them, I'm just starting to struggle to connect with people who haven't been around the block a little bit and lived outside of the regimented, narrow constraints of school.

My school situation is difficult to explain but it's unlikely I will ever be given a better chance to graduate without debt. However, my school has proven completely rigid and inflexible in regards to several crucial disability accommodations, and I have fought so incredibly hard to make this situation work for me and it just isn't and every time I think it's finally going to be okay there is some other bullshit that happens and I am tired of running myself ragged fighting to survive in a place I don't want to be.

Not only do I not want to spend another year feeling like my life is a black hole of despair, I don't want to wait any longer to get my driver's license and figure myself out and learn who I am and form meaningful relationships and escape the narrow little crevice my college life is. I am so exhausted all the time when I'm in school that I can't work on myself, and I feel stunted. I feel like a plant in a too-small pot where its roots are all bunched up along the edges.

I was hopeful about getting some kind of career related to studying plants or working with plants or something, but right now my only career goal is for the pain to stop.

Family says they will support me no matter what I do, but seem to lack faith in me to take steps toward independence or something I want to accomplish. My mom just seems to live in fear that I will go back to how I was in the Burnout Year where I just laid in bed for months, as if this is all I'm capable of without the external structure of college. It leaves me doubting myself and whether I've actually grown any.

Family also seems to think that I'm naive to how hard a job would be, to which my honest answer is Jesus if this is the easiest my life is going to be I am just not going to make it. Parents keep saying college is hard, it was hard for me too but I think I just completely fail to communicate how much they don't get it. It's not that my classes are hard, it's not that the work takes effort. If anything it's not enough work, not enough stimulation. It's just...the stressors. The exhaustion of having to go to class every day for hours and participate in group projects and presentations and having to go to different meetings and appointments. Not having any control over anything in my life. Not knowing whether I'll have good food to eat every day, not knowing if the kitchen will be free for me to boil a pot of goddamn noodles, not knowing if my energy budget is free enough that I can hang out with a friend or make a dentist appointment without fucking up and contributing to an ongoing backlog of exhaustion that nothing, nothing, nothing but time ever can fix. The hyper-vigilance I have to maintain to avoid locking myself out of my own room.

I'm just...not 20 anymore. I can hardly stomach Ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese anymore. I feel gross and nasty when I don't eat green things and fresh things and things with fiber in them. I get too exhausted to stay awake by 12:30 and wake up at 8:30am whether I set my alarm or not. I can't skip meals anymore, I can't just roll out of bed, stuff down a granola bar and function until lunch anymore.

I don't know what's right. I just know that what I'm doing right now is wrong. If I ignore this, I might as well never listen to a "gut feeling" ever again because I've never had one so strong or so persistent.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Just watched act 1 and I'm actually feral for Sevika. Like omg what?! How is she so hot?! Anyway I've had this idea of sharing a smoke with her. Specially shotgunning. Um. Yeah. Anyway maybe that would turn into something a bit more - NSFW should we say. Definitely biting. You know what I'm talking about lol anyway this isn't a lot to work with I know.. I just saw your post asking for Sevika requests so I figured I'd pop in

Sevika x F!Reader 18+

Her lungs burnt as she inhaled her cigar, watching you fix her arm for the hundredth time this week. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, screwdriver carefully pulling out the broken metal parts in her arm, clinking in the silence.

She could feel your frustration before she even entered your little mechanic shop. People were being more demanding for fixes as Zaun practically relied on prosthetic limbs, and you were rated the best one for the job. Sometimes you felt like a pawn; people didn't even pay that well. You might have to think of increasing the prices...

"You think too much."

You sighed, looking up at your girlfriend who huffed out smoke through her nose. She knew you were busy, and a part of her felt bad last time you stayed late to fix her arm, so she tried really hard to keep it in a manageable state for longer than usual.

Heavy on tried.

"You should learn how to fight." You snapped back playfully, looking back down at the arm for the final few fixes. The arm hissed and popped once, finally being fully functional again. "Even Ran doesn't come in this often. Might have to start charging you."

Sevika scoffed as she watched you stand up to toss your tools onto your very littered desk, your hands coming up to wipe your tired face.

"You're processor is fried. I'll make you a new one soon, but this one should hold up if you can hold off fighting for a few days."

She was listening but all she could focus on is how exhausted your eyes looked. She asked if you were done for the day, if you wanted to go home but you were already backlogged for weeks with new projects and fixes. You politely declined, walking over to her again and taking the cigar from her lips only to put it in your own mouth.

Sevika didn't flinch. It was something you did often, especially on nights where you needed something to keep you awake for a little longer.

Sevika sat on the small couch, looking up at you as you inhaled, smoke escaping your nose before you even got to exhale. She thought for a moment, then grabbed the back on your thighs and pulled you to straddle her.

"'Vika, I need to get-"

"To work. I know." She casually said, taking the cigar from your hands and inhaling deeply herself. Her eyes remained on yours while her hand reached up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you up to her lips.

For a second you thought she was going to kiss you, like she did always in thanks when you fix her up. But instead, she stopped you right before her face, hand now moving to open your mouth with her thumb. Then she exhaled.

You felt dizzy. You had smoked plenty of times, and since meeting Sevika you smoked plenty more. But this was so intoxicating it felt better than any cigarette you've ever tried.

You relaxed on her lap, sinking onto her as you tried to breathe normally. Her mechanic hand held your waist, the other firmly on your jaw to keep it open against her mouth. Just as the smoke began to fade, she pulled you fully against her, lips clashing together in a kiss.

You pulled away only when you felt you couldn't breathe, both of your chests rising and falling as you stared down at Sevika, her pupils blown wide, devouring you.

Work could wait.

You grabbed the cigar back, inhaling so deeply you felt your throat close up momentarily. Still, you leaned down and grabbed her jaw while her hands fell to your hips, gripping tightly to pull you even closer.

You exhaled the smoke as slowly as you could, relishing in the moment for a while before the smoke faded again. You wasted no time in kissing her again, a slight moan escaping your lips and into her mouth. You could taste the smoke in her mouth but it only seemed to rile you up more.

Your hips bucked, unintentionally, and you felt Sevika smirk into the kiss.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" Sevika teased. You replied with a breathy and rushed 'shut up' before going back to her lips, rocking your hips more now she was aware of your intentions. Her grip on you tightened, moving you so that you were straddling one of her thighs.

You really tried to keep your groans in, but the way your clit was grinding against the inside of your jeans. Fuck.

"Fuck. Do it again." You lifted the cigar to her lips, making her inhale it and letting her grab your jaw once more, shot gunning the smoke right into your mouth. You tried to breathe steadily, but her hand made you grind on her thigh more.

"So fucking pretty. Barely touched you and you're gonna cum already?"

You were so fucking close, a whine leaving your lips as you hid your face in the crook of her neck. She could feel the small puffs of air you breathed, trying to maintain some kind of control. Your teeth nipped at her skin, her own composure slowly failing.

You huffed when she accidentally made a sound when you bit into her neck. Your hips stuttered and bucked uncontrollably as you came, lips remaining at her skin until you were stable enough to pull away.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" You teased, mocking her words as angry red marks appeared on her neck. She was flushed and panting, your hips still held by her hands. She smirked, kissing you again before standing up and making you stand on your wobbly legs.

"Home. Now."

[copperbadge]

ADHD and (Communications) Productivity

Recently @goodnightmoonvale hit me up by email to ask about some of my processes for keeping myself from getting snowed under when it comes to digital communication. The main question was about finding ways to ensure that you stay in touch with people and, at work, give updates in a timely manner.

I sent back a long email about the systems I use, then asked if I could post up my response publicly as well, since a couple of other people both online and in brickspace have asked me similar questions. I've cleaned it up a little and included it below -- although I feel just slightly weird about posting it since admittedly outside of work I am still not fantastic about prompt responses to email.

Still, I feel like it's good to share this stuff -- I think people take away what they can from this kind of post, and it's nice when something works. So here's what I wrote, tidied up a bit for posting.

SHORT VERSION

When I have a backlog in email or asks or similar -- as I often do -- I set aside a time, between 15 minutes and an hour depending on how I'm feeling, to do "communication rotation". I open up every inbox I need to respond to in a separate tab, and crucially these are the ONLY tabs open -- I set up a new browser window if I have to.

So I have a browser open and I have tabs within the browser -- Gmail, Tumblr Askbox, AO3 Inbox, etcetera. If you have Discord you might open the DMs in Discord to see if you have ones to respond to there. If it helps, you can create a bookmark file of "inboxes" so you can open them all at once every time. Sometimes I have multiple browsers open so that I can have multiple Gmail inboxes (personal, fandom, work) open at once.

Then I cycle through them, answering messages in one inbox until I feel like I can't anymore, and I move on to the next one. I try to set a goal -- say, five messages from each platform, or one "difficult" message that I've been putting off per platform. Or trying to get every inbox down to under 20 messages that need response, or similar.

The goal is not to answer every single message, but to attack the mountain. If you find you're skipping one inbox because only the really hard-to-respond-to messages are left, close out the other inboxes and just focus on replying to ONE hard-to-respond-to message, then get up and walk away and give yourself a treat. Maybe come back and start again in ten minutes, maybe you're done for the day. The point is to reduce the backlog little by little while still retaining enough energy to respond to new things as they come in, so they don't add to the backlog.

There may be a better way for some people -- maybe some people would do better to pick one platform each time and just deep focus on that one, for example. I always say that people need to find what works for them, but the attitude in this case is what's important -- not "Gotta do it all now" but "Little bit now helps me later". 

NOW, for the long version that's more work focused! 

LONG VERSION

Responding to people and keeping them updated are two different things, and I think there's an implicit third thing, which is "making sure I make time to respond to messages". So in sequence what you need to figure out how to do is: 

1. Set up your workflow so that you are consistently reminded to read and respond to email.

2. Respond in a timely and appropriate manner to email. 

3. Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails as you progress in various projects. 

So for 1, only you know what will trigger you to consistently read and answer email. For me, I just constantly have my work email open on one monitor (I have two) and whenever a new email comes in I see it. Sometimes I need to use both monitors for other things, and for that reason the only email notifications I get on my phone are work email notifications*. So if I'm working on something and my phone nearby dings, I know it's probably important, and I see what it is fairly quickly.

* Reader, if you have ADHD and have not tried turning off all but the most necessary phone notifications, I do recommend trying it. For some it might be difficult or even counterproductive, but for me, it helps enormously with brain fog and executive function. The only notifications I get on my phone are text messages, work emails, and alarms. Nothing from social media, nothing from retail or game or banking apps. Zippo.

Once I'm aware I have a new email, before I read it, I decide: do I want to read and reply to this now? If not, if I'm in the groove of something else, I leave the email unread, so that it's there nagging at me when I'm done with whatever I'm doing. If I'm in a good place to break, I open the email -- but only if I have concluded that I will respond to it immediately if response is needed. 

This is a difficult habit to form. It may not work for some people. The key is to figure out what will a) draw your attention to new email, b) allow you to decide whether to read it, and c) respond if you do read it. 

2 ("respond in a timely and appropriate manner") is actually the easiest of the three steps in my opinion because you don't always have to have all the answers at once. I sometimes fall into the pit of "I can't respond unless I have a full answer or a finished assignment" and have to pull myself back out. It helps that I have become master of the "acknowledgement email" -- basically if you open an email and you can't answer the questions in it immediately, or if you can't work on the assignment that moment, you fire off a quick email just to let them know you've received the message and are working on it.

For this, I have several stock phrases such as "Thanks for the email! Let me look into this a little further and I'll get back to you" or "Sure, I can get that done in [timeframe]." Importantly, if they have not given you a deadline, it's SUPER helpful to say, "I'll have this to you by [reasonable date in your opinion] -- if you need it sooner please let me know ASAP so I can prioritize it." (or "If you need it sooner let's discuss the scope of the project, since I have a lot on my plate.") 

You then need to make sure that you do the task in the allotted time, but that's a different ballgame -- we're focusing here on responding and updating.

People, truly, just want to know that you've seen their request and are working on it, and just sending that email goes a long way towards giving the impression that you are a prompt responder and strong communicator. Also if you have any questions ("before I proceed, can I ask") now is the time to ask them since that puts responsibility back on them to provide information before you go further and possibly waste your time.

3 ("Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails") is where I struggle, because it's not just about remembering to Do The Thing, you have to also remember to update the person on the thing. The way I do this is to use my inbox not as a temporary repository for new emails but as a to-do list. Until a task is complete, the email regarding it does not leave my inbox (see next paragraph for exceptions). If it's important I might even mark it unread (despite having replied to it) so that it "bugs" me when I look at my inbox. 

If I have replied and can't go further until I get a response, I might file the email in a folder. I make a new folder for work every month, so for example any requests from February are in the 2025-02 folder, and for big projects with multiple emails I make a folder like "2025 Holiday Cards" or "2025 Database Audit". Since there's nothing I can do until the person hits me back, it doesn't need to stay in my "to do" inbox -- when they email back it'll get moved there anyway. However, if I have replied and need a response but can work on other aspects of the task, even if I'm not going to immediately, I leave it in my inbox. That way, whenever I'm concerned I've forgotten something, I can check my inbox and see all the stuff I need to either reply to or update people on.

I also use Google Tasks to run my life, and have it open in a sidebar next to my email, so any task I should be working on is generally noted there as well, but that goes back to the "make sure you do the tasks promptly" which again is a different issue. 

CASE STUDY

So, say someone asks me for a spreadsheet on Monday. I reply "Thanks, I'll have this for you by end of day Friday, let me know if you need it sooner." They don't respond so I assume Friday is fine for my purposes. I leave the request email in my inbox and start work on the task OR I put the task in my Google Tasks with "Due Friday EOD" on it. (Sometimes I do both.)

I work on the project all week and by Wednesday I've made reasonable progress but haven't heard back from the person who asked for it. Around the end of day Wednesday, I might open the thread again and send a quick email saying "Hey, I'm making good headway on this, still on track to have it to you EOD Friday." Or I might have a question, and shoot that off. For some people, you get a feel of whether or not they need that kind of update. I don't do this for, say, my super laid-back boss, but I do for the head of Data who definitely wants status updates. 

On Friday, I open that same email thread as the original request (for consistency) and send them the finished product. At that point I know I'm done with the task so I can shift the email into my 2025-02 archive for good. All the communication is in one place, and it's neatly filed away, so I no longer have to worry about it. 

CONCLUSION

The ultimate point is that you want to develop a system for your own personal use that reminds you to check email frequently, helps you respond immediately when you read an email, and reminds you to send updates as they're needed. Maybe that's alarms instead of Google Tasks, or a calendar app, or a handwritten to-do list in place of keeping stuff in your inbox. The point is to know what will cue you to do things you wouldn't do naturally, then implement those -- and change them if they stop working. What I wrote above is my system, but it's mostly demonstrating the framework I used to build it, which is what I hope other people will also find useful.

[paulinet]

For the sake of breaking a habit

Warnings: fluff, kisses, gn reader, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: Your lips are in a terrible state, and no amount of hygienic lipstick can save them. It's a habit that's hard to break without someone's help, right?

World count: ≈1700

From the author: Well, something uncomplicated before something complicated. I wanted something like this: soft, streamlined, and enticing.

When I have more of my story's, I'll compile them into a little masterlist.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

We all know nervousness, right?

Nervous when you are working on a gigantic project, on which you spend all your energy and time. You get nervous when you present this project in front of dozens (if not hundreds) of people, explain every aspect of it, and then nervously rub the edges of the sheets in your hands and wait and wait and wait. Approval, a nod, a wave of the hand, anything to take away the aching pain under your ribs.

But you're not afraid of these people, no.

But you worry about your work as a part of yourself. Here, you have taken something from your soul, from the depths of your mind, and you put it all together in a presentation and present it to the big people. Funding for almost any project, you know, hurts you enough if it doesn't come from somewhere else.

The habit of biting your lips came quite suddenly that you didn't even realize your lips had turned into chewed mincemeat.

All of a sudden you found out that they started hurting. And when you looked in the mirror, you were stunned and wondered, when did it get so bad?

You put the stack of sheets aside, sit back in your chair, and finally let yourself relax. This day hadn't been too hard compared to the other days, when you'd been working hard to clear out the backlog of reports, but you were still exhausted.

It's after midnight and there's about three of you left here. You and two other subordinates finishing their work.

There was no need to stay so long, but man, you wanted to finish most of the stuff for tomorrow (because there will obviously be more tomorrow).

The muffled knock of the door opening into the half-empty lab didn't even make you turn around. Few interesting people would have come in this late, at most one of the other workers ran in to say "hey, idiots, it's past midnight, let's go to bed already!" Same questions for him, of course.

"Well, how long are you going to stay here?!"

Oh, right. There's a person of interest, and that person is welcome to drop by anytime.

"Sprawled out in the chair and now she's going to sleep here. Shouldn't you move the bed over here right away?" — you sigh when Medicine Pocket sit down next to you, only on the desk, disrupting your careful arrangement of papers. Ouch.

"I'm not going to sleep in here. But you're right, my strength is almost gone," — you hear the sound of sheets of paper shattering and frown. "You've ruined my meticulously organized stack of papers according to all canons of perfectionism."

"Oh, yeah? It was an accident."

"Sure you did."

You don't even turn your head away from the ceiling to pay attention to them. Not to say they don't like it, but it does make they worry.

"How many hours have you been sleeping these past few days?"

"I am a creature in no need of sleep."

"I don't think Lovecraft would praise you for parodying some of his creatures."

You laugh.

"I'm trying to get 6-8 hours of sleep..." — their face seems to lighten, but resentment catches up again in seconds. "... In 2 hours. It's not working yet, heh."

They're clearly not happy with your answer. And who would like to find out that their partner has suddenly decided to adopt their lifestyle and also sleep less than a giraffe or a horse, not even close to the numbers needed to maintain strength in the body?

"Like a child, for God's sake."

"What about you?"

"Well, you have to admit, I look a lot better after a few days without sleep than you do."

"You're such a romantic."

"But honest."

"Uh-huh."

The conversation is interrupted while their interest is piqued by your face, because over the past few days you've started to look like a person with a less than healthy lifestyle. Not a junkie, but on the right track. It's time to look for jokes on the subject and appropriate cosmetics.

Especially their eyes ran over the bags under your eyes. Goths would be jealous that you don't have to work hard on your makeup - they'll take you in, and praise you for being in character.

And their gaze stopped at your lips. And it lingered until you stared back at them in puzzlement.

Awkward pause.

"What, is there something on my face?"

"Your face looks more like a mask from the movie Scream right now. And what the hell happened to your lips?"

Oh. You have forgotten about them for the duration of your work, but they always remind you of them afterwards. On a brief inspection of you, people can't tell that your lips are suffering from a meat grater or a meat mallet. It's only when they catch your eye for a long time that you realize that things are just awful.

That's what nervousness brings people to.

"I don't know."

"How do you not know what you're doing? Are you using or something?"

"No, it's just a bad habit I picked up out of nowhere."

"You can't get rid of it? Or is it out of your hands?"

"I don't notice when I start doing it. It's fine in the morning, by the end of the day it's like kissing a grater."

"Nerves are fraying?"

"Along with the cuckoo, I suppose."

They don't say anything to that, which you can't tell by their facial expressions.

Annoyed. Again.

But instead of grumbling, silence follows. A brief hiccup before they climb off the table and hover over you in a chair. Their venomous eyes prickle you, and before you can make any sound, they take your chin and kiss you.

You don't even manage to squeak. As usual.

The feeling of fatigue was replaced by the anticipation and excitement of an unexpected kiss. And more than one. Your consciousness focused on every fleeting sensation, every tiny movement of your bodies.

Their lips are always wet. Wet and thin, like two strings, curved in irritation or sickness from something poisoning they've eaten. Cold, they leave a herd of goosebumps behind them if they kiss hotter parts of your bodies, and never warm up no matter how many times they kiss. Even after a hundred kisses before bed or in the morning. But that doesn't stop them from being persistent and not at all shy of outsiders you've already forgotten about.

They don't close their eyes most of the time, and today is one of them.

Staring point-blank, as if they were preparing to fire a gun at some animal and aiming without being distracted by extraneous sounds. In the light their eyes are like two Ilyich bulbs, and even in the darkness they will stand out with their sparkles. And they've never been embarrassed by it.

On the contrary, they like to place bets on which minute of the kiss you will avert your eyes. And it's very annoying and fun for you at the same time. It's like stepping on the same rake every time because you like it.

Their lips, although thin, are very assertive. They do not hesitate to take the initiative and apply more diverse actions. They have a different way of kissing every time, you can never guess what was intended for this time. They savor your already killed lips, push forward, don't give you a chance to get out of the situation and turn your head.

The fingers in white gloves encircle your chin and do not let you move, holding you firmly, but in their own gentle way, not forgetting to change the position of your fingers from time to time.

You hear your own heart pounding when all they has to do is run their tongue over your lips. Here's someone, but Medicine Pocket, after much practice, have gotten much deeper into kissing. And now they'll bet anything just to see the ripples of burning excitement on your face again.

They're so mean when they need something. So untouchable, but in need of that little act of appeasement. Screaming audacity in every action. You know you'll be in drool and hickeys (later) afterward, but you reach your hands behind their nape and use your fingers to part the strands of their hair.

They take it as a call and, most importantly, as a permission to take further steps.

And somehow, you know, it doesn't matter that somewhere out there the laboratory door opens and one of your coworker leaves (perhaps he couldn't stand the unexpected sexual pressure. You can understand him).

And you look away, unable to take the pressure anymore.

They love it. They love it to the point of shaking at their knees.

Like to tease you and pull you out of your frames, Medicine are happy to break them against their knee and toss them into the dark sea, to the bottom, where already lies a whole collection of what they have stepped over with indescribable pleasure. They bite your bottom lip with a mocking smile before you feel their other hand on your waist.

Under your lab coat.

And they slowly moves upward, their fingertips tweaking the fabric of the garment underneath. Carefully as they continue to run the other limb down your neck, squeezing it lightly. They're not sadistic, no, by any means, and it doesn't rob you of even a crumb of air, but the feel of long, slender fingers leaves you no choice but to succumb completely to their power. Which, by the way, they always have plenty of.

Hot breath scorches your face as they pull away - the air isn't infinite, after all - and leave a weightless kiss on your cheekbone with a sarcastic smirk and squinted eyes as if to scream "you just can't say you didn't like it."

They don't seem to be tired at all, and the air in their lungs never planned to be released, but you've been there before - once they didn't let you go for so long that you got dizzy. No, not from magical sensations, but from lack of oxygen. They've been trying to be careful ever since.

You breathe deeply, massaging the back of their neck with your fingers. They love that, especially when kissing. It makes them go crazy.

And they respond by weightlessly stroking your waist, sometimes squeezing it lightly.

But now they just slightly arch their head back before dropping their arms to the sides of your chair and moving closer again. Just a little more, and their knee will be between your legs for balance.

"I'd rather you didn't bite your lips anymore, but that's a buzz too," — they give out in one breath, still relaxed under your hands. "Your lips aren't lips, they're chewed up duct tape."

You take a deep breath. You try to keep a serious face, as if the job didn't end hours ago. Like it would have been possible to keep working if someone hadn't decided to show off and go on a "distract at all costs" mission. Who wants to be caught thinking, breath hitched just because of the person next to you who just kissed you with all the passion they're been saving up lately?

"Pff, what, so disgusting?"

"Mm-m, no, quite the opposite. 'Almost' as good as always," — they flick you on the nose, and curve up in a smile. "But you'd better not bite your lips again."

"Why would I?"

"If you want to kick the habit, you need to switch to something else, something safer."

"On you, or what?"

"You're guessing," — Medicine Pocket pull away with a noisy sigh. You cross your arms across your chest and pretend you don't want to continue. "You're going to get some kind of infection - and then what are you going to do? I'm not going to treat you."

"..."

You puff up your cheeks and don't say anything. Still in mixed feelings, it's hard to think as well as move. Your body still feels their touch at your waist. It's hard to let go.

It's hot, isn't it?

"You need to get better sleep. Otherwise you'll look like a pale grebe"

"Thanks."

"But honestly," — they shrug. They take you by the chin again and examine your swollen lips more closely. "I've got some ointment somewhere that's just right for this."

"...Can I have some?"

Not for nothing. Of course they won't give you anything for a simple thank you. Especially not to you.

And you can see their facial expressions become more condescending. You guess you're in luck.

"I will. On one condition."

Oh, right. Of course.

"And what's that?"

They poke their thumb at your lips.

"You stop biting them. And start control yourself."

Expected. But did they think it would be so easy?

"And what happens if I can't kick the habit? I don't control myself when I'm nervous."

They let you go, take a couple steps away, and spread their hands as if they're really upset about it too.

"Then don't expect me to kiss you again."

...

One second of silence.

And you burst out laughing.

"Ha-ha, can you contain yourself?"

"Let's just say it's a challenge for me, too."

Yeah, a challenge.

You roll your eyes tiredly. You know they're lying.

You know they'll break their promise tonight before they go to bed.

And yet you still listen. As if nervousness is nothing. It's just a little thing.

They're such idiots.

"Either..." — they lean closer and give you another slap on the nose. "...Remember this situation every time. What's better: biting and tearing your lips in cold, nervous, rotten loneliness or making out with a gorgeous person like me who loves and cares for you, you stupid lip-biting lover, huh?"

"...I'm gonna take that damn book of poetry away from you and throw it away, you've learned to talk too pretty."

They turn on their heels, starting to walk back towards the exit and make no response to the sarcastic comment.

"Think about it!"

And they hide behind the door.

You sighed, going back to cleaning up the mess on the table and floor. The papers were all scattered, and they hadn't even bothered to clean up after themselves. Well, nothing-nothing, you know how to retaliate terribly, he-he.

You stack the paper in an even, aesthetically correct stack and place it on the edge of your desk.

And then you meet the gaze of your remaining coworker.

...

Spark. Lightning... And the anticipation of a lump in your throat of shame.

Words cannot convey the shame and embarrassment on your part, and you just nod her and pretend that paper is the most interesting material on Earth. The best of the best. She walks by, pausing for a moment near the table, shrugging timidly.

"I'd agree to kick the habit if I were you."

And quickly retreats toward the exit. The lab is quiet and peaceful now, with only the occasional beeping of devices.

And suddenly you realize she's heard everything.

All the conversations, including...

...

You cover your burning face with your hands.

How much you love and hate that Doggo.

I already know I'm gonna need a couple days to rest. Well, you know, it's not like I'm an English-speaking person, and it takes me about... 3-5 hours? To edit this or that text and not to lose the meaning of each sentence (I just don't want to present everything in a horrible state I'm a perfectionist a bit).

That's why I post something once a week, you know, so I have enough energy to recover and +- enough energy to write something new. At least I try.

I will definitely post part 4 after «Love jinx» and part 2 «Bonus for waiting», it's just that right now they are in... A little bit in a stupor. I'm working on them, but I'm not really happy with what I'm getting. Plus I have more ideas lying around that I'd like to do, ahem, well, I'm working, just slowly...

Dividers by @petalpxl

Thanks for reading!

[qierxing]

Determination

A/N: Finished the LaDs story if you couldn’t tell. If you asked what came over me to write this, I could not tell you because truly I think I was in a trance because I’m not exactly a Sylus stan Yan! Sylus/Qin Che x Reader Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. CW/TW: Dub//Con touching, Manipulation, Power Imbalances, Disability issues, Unhealthy relationships, Obsessive behavior, Reader is not in-game MC but MC is referenced and reader is lowkey Longing(THEY HAVE TWO HANDS OKAY), kind of Alt! AU following the storyline

—

From the moment you were born, your life had been planned out to the end.

You would grow up, become useful, and then once you lost your usefulness; be ushered to handling petty things to earn your right to exist, and then you would die. Just like everyone else in the N-109 zone. Cremated or dissolved, of course. No one is dumb enough to leave behind evidence or traces, or even worse, parts for grave robbers with no morals and a penchant for quick gold. That was simply the circle of life here. 

Your future had been set in stone as soon as your father had settled here. On some particularly trying days, you resent him for it. Other days, you know enough that he had no choice. 

“Is the old man in?”

The voice makes you tense reactively before you relax, recognizing the familiar low cadence. 

“He’s out on an errand, should I pass on your message?”

The leader of Onychinus and your boss by proxy, shakes his head. You didn’t bother to ask twice. Your focus once again is drawn back to the shiny red protocore on your desk. It’s a tiny thing; requiring meticulous care, lest it be shattered by too much pressure. 

“Is there something I can do for you while you’re here then?” 

A shuffle, then several clinks in your hearing peripheral. He must be looking through the backlog or the recent projects. It’s a habit whenever he felt restless and after some time, you learned to push down the feeling like your work was being dissected bit by bit by his intimidating eyes. 

The prolonged silence makes you forget your own question, too engrossed in the protocore in front of you. When Sylus speaks again, a tremor runs though your hands and make you almost lose your grip.

“What do you think I should do with a kitten that keeps hissing at me?”

You look over with wide eyes. Of course, there can only be one thing he’s referring to–the fact that the Onychinus’s leader is in possession of a valuable asset is not a secret. An outsider, of all things, too. Some would shake their heads in pity, others would sneer and say she had only herself to blame, and even more would only care once her dead body was laid bare and the aether core in their hands.

To you, though? You thought she was amazing. 

She was like the chivalrous heroes in the few scrappy picture books your father had. Dashing, fearless, and always fighting for justice. What was it like to be a hunter? You’ve never seen her, yet you daydream constantly about the life she led, and how you wished it could be yours.

“I feed some stray cats here and there. They usually warm up once they realize I’m not a threat and I’m trying to help them.” The sincere advice has him snorting in cynical disbelief. 

“And if that kitty still shows their claws?” You shift uncomfortably at the way his voice dips. When he was angry, Sylus was terrifying. But he wasn’t angry, not yet, and you wish you weren’t the factor that could change that right now.

“Usually time will do its work.” You try to sound casual, but you can feel Sylus’s eyes piercing through you. You try to swallow the saliva clogging your mouth. You don’t want to imagine what kind of methods the boss would utilize to make people talk. You distanced yourself from such violence, even if it was naive and stupid to do so. Still, there was a clear difference from self-defense and actively inflicting violence. The twins that shadowed Sylus made that crystal clear.

“Hmm…if you say so.” The heavy gaze lifts off of you and it’s like a weight lifts off your throat, letting air back into your lungs. 

Another few seconds pass in silence, with you praying for nothing else of note will happen.

”The old man told me that you’ll be benched soon.” 

The pointed sentence makes your hands freeze. The bright gold protocurve gleams in the dim workshop, and for a moment, the blood rushing your ears is all you can hear. 

“I’ve been unable to keep up with the workload, sir.” You keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ruby red core, forcing your hands to keep moving while you modify the curve. “I don’t think I can be any more help to my dad.”

Not entirely a full lie. You’re not sure if it’s because the rough and tough life of N-109 is wearing you down like sandpaper or if it’s your body collapsing in on itself due to its condition, but most days it’d be a miracle if you could get one modification done without mistakes. 

One time when you were still an immature child, you disobeyed your father and snuck out of the house during dawn. Your life had always been the pitch black of night, with the brightest natural light being the moon and its silvery clouds wrapping around it like a translucent shawl. When you asked your dad what happened when you slept, he simply stated the moon also went to bed. So then, what exactly happened while it slept?

The sun was blinding. It seared you to the bone as the heat increased with the hours passing and it rose above the horizon. It was so hot, yet you could not help but feel at peace, as if the rays were cleansing you. The landscape under its light was depressing as usual; metal scraps and rusted junk scattered and embedded in dull colored dirt and rocks. This much didn’t surprise you, but it still reminded you of the bleakness of your world. 

It made you feel helplessly trapped.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you talk to me?” 

You blink once, then twice at Sylus standing in front of you, with an unreadable expression on his face. He had stated it as if it was common sense to bring up a grievance with him. As if he wasn’t the most terrifying power within the N-109 zone. As if you and your father weren’t subject to his whims.

”I…I’m sorry,” your eyes cast downward in guilt again. You wish your boss was as evil as some of the rumors make him out to be. It would make things so much easier. “I just didn’t think you need to be bothered with something this trivial.”

If possible, the expression on his face sours even more. “One of my researchers is not trivial. You help me, and I help you.”

You bite your tongue. Of course he was practical. It is true. Without you and your father, he would lose a quarter of his manpower in tech. But this just hardens your resolve even further. 

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” you plaster a sickeningly polite smile on, straining to keep the facade of a lackey who was happy to live another day. “But it’s alright—even if I can’t directly assist my father anymore, I can find other ways to be helpful.”

Why you were significant enough as a cog in his many machinations is still plain weird. But that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, you won’t be one if at all.

Sylus gives a bark of harsh laughter, startling you and making you drop one of your tools. Your skin crawled, but you willed yourself to stay calm, to maintain a calm demeanor that belied none of your true thoughts. It had been the only thing you kept from the many street smarts of N-109 when you grew up. 

He reaches out his hand. His evol wraps crimson red smoke around his outstretched fingers, and when it clears, there’s a slip of crinkled white notebook paper. Your heart immediately plummets into your stomach.

”Are you sure it’s not because you finally found an out to this hellhole?”

You hadn’t fully realized it, but you’re no longer sitting, and the next thing you know, the world has flashed into white and ringing. You’re no longer even thinking at this point, running on pure adrenaline and instinct. Sylus may be the one running the show, but even he couldn’t know all of the labyrinth of secret exits this workshop had. 

You got exactly ten steps in the direction of one before your face met the concrete floor. You don’t need to look to see what’s pinning you down. It’s almost insulting, but most of all, it’s aggravating to know how close freedom was in reach, only to be stopped short of it.

“You really thought something like that could stop me?” Sylus’s voice drawls above your struggling body. You’re wrenched up to stand in front of him, arms held up like a crucified deity. He fiddles with the now broken protocore in his fingers, turning it this way and that, so that the dim lights caught the cracked grooves and threw reflections on the grungy walls around you. Finally, he drops it and with a crack, his polished shoe has grinded it to nothing. “Well, it’s certainly a novel idea.”

You don’t bother to say anything, but a sob nearly wells up, just barely held back by clenched teeth. You were so, so close. Now you’ll never know what it felt to be in bright city lights and live a normal life. 

“I thought it was clear that the only place you had was by my side.” Sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head. You’re forced forward, and then your head was buried in his shoulder as his hands found their way onto your waist, tight and unyielding. The acrid smell of gunpowder and alcohol from his ironed button up makes your nose wrinkle and although you try to turn your head away, one of his hands presses your head even closer. “I should’ve known better that you would get your hopes up when that hunter came.”

Hot breath ghosts your neck, sending goosebumps up your skin, and before you could stop him, his teeth are buried inside tender flesh, making you cry out in pain. Your struggling starts up again, but Sylus doesn’t acknowledge it, instead lathering a lithe tongue over the wound, causing pleasurable shivers up your spine. 

“Then, if you want to leave so badly, how about you stay with me?” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your head spin.

No matter how much you want it, you could not fight the fate that was set for you.

[pearlescentzine]

Pearlescentzine contributors - part 3!

@slashmagpie ; Magpie is a writer with a love of unreliable narrators and complex character dynamics. She's a little in love with PearlescentMoon and is excited to help bring this zine to life! Outside of writing, you can usually find him falling down rabbit holes, exercising all manners of artistic hubris, and trying his best to be a steady rock in the fog.

ao3

@messiergalaxy31 ; Self-taught artist who has a passion for environmental art. Using dramatic colour and perspective, I aspire to evoke emotion through my works.

twitter | instagram

@razcascade ; Parlorrabbit is a digital fanartist and animator who likes storytelling and pretty minecraft builds. Loves making character designs and storyboards for animations that only sometimes get made.

bsky | instagram

@pocket-sized-nightmare ; Pixel is a writer, lover of silly crafts, and Minecraft fan who's been watching PearlescentMoon since 2021! Hermitcraft, Empires SMP, and the Life Series exist in their brain where sleep probably should be.

@rosvyy ; I've been watching Pearl ever since 2020 and have been a fan ever since! Her life series are my favorite, but recently Ive been finding myself just having her streams in the background while I work and for sleep aid! I'm so excited to be working with so many talented artists on this zine

tiktok: Rosvyyy_

@shorkthesharkk ; Hello gamers!!! Im shork! I'm still fairly new to the community but so far it's been a blast meeting all kinds of insanely talented people, who are part of it! Its such a joy to contribute to this project and I can't wait to see how it turns out!!!

youtube

@syneester ; Syn, of their full name Syneester, says they are a multifandom artist, but do not let them fool you. All they ever draw is Life Series and Hermitcraft and Life Series again. They'll never leave that desert.

bsky | instagram

@boonbeenblade ; Vanyel here - just your typical author with a day job to daydream through! Big fan of MCYT and extraneous, the wheel of creativity just keeps spinning!

ao3

@vinikpuh ; Vini is an Armenian artist who found mcyts this summer and fell in love with their content. Pearl in particular inspires her to draw

@ssilentwillow ; Willow is a rather new PearlescentMoon fan, but binged the entirety of her season 10 backlog within a week, and is very excited to be here! She likes to draw angel wings and cute outfits, amongst other things.

[shirecorn]

Ornaments closing, The struggle! (and how much i appreciate everyone)

I will be making a post about the reindeer ornaments closing this week until they open again for the indiegogo in the summer. I make them in batches, so it won't be feasible to keep individual orders trickling in throughout the year.

If you know you want a set but can't buy one now, let me know and I will make sure I have a set made during the last batch, and I will hang onto it as long as you need me to.

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScqQudyvlzWw73HGWG77pJRYEFQyisOlaEoY9KnE8idXMPE9Q/viewform

If you can buy a set now, please do!

<https://www.etsy.com/listing/1821374250/reindeer-team-ornaments?>

The revenue will help me find a place to live, and prove to landlords that I have an income. There's also cheaper stuff on my shop like stickers and keychains, and custom commissions of your pet.

Check me out!

Once reindeer season is over, I will be getting to my backlog of commissions, including mermaid and MLP requests, so keep a look out for those.

Right now I'm sitting in a library working on the deluxe sets to hopefully mail them. I'm couchsurfing, so my drawing/work station is in a bit of a kerfuffle, to put it mildly.

If you have money but don't want anything back, you can check out my kofi to put some coins in the horse and make it go.

Ko-fi.com/shirecorn

If you have money and want exclusive behind the scenes look at my process, prospects, and secret projects, please join my discord! Having a consistent monthly income will do wonders for my stability, and might help me get housing.

Hopefully tumblr doesn't decide to delete all these looks like it has been doing to recent posts. If you are able to support me monetarily, thank you so much! If not, just give me comments and attention, as those are the real reason I bother posting my stuff anywhere. If I didn't have to worry about food and bills, I would subsist entirely on attention.

I really appreciate every comment and encouragement! I read e v e r y t h i n g and l adore my followers.

Happy new year!

[butteronabun]

11/14

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader college au.

overview: he’s worried. they’re all worried.

wc: 2.6k

disclaimer: arguments & confrontations, mentions of losing sleep & skipping meals, anxiety, hurt/comfort, hints of plot if you squint but they’re just fillers anyway

( if that is not to your liking, feel free to skip! it’s angsty! )

You stare blankly at the screen in front of you. Hands fidgeting, eyes drying, you put yourself at a standstill — even just for a bit.

Though a rational part of you screams to keep on moving, to keep on going—because there’s a fucking deadline that you have to chase—the tight grip on the rope has loosened.

Aggressive yet motivational speeches linger. From “stop fucking around” to “suck it up” and to “no pain, no gain,” you don’t have the drive to resume your duties anymore. Even if you have backlogs to wrap up, even if you to–do lists to fulfill, even if you have obligations to commit, you just can’t.

You close your slightly parted lips - you, yourself, know that you’re in danger. Not by the means of losing sleep, or even skipping meals, no. But the way that you’re going to get up at early hours of dawn because you have a seven o’clock class and you have a paper to pass. (Your body is screaming for help.)

A paper that is yet to be revised, for it is filled with comments from group mates who have no self-awareness. Messages ranging from is this already enough, to does the paragraph make any sense? Can you check? Thanks!

Said paper is but a lowly Google doc tab beside other twenty–somethings that contain case studies and design pegs for the first and third chapter of your thesis.

There’s a gentle knock on your door. It snaps you out of your reverie, and you swallow. You need water, and so you reach out to your messy bedside table to retrieve the flask. Close to the flask is nothing but your angry clock that reminds you it’s almost close to midnight.

You pull the flask’s lid, and make yourself drink. It’s not cold anymore.

You need to refill this.

There’s another knock. Oh. You haven’t answered. It must've been your roommate. “What now, Noelle?” You take another swig of your flask before gulping it all down. You really need to refill it. “I already told you, I can’t join for today’s game night because I still have some requirements to complete. Tell Amber and the others that I’ll make it up to them next time.”

You turn to your screen again. To your unfinished project—to your work in progress.

You’ve rejected her offers countless times - but can she really blame you, when it’s the peak of midterms season? Everyone’s suffering as it is, and despite your desire to mingle with the others through board games ( such as monopoly or game of the generals ) in the lobby or partake in the nerf gun wars in the second floor’s hall, you just can’t indulge yourself today.

(Though you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to push through until 12 with this task. But she doesn’t need to know that, right?)

“It���s me,” A familiar voice says, and you freeze in your sitting position on your bed. You immediately glance at the door, imagining the shape of a grumpy, beefy, and attractive man with red hair tied up, clad in his stupid, dark, and hot turtleneck. “Noelle’s not here as of the moment. May I come in?”

Diluc wants to come in, your mind supplies, before it hits you all at once. Oh.

Diluc. Wants. To. Come. In.

Diluc.

And suddenly, memories come flashing. The way you’ve ignored the notifications flooding your phone for weeks now. The way you’ve shut the people out who approach you when they manage to find you in the cafeteria. The way you’ve ceased your tendency to come visit their dorm every night, just to yap about a cheesy romcom movie you’ve binged last Saturday (and rate them in your letterboxd).

Oh fuck.

Fuck!

“No,” you answer hastily, and just like that, you push your laptop away. You rush around your room to fix some things that have scattered on your desk and on the ground.

You pick up some of the uniforms and statement shirts your friend Yanfei has given you, and throw them on the laundry basket near your door. You push aside some of the sticky notes, yellow papers, sketches of storyboards on your study table to make room for your other workload. You kick some of the printed documents and files you’ve accumulated this week that are covered with red marks from strict professors under the bed, and even though you’ve made yourself clear that no, Diluc can’t go in, the doorknob fucking twists anyway, and every fiber of your being launches into a fight or flight mode.

”Diluc, you can’t—“

The golden light pours in when the door slowly opens. You cover your eyes with your arm, hissing at the brightness. Gods. As your sight adjusts, Diluc’s figure looms over you.

Damn it, you forgot to lock the door. You make a mental reminder to yourself that Noelle’s not everyone.

Diluc calls out your name, and your heart stirs. It stirs because it has been so long since you’ve heard from him, it’s been so long since you’ve heard his gentle voice call your name. By lowering your arm, you hesitantly meet his gaze—his oh–so tender gaze ( that is still unbelievably surprising to witness, when he’s always unimpressed ). Your stomach churns, and you feel all other things that bring you to the edge, all because of one scapegoat: him.

He scans you up and down, and you can’t help but feel conscious. You can’t help but feel vulnerable. You nervously blurt out a what? before he comments with a frown that is deepening by the second. “You look as if someone has put you through the wringer.”

Ah.

The first that comes to your mind is — “you think?” and the second is, “obviously.” Irritation floods your veins, but you suppress yourself from lashing out. Diluc’s an innocent person and he doesn’t deserve to be the receiving end of your growing bad mood.

But he’s not wrong. Out of all the efforts you’ve done just to at least make him believe that you’re keeping it all together, you’ve forgotten to fix yourself.

But then again. It’s Diluc. Nothing ever passes him.

“Thanks,” you send him a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You return the scrutiny back to him. As usual, Diluc’s prim and proper. And it’s unfair. You’re aware that he also has his own big and heavy thing to tackle. A feasibility study, right? But compared to other business students, Diluc doesn’t look bothered at all. He doesn’t look very much affected by the stress.

But then again, it’s Diluc. He’s stupidly amazing. It’s also crazy stupid how he even wants to be a college student in the first place when he already has enough or ample knowledge to run a business, considering he’s taken the role of being Dawn Winery’s CEO. Considering he’s also eligible for being Forbes 30 under 30.

“What brings you here?” You turn your back to him, not wanting to meet his eyes any longer. You make yourself busy by sorting through some of the printed pages that have caused your heart so much dread these past few days. The simple touching of it makes you want to pull away, yet you refrain yourself. Not now. Not when Diluc is just right there. “Sorry to be a killjoy, but if you’re inviting me for a sponty road trip, I’ll have to decline.”

( You ignore once more the assortment of polaroid shots hanging from your cork board below your study desk. There’s one film in particular that shows a picture of you and Diluc together inside his Aston Martin that one night during freshman year. This was when you told him about that shawarma place that served burrito-sized shawarmas. You were smiling brightly while holding your half–bitten order, and if one would squint, they would be able to notice the minuscule grin that Diluc was displaying. )

“You haven’t returned my calls,” Diluc points out, and you’re not surprised. Always straight to the point. Not cryptic, like Venti, and definitely not disingenuous, like Kaeya. “And you haven’t replied to some of my messages. It's been hard to catch you recently.”

You remember Venti and Childe repeating the same words. And as your usual response, you assume he’s going to say more, so you let him. You grab your flask, shaking it a bit even though you know you’ve emptied it. “It’s midterms season, Diluc. I’m sure you understand and can relate to my constant absence. Unfortunately, I can’t control it.” Though a part of you desperately wishes you can.

Then, as you slowly spin to the direction of the exit, you wonder how you’ll ever cross the distance without Diluc intruding your goal. You really need to drink more water because your lips are chapped, and your throat feels rough.

Eh, here goes nothing. You try to avoid his observant gaze. “Um. If that’s everything, feel free to leave now because I still have some paperwork to write.” And be miserable again, you say in your mind. You begin to saunter towards the doorway, passing him ultimately. A mission success? “I’ll see you, maybe in the next few—“

“Are you alright?”

That stops you.

Diluc moves, and you can feel him staring at your form, even if you have your back turned to him. The stirring in your heart increases a greater amount as the silence envelops both of you when you don’t eventually respond.

The clock plastered on the wall ticks. And ticks. And ticks.

Students, maybe juniors, outside your dorm room that you share with Noelle, bicker and guffaw. Troublemakers on the other side bump their fists on the wooden walls.

Diluc waits for you in anticipation.

And you ponder—you attempt to form the words that will at least drop this conversation. That will not further cause any more questions.

( But nothing ever comes out. )

“This isn’t like you.” Diluc then says, after your prolonged silence. You fear for the worst. Diluc knows you. Diluc knows you too much, and perhaps the younger you, the happier you—from back then on those stupid polaroid shots that carried on the memories of the previous two school years—would’ve been delighted by this fact, but the you in the present is apprehensive.

She wants to cower. She wants to hide. ( She wants to stay away from Diluc because she knows that deep inside, with Diluc’s arrival finally during the lowest points of your life, will be the immediate climax. It will be the immediate breakthrough. )

“Compared to previous ‘midterm seasons’, you haven’t acted like this before. Not until now.” He spurs on.

“T–Things. . .have changed.” You mentally beat yourself up for stammering, though you can’t deny that Diluc’s correct for the second time. “I can’t just hang around in your dorm room with Venti and eat instant ramen anymore. I know that you two are occupied with your own respective majors.”

“And you know that we don’t mind your visits. What even brought this on?” Diluc questions, and you clench your fists. “I’ve heard from Noelle that you’ve been skipping your breakfast. She also told me how you would go home immediately and pass out on your bed for the rest of the day.”

You feel like a deer caught in the headlights. Gosh, you underestimate Noelle and Diluc’s closeness. She’s like a sister to him, so of course she’ll be sharing what she has seen with him.

But you just can’t let him put you on the spot like this. You had your reasons. “Again, I was tired because of midterms, Diluc. Completely unavoidable and reasonable for college students like us—“ Yet he’s not having any of it, when he interrupts you.

“And from your friends. Navia and Nilou.”

Your eyes grow wide. No.

“They’ve informed me that you—“

You turn to him by the shoulder in disapproval, “Diluc—“

“—had an altercation with them, and they’re all—“

“Diluc, that’s enough,” You chide, glowering at him with an intensity. Because you don’t understand—how? “What does this - how did you even know that?Why did they even tell you that? That doesn’t concern you.”

Diluc glares back at you tenfold. “It does concern me when it involves you.”

( At another time you would’ve asked what he meant by that. )

“It’s a sensitive topic, you know that,” You seethe at him. “If you’re here to push my buttons, you know better not to do it today. Not when—“

“Not when a lot of people have been deeply affected in the process?” He interferes again, and takes a step forward. “If I have to force you from confessing what you truly feel instead of bottling it up, then this is the option that I’ll have to resort to. Your stubborn nature isn’t helping with the matter.”

You feel something crack. Wow. “I don’t have to explain everything to you.”

”You’re not alright.”

“I am alright!”

“You’re not.” Another crack.

“I am!”

Diluc calls out your name in a warning.

And the dam breaks. You just can’t take it anymore. “For archon’s sake, Diluc, I am! I fucking am!” You scream. “Can you, please, PLEASE fucking believe in me before I cannot to myself anymore? Please?”

You and Diluc have gotten into fights before. Petty squabbles or stupid quarrels, actually, but never this heated. You have triggered his pet peeves when he has forgotten to fulfill his small promises, and he gives you the silent treatment whenever you have annoyed him far too much. All in all, they’re just normal disagreements between you two.

But this? This is different. For all the three years you’ve spent with each other, not once did it reach to this degree, until now.

You and Diluc are aware that both of you are equally obstinate—both with prideful personalities and never the one to back down from an argument because of the stances they want to stand for.

But of course, there’s only one denominator that not only triumphs all, but the two of you share.

The reason why you both are fighting as of the moment is because it’s all coming from the heart.

( The rage from Diluc’s expression immediately disappears when he catches sight of your tears cascading down your cheeks. He registers the words that have spilled from your lips, and the organ in his chest shatters one by one as you bawl.

He knows you’re hurting, and you’ve done a great job of hiding it. He doesn’t like the fact that it took him this long to realize, yet he doesn’t dwell on it and moves forward. He focuses on the present. On what matters. You hurting— he knows that with you keeping it a secret will only damage you further. )

You cover your face with your hands as you break down. You’re ashamed. Embarrassed. But most of all: in pain. “I know that I haven’t been on my best behavior lately, but I’m trying, okay? I’m fucking trying, damn it!” You breathe out heavily. “You don’t have to— you don’t have to mention my shortcomings, or what I’ve missed, because I’m aware. I’m fucking aware, but I promise you, Diluc, after all this, I swear, I’ll—“

Diluc calls your name again. You peek from your fingers, because his voice has softened, and your heart quivers, and Diluc is much much closer.

Your eyes glaze when Diluc opens his arms. An open invitation—his protection. Your broken, broken soul aches for it, and every fiber of your being wants nothing more but to be encased by his arms. “Come.”

And you bury yourself on Diluc’s chest, crying your heart out. You wail as Diluc wraps you in a warm and gentle embrace, finally giving you the comfort that you need, after the hell you’ve been through. He strokes your back comfortingly, and more tears fall from your eyes.

The stress, frustrations, and anxieties that you’ve accumulated this past few weeks have taken a great toll on you. It has ruined and devastated you to the point that you can’t even track your academic standing and relationships. And in result, this has affected you physically, emotionally, and mentally.

“Diluc,” You whine, and he releases a soft hum. You lift your head up to him, with your cheeks flushed and eyes red. He looks back at you. “I - I don’t know what to do— I. . . I have been so lost, and I feel like giving up, because—“

He caresses your cheekbone, and wipes a stray tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me.” ( He doesn’t want to stress you out any longer. )

“But — but I want to. You’re,” You weep, “the only one who listens.”

Diluc cups both of your cheeks. “Then, share your burdens with me. Confide with me. One at a time.”

You nod quietly. Diluc mutters for you to go on and kisses your forehead, whispering sweet and comforting words and guilty apologies.

( this is so personal omg but yeah so this was written last year, around Nov 14 - i was at my lowest frfr. anw this is like, the same au with this one but it’s also like an au??? yes it’s an au of an au LOLOL )

[the-gilded]

Hi everyone, here's a bit of a life/progress update for everyone following. I wish I had more to share right now, but I hope there will be more coming soon.

I've posted several times that Chapter 2 is coming soon, and I really have wanted that to be true, but I haven't quite been able to bring myself to finish it. I did recently manage to finish drawing new official art for each of the ROs, so here's a little preview of that (sorry, I wish I was better at drawing consistently):

Also, if you want to hang out and/or watch me talk about games I love, you can find me live on Twitch sometimes:

http://www.twitch.tv/faedrian_

Further explanation/vent/plans below:

As far as why I haven't managed to finish writing Chapter 2, it's just because my life has been sliding downhill for a pretty long time now, and it's hard to find the motivation to write anything nice when I feel this bad.

I guess I noticed things getting worse last year, after I caught Covid in February. I was sick for about a month, got really depressed, lost a lot of weight, developed new complications with my endometriosis and my eating disorder got a lot worse. Around the same time, I realized that my relationship was beginning to fall apart. I've been with my partner for ten years, and it hasn't always been stable, but I've fought hard to keep us going together even when things got rocky. Last year, they decided that they needed to start cutting stress out of their life. That led to them breaking up with me twice - both times, I begged them to stay and keep working on our relationship. I was terrified by the possibility that they could just end our relationship and take my whole life away from me, forcing me to leave my home and lose everything I've built especially when I was at such a low point already.

A few weeks ago, they decided to break up with me again, and right now it's looking like it's for real this time - they signed a lease with some friends the day after breaking up with me, and decided that they would just leave me to fend for myself so that they wouldn't be burdened with the "responsibility" of caring for me any longer.

So, I'm currently facing down the reality that I will likely have to give up the whole life I've built up over the last seven years of us living together. I don't have anywhere to live here - all my friends and family are hours or even days away by car. I was in the middle of searching for a new job when the breakup happened this time, but now I guess I can't really take a job here if I'm going to have to move away. I can't afford to live on my own even with the new jobs I was applying for, and I wouldn't feel safe by myself either. I've always lived with my family or with my partner. I may be moving across the country in the next two months - going Northwest to live with some friends that offered to find a place together, and my best friend lovingly offered to pay my moving expenses. I have no money in the bank (in fact my account is overdrawn as I type this), so this is all very stressful right now. I'm hopeful that I'll find a way to work things out, to get myself settled, and to find the will to be productive with my games again.

As far as plans go:

I've been making plans to start up a Patreon and Discord once I have at least a couple months of content backlogged - it would include Beta reading access for The Gilded and my other game jam projects, BTS previews of some other, larger projects I'm drafting, monthly SFW and NSFW sketches and short stories as voted by the Patrons, and eventually a tier to get your OC written into The Gilded. If that's of any interest to you, let me know! I think it would be really good for me to see people engaging with my content again, and I could honestly use the motivation.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for following as long as you have. I still love and intend to finish this project, I just need to get through this dark place to find the light on the other side. 💜

[hajimehaga]

!! hello !!

here i am making my /official/ return, super for real this time.

i’ve been able to have the luxury to quit my job and start focusing on my art again full time! this means i can start posting again regularly and working on the projects i’ve had backlogged for so long. if you’d like to support me in this journey i do have a patreon and a kofi set up where you can get exclusive looks at a bunch of wips and other things available if you do (:

no pressure if you don’t, as i will still post here just only with fully finished pieces. Commissions are still closed until further notice, but with time will reopen again so keep your eyes peeled for that if you’re interested.

thank you all so much for your continued support despite me nearly disappearing off the face of the earth for a good couple years there. i appreciate you all so much and as always— stay safe and sane.

patreon

kofi