#I'd started self harming again after being clean for YEARS

[lightningfilledsaber]

I'm just so fucking glad to be alive

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I broke up with my girlfriend for not taking her meds?

My (24M) girlfriend (28F) has bipolar and BPD. We've been together coming up on 3 years now. For the last half a year we were together it was pretty rough and turbulent, she was unmedicated and was having suicidal breakdowns almost every day, ended up in hospital several times, threatened and got into physical altercations with other girls who spoke to me or she thought were flirting with me, and I was spending almost every single day of my life having to take hours to talk her down from suicide or self-harm. It was emotionally exhausting and as someone who's also had suicide attempts in the past it was also incredibly triggering and damaging to my own mental health.

For additional context as to why I feel the way I do, my last girlfriend also had diagnosed BPD and NPD and when she stopped taking her medication she became fully abusive both physically and verbally and it took me a year of being absolutely beaten down to finally snap and leave her.

(Obvious note: I'm not saying everyone with bipolar, BPD, or NPD is abusive or that these illnesses inherently make you abusive. They were an abuser who just happened to have those things, and that played into how they acted and thought/felt.)

Current girlfriend eventually got medication and has been doing much better for most of the time since then. When she's on her meds she's a wonderful and generally pretty healthy partner - she's supportive, understanding of my boundaries, checks in with me, she's a year clean from self-harm, hasn't displayed any kind of self-destructive behaviour. She's gotten a job and managed to hold it down (got fired from several jobs in the past because of her daily meltdowns meaning she wasn't attending work), she's started exercising and going to the gym, she's picked up new hobbies, made new friends, she's just been doing great in general.

For about the past month though, she started going days without taking her medication and when I reminded her she would say she didn't want to, that she hated taking it, that she doesn't like the way it makes her feel etc. This is something my last girlfriend said too, and I know it's really common for people with BPD (and maybe bipolar too?) to stop taking their medication because they feel emotionally flat in comparison to how they feel off of the meds. I pretty much said that I couldn't handle going back to how she acts when she's off of the medication again and that if she was going to stop taking them then I didn't think our relationship would last through that kind of period again because last time it completely destroyed my mental health, my sleep, my life and several of my relationships due to how much energy and time I was having to put into her vs. myself and everything else. I suggested asking her doctor/psychiatrist/etc. for another dosage change or meds switch again to see if that would work better (though up until recently they have seemed to be working great so I'm not sure how good of an idea switching it up again would be).

She agreed at the time but I was kind of concerned about whether she'd been keeping up with it or not because over the last few weeks I've already noticed things devolving again - her screaming at me out of nowhere and having mood swings, intense jealousy and possessiveness, impulsive behaviour, even a couple of breakdowns again and having to talk her out of self-harm for the first time in over a year. True enough, today I found out she's been pretending to take her medication and throwing them out. When I confronted her about it she admitted she hasn't taken her medication for weeks.

I pretty much withdrew after that and didn't say anything at that moment but after a while she asked me why I was being so quiet and I basically repeated what I'd said to her in the last conversation, that I was honestly rethinking whether or not the relationship would work because I can't handle that kind of emotional exhaustion and constant sacrifice all over again. I don't mind some emotional support and some labour of love in a relationship because of course I'm going to need to look out for her mental health and reassure and comfort sometimes, that's the reality of loving someone who struggles, but I can't do it 24/7 again. I can't once again put talking her down for hours every day and weathering screaming and violent lashing out all the time at the expense of even my own basic needs and my own mental health struggles (for example my c-PTSD from my last relationship).

When I said that she got very very upset and basically said I was forcing her to choose between me and freedom or being able to live a normal/unmedicated life (which I mean, I guess I can't argue with because in a way I am making her choose between me and stopping her meds), and that I couldn't control her like that. I told her I wasn't doing it to control her and that if she's really determined to go off of them she could, but that I would have to make my own personal choice to walk away as a result of it for my own sake.

She said she'd think about it but ever since that conversation I've been going back and forth in my head on how much of a dick move it would be to flat out just do a black-and-white "Either you stay on your meds and regulate your behaviour or I leave"

TL;DR Girlfriend wants to go off of her medication, but when she's off her meds she has almost daily suicidal breakdowns and lashes out at me physically and verbally. WIBTA if I broke up with her if she goes ahead with stopping?

What are these acronyms?

[coldresolve]

Hi, I'm Elias, I'm a 26yo trans guy from Denmark. I write shit, I draw shit, and I get into unneccesarily tedious arguments with anons about torture apologia in fiction. I think that sums up my vibe

I've made a few posts about this already, but tl;dr: the Danish NHS has been refusing to treat me for gender dysphoria for the better part of a year now because they've deemed me "unstable." Unstable how, you ask?

I have depression.

No, that is quite literally it. Full context under the readmore.

Fighting to be heard and having the door repeatedly slammed in your face sucks peak ass, and I'm done now. The NHS is so lackluster when it comes to trans people, all of a sudden, it makes perfect sense to me why 31% of transgender Danes get HRT outside of the NHS.

And I'd rather not have to turn to the black market, so rn I'm hoping to get a prescription with GenderGP. The issue is, I'm poor as fuck and can't afford the start-up fees for the forseeable future - unless I do something like this. I hate asking others for money, and I hate it even more if I'm not in a place where I can give anything in return. But I also recognize I'm in over my head with this, so. If you've got a cent or two to spare, I'd be grateful as hell.

I've mathed it out, and my best estimate is that I need around 3500,- DKK / $500 USD. Again, this is just to cover the initial subscription as well as mandatory consultations/blood tests. I should be able to cover the prescriptions on my own, as well as further tests/consultations down the line, so I'm hoping this is a one-and-done sort of thing.

paypal: elimunpau@gmail.com

Also, important note. We're in a global cost of living/housing crisis and this isn't a strict life-or-death situation. If you're in a tough spot right now, don't send me anything, that'd just make me feel worse about asking. I appreciate the thought but you gotta take care of your own needs first. Peace and take care ✌️

So I've been dealing with major depressive disorder since I was 11. It runs in my family, and as you might imagine, after 15 years of living with this thing, I've learned how to manage it pretty well by now. I know what it's like to genuinely be unstable - and if I were in a place like that, no problem, I'd be open about that. I wouldn't be making decisions like this. I know myself. You kind of have to when you're dealing with a chronic mental illness.

Here's where I am right now: I've got no suicidal ideation, been clean from self harm for four years, no psychosis, no inpatient admissions for the last five years. I live on my own, take my meds, and I'm keeping my life in order. Depressed, yes, but about as stable as someone with my history can get, and ask anyone who knows me, me wanting to get on HRT isn't some spur of the moment decision. I've done a fucking decade of soul searching, and a few years ago, I finally (duh) reached the conclusion that living as a woman isn't something I can even fake being content with - believe me, I've tried. I'm well aware of the scope of medical transition, but I'm settled in who I am. And I just want to live like me now. That's the only thing I want.

If it counts for anything, my partner and family have supported me through this, which has been priceless obviously, but it also goes to show that me saying "I'm capable of making medical decisions" isn't purely a personal assessment. I'm pretty sure they'd speak up if they thought I was being unstable about it or whatever

But the CPH clinic for sexology, who have consistently refused to listen to me telling them all this, have somehow magically aquired divine knowledge on my capacity to make adult decisions about my own body, and on the basis that I have MDD, they're refusing to even set me up for a preliminary interview - one that would preceed a 6 month full-team psych evaluation before the prospect of HRT would even come up. They said in their latest refusal that they wont accept another referral from me until a year after my last in-clinic conversation with them, which happened on October 24th, 2023 - meaning that with the NHS, if they accepted my referral come October (which I don't have much faith they will), the earliest I could possibly get on HRT is April 2025. Arguing for my own sanity would've sucked enough as is, but it's made harder by the fact that they won't even talk to me. You're a trans guy who would like healthcare, but you have a mental illness? Good luck, you're on your own. Long live the Danish bureaucracy.

Dysphoria makes me fucking miserable. I'd rather not have to write a sob story here, and tumblr is like 80% trans people so I guess a good portion of you can imagine why waiting another year for the possibility of maybe-perhaps-if-all-goes-well getting on HRT would not actually make me less miserable about it.

So. I'm sitting down next week along with my mom to file a formal complaint with the patient's rights committee. I don't know what to call this other than some form of discrimination on the basis of mental illness, because nothing in my current situation would prohibit me from making medical decisions for myself. And I honestly don't think that a complaint is going to do much, but I intend to make it obnoxiously long, because by law, a specialized doctor and an attorney have to read through the whole thing. If you can't beat 'em, make 'em read 50 pages of you going into detail about why you think they suck, right

And yeah, like I said, in the meantime, I'm trying to go via GenderGP. It'd be nice if my poor ass could get HRT via the NHS instead of having to pay out of pocket, but apparently the bar for entry requires that you 1) have gender dysphoria to the point where it impedes normal function and 2) somehow aren't mentally ill. Who wrote these rules? Some 60yo cis guy in a suit in Christiansborg, I imagine.

Feel free ask about anything relating to this whole situation, I'll be as open as I can about it, cause I understand that if you're going to give money to someone, you want to know what it's going to. Though I hope you understand I'm not going to doxx myself more than I already have now, or give you my entire medical history - only what's relevant to my current situation.

I know Denmark is a welfare state and on a global scale we're doing alright, but I hope you don't mind if I say this: This shouldn't be happening as often as it does. Fuck the Danish NHS.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

7 Days Before Valentine Ep 6: Stray Thoughts

Sunshine

First of all, Sunshine, @respectthepetty and I are on the way, we've got bats with your name carved in them, so I'd advise you to start running.

Sunshine is one of the characters I hate the most this year, especially as a main character/protagonist. But I do think they are doing an incredible job with his characterization in that this is a man with no one in his life, he doesn't interact with his parents, he has no friends, and based off the way he behaves you can tell exactly why. This is the most impulsive, self-absorbed man I've seen in quite some time.

Sunshine reminds me of the guys in my life I've known who are deeply in need of help, but turn everything in to a joke and absolutely, willfully refuse to talk about anything real. Sunshine absolutely, willfully refuses to pause for long enough to actually think about how terrible of a person he is and how much he is harming those around him as a result of that.

I don't even think Sunshine knows what he wants. He had a chance in his previous wish to just completely try again, in the best possible scenario where marriage equality has been passed and Rain doesn't know who he is, Sunshine has a clean slate, but that isn't good enough, so he ruins society, and that doesn't work, so he hurts Rain in the most fundamentally cruel way by removing his best friend from existence. Sunshine is hurting Rain so that he can be in a relationship with Rain, which is all I need to know to decide that Rain and Sunshine better not fucking end up together in this.

The Flowers

gif by @save-the-data

Okay, I don't know why, but the way Jared talks about his flowers is making me this of this book I read years ago called Daughter of Smoke and Bone where the main character is like living in the real world but has connections to this other fantasy world, and she goes to her friend to make wishes (for example, she wishes that her hair would naturally grow blue) and she only learns way later that every time she makes a wish the wish is paid for with (I think?) someone's tooth. And she realized that people, creatures, etc had died or been tortured to have their teeth removed so that she could make silly little wishes.

I don't know that I want this, I don't know what it would do or what it would say, but for some reason I cannot get it out of my head that these flowers with names that Jared talks about so lovingly are actual people's souls. Especially after that one rose fucking screamed when Sunshine dropped it.

Metaphors

gif by @save-the-data

The back half of last episode and the first half of this episode were really heavy on the theme of conformity. And I don't think I have a lot of words for it right now, but it is feeling very much like metaphors for externalized/internalized homophobia and the closet. Like how the little girl draws this picture of herself in a pink dress and writes SOS, while walking neatly in a line, in the same boring uniform as all the rest of the kids. Like the vibrant ecclectically dressed property manager, also choosing to conform when she goes out in public because she doesn't want to be stared at. Like the busker getting hauled away/punished by the police for breaking free from society's order. Like Jared, bright, happily, bubbly, and (in my opinion) visibly queer man being terrified of being hauled away to be "corrected". And this is all stemming from snap decisions Sunshine is making out of petty bullshit with almost zero intelligent thought behind his wishes.

How I want this to end

gif by @pharawee

I think I want Sunshine to wish Q away from existence. Q's job is very clearly weighing on him, and he deserves rest. For fuck's sake, his clothing gets darker every episode Sunshine needs to accept that Rain is gone from him, that he fucked up and can't go back, and I do not want Rain getting together with someone that really seems to disregard the harm he is causing.

Anyway, I am really enjoying this show, but it is slow as fuck and if it wasn't filmed, written, and structured like a play I don't think I would have had as high a tolerance for it's pacing.

[conduitandconjurer]

hi, i'd like your thouhts on something please. i was confused by klaus's "sole of the feet" comment in ep1 of season 4 so i googled it and found out it's a meditation practice. specifically, it's a parctice for "controlling the urge to be physically or verbally aggressive", and apparently taught to children with control issues.

very interesting, especially after the whole conversation between klaus and stanley in season 3. but it's kind of weird to have this be the practice he references in this particular situation? i would have expected something to help with anxiety, not with aggression...

Well first of all: https://www.tumblr.com/merrilark/759809595878277120?source=share ( just in case you needed this <3 )

That said,

Klaus's hardships always seem to at least partially be the brunt of jokes, and I think the line was (again at least partially) humor about how someone in the modern world (who CAN die) has to show the restraint not to kill other people who are rude abnd gross and reckless and germy (especially from a hypochondriac's perspective...although don't get me started on the "germaphobe" thing....).

I think it's always wise to assume that Klaus is an unreliable narrator, and has an unrealistically negative perception of himself. Yes, he is flawed, but his "fuckin' Mariana Trench" sense of self-worth takes it to an extreme, and therefore sees ANY real potential bad behavior on his part as a logical supposition: OR prediction. Everything from self-deprecating jokes about being "sexy trash" when called upon to be courageous (even though he indeed was, subsequently, courageous), to his belief that he only has value through the lens of his abusive father's expectations (bus ball, even when he recognizes that Reginald is a "terrible father!!!!", need I say more?), to his belief that Dave Katz was the ONLY person he'd ever "loved more than himself" (despite every single piece of evidence to the contrary, when it comes to his family, even during the times they aren't doing a great job reciprocating), proves this. So anything Klaus says or does in response to the kind of person HE thinks he is, has to be viewed from that perspective.

As the audience, we're meant to pity and sympathize with him, and feel the pathos of wanting him to be kinder to himself. But fans bring their own baggage to the screen, and they sometimes only relate to Klaus at rock-bottom (and that's fine, if it's cathartic for them, it's entirely valid) so they tend to accept his negative self-view as objectively true: as fact. It's comforting to see your struggles represented in a proxy fictional self (especially if you the viewer are ALSO too hard on your own self-image), and sometimes that means fanon is going to reflect a different Klaus than canon intended: a Klaus who really might lash out in violence after years of unresolved or even exacerbated trauma (this is not what I think you're doing, by the way, but the prevalence of fanon about a Klaus who never gets clean and is clownishly pathetic is certainly fed by scenes like the one you're asking about, and sometimes I think that's the writers placating fanon, which...IIII don't think is ever a good idea, but I digress).

What could have made Klaus, who is avoidant and passive to a fault, and on the positive side, gentle and nonjudgmental, believe he could ever be capable of physical violence toward another person? He's just been robbed of his powers. He has a complicated relationship with them, because they gave him a form of invincibility, but also opened him up to be exploited. Suddenly the world is terrifying, but also, he is released of the torment of ghosts everywhere and the BOUNDARIES between life and afterlife being blurred. Therefore, maintaining BOUNDARIES is crucial to Klaus, even if they might seem unnecessary. Harming someone else would trap him back in a cycle of self and other harm, guilt and debt. It's worth noting that this ties in with the AA 12 step program, in settling debts and claiming accountability, and we know from a deleted scene that Klaus wants to avoid more than one fall off the wagon in s4. And honestly, self-control isn't solely meant to avoid aggression to others.

What about how this has been brought up before, with Stan, in the white buffalo room, in s3 (lol sounds like I'm playing Clue)? See above. I posted from a clinical perspective about why Klaus wouldn't have Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD), but rather unmedicated ADHD and C-PTSD, which demonstrate similar patterns of "acting-out" behavior, but for VERY different reasons. I'll look for that post in a bit, it's a couple years old. Yes, stealing, sneaking out, and lighting shit on fire are typical ODD behaviors, but a) this particular class of developmental disorders is controversial for a number of valid reasons, and b) kids with buckets of severe ongoing trauma tied inextricably to where they live and who is raising them are also gonna light shit their abusers own on fire, sneak out, and steal things for the drugs that help them endure something otherwise unendurable.

Those are my initial thoughts at least! <3

[jd-logan65]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠…

TW: Self harm mention

It was probably around the time before I started 6th grade that I first felt like I was more than just a "tomboy". I had pretty much ditched dress-wearing, except for important events, and started dressing more in baggy t-shirts and jeans. I just didn't feel like a girl, but I guess I wasn't at a point yet that I knew I wanted to be a boy. Then, a few months into 6th grade, I got my first crush.

Her name was Carrie. She was a friend of mine from the group of other tomboyish friends I had made. We walked laps during gym and we talked and laughed and just had good times whenever we had a chance to hang out. I never told her how I felt, because I was trying to figure out what I was feeling. And I was feeling afraid. The thought of being a lesbian worried me, since Carrie wasn't the only one. I started thinking that other girls were cute, but I also kept crushing on guys. So was I bi? I was taught that these types of questions were wrong by my conservative family, so this was the start of my mental anguish and troubles.

At some point, I just accepted that I may have been either. It still caused me some worry, but I let it be for a while. Then, I had a fancy band event. And I had to wear a dress. I may as well have had a mental breakdown, because I cried and cried in the bathroom, telling my mom I didn't want to wear the dress. Again, all those feelings I had before about these articles of clothing were just heightened. Angry and desperate (later attributing it to not being ready to lose her "daughter"), my mom forced me to wear it. And I just sat there, sobbing, before cleaning myself up and going. That was one of the first major incidents that started it all. After a while, I began noticing that I wasn't growing like all of the other girls. My cousins were getting periods and other developments from puberty and I largely remained the same as the months passed by. This caused me great anxiety and my mental health started deteriorating again.

I don't remember much, but at a later point, I just felt like wanting to be a boy. Simple as. So not only was I questioning my sexuality, but I was also questioning my identity. And I was not in a good place to do any of those. So, as one can imagine, that further affected my mental health. I became depressed and had suicidal thoughts. I started self-harming, hiding behind jackets and long sleeve shirts. Then, at the end of a car ride with my mom, I broke down after a while of her questioning me (I looked sad and distant). After trying to spit it out, I told her that I liked girls and that I didn't want to be a girl. At this point, after putting everything together, she came face to face with the reality that what the doctors told her 12 years ago was bull. She didn't know what to do at that point, so after comforting me (a reaction I didn't know I would get), she decided to throw out the hypothetical that maybe I had male chromosomes, but I'd have to have a test to figure it out. This was just to buy her some time to discuss what went on with my dad. This seemed to calm me down since, as a kid who was in and out of hospitals, I was familiar with tests and some medical jargon. When we got back, my parents discussed in private that they would tell me the truth during summer vacation. They didn't know how I would react or take the news, so they just wanted my mind to be clear during the rest of the school year. But my mind was racing practically every day of the next few weeks. I was so excited at the possibility of having male chromosomes because that meant I wasn't crazy. I still accepted that I was female though, and prepared for the results to say just that, but I still held onto a bit of hope. Then, summer vacation came. And my parents called me into their bedroom for a talk...

[sugarplanet]

Instantly Overcome Hating Your Art and Stop Wasting Your Time In 3 Easy Steps

Throughout the fall, I've hit the proverbial reset button a few times hoping to start with a clean slate or the right foot in progressing my career and just being better at art. Still, it's easy to hit a plateau when you get wrapped up into one thing and neglect your portfolio, your idea moleskin, or your twitter (though I don't really want much to do with that last one these days). Despite the tone of this post so far, I can at least tell you that it's much better now than it was three or four years ago. One time, I'd stopped posting or drawing or speaking to people an entire year and it did no favors to my self-esteem or my muscle memory. Now, when I smack face first into a wall or feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, I have tools to react, retract, and reflect before I do something harmful, like impulsively ghost everyone or stop going to work. Here's some directions to get back on track:

1: Stop

If you find yourself saying mean things about your own art or feel like you're about to throw your painting against the wall or see something so beautiful on social media immediately followed by a train of people who have tons in milage/talent/popularity on you then you're going to have to press the pause button. Immediately stop whatever you're doing and take a deep breath. You'll have to build some serious discipline to do it but it's an invaluable skill to be able to cut off intrusive or harmful thoughts before they can stew and fog your brain any further. Go take a break and come back to your craft or task and after you've given energy to something else for a little while, you'll find you have more energy than before.

2: Turn Around

I find it a huge help to go over the basics (a lot) as a refresher regularly as when you take on something really complex you can get easily overwhelmed if your skill or tolerance for perspective and doing lineart by hand isn't seasoned enough. This is where going through the fundamentals or at least better researching your topic can help you troubleshoot the WHY and WHAT going on. If you're trying to draw a landscape from your imagination or with other art as a reference, you're going to need to do some thumbnails. If you need tigers or rhinos, go do some tracing and then some studies. If you can, try working on a different medium than what you were working with before; that bit of separation is going to help keep you from burning out again too fast and create some interest as well ("oooh color pencils, how exciting!") BONUS: Avoid doom scrolling through other artists! You'll want to save observation purely for intentional style studies rather than get stuck in the trap of comparing yourself to everyone.

3: Go Back

You'll have to go back at some point, especially if it's for your day job or for a client... But before you do, make sure you can check these off: > Feel better emotionally > More energized/inspired to take this on > Have a viable solution to my problem > Am proud of self and my work and don't think I suck If you can, great! Take it from the top. If not, maybe you need a little more rest (if you're still struggling emotionally) or maybe you need some more practice (if you're not satisfied with your solution yet). Repeating this process enough times will also help you bounce back from break-downs, burnouts, and blocks a lot quicker. I promise; if I can sit here and write this long, then you can absolutely make great things happen for yourself. :)

[mcalhenwrites]

Just... thoughts.

Thinking about how - in the past - my gifts I crocheted got more attention than anything I ever crocheted for myself. And I love to write, but crocheting ended up being what defined me for everyone. I didn't like that. There are free patterns and shit that I thought about sharing, but I just went, "You know what, everyone's been so ungrateful and unsupportive, fuck it." So that stuff never got shared. I hated that I was so bitter, but... I remember how demanding people were for patterns, how much I was asked about tips without so much as a "thank you", bullied to give away free things or reduce prices, befriended only for people to make every conversation around what they really would like from me as a gift/linking me patterns and images, etc. Like... am I not allowed to just not want to be treated that way? Huh, yeah, I guess so! Anyway, I'm a writer. Whatever crocheting happens is pretty private between me and the few friends I trust. I yell how much I do not make gifts and only show OC-related stuff bc frankly it's easy to clean house that way. Anyone who hates it can easily unfollow. And it has been years, and I'm less bitter, but it's also a bit of a shame. Maybe some nice people could benefit from the free patterns. Maybe I'd still want to do the rare giveaway, funds allowing, although at this point, I'm incredibly broke and suffering so it'd be self-harm to even do giveaways. I should have drawn more boundaries in the past and been far less apologetic about posting writing-related content. I'm sorry to myself for not supporting myself more. And I'm sorry to the people who do support me as a writer, because I could have probably been more pleasant to be around and more likely to focus energy on them. I can't go back and change the past, and I'm too traumatized to ever go, "Hey, look, I crocheted this thing I'm proud of!" when it's not an OC and especially if it's a gift for someone. Because I know what that attracts. :'( (Gosh I also had people who'd follow during giveaways and unfollow immediately after the winner was announced, had someone try that *again* on the next giveaway and blocked them immediately for that attempt. I remember trying to dodge that nonsense by only offering giveaway items to people already following before the giveaway started... I got more restrictive, and felt ridiculous, but... it sucked the joy out of thanking people for supporting me when they'd have competition from strangers who just wanted stuff without a care about anyone else.)

[ohhcalamxty]

hello. its been a while? 5 years actually. what a place this is! what a trip down memory lane of many emotions.

a quick tldr: im 25 now, im engaged and live with my amazing partner and 2 cats. i am ed free (for the most part - i still struggle to love my body sometimes), clean, and i am in therapy! a place i never would have thought id be.

i didnt think id come back here like. ever. but ive been having nightmares of sam recently. its odd isnt it, how the brain works? i havent seen sam in 7 years? since the 2nd june 2018 to be exact, and yet he haunts me. why?

this is an odd correlation but recently i got into taylor swift. her music has been wonderfully cathartic and whilst i never assumed id be one of those girls who screams breakup songs and curses them at my exes....here we are.

TTPD (and most of taylors sad songs) unhealed me, so to speak, or at least awoke something in me. i wouldn't ever proclaim i have had bad relationships. i am always grateful for the time myself and owen spent together, and i am extremely happy with josh (I'd say 2/4 of my relationships being good is pretty huge) but here I am screaming and crying over break up songs at the eras tour and tearing up in the shower because they resonate with a point in my life and put my feelings into words in a way I've never been able to do.

elliot was interesting but i try not to curse his name so much as we were 14 and maybe he didn't mean what he did because he didn't understand consent, or maybe i am naive and too nice - i guess we'll never know because he quite literally dropped off the face of the earth! (Also, minor shoutout for him delaying dumping me because my grandma died! i do appreciate that at least!)

sam however....oh where do I begin with sam!

"Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?"

I think I spent a lot of my teen years reflecting on sam, because well, he fucked me up so much. i mean how emotionally spent must I be to have nightmares of someone who I spent less than 12 months with at the age of 16, and then collided with again for a single night at the age of 19. Clearly we're fucked here.

I cannot find the words to describe you, and I'm unsure what i did to deserve a love like this. You had a girlfriend that you loved and were with for years, and then I (your close friend at the time) got dumped, and you make your move. We hang out a lot, cool, fine, nothing new as we were friends anyway. My mind is hazy on how it started or when we went from friends to whatever we were but it haunts me so much lmao.

The constant talks of i was the one, and that yes I will leave her for you. I fear nobody ever talks about being the other woman because its so odd - it isnt a flex, it isnt cool or sexy. it fucking sucks and it fucked me up but i liked sam so much i believed it. I mean picture this: you're 16, just lost your grandma, heavily depressed, self harming, riddled with an ed and have been dumped but low and behold your best friend tells you he loves you and plays with your hair and holds you. we go on dates and have sleepovers with friends (he still had a gf btw) hes fucked up too but he worries and cares about you more than anyone else, but at the cost of if you try to pull away he hurts himself, and threatens suicide (and believe me he'd do it) - stuck between a rock and a hard place aye.

"And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts - Memories feel like weapons"

Less than a year of back and forth, misery and stringing along. I can't remember how or why it ended but I know it took a lot of attempts of pulling away (and him pulling me back) to get away. A lot of bits are hazy but I can assume it must have been around the time when I met owen? There are old screenshots on here of sam talking to me and they make me feel unwell (not an exaggeration) - his words (even after it all ended) and how he tried to act like he cared makes me feel like a pit inside (even now). I do however find it funny that my posts from 2015 and 2016 about him claiming hes ruined my life don't seem that dramatic now that im 25 and having nightmares about him.

"Oh, God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind - I regret you all the time"

I think I would have been ok if this was it. I don't think I would be grieving my past self, my girlhood, my naivety if this was all - i very much had support through my other relationships to help the sam trauma which i do appreciate. But it doesnt end here does it? Nah thats too easy.

"Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden"

2nd June 2018: Me and Josh had briefly split up. It was Karlies birthday and we went out in HTC (dire) and I guess because Hinckley is a tiny place and everyone goes to the same places we ran into a lot of people (some good some bad) - including Sam.

Ima be honest idk where he came from or who he was out with but there he was, buying me drinks, talking to me, I dont remember much but I can assume I was happy. I do however remember him leading me away, telling me we're heading to the next bar because that's where everyone else was going but we actually were heading in the complete opposite direction haha. god knows where we were going but on the walk we sat on a bench, i cried, i told him off, told him he ruined my life, he told me he'd missed me so much, he held me, i cried more, i hated him and then we just rinsed and repeated as he pootled me up castle street to wherever he was taking me. My friend rang me, I told them I was with sam, people came running (guess they all know hes bad news) and they (including josh, who was my ex at the time and ig technically hated me) beefed him until he left and that was that. I haven't seen him since - i still dont know where he was taking me or what his plan was. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I didnt answer the phone, sometimes I wish I hadn't and that maybe I deserved whatever would happen. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion, being dramatic, but the trauma of the emotions that 16 year old me feels is still there. It haunts me.

"Don't call me "kid", Don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me"

So here we are. I guess I'm bringing this up at therapy in a few weeks because these feelings won't disappear (and Honestly I'm not sure why they reappeared other than being repressed emotions). I wonder though, has this affected you as much as it as me? Do you feel bad about what you did? Are you suffering? Do you think about me? Do you feel bad that you had such control over me or did you enjoy it? Claiming you've lost sleep over me and that you want to protect and help me? Was any of it true I wonder.

"And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?"

I suppose I'll never know, but I can only hope that memories of me haunt you as much as they haunt me. I hope you get everything you deserve, and I hope I can heal. My skin is no longer the skin you touched, I no longer physically feel you, and I hope one day my memories of you will be hazy and faded, and I don't need to jump at ghosts anymore.

And my therapist wonders why I really dislike men huh.

[herecomesmary]

I'd rather not have to deal with the misfortunes of embodiment. I never liked the feeling of skin, having so many parts, moving, bouncing, jumping, walking, breathing. So many times I caught myself holding my breath and gasping for air in the middle of simple tasks. Crying, oh my god. My face gets really swallow, and it takes time to go back to normal. I can't cry and pretend nothing happened. You can see it in my face. You can see everything in my face, my eyes. When I lie, I can't look directly at the person's eye, so I look right in between then, but I'm not good at it anyway. It felt inconvenient for me to have this human suit. My father said to me some times it's the price for being in this world, you need it to move around. But I never enjoyed the feeling, so the issues involving the maintenance. Drink water properly, eat - sometimes I would rather die than eat anything. I like to shower, tho, but showering is like I'm erasing slowly, layer by layer, this cage i live in as I scrub the surface. Hard. I also believe that has to deal with my self-harm. I started doing it so young I couldn't remember the first time I hurt myself on purpose. I can't recall how it was, I liked setting things on fire and needles as well. But the cuts came at twelve. It was one of the loneliest times of my life. I couldn't speak, didn't understand. After I finished cutting my whole arm, I stared at it for a while, the blood dripping slowly, super red. I remember I cleaned it with a small scarf that my aunt embroidered. It has stains till this day. Seventeen years later, I still have to handle that. Sometimes, it feels ridiculous. And I could never explain to anyone why I cut myself so I won't attempt suicide again. Why I cut my body so I won't swallow all the medication I could find in my house. Pain is the fastest emotional regulation tool I've ever found. Maybe cause I did it on my own. Trying and failing. It never stopped working, no drug was ever so quick, no psychological technique, no person that tried to help me. Lately, I've having long periods without episodes, but the last one was out of control in a way I've never seen before. I was at work, my belly bleeding, and it didn't stop. I had to leave. I came home to see how swallow, red, it was. I also had some blue and purple bruises around it. It scared me more than my arm how I could do that that fast. For some reason, the part of my brain that's supposed to be responsible for my safety started spinning like crazy. I asked for help. And thought about what my sister told me that I wasn't well, and how im not a regular person that can handle everything alone. I cant. I cant do many things, and that made me even more alone. Every day that went by, I saw the number of texts getting lower and lower till no one asked about me. It's a strange feeling when you know no one is thinking about you. I thought maybe I wished so hard to disappear i was succeeding. Maybe it's a good thing.

Since he died I fell like I'm hanging between this world and the other. I'm halfway. Its exhausting, pulling both sides at the same time. I have to decide which world I wanna be in, but just really, really, really, didn't want to be in a place where he's not anymore.

[real-time-twilight]

Twilight vs. Life and Death #23

🍏Life and Death🍏

Maybe if I had been one of the cool kids, I could make this work for me. Come in all popular, homecoming king-styles. But there was no hiding the fact that I was not that guy--not the football star, not the class president, not the bad boy on the motorcycle. I was the kid who looked like he should be good at basketball, until I started walking. The kid who got shoved into lockers until I'd suddenly shot up sophomore year. The kid who was too quiet and too pale, who didn't know anything about gaming or cars or baseball statistics or anything else I was supposed to be into.

   Unlike the other guys,  I didn't have a ton of free time for hobbies. I had a checkbook to balance, a clogged drain to snake, and ac week's groceries to shop for.

   Or I used to.

🍎Twilight🍎

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should look, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond--a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps--all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

   Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft, somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself--and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

   When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty--it was very clear, almost translucent-looking--but it all depended on color. I had no color here.

   Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

My gosh, so much to unpack here. Let's start with the fact that Bella's monologue is literally only about her own perception of her looks. And it's so much longer than Beau's. Beau's ties in way more thematically with the following paragraph about not fitting in with his peers, which we'll cover next time. I believe his lack of assessment of his own appearance stems from the Beau is a Boy issue. As is the fact that he ONCE AGAIN stresses how NOT INTO CARS he is. We get it!

We also get a lot of mingled underlying resentment for being the responsible one in his household as opposed to Renee, but also that he seems to have a sense of his own superiority over his peers that he's so much more mature than them because he "has" to take care of his mother. Which is very fucked up, but also very interesting. I think this falls under Personality Differences between Beau and Bella. Beau has a much greater need for control in his life, which I think is also why he's so organized.

Now, while Beau doesn't take any time to describe himself, he does mention being bullied in school. I think this is a gendered issue for Smeyer. Beau was physically bullied because Beau was being bullied by other guys, and only boys are violent, of course *heavy sarcasm*. I believe Bella was bullied but in subtler ways, otherwise she wouldn't be so self conscious about not "looking like someone from Phoenix should" but this is something she's internalized and clearly doesn't register as bullying in her mind.

Finally I want to take an opportunity to point out a glaring instance of Stephanie being hoodwinked by her sons into using very cringe turns of phrase-- in this case "homecoming king-styles". This is a really bad one.

[ecclais-fouoras]

HURT

Wilhemina venable x reader

WARNINGS : semi-graphic self harm and overall mental health issues

You had everything to be happy, you were alive, you had the women you loved by your side. Really you couldn't complain, there was nothing wrong today with your life. But when you found yourself lying on the bathroom floor with blood dripping from your shoulders, arms legs and stomach, there was nothing but the darkness that made you want to give up, to let the sweet hands of death swoop you and tear you from the soils of this earth. Hurting was the only way for you to let go of this pain, the anger, the loneliness. You could have cope with being hit, hurt bruised to the hands of someone else. Hell you had already. Waited patiently as you laid between yourself and the hollow space, hands reaching for your body in the darkness, the soft sounding of a movie beating up with their terrible laughs, hugging your throat in an attempt to make you comply. You'd always give in, give up on your body for their own pleasure, their own needs, it was the way I'd had always been. There was no other option for you than to sit still and let their lips bare on your skin, eyes fall on your form without anyway to keep them away.

You were lying there like you had been many times, trying to gather all the strength you had to stop the bleeding. Go get towels and clean up already you miserable piece of shit

Your brain was telling you. The cold tiles were keeping you grounded and you didn't even knew the difference between the physical and emotional pain you were in anymore. All you knew is this was to much to bare, this was too painful to hold on. You started to wonder around and you had never felt so alone in years. No wait, you weren't alone, you were lonely, it was a different thing. There were people around you, but your heart was sweeping out of everything that had ever broke it. It was Tainting everything. Then your mind drifted to mina, the love you felt for her and the one she felt for you. How disappointed she'd be that you were thinking that, that you felt lonely despite the fact that she was still here. How uterly hurt that you had managed to get yourself in this situation again. She'd seen the scars, she'd never ask. And you were thankful. You knew them, you'd put them there you didn't need to be reminded that you had. you were well aware of what happened to your body. How you spend years trying to destroy it for the meer fact that it was alive, yours and breathing.

But wilhemina had never made a dumb move, she'd never asked intrusive questions, she had never asked you to promise not to do it again, she'd never kissed them like in some dumb movie nor had she dragged her fingers over the raised skin.

No wilhemina had been nothing but absolutely perfect and here you were disappointing her.

Suddenly there was a soft knocking sound on the door, and you were brought back to where you were. Your body feeling at it's lowest point. Stains all over your clothes.

You didn't bother raising up, or sitting. There was no point in hiding how terrible you felt right now.

"Y/n darling... Are you in there ? Are you okay you've been in here for a while now I'm worried"

You tried to speak up and mutter an answer about the fact that you'd be out in a second but no sound was able to come out of your mouth, you're vision was blurry and hearing muffled.

But you felt her open the door and the half gasp half sob that escaped her mouth hit your skin.

"Oh my god y/n what did you do ?! Why didn't you talk to me ?? Baby I'm here shh.."

She squeezed you tightly, her voice soothing you as you passed out softly in her arms, darkness scooping you in it's arms.

You woke up a few minutes later, bandaged up and wrapped in a blanket on her bed, you look at the white bands draped over your body in confusion.

"I cleaned you up and asked a card to put you to bed because I couldn't lift you up I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologizing I should be the one doing so, I'm sorry you had to that. I usually clean up after myself"

"How long have you been doing this again ?"

"Not long mina"

"How long."

"It was my second relapse in here"

"When was the last one ?"

"When we arrived baby"

"...i I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. I never did"

"I don't need you to understand mina, besides I don't think I want you to"

"How am I supposed to help if i don't get it ?"

"Do I help you when you're back hurts ?"

"Of course, you give me back rubs and kisses it makes i more bearable"

"Hurting myself is my own version of back rubs and kisses, it is ment to soothe the pain, bring me back and let my emotions out"

"Oh...okay"

"Come on baby hop in bed now and cuddle with me"

"I don't want to hurt you baby"

"I'm not gonna break by a little snuggling now get your butt next to me I need to feel you"

"Okay I'm coming"

"You wish"

She looked at you at the remark climbed in bed and chuckled. She pressed herself on your side, nuzzling your neck and with her laugh and kisses you knew you'd never feel lonely ever again.

[terubakudan]

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi - Book Review and Impressions

(light reflection) Perfect :D Hoping Tumblr doesn't flag me for this xD

Ok, I'm going to start this off with 'this is probably the first and only book review I'm going to do' xD Because I rarely do read books now, and just as rarely buy them. Also, I would have preferred to buy the English version but alas they only had the Chinese version in stock ^^"

Stumbling upon this on the Internet, I was immediately compelled to buy this, as if I knew I would love it and that Nagata's story would resonate with me.

【Short Version】 I can't recommend this book enough, it doesn't matter what sexuality you are or from what culture are you. Nagata makes sure to tell an honest and 'naked' (without embellishments) portrait of her own personal experiences. How she herself is a college drop-out (having only graduated from high school), pushed herself to live/work while struggling with depression and eating disorders, not being sure of what she wants and feeling that she doesn't 'deserve' things, realizing her own sexuality in that she likes girls, and just not feeling 'good enough'...all through her cutesy and unassuming art style.

I will say again though, cutesy art style aside, the book deals with some very heavy topics. Nagata is very honest and doesn't shy away from the gritty details, and I admire her all the more for doing so. Many yaoi and yuri comics often portray an unrealistic and fetishistic view of the LGBTQ+ community whereas Nagata's story is much more grounded and sincere. This is not an easy read, but it's not an overly depressive one either. Nagata literally struggled for years with her mental health, but ultimately found light on the other side. Not mainly through the help of others, but through her own choice to forgive and love herself.

5/5⭐ Definitely recommend and would read again. And if I could, I'd give Nagata a big hug and a heartfelt 'thank you' for sharing her story.

【Long Version】 While it's written primarily from an Asian (particularly Japanese) perspective, Nagata's experiences are ones that should resonate with anyone who has been through the same or similar things, regardless of one's personal background. And I myself, while being fortunate enough to not have gone through eating disorders or self harm, am no exception.

I grew up in an Asian (Taiwanese/Chinese Filipino) household, while my parents weren't Tiger Parents (no offense but fuck Amy Chua for thinking that's a proper way of raising your children), they still had certain expectations on their children: to find a good husband/wife, have a good education, have a 'stable' career, etc. And while I love my parents very much, I'd be lying if I said there weren't any times where I felt they were smothering me, there weren't any times where they kept on nagging and bugging me for very trivial details. My biggest pet peeve: guilt-tripping me just for wanting to spend time alone.

"For me, my parents' opinion of me is absolute." (NOTE: While I won't be providing exact translations of the excerpts I used here, I'll do my best to summarize the gist of them.)

At the same time, I cared very much about their opinion of me. I made it a point to do well in school, to do things according to their wishes, and just like Nagata, I didn't know what I wanted. This even extended to caring about others' opinion of me, more than my own. In my freshman year of college, I 'went along' with being friends with someone, who while was nice to me, turned out to be a manipulative bitch skilled in passive-aggressiveness xD Being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, it was hard to fit in since people always treated me differently, it didn't occur to me I could be choosy with friends, I thought as long as they were 'nice' to me, that would do.

Asian culture is largely a collective one, where we define ourselves by our relationships with others, compared with Western culture (primarily America, I'll be using America as a reference point) where individualism is absolute, where you define yourself as you like. In Asia, it's also normal for children to still live in the same house as their parents well into adulthood, compared with Americans who are expected to move out the house once they finish high school or start college, and they're quite literally 'on their own', having to pay their own tuition, rent, etc. Where I live (Taiwan), it's normal for adults to continue relying on their parents financially well until college. Nagata for instance, while saying her parents really make her feel so pressured, is grateful that she still had a home to stay in (and she's 28!).

If you ask me though, neither a collectivist culture or an individualist culture is absolutely good nor bad. Each have their own pros and cons, and both Asian culture and Western culture could learn a thing or two from each other.

After going through quite a few job applications, one of the interviewers tells her "Ganbatte!" (You can do it!) after Nagata tells her what she really wants is to be a manga artist.

And sometimes that's all we need really, a small gesture or kind remark can do wonders. Even if there's no base or reason for it, it's something worth believing in.

I often have doubts if I'm doing what I really want, if I chose the right major for college, if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm 'good enough'. I didn't grow up with much self-esteem as a kid, and often derived my value from others. But even at my lowest times, a 'you're doing ok' was very reassuring to me, be it from family, strangers, or people I care about. Sometimes that's exactly what we need, it may be small but it could be the difference between continuing to wallow in depression or re-evaluating and choosing to be better to oneself.

I find it's really important to know, that however alone you may feel sometimes, there are other people out there going through the exact same thing. It's something universal, and while a lot of things are really unfair in life, each person has their own lot or burden to deal with. I have a Taiwanese friend who, while being more financially well-off than me, has terrible parents. And I mean parents who are quite so literally toxic, unsupportive of her, and would outright say the worst things to their own daughter.

How depression and anxiety can feel sometimes, we can literally feel like it's impossible to breathe and be in a state of disconnection from the world.

"The sounds that invaded my ears occupied my empty brain, making me unable to think at all."

If you only did what your parents asked you to do, wouldn't days like those be very painful? In the end, only you can understand what you really want.

Nagata's art style is one I would describe as simple, cute, and effective. I personally think had her story been drawn in a more serious style, it would have been even harder to read, much less finish. It's also a choice that has artistic appeal to me, serious subject matter juxtaposed with a 'kawaii' art style.

Nagata also depicts very well her mental state and thoughts throughout her struggle and journey to self-actualization. Depression is a really tough thing to deal with, and sometimes we don't even realize that we have it or if we do, refuse to acknowledge it. In Asian cultures especially, mental health has always been something of a taboo subject and there is a very heavy social stigma associated with it. Nagata herself even said that her parents seemingly refused to acknowledge that their daughter's mental health was in a state of distress. In Japan, there is a concept called gaman (我慢), which is described as 'enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity', and while it is portrayed as an ideal virtue that inspires perseverance, it can be a source of heavy pressure for others. Gaman also means that you are expected to suppress whatever emotion or negative feelings you have, often for the sake of others and no matter how tough the situation becomes for you. And while I agree that through gaman you can become more selfless for others, it shouldn't have to come at the expense of your own well-being.

I was quite fortunate to have grown up in a more liberal Asian household, but even when it came to mental health, our family also adopted the same kind of attitude towards it, by carrying on as if nothing was wrong, or just not talking about it. And to be honest, there were numerous times I wished we had been more open about what was bothering ourselves at that time. Talking and being open about your feelings is not a 'weakness' but something incredibly brave to do, and it's my wish for that to slowly become more acceptable in Asian cultures, which I know is kind of a stretch, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

Nagata makes the decision to clean herself up, by taking a bath everyday, habitually exercising, and no longer wearing worn-out clothes.

Depression especially can be a bitch. It deprives you even of your physiological needs, like your need for food. Nagata had to struggle with that on top of eating disorders for a long ten years. She ate so little and even felt that she didn't 'deserve' to eat, and at one point, anorexia became hyperphagia, and she would feel so guilty for eating almost expired/expired food. Things that would otherwise be simple to do also end up becoming difficult/impossible to do, like taking care of your personal hygiene, getting up from bed, doing simple tasks etc.

Thankfully, after Nagata realizes that she never truly 'valued herself', she starts to turn over a new leaf. Even just starting with cleaning herself up, she takes this as a form of 'valuing oneself' and her mood starts to improve, which her family also points out. In the end, taking care of yourself is not a selfish thing to do, it can even make you a better person who is there for others.

Nagata meets up with the female escort she hired, as a means to experience human sexuality, which she had always repressed her curiosity for and treated as a taboo subject. (NOTE: And I'm glad that she met a really nice girl for her first time too!)

Sex and sexuality is also a subject that I feel is hard to talk about sometimes, which I think also owes itself to most Asian cultures being relatively conservative about it. I myself have only recently identified as bisexual, which I attribute to internalized homophobia, not wanting to admit I was into girls too. And to be honest, 'coming out' is something I'm still uncomfortable about, because I don't want to risk my relationship with my family and it's still something I would choose to be selective about with colleagues and friends. I'm grateful though that as crazy the Internet can be sometimes, it can be quite accepting and tolerant towards things that we wouldn't otherwise discuss with even the closest people in our circle. Nagata's memoir ended up capturing the hearts of many readers ever since she first published it on Pixiv.

Exploring your sexuality doesn't have to be scary, it should be something exciting and liberating. Nagata decided to take matters into her own hands, and while the days leading up to the encounter made her really nervous and she even considered not going through with it at all, she willed herself to continue, because she wanted to do this for herself, it would be pointless if she gave up after coming so far in her decision to value herself.

And it's these series of actions that she decided to do that ultimately led to her life turning out for the better, it gave her the courage to do what she always wanted: to be a manga artist, which lead to the publishing of this autobiographical memoir, something she wanted to create that would 'make people want to buy this book' and from her own preference for reading stories that 'speak of secrets people wouldn't want to tell others'.

Nagata mentions what she calls 'honey': something that varies from person to person. It could be your reason for living, that thing that drives/pushes you, or even your sense of belonging. It may not be something permanent, but you can always find yourself a new one. (she mentions the last time she had her 'honey' was during her high school days, and while she has grown apart from the friends she made, she has found her new 'honey' in the form of being a full-time manga artist.)

Nagata stumbles and trips a lot on her way to being a better version of herself, but who doesn't? She admits to things not necessarily being smooth, but at least she's doing better than before. And it's that decision to at least try that counts. We don't have to be perfect, we're all human after all.

TL;DR My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness is a honest, down-to-earth, and ultimately hopeful memoir about the struggles of mental health and learning about one's sexuality. It's an amazing book, and very much worth the buy.

A big thank you if you read through all of this too. I know it's a mess and writing isn't exactly my strong point, but hopefully I've convinced some people out there to give this book a read! Please feel free to share your thoughts and I'd appreciate it very much too if you reblog/like this post.

[carboniteprincess]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot. 

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list. 

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly. 

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more. 

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger. 

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted. 

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant. 

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett. 

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered. 

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well. 

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed. 

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades. 

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job. 

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable. 

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure. 

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface. 

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one. 

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok. 

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?" 

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student. 

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words. 

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly. 

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you. 

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought. 

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster. 

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—" 

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose. 

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance. 

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh. 

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle. 

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him. 

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head. 

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet. 

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!" 

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery. 

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel. 

[catrasredemption-moved]

hi! if you're still taking Catradora/She-Ra prompts, i'd love to see your take on Catra making progress with her anger and PTSD but having a Bad Day, and how Adora and the others help her through it with love and support. thank you!

((this one gets kind of heavy. TW for slight self-harm))

Some days were fine. Great, even. Some days Catra woke up with a smile and went to bed with one, wrapped in Adora’s arms. Things weren’t perfect, of course. There were plenty of issues, especially between her and Adora. Confessing their love hadn’t fixed everything. But it had allowed them to fall back into some old habits, such as sharing a bed.

(Catra technically had a room next to Adora’s, but it didn’t get much use.)

Today was none of those things. Today was a wake up alone because Adora had to do something day. Today was a wake up with skin crawling and nerves itching and fur on end waiting for a danger that didn’t exist day. Today was a jump at the shadows day.

Today sucked the moment Catra opened her eyes.

Sometimes there were things that set Catra off - specific events or things that would remind her of the bad things. She hated the color green more than anything. A very specific shade of green. Sometimes, someone would say something that rang too close to something Shadow Weaver or Horde Prime had said. Sometimes, Scorpia would use her powers, and the sound would freeze Catra as effectively as Shadow Weaver ever had.

And sometimes it was just a bad day.

Of course, it was a meeting day. Catra couldn’t figure out when exactly she had started getting involved in the meetings. Glimmer had convinced the others that Catra’s strategic abilities would be good for for them; she was good at planning. She always had been. The same skills that had allowed her to make it so far as a Horde leader could be put to good use with rebuilding Etheria. And usually Catra was happy with that.

At that moment, however, she would have given anything to be anywhere other than this bright, exposed room at this stupid table surrounded by loud, chattering princesses. Adora slid in at the last moment, sitting beside Catra and grinning. Catra tried to return the smile. She wasn’t sure it was any good, but Adora was easy to fool. And Glimmer started the meeting as soon as Adora was there, saving Catra from any questioning.

Today’s topic was rebuilding routes between the kingdoms, especially the more far off places like Entrapta’s and Frosta’s. Catra did her best to pay attention, to figure out where she could contribute, but her mind was in other places. Her ears were twitching, knee bouncing, heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if she was anxious or angry or some weird mix of both. She had her claws pressed against her thighs, not breaking the skin, but sharp enough to keep her grounded. She stared at the map on the table without really seeing it. Any other day she probably would have had a dozen ideas.

Today it all ran together as her mind raced.

She tried the breathing exercises Perfuma had taught her, tried the stupid “five things I’m grateful for” thing that Scorpia had said always made her feel better. She tried to focus on Adora’s presence next to her, her constant anchor, her reminder she was safe, she was home. Nothing was working. Nothing was working. It was infuriating. She was safe, she was supposed to be happy, nothing had happened, so why did she feel like this?

She didn’t hear Adora say her name. She barely felt the brush of gentle fingers against her shoulder. But it was enough to jerk her back to reality. Anyone else might have ended up with their face cut open. But Adora had grown up with Catra. She recognized the way Catra’s fingers twitched, the way her muscles bunched, the way her arm drew back, ready to strike. Adora knew to jerk back as Catra lashed out.

It was terrible that part of her was grateful it was Adora.

Silence fell. Adora had her hands up in a placating gesture, expression gentle but concerned. Catra was vaguely aware she was starting to shake. She could feel everyone else staring at her. Judging her. There’s the Catra we all know, the wild animal who can’t control herself, can’t be trusted, it was only a matter of time-

“Hey. You okay?”

Damn it, why did Adora have to sound so fucking worried?

Catra shoved away from the table, muttering, “Can’t be here,” and hurried out before anyone stopped her. She didn’t really remember much of the walk, but somehow she was back at hers and Adora’s room. Melog slunk out from under the bed, mane shifting colors as he tried to figure out what Catra was feeling.

What’s wrong?

“I don’t know!”

She kicked the vanity chair, knocking it over, breathing heavily. “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t fucking know, I just - everything-”

She was definitely shaking now. Melog watched her, clearly discontent. You need to breathe.

“I know I need to breathe!”

Her hand was on the back of her neck now. She still remembered that empty, hollow peace she had felt under Prime’s control. It was the only time in her life she could remember not being angry. She hadn’t been happy by any means, but she had been... calm. Sedate. Things she had only ever felt in fleeting moments, there and gone before she had time to comprehend them. Now, after experiencing Prime’s warped version of those feelings, they felt like a cruel joke. How was she ever supposed to be calm without remembering that ship? How was she supposed to feel peace without wanting to disconnect herself in the process?

Melog collided with Catra, knocking her to the ground and very pointedly pinning her arm down. She was confused and annoyed for a moment before she felt something sticky and warm on the back of her neck. Her claws had started to dig in.

“What do you want from me?” The words were barely a whimper. Melog purred, nuzzling her cheek against hers.

That was the position Adora found them in a couple minutes later. She let herself into the room, noting the disturbed vanity chair but lack of any other destruction, which was good. Melog was sitting on Catra, which wasn’t good, and Adora saw the blood on her hands. She knew it wasn’t hers, and it probably wasn’t Melog’s, and no one had raised the alarm about Catra attacking them since she’d left the meeting, so...

Adora went to the bathroom and returned with the first-aid kit. Only then did Melog move, letting Catra sit up. She didn’t say anything as Adora settled behind her, cleaning up her neck. It wasn’t too deep, at least.

“What happened?” she asked as she worked.

“Nothing,” Catra muttered.

“Bad day.”

“No. Nothing happened.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a bad day.” Catra hissed as Adora gently disinfected the wound. “I have them too, ya know. I wake up and everything just feels tense and on edge and like I’m waiting for something to happen even though there’s nothing that could happen.” Catra wilted slightly. She had never noticed that. “I usually punch it out. None of Perfuma’s breathing stuff works for me.”

She finished bandaging the wound, pressing a small kiss to it when she was done. “Can I hold you?” Catra nodded stiffly. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in until her back was flush with Adora’s chest. Adora rested her forehead between Catra’s shoulder blades. “Has Bow ever told you about his dad?”

“No.”

“He fought in the war years ago, during the First Princess Alliance. He doesn’t like to talk much about it, but he... understands feeling this way, I guess. Bow’s dragged me there to see him a few times. There’s a lot of snacks and tea. It helps, though. There are actual words for these feelings, you know? Not just angry, because I know it’s more than that, but words that really describe it.”

Catra hesitated before asking, “Like what?”

“PTSD is the most important one, I think. It’s um...” Catra could feel Adora’s forehead wrinkling as she tried to think, “Post traumatic stress disorder,” she finally said, a hint of pride in her voice for remembering that. It was a lot. “It’s like your mind is stuck on the bad things that happened to you, and you can’t turn the thoughts off. Like your nightmares, or the way you panic when something reminds you of Horde Prime or Shadow Weaver.”

Something loosened in Catra’s chest, and a bit of tension eased from her body. “I’m not just broken?”

“Of course not.” Adora hugged her tighter, resting her chin on Catra’s shoulder. “You’re hurt. Just like I am. Just like George is. It’s okay. It’s normal.” She laughed. “It might be the only thing about us that’s normal.”

A small smile pulled at Catra’s lips. She finally relaxed against Adora, curling up. “You should come with me to see George some time. I think you’d like him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Also, they live in a giant library. You’ll definitely like that.”

The faint sound of bells hit Catra’s ears just as Glimmer appeared, holding a tray. “Don’t mind me, I’m not here,” she whispered loudly, setting the tray on the bed.

“You... are, though,” Adora pointed out.

“What’s that?”

Glimmer turned to them, smiling. “We kind of agreed that it’d be best to just let Adora talk to you but it kind of felt wrong not to do something, and Bow suggested snacks and... I’ve been teleporting across Etheria for the last hour trying to find everyone’s favorite comfort food.”

Catra blinked, surprised. “Everyone?”

“Yup! I’m not too sure about some of these things, but you know, your choice if you like them or not. Mermista swears dried seaweed is good. And Scorpia seemed pretty confident you’d like... I dunno, she called them the red ones.”

“Oh!” Adora perked up.

“Horde thing, got it.” Glimmer laughed. “Anyway, we’ll be down in the meeting room, let us know if you need anything.”

“Can you... thank them for me?” Catra asked hesitantly. “And thank you for doing all the legwork.”

“I’m an awesome friend, what can I say?” Glimmer feigned humbleness, but there was a genuine smile on her face as she disappeared again. Adora was pressing forward a bit, eyes on the tray.

“You want to see what she brought, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Catra stood, taking Adora’s hand to pull her up as well, and they went to settle on the bed. “Bets on who suggested what?”

Adora examined the tray. “Cake, hot chocolate, and brownies is definitely Bow and Glimmer. Red bars are Scorpia, seaweed is Mermista.”

“Tiny foods are Entrapta. Snowflake cookies must be Frosta. Green stuff.”

“Perfuma,” they concluded in one voice, exchanging smiles.

“What do you think this is?” Catra asked, picking up a round piece of bread with a hole in the middle.

“Oh, that’s a donut! I bet that was Netossa and Spinnerella, there’s this bakery outside of Bright Moon that they really love. They used to drop off treats for us if they were in the area.”

Catra carefully ripped it in half, offering a piece to Adora. It was sweet and chocolate-y and tasted really good. “I’ll try the seaweed if you try Perfuma’s green stuff,” she challenged. Adora puffed up, clearly ready.

“You’re on.”

They each picked up their chosen poisons and took a bite. The seaweed actually wasn’t that bad, Catra thought as she chewed. Thin and brittle and weird, but not bad. Adora, on the other hand, was choking on whatever she had tried.

“No green stuff, got it.”

Adora took a long sip of hot chocolate before she spoke again, her voice gentle. “Better?”

“Better than it was.”

It wasn’t ever completely better. But it was more than Catra could’ve hoped for when she had woken up that morning.

And that was enough.

[juniaships]

Yall Some Fake Ass Friends: Malina ficlet

The one where my OC/quasi SI defends TFA!Optimus by setting the record straight for latter's former friends. Warning: Long text, character bashing. Script form.

Black Arachnia *to Sentinel*: I wouldn't look this way if you & Optimus had come and saved me! It's his fault I'm stuck like this!

Sentinel: Optimus ran back to try to save you if anything that's his fault!

Malina: Hold it! *flies up right in front of their faces on her jetpack*

Malina: I've held my tongue for a while now but you know what, I don't care so let's get something straight! What happened to you was not Optimus's fault! He sacrificed a lot to get where he is now.

Sentinel: Oh look the organic is trying to preach to us.

Malina: Well as this organic will preach I haven't seen a single instance where you've made a sacrifice for someone's sake. Especially not for Optimus!

Sentinel: Whaddya mean? I've made plenty of sacrifices for him! I sacrificed my head yet he laughed at me twice!

Malina: Surely you had to give up your prospects of Elite Guard for Optimus right? I mean, he had gave up his rank so you wouldn't get in trouble for sneaking to Archa Seven.

Sentinel: Wait, how do you know about Archa Seven?!

Malina: Your friend told me. In fact he tells me a lot of things see *flaunts the autobot pendant Prime gave her many months ago* But I want to ask, when have any of you ever sacrificed for anyone else?

Blackarachnia: I lost my true self and freedom! You think I liked being in this hideous form? You think you know so much about us when tou have no idea how cruel fate can be.

Malina: Oh I know. Just enough to know that you and Sentinel share something in common

Sentinel: At least I don't join a bunch filthy warmongers *glares pointedly at Arachnia, who hissed back just as venomously*

Malina: I'll give you that but still, none of it would've had happened if you'd just listened to Optimus. He told me he never wanted to break protocol.

Sentinel: Even if I had listened it still would've been the same! Gah I don't have time for this!

Malina: Still not seeing the big picture huh? I guess that giant crown must be giving you vision problems. And I doubt you want to be lost in a stinky, organic-infested jungle so it's better for you to stay riiiight here.

*Sentinel pouts*

Malina: Look what I'm trying to say here is, Optimus sacrificed everything for you yet how do you thank him? By picking on him, picking on us, his team, his real friends, constantly shaming him by bringing up every little mistake he ever made. I bet you didn't even thank him for taking the heat for you! Nor did you even say "I'm sorry for getting you kicked out of Autobot Academy because I was too caught up in my own self"! Your a terrible friend.

Sentinel: Now you're just talking some scrap! I am the perfect friend for him! His BEST friend! The best bot for him!

Malina: You're not a good bot, much less a good friend. In fact I think maybe you weren't friends with him at all. Just someone who wanted to ride on his coattails.

Sentinel: Now that's not true! I did things on my own back at the acadmey! I mean help me Eli- I mean Blackarachnia, tell this stupid organic I was a fantastic student back in the day!

*Blackarachnia remains slient; her ex starts getting nervous*

Sentinel: I have a great personality! When my best friend comes back he'll tell you! I make great rules so that Cybertron can go back to the way it was! No even better, a brand new Golden Age!

Malina: Your poor decision-making reflects your poor personality, Sentinel Magnus. You tricked your own citizens by accepting bribes from some Decepticons, you know, the enemy faction. You don't bother to learn my planet's culture or traffic laws for that matter. At least I try to learn Cybertornian ways so that I can communicate with your people better. You on the other hand? Always make messes for someone else to clean up while you slink away lying about how great and competent a leader you are. You talk down to my kind as if we're too stupid to understand the world. Not even giving us a chance. If that's your idea of a Golden Age I'd hate to see your idea of a Dark Age.

Blackarachnia *grinning at her ex being roasted: Hm. Maybe this little organic got more spark than I thought.

Malina: Oh no you don't Miss Spider! Don't act like you're all innocent! That first battle all the way back on Halloween you tried to kill my sister. Yes Sari's my sister.

Blackarachnia: I did warn her. She shouldn't have gotten in my way.

Malina: So she could stop you from destroying our city! All that noise for a cure that could've harmed you more than it would've helped you.

Blackarachnia: It would've worked if it hadn't been for certain interruptions. Besides I wasn't waiting on Megatron, I wasn't even aware of his presence.

Malina: If that's the case how come none of the Decepticons ever tried to help you find a cure? Seems to me they only said that to take advantage of you. Before you start to think I'm being heartless no. I'm sorry for what happened to you. Truly I am. If there was any way to reverse it I would try! But if you think I'm going to tolerate one more second of you trying to guilt Optimus you got another thing coming! Either that or Waspinator.

Sentinel: Wapsinator? That traitor that snuck into our ranks?

Malina: The Autobot recruit you threw in the brig to waste away for probably I dunno, hundreds of years all because of flimsy evidence.

Sentinel: How would I know that the accusations were baseless? Bumblebhead told me and I'd trust the word of an Autobot even one as clumsy as he!

Malina: Bumblebee, and he regrets ever accusing Wasp. Bee's been kicking himself in the rotor and wants help the guy he indirectly hurt! That's what makes them so different from you lot. You two always blame Optimus or others for your problems, you hurt others with no remorse, you redirect your self-loathing towards anyone who nothing to do with your pain. We have to heal from our pain so we can be better! Do better! All the while the two of you whine and complain about how horrible the world treats you or how awful you feel about the past or how much of a failure Optimus is when he's the one who had to LEARN from failure. All of us did! You two ungrateful protoforms never learn anything!!!

*Sentinel & BlackArachnia stare in complete silence*

Malina: And you know what hurts the most about all this. Optimus told me the reason he stuck by you after all those years was because he thought that, maybe you'd forgive him and be his friend again. That maybe the two of you would come to terms with what happened and maybe reclaim the friendship that was lost. I was completely on board with that because guess what? He's my friend and friends are supposed to trust each other! So why can't you? Why after all these solar cycles have you refused to put your faith in Optimus after everything he's done?

*Sentinel and Arachnia continue to stare in silence*

Malina: Now I see that it's impossible. I think I speak for a lot of people when I say you richly deserve each other.

*Sentinel and Arachnia still stare in complete shock at the audacity of the "organic's" callout. Malina smiles. She is right.*