#every time I have more time to myself than im used to my anxiety brain gains power

[broke-on-books]

Reading I Crawl Through It by A. S. King THIS WEEK OUT OF ALL THE WEEKS like...

Omg standardized testing? That's my next two weeks fr! (The past 2 weeks have been prep)

Random drills and alarms? We had one of those earlier today!

Bomb Threats? That reminds me of the shooting threat we had last week!

Naked guy hiding in a bush selling craft projects to teenagers? Okay actually I've got nothing there

Anyways haha I very much would love an invisible helicopter right now... 🤞(even if it would only be visible on Tuesdays)

[urprettylittlething]

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please &lt;3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple. 

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe. 

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones. 

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm. 

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours? 

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened. 

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’ 

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount. 

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag. 

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly. 

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable. 

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start. 

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again. 

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure. 

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit. 

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy. 

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store. 

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic. 

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard. 

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her. 

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone. 

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her. 

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps. 

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax. 

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge. 

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there. 

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc. 

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention. 

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside. 

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside. 

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door. 

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.  

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together. 

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them. 

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation. 

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.” 

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching. 

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.  

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.” 

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent. 

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present. 

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly. 

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle. 

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm. 

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them. 

Wherever it was, it was concerning. 

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway. 

1, 2.

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest. 

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door. 

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door. 

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could. 

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down. 

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever. 

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway. 

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious. 

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside. 

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer. 

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair. 

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry. 

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality. 

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps. 

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble. 

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing. 

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling. 

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her. 

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps. 

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds. 

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with. 

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air. 

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’. 

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief. 

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind. 

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her. 

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps. 

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time. 

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them. 

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known. 

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators. 

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns,  or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones. 

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed. 

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her. 

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror. 

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through. 

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him. 

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling. 

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.  

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle. 

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles. 

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need. 

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed. 

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her. 

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well. 

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds. 

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response. 

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it. 

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time. 

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey. 

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin�� from my fuckin’ soul. 

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan. 

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was. 

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that. 

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er. 

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do. 

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever. 

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im. 

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one. 

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But… 

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest. 

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia. 

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹 

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle. 

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it. 

“I like you, Dar.” 

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time. 

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.” 

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.” 

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time. 

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night. 

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did. 

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me. 

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this. 

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.” 

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once. 

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.” 

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?” 

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what?  she just laughs.  

Shit. 

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’. 

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it.  She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived. 

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated.  And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three. 

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that. 

How didn’t I see it? 

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things. 

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit. 

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse. 

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else. 

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia. 

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it. 

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more. 

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it. 

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all. 

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.” 

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me. 

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.” 

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.” 

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.” 

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh. 

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t. 

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.” 

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?” 

She did come back. 

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question. 

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it. 

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know. 

“Think it was more the other thing you said.” 

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper. 

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.” 

What? “Why not?” 

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.” 

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again. 

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. 

[aspd-culture]

why is different neurological stuff between alters impossible, but psychosomatic stuff isnt? /gen (this isnt a bad faith question, im just not educated in sciency stuff ,, i dropped out of hs,,,)

No worries! It's complex and I completely get wanting to learn more about it. I find the psychology and neurology of systems fascinating myself tbh.

So neurological disorders like ASPD, Autism, ADHD, OCD, etc (see also neurodivergencies) are, for lack of a better analogy, hardware-based. Your brain is physically or functionally different than a person without that disorder. The synapses do not fire in the same ways, or the centers do not interact and/or respond in the same ways as someone who doesn't have it.

Other mental health disorders/conditions like depression, some types of anxiety, etc. are software-based. They are maladaptive, but do not alter how your brain works. In the cases where they are caused by chemical differences, these are more hardware based, but generally these disorders are the ones where talk therapy alone can cause significant relief of symptoms, and are the disorders one could reasonably expect to completely recover from (in that after a long time - often many years - of treatment and learning coping strategies, the person would no longer meet the diagnostic criteria for the disorder/condition).

So if we think of alters like different users on the same computer, they may not all have access to the same software due to various permissions and such, and they may not all use software that is available to them (aka they may not have the same conditions or they may handle the symptoms of those conditions so well that they do not impair functioning, which means it wouldn't be diagnosable in that alter by themselves). However, every user on that computer is still bound to the hardware. No user on the computer could run programs that require different hardware than what the computer every user is doing has (aka no alter can make an autistic brain function like an allistic brain, nor make an antisocial brain function as a prosocial one, etc).

I hope that helps!/gen if I missed anything or you need clarification you are very much welcome to submit another ask, as always. For some reason my brain is convinced I missed a part of your question in there.

Plain text below the cut:

No worries! It's complex and I completely get wanting to learn more about it. I find the psychology and neurology of systems fascinating myself tbh.

So neurological disorders like ASPD, Autism, ADHD, OCD, etc (see also neurodivergencies) are, for lack of a better analogy, hardware-based. Your brain is physically or functionally different than a person without that disorder. The synapses do not fire in the same ways, or the centers do not interact and/or respond in the same ways as someone who doesn't have it.

Other mental health disorders/conditions like depression, some types of anxiety, etc. are software-based. They are maladaptive, but do not alter how your brain works. In the cases where they are caused by chemical differences, these are more hardware based, but generally these disorders are the ones where talk therapy alone can cause significant relief of symptoms, and are the disorders one could reasonably expect to completely recover from (in that after a long time - often many years - of treatment and learning coping strategies, the person would no longer meet the diagnostic criteria for the disorder/condition).

So if we think of alters like different users on the same computer, they may not all have access to the same software due to various permissions and such, and they may not all use software that is available to them (aka they may not have the same conditions or they may handle the symptoms of those conditions so well that they do not impair functioning, which means it wouldn't be diagnosable in that alter by themselves). However, every user on that computer is still bound to the hardware. No user on the computer could run programs that require different hardware than what the computer every user is doing has (aka no alter can make an autistic brain function like an allistic brain, nor make an antisocial brain function as a prosocial one, etc).

I hope that helps!/gen if I missed anything or you need clarification you are very much welcome to submit another ask, as always. For some reason my brain is convinced I missed a part of your question in there.

[disabledunitypunk]

So, I know this blog has been a lot less active as of late, at least from my part (mod Stars).

I'm gonna be honest; I've been incredibly sick. A combination of some kind of issue with gluten/wheat (may be celiac, or nonceliac gluten intolerance, or wheat allergy) with IBD, MCAS, lactose intolerance and sensory issues, had caught me in such a cycle of degranulation, anaphylaxis, intestinal issues, brain fog, chronic fatigue, and POTS and chronic pain flareups, that I was nonfunctional.

On top of that, anxiety over my partners SSI application (recently medically approved by the administrative law judge, that's a win! still waiting on nonmedical approval but it should hopefully just be a rubber stamp process at this point - knock on wood) has really screwed with my levels of executive dysfunction.

And trauma around medical neglect and abuse, plus being so sick, plus executive dysfunction, had led me to temporarily avoid seeking treatment at all. When I say that the very idea of trying to trick yet another doctor's ego into believing they came up with the idea to test me for the conditions I'm already reasonably certain I have, all while making sure I don't seem too smart, too unintelligent, too articulate, too reliant on google, too self-aware, use too many medical terms, and so on... I've not had the ability to advocate for myself anymore.

Luckily, a friend of mine that's all hellfire agreed to help advocate for me at some of my appointments going forward, so I'm going to be finding a new primary care doc and going forward (possibly seeing my old one a few more times if necessary, just to get re-referrals and maybe get a referral to a non-Medicaid allergist that actually knows what MCAS is) with pursuing diagnoses and treatment again.

Until then, however, I'm pretty much limited to about three foods - plain white or wild rice, "zoup" (a zucchini broth with chunks of carrots, daikon, celery, and wild rice), and raisins. I can drink water and cranberry juice. Between my sensory issues and that tiny list, I've been consistently significantly hungry for a week. I'm struggling to sleep and can't get more than four hours of restless sleep in a night the past few nights. I'm menstruating for the first time in five years for G-d knows why. I feel better and less reactive, especially after an ER visit for some IM decadron, but I am constantly exhausted.

Why do I bring all this up?

This is my daily life. I have near zero quality of life because of the ableism of doctors and failures of the medical system. I'm barely keeping myself alive every day, really only with the help of a lot of caretaking from my partner. I haven't been able to get to my doctor to get approved for that friend willing to advocate for me to be paid for basic caretaking duties by Medicaid. I went out on Saturday for the first time in over a month, and I'll be recovering from that for the next week and a half.

There is not a single minute of my life that isn't profoundly affected by my disabilities. Stress causes a cascading reaction through my MCAS, POTS, ME/CFS. Understimulation causes intense stress and even pain. Listening to music while doing nothing, watching videos, and similar "low energy" activities drain so much energy that they trigger my chronic fatigue, and sometimes cause a lesser reverse cascading reaction.

I can't take an ADHD med to help with the symptoms more disabling than the ones threatening literal anaphylaxis and organ failure because I can't get them compounded without an official MCAS diagnosis, and I'd also need a beta blocker compounded as well (which are are often mast cell triggers) for my POTS because the only ADHD meds that work on me are amphetamines.

I can't take vitamin D or B12 despite being incredibly critically low for the same reasons. I've barely found some OTC benadryl and aleve that I halfway tolerate. I might have a UTI and if I do I'm gonna have to convince doctors 20 years behind the medical literature that IM antibiotics are considered safe and effective and are a safer alternative to oral meds for me, if still risking a minor reaction.

On good days, I can make it between the bed and couch a couple times a day, and between the couch and the toilet. On bad days, I have a chamber pot setup in the bedroom because I can't afford diapers. I'm sure my vitamin D deficiency is not helped by never leaving an apartment that barely gets some sunlight two hours a day because it's in the shadow of the other side of the building.

I used to, on bad days, spend most of the day doing mindless tasks or on slightly less bad days, puzzle games, on my phone. Now, I'm lucky if I can do even that much most days. I AM too sick to play video games. 🥲 I can nap, I can sit with my eyes open, I can listen to music until it's too exhausting anymore.

I'm tired, and every day surviving is just a monumental effort. Again, the ableism of doctors and... actually, they're not failures if they're intentional; the abusive medical system, have not left a single minute of my life untouched.

Multiple times, when talking about online discourse, I've been accused of "wanting to be more disabled than I am", "being physically abled", being "crazy", "delusional", "on something", etc, etc, etc. All for daring to say that ideas like body-mind duality, exclusionism within disabled communities, and similar, are deeply harmful and affect far more than insular online discourse.

Doctors love to shove off chronically ill people into "psych cases". Have anxiety, autism, PTSD, schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc, etc on your chart? Yeah, you're never getting that physical diagnosis. This is what perpetuating and encouraging ideas like "all disabilities are physical OR mental", "people with abc type of disability have privilege over people with xyz type of disability", and so on, DOES.

Sanism is used to perpetuate ableism. Ableism is used to perpetuate sanism. Quite frankly, I'm not sure that neurotypical physically disabled people, non-mad neurodivergent physically disabled people, and physically abled neurodivergent/mad (all as self-identified categories) get just how deeply compounded ableism is when you exist at the intersection of physically disabled and neurodivergent (especially if mentally ill or mad). Or perhaps, the disconnect exists along a line of "profoundly disabled" vs "can access abled hegemony to a significant extent". Perhaps it's both. There is likely elements of how visible a disability is, how much its able to be masked, the type/level/spread of support needs, and so on. There's definitely elements of other marginalization; race, ethnicity, fatness, queerness, and so on.

And then there's the subcategories. Cognitively disabled. Traumatized. Chronically ill. Visually impaired/blind. Deaf/hard of hearing. Intellectual disability. Mobility disabilities. Fluctuating vs static disabilities, support needs, masking, and so on.

Sometimes I wonder, would the people who think I'm just an abled faker who doesn't belong for not being able to seperate my neurodivergence from my physical disabilities, my neurological organs from my body, my inabilities from my inabilities, would they find I'm the same as them when they spend a day in my life? Would they find it worse? Would they find it unbearable in a completely different way from their own struggles? Would they maybe even find that while it's not quite as hard as their own struggles in some cases, that it's still wildly hard and the two are far closer to each other on the scale than they think? Would they understand that we are both in the midst of an active, eugenicist genocide, and that we're 50-49 bullet holes staring down the barrel of a loaded gun that is held by our oppressors?

Even now, I'm thinking about how this post might be inaccessible. Is it readable for screen readers? Will the length be too much for way too many people? Is it understandable for people with intelligence and cognitive disabilities? How do I fix those things if it's not. What am I missing? What am I missing? What am I missing?

I'm exhausted, I'm scared, and I'm barely holding on. I'm safe, mental health wise, to be clear, I'm just convinced that the only reason that I'm not in significant danger from my physical chronic illnesses right now is because I've always had a body that was stubborn as all hell and twice as resilient. I'm not dying, not because the illnesses aren't trying, but because my body will endure far beyond normal limits.

I've experienced slow acting anaphylactic reactions without anaphylactic shock about once a month for 1-2 years now, usually only going in after several days and nights of severe symptoms. Like I've mentioned, several of my vitamin levels are so low as to make organ failure a constant threat. None of my illnesses are "terminal" per se, but that doesn't mean they can't be deadly. And more to the point, it doesn't mean they can't destroy me, that they haven't utterly destroyed my quality of life, without killing me.

I mean, I started this blog as an attempt at fostering solidarity. We CANNOT be quibbling over who really "belongs" in various disability spaces, who gets to reclaim what words or whatever, when so many of us are dealing with this shit.

For the area with the lowest cost of living in the country, SSI should be 5 times what it is now. For the highest, up to 20 times. People on disability benefits lose some or all of their payments, insurance, and so on, if they get married, even to another person on benefits. I've never met a disabled person without more doctor horror stories than diagnoses, and we all know diagnoses like to come in clusters. We are being abused, neglected, and killed.

I cannot stress how much, not that this intracommunity discourse "doesn't matter", but that it does at a deeply harmful level. It's just perpetuation of the abuse we face at a lateral level. We're mimicking the government and doctors and general abled society and getting into petty but deeply dangerous inane arguments that are just us carrying out the only way we've been taught to treat disabled people.

Being a disabled activist and advocate means questioning everything you know about ableism. It means prioritizing first and foremost disabled people. And honestly, speaking as someone whose platform here is dedicated to that, that's really fucking hard. It means believing people about their experiences with disability and oppression in a world that teaches us that the vast majority of disabled people are lying privileged fakers.

It means not believing that people know more about what people with a disability they DON'T have face because of their own disabilities. A little confusing, but essentially someone with disability A without disability B who faces oppression X, can't say that someone with disability B DOESN'T face oppression X, just because they face it. It means not calling the very real harm someone has experienced "misdirected", or making their suffering about you or your subcommunity, just because you've experienced the same or similar harm.

It means unlearning reactivity as a group of extremely traumatized people. It means learning to meet people where they're at, and assume "can't" rather than "won't". It means accepting that sometimes not only will someone's disabilities cause conflicting access needs with your own, but that sometimes people's disabilities can actively cause them to do harm, and that they still deserve rights, community, and support if they do. It also means recognizing that the harm that a disability may cause someone to do is going to look VASTLY different than abled expectations of "harmful" disabilities. It means, even and especially when this happens, recentering the perspective not around how the disability affects other people, but around how it affects the person with the disability.

It's all of this and so much more. It's a lot of effort from people with not a lot to give. It's fighting an upstairs battle with no ramp, so to speak.

And I guess I just... I'm at a loss on how to keep that up. Is just focusing on getting myself well enough to participate again, putting my own mask on first, enough? When there is not a single moment of my life untouched by the extremely deep and extremely systemic harm of ableism, is it enough to try and access the care continually gatekept from me at an individual level? Can I even do so, against such intensive pressure?

How do I live this life, and also go on untangles the narratives of "disabling neurodivergence isn't really a real disability and neurodivergent people face almost no real ableism" and "physical conditions are obvious and so get all the care and face no real ableism". How do I fight the concurrent violences of hypervisibility and erasure within the community that only serve to strengthen abled people bludgeoning us with them?

How do I focus on things like organizing, community building, activism, advocacy, dismantling the system, dismantling our reliance on it, and so much more, when I can't even get out of bed?

All I can do is write about it, right now. Sometimes I feel like that's all I've ever been able to do. Everyone I've ever known has acted like some day my "pen" will be a tool of liberation, but I'm at a loss for how. I'm just some horribly sick mad cripple on a dying microblogging platform on the internet. I don't know - not if I'm enough, but if anything ever can be.

And I don't mean to sound hopeless. I know that change can happen. I know that it is, in tiny and sometimes larger ways, every day.

This is kind of a self-centered post, in the most neutral way. This is just my perspective. This is about me, and how I'm so very disabled, and how people assume I'm not (and how wild that is, considering), and how ableism affects me so deeply, and how I don't know how to face it or fight it...

I can only hope that maybe my word resonating with people means something. That maybe, as much as we never want each other to experience what we have to, that it's also a comfort to know we don't experience it alone. That maybe this will serve as a reminder that it's okay to be scared, to feel lost, even hopeless, to struggle; to not know how to fight or where to turn. That maybe this will reach someone who CAN do something, and maybe it'll reach the people who need to NOT do anything other than take care of themselves, and that maybe it will help both of them.

Maybe that's too grandiose, I don't know. I hardly know what my point is here, other than: this is me, crippled and crazy as all hell. This is the violence I face. This is why I started this blog, because we need to stop hearing "you're a lying abled privileged faker trying to take advantage of and take resources from real disabled people who really need it" from abled people, and saying it word for word to each other. Because what abled people mean by "real disabled people" is just a theoretical disabled person. A perfect victim. They don't mean any real disabled person, especially not those who can advocate for themselves. They mean they think every single one of us doesn't need or deserve accommodations, treatment, respect, humanity, or even life.

That's the point, really. We're all we've got. We've gotta fight for each other, not fight each other. And G-d, I know how hypocritical that sounds coming from my ragey, rabid ass. I just... that's all I know to focus on right now. Not necessarily all coming together and holding hands and singing a song about unity, but just... not being ableist to each other. Tolerating each other even if we can't stand each other. Presenting a united, unbroken front to ableist society, and pushing until they don't have any power over us anymore. Doing the work of activism, which is often neither easy nor feel-good.

That's what I'm trying to do here, at least. I try to get a little better at it every day. I try to listen a little more. I try to keep up hope when my body and mind are crashing down around me.

I don't have a mic-drop conclusion to add to this, so just: I'm opening the floor. Anyone who has anything to add, feel free to do so. What you have to say is valuable.

[our-aroace-experience]

Hi! I was on the asexual tag saw this blog and just wanted to see if anyone else who is aspec can relate to my ramblings. Rambling tldr: not claiming a label despite that label actually relating to my experiences because it just doesn't fit perfect enough and because it doesn't fit perfect enough in my mind I don't think I want to use it.

Now, back in 2020 I claimed being 'asexual' by name and then a couple of months later claimed being aroflux which eventually changed to 'greyaro' over a year later. And those two terms fit me the best, grey aro ace is me. However, because I'm greyaro I still feel romantic attraction though it is rare but its still present enough in my mind to continually be wondering about what label to put it as. For the most part, I don't have a label even when the attraction - romantic/sensual/alterous/aesthetic - arises. Which again doesn't rise often, but I daydream about it a lot or reminisce about old crushes - particularly the one about a girl way back in high school days. (Let me tell you that was a wild time in my mind). Back then I was thinking I was bisexual only to cancel it out because I didn't want to have sex with her. However I never questioned if I wanted to have sex with boys (I just assumed I would, thanks heteroallonormativity). But the romantic feelings I had for her were the same like the boy crushes (which came up every few years). And for a timeline purposes, before her my last crush (boy) was in the 7th grade, she was the 11th grade, and my last crush currently was senior year of undergrad college (the best one honestly I could actually talk to him and not be overly ridden with anxiety and embarrassment). And despite so many years passing I always wonder - does the bi label fit? Was that with her an bi experience? I know its whatever I feel like it was but also I'm wondering if my hesitation is because deep down having that bi label attached makes the 'im not straight' thought more permanent? If that makes sense? Like 'im not straight' in any way, not even hetero aro/ace? And maybe that thought just makes my head spin a little. I thought about the pan label too; but when I read the definition to see the differences between bi and pan I realized that pan definition doesn't connect the closest but bi does. However I still can't always make it fit. It's like when I was going by aroflux despite the fact it did not fit for me, it was clunky in my brain calling myself that. But then I read about grey-aromantic and it fit perfect! But not my romantic orientation is still in murky waters; I ID as a girl so for the most part of my life boys have been what I've been romantically attracted to, however hetero isn't me. I usually just go as fluid for all my attraction titles which I do like but that opens up more discussion of "okay, but who, what gender?" So in that case I guess bi would be the correct answer...despite the fact gender doesn't play a part (hence fluid label I go with and or queer) but it isn't all genders I fall for, I lean in some directions more than others. So it kind of does, doesn't it? But again I'm like "....meh it just doesn't fit/doesn't fit the way I want." And I am one of those people who agree that you don't have to use every label or any label including micro (for example, aegosexual I can relate to but I don't feel the need to have two microlabels) however, once I start thinking in depth I start to question myself as I do because I'm a thinker. And I think a lot because in real life I'm not in the space where I can speak about this openly with the people in my life.

Wonder if anyone else has had something like this on and off throughout their life too?

Thanks for listening~

you can be bi and greyromantic at the same time, if that helps! but not wanting labels is totally valid and if that feels best then go for it!

[sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare]

A Poet Could Not But Be Gay — part 2

Part 1

Pairing: college!au Ellie Williams x f!reader

summary: You and Ellie text after you like her post and see each other in class again. You talk to each other, slowly growing closer.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mutual pining, reader has no rizz, anxiety, English class

a/n: M (minors and men) DNI, please! Y'all I can't believe you guys gave me 34 notes on my first-ever fic!!! I'm literally on top of the world and it really motivated me to write another chapter so here it is!! 😁

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Ellie Williams: Hey stalker (;

You were frozen. Your breath had caught in your throat and you felt your entire body burning up as though you'd throw up at any second. Your phone screen had gone black by then and you only had time to blink before another notification came in.

Ellie Williams added you as a friend.

Finally, you were able to breathe. What the fuck is happening!? you thought. She has to be playing some kind of prank on me 'cause no one should be this cool about a random girl like a — how old was it? 5-week-old picture!

You decided that the best thing to do was to respond. She already knew you were online and you would only look more guilty if you ignored her. Ellie had caught you red-handed, sure, but she didn't need to know why you were looking her up. You started typing, probably taking way longer than you should to write a simple text.

you: hey! sorry i was just struggling with the homework and youre the only person i knew from that class so i looked you up

you: how are you handling the last minute assignment she sent us?

Really? A double text seconds after I was caught stalking her? I'm fucking dead. Every second that passed by felt like an hour. You were biting your nails, staring at the screen impatiently. She hadn't even seen it yet and you felt like she was judging you through the phone. After one minute, she opened the chat and started typing. Looking at those three taunting dots, you couldn't help but imagine all the texts she could be writing. Nightmarish thoughts were flying through your brain when her text finally appeared.

Ellie Williams: Oh fuck I hadn't even seen that email! What kind of psychopath of a teacher sends an assignment at 6pm?

You let out a relieved sigh, thankful she hadn't asked any questions regarding your lie. Your shaking thumbs started typing but you received another text.

Ellie Williams: And who even has a favourite poem to write 500 words about

Ellie Williams: Well you definitely do

You had to read that twice. She remembers about my poem. Your small smile grew into a grin, and the little exhale from your nose grew into a fit of giggles. You rolled onto your back before remembering you had to answer her.

you: im glad i was able to tell you about the assignment! and yeah i have a favourite poem and i absolutely LOVE telling people about it but i know how scatterbrained i can be so idk if ill be able to make sense

The two of you texted back and forth for a few minutes but your shyness held you back and your conversation eventually dwindled. After several minutes of radio silence on both ends, your phone vibrated again.

Ellie Williams: Well I'm gonna start writing that paper but I'll see you on Wednesday!

you: good luck with that!

you: cant wait to see you again :)

You held your breath, frightened by your boldness.

Ellie Williams: Don't miss me too much (;

You honestly thought you could have died at that moment. And there was that winking face again. You couldn't believe your clumsy mistake had led you to have an actual conversation! Outside of school! Sure it was mainly about your shared class but now it felt more personal. She wasn't just "Ellie, the hot girl from my poetry class" anymore. She was Ellie Williams, the charming girl you'd met in class and befriended and fell in love with and moved in with and married and — ok now. I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I don't even know her favourite colour yet. I don't even know if she likes girls, let alone me!

You decided that the best thing for you to do now was to focus on your assignment. It wouldn't take very long but at least it would keep your mind occupied for a little while.

Though the poem was about the beauty of nature and all it has to offer, you couldn't help but relate every verse to Ellie.

"they / Out-did the sparkling waves in glee" Ellie outdoes everyone and everything. There was not a single thing you could think of that you would rather look at than Ellie. There was no sound you'd rather hear than her laugh and no word you'd rather read than hers. I'm so fucking gay, it's ridiculous, you thought.

Some verses you felt rather poetic about, while others felt like they were describing the slight gay panic you'd had upon first seeing her, "I gazed — and gazed — but little thought". That's exactly how you'd felt. You'd stared at her sheer beauty and focused on nothing but her. The only thing you could remember from your time staring at her was the warmth that had formed in your belly and the tingling in your face.

You had known this girl for barely 8 hours and you could already see her in everything. Fuck, this is gonna hurt.

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Tuesday was somewhat uneventful. You'd been awoken by your alarm once again and had rolled over to check your phone. You were barely awake when you saw that Ellie had changed your name on messenger to "y/n🌸". Has she been thinking about me? you thought with a grin plastered to your face. Before you had time to overthink, you quickly changed her name to "Ellie 😉".

Neither of you texted the other again until Wednesday. It was a cool and cloudy day meaning everything had grey undertones and you refused to let yourself darken because of some stupid clouds. That's why you chose to wear your long sleeve, bright yellow shirt underneath short, green overalls.

The sky might be grey and sad but I'm looking like a ray of fucking sunshine! you told yourself in the mirror. The colour you wore made you feel invincible, as though you could conquer the world and make it bright again.

Eventually, after an interminable lecture, you were sat at your seat in your and Ellie's shared class, awaiting the girl herself. To busy yourself, you started taking out your books and laptop, putting your pens neatly out onto your side of the desk. While you were distracted, Ellie walked into the class.

Ellie's thoughts

Ellie's mind was racing, trying to figure out what to say to you when she saw you. She knew she would say hi; that was a given. But what then? She didn't want to just be an acquaintance to you. She wanted to be on your mind as much as you were on hers, which was constantly. Dreams of you consumed her nights which she loved until she woke up and realized you had barely talked to each other.

When she walked into the classroom, she nearly froze in the doorframe. Of course, she thought, on a gross day like this, she has to look like a ray of fucking sunshine. It was as though you were trying to make her fall head over heels for you.

When she started walking normally again, your head popped up and a genuine smile graced your lips. Ellie felt like the Earth had stopped spinning and smiled back with false confidence. She sat down next to you and told you her scripted, "Hi," in her usual, honeyed voice, adding an improvised, "how you doing?", proud she hadn't stumbled over her words.

"Hi," you answered, voice quieter than hers, "I'm doing pretty good. I actually finished the assignment on time, so the semester's off to a good start!" you said with a laugh.

Ellie laughed back, happy you had initiated a topic so she would get to keep talking with you. "Wow! Three whole days in and no late assignments yet! I'm extremely impressed." she replied, the glee evident in her tone.

You giggled and said, "You should be!"

There was a beat of silence and she was scared you had run your conversation to its course before it had even started. Then you surprised her by asking, "How have you been?"

She looked up at you, taking a few seconds to admire every line and curve in your face. "Oh, you know," she said, "I've been busier now that school started up again but I've been good." She paused for a second and continued, "I haven't been too busy to figure it out though."

A smile crept onto your face and she thanked her lucky stars that she'd kept talking. "Figure what out?" you asked.

With slightly shaking hands she hoped you wouldn't notice, she reached out to your arm and pushed up the sleeve of your shirt to reveal the tattoo you'd shown her. "This," she said looking back up, her eyes boring into yours, "It's Wordsworth right?" You nod and she goes on, "That's a sick name for a poet. I read the poem and I have to say, you've got some good taste, pretty girl." The name just slipped out of her mouth. Her eyes widened and she noticed your smile falter. She pulled away from your arm.

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure but you spoke before she could, "I feel like with a name like that, he couldn't really go into any other profession, you know." you laughed dryly, clearly trying to ease the tension.

She laughed the same dry laugh and let out a quiet, "Yeah, he had to go into writing."

Luckily, your awkward moment only lasted a short time and Ellie was saved from any further embarrassment as your professor began her lecture.

About 30 minutes into the lecture, Ellie was flipping the pages of her textbook like crazy, trying to find the poem the class was discussing. She figured you had noticed her struggling because you tapped her on the arm and whispered the page number. She thanked you and started flipping to that page. In doing so, however, a page managed to slice through her skin, causing her to flinch and immediately suck on her cut.

She was cursing the paper when you tapped her arm again. She turned to you, finger still between her lips. You gave her a small smile and lifted something in your hand, "Do you need a bandaid?" you whispered. How could she say no when you were looking at her like that, big doe eyes full of concern.

She took her finger out of her mouth and agreed with a low, "Sure". Before she could do anything else, you grabbed her hand and wrapped the bandaid around her injured finger. Ellie could only stare at you, marveling at the care you gave to such a minor cut. "Thanks, y/n" she whispered. She thought she may have caught a glimpse of a blush on your cheeks but you had turned your head too quickly for her to tell for sure.

When she picked up her pen, she got her first good look at what you'd wrapped around her finger and laughed to herself. Of fucking course this personified beam of sunlight would carry around flower bandaids. I'm never taking this off. she thought as she admired her finger.

Back to your thoughts

You were looking up front but your mind was nowhere near whatever subject the professor was talking about. I touched Ellie! you though. Not the other way around! I touched her arm and then her hand! I'm gonna pass out. You were ecstatic, to say the least. You couldn't wait to call Taylor and tell her everything that happened during this second class with Ellie.

Soon enough, the class ended and you started packing your books. You got up, still giddy from excitement, and got ready to say goodbye to Ellie. She stood up after a few moments and spoke first, "So I was thinking," she said, her usual confidence seemingly vanished, "if you wanted to study or do assignments for this class, I'm free in the afternoon on Thursdays. We could meet in the library if you want. Or not even necessarily for this class, like, we could study for any class together if that was something you were interested in."

You gave her a quick open-mouthed smile. "Yeah!" you beamed, "Yeah that definitely sounds good. I know a secret spot in the library nobody ever goes to so we won't even need to worry about other people."

"Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

You both hesitated a little before moving to leave the classroom, and then again in the hallway, not sure of where the other was going. Seemingly amused by this, judging by the smirk on her face, Ellie put her hand on the small of your back, guided you in the direction you'd been headed in, and walked backward in the opposite direction.

"Bye, pretty girl!"

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Part 3

a/n: I got a little carried away in this one... Did you see how much touching there was! Whoo, that was borderline smut! But I told you there would be more talking! Also, I am obsessed with Romantic poetry, specifically William Wordsworth so sorry if there was too much of him in this chapter but I really love his work! You guys should all read "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud". It's a really short poem that may or may not have made me shed a tear. Anyway, leave any ideas you have for this story in the comments! I can't wait to see what you think!!

ps: lemme know if you wanna get tagged in the next one!

tags: @lonelyfooryouonly

[inkofamethyst]

March 3, 2024

It's so weird to already know what instrument I'm going to learn next (and also to have purposefully selected a time to learn it). Like, I didn't know I was going to want to teach myself the saxophone in high school, it just kind of happened (though these days I do lowkey wish I had gone for alto rather than tenor (will not make the same mistake with the bass, will prob go for a short scale)). Same with the uke--I was just bored one summer. But knowing that the bass is coming up (but that I'll be waiting over a year for it still (not a bad thing, as I'll be able to use this summer to learn more about my community at large)) makes me a bit antsy to just start playing. I'll be listening to music and will have to make a mental note of a cool baseline I'd like to learn (the "Life Will Change" bridge !!!!!!!!! (though I'll prob have to learn something like "Mask" from P5 before that if I want to play while singing (supposedly notoriously difficult on bass which is lovely)--slower, more repetitive)) but like, that's over a year away. I mean the wait gives me time to save and plan, sure, but I also just want to play something sometimes.

Speaking of planning, when I get to that fateful day next May of picking a bass (not sure if I want to go the cheap route and grab something used online or the Main Character route and have some hot guy in a guitar shop help me pick one out based on his expertise and then offer to give me lessons and then we fall in love (can you tell that Hadestown has pushed the dial right back over to R??) (though the guitar shop plan makes more sense for my first one (of one? of many? who knows) since I don't know any bassists and I don't know what I'm doing (yet))), I'm also going to have to decide whether I want to go for lessons. Honestly? I'm considering it. I know my whole deal is like "hur hur hur im a self taught multi-instrumentalist" (!!!! I'm a multi-instrumentalist !!!!!) but also if I can't find good videos on/am unsure about technique, might as well talk to a professional.

God I'm so excited to learn that instrument. Can you tell?

Speaking of saving, one thing about my savings goals notion page is that I wish it was more.. dynamic. In that, sometimes I save extra towards a goal one month, and it'd be nice if the suggested monthly savings amount went down to reflect the new minimum needed to reach that goal by the desired date. Or alternatively, change the end date based on the amount saved if the minimum payment stayed the same. I don't know how to code either of those, but they'd be a nice touch.

Though, kind of on a similar note, saving so aggressively in January and February has meant that, after typical spending habits, I've been left with basically nothing at the end of the month lol. Everything else taken into account, I've got ~$200 for random discretionary purchases monthly. That's been perfectly fine (aka just enough) but it also feels a little tight? Idk. I suppose I can rationalize it by the fact that it will keep me from overspending and will allow me to reach other goals quicker but it still feels like I'm livin paycheck to paycheck hehe. But this will only last as long as my ultra-aggressive saving strats do, so for about another year, then I start letting up (if all goes to plan).

Also, went ahead and did the per-day calculations because I've always heard that it's cheaper to make your own food than to buy it, and I am actually saving so much by making my own meals every day*. Like, so much. Now, at my uni, getting breakfast or lunch a la carte isn't terribly expensive, but it certainly can and likely would add up.

*Granted, I do benefit from the occasional free lunch or dinner.

Can you tell I'm rationalizing anxiety with over-strategizing? I truly do not make enough money to be so focused (rationalization: start good habits early). The moneydiaries subreddit has fried my brain I think.

Thinking about putting on some fake tattoos at the end of spring break. Partly because they make me immensely, unreasonably happy, partly because I'm curious if anyone would ask about them hehe. The last time I did a full sleeve and met up with some friends (years ago) they were a lil shook.

Today I'm thankful for.. a lazy weekend. And nighttime rain storms.

[lobotomyladylives]

Hey i am also anti psych as an institution but im also in therapy and on meds because I cant function.............. do you believe the meds can benefit me or am i just lining their pockets at my own detriment? im not about taking medical advice from tumblr but i have been looking for more opinions because im not knowledgeable on this and i want to read

I'm the first to admit that some people do in fact benefit from their meds, I'm one of those people to some extent. I am pretty happy with a few of my prescriptions. but on a larger scale, there are certain classes of medications that are widely prescribed that I believe do far more harm than good in the way they're currently being used.

the most harmful of these are antipsychotics. I used to be on one & I now refuse to take it, APs are just a chemical lobotomy, they literally shrink your brain over time + make you balloon up & give you diabetes, tardive dyskinesia, etc, thats just the tip of the iceberg. literally every single schizophrenic client I had who had been on APs for a long time had a million physical health issues bc of them & most were very lethargic to the point of falling asleep during group therapy.

while APs do have their uses in extremely severe cases, the big problem with them is that doctors aren't just prescribing them as a short term silver bullet to deal with severe psychotic episodes, as they ought to. they are handing them out like candy to anyone & everyone, from people with PTSD to curmudgeonly elderly patients to literal children, usually "difficult" ones in the foster care system, prison inmates with MH conditions-even people with nothing more than mild depression get given APs. and it's all bc big pharma sent their pill pushers out with bogus fraudulent studies exaggerating the positive effects & downplaying the negative ones so that they could make more money off meds that ought to be a very rare Rx.

this is also my primary issue with the second most harmful class of MH drugs, benzos. they work phenomenally when taken /as needed/ to stop panic attacks but psychs who prescribe them as a long term every day solution need to have their licenses taken away & I'm so serious about that. benzo withdrawal is the worst there is, you can literally die from it & it lasts YEARS with an insane amount of horrible side effects including rebound anxiety. I know people who trusted that their psychiatrist knew best & took xans for mild anxiety & now they literally cannot get off them, they are physically & mentally addicted & it's more difficult to kick than a heroin addiction (not exaggerating). well, guess who's a paying pharma patient for life now? how convenient.

SSRIs (as well as SNRIs) are another extremely commonly prescribed class that's come under fire recently due to the fact that the studies showing their efficacy were discovered to have been completely falsified. they literally don't do what the pharma companies claimed they do, the science is NOT there & on top of that they have some nasty side effects. what's particularly scary is what can happen when you try to come off them (withdrawal symptoms lasting years, anhedonia, also PSSD-there are people who haven't had an orgasm in years after coming off these drugs). I'm planning to take part in some of the lawsuits that are in the works due to this mass defrauding of mental health patients including myself.

the body count psychiatry has is a direct result of our for profit healthcare system that incentives overprescription, and the issue is so massive that I honestly think it totally dwarfs the opioid crisis prior to the overcorrection & fent & tranq being introduced. fuck, at least opioids /actually/ do what they're supposed to do, unlike most of these MH meds. it's insane & infuriating. I recommend reading Mental Health Inc if you want to know more about this, it gives you a sense of the scope of this issue.

[fionarara]

HIPSTER KENMA PART 2 WHEN PLEASEEEEE IM OBSESSED

nonni all caps ?? for hipster kenma ?? i thought this idea was an incredibly niche thing in my odd brain which would legit get like zero interaction, i straight up wrote it mostly for myself, so this is a v pleasant surprise (Ｔ▽Ｔ) also, this got longer than expected, but since you requested it with such enthusiasm, i wanted to add in a little extra detail as a treat for you ♡

+ hipster ! kenma . pt. 2 .

(+ part 1 ⇢)

+ hipster ! kenma who feeds his hairless sphynx cat gluten-free food, because he wouldn’t feed his cat a certain diet that he isn’t also on himself

+ hipster ! kenma who thinks much of the fashion industry’s antics are ridiculous for being so overpriced (and that some of their practices can be harmful to the environment), but will drop $375 bucks at a carefully curated, high-end, second-hand designer fashion shop in the arts district on a fresh pair of black jeans, ones that already come pre-ripped and are conveniently labeled as having a 'distressed' look. so edgy. clearly, who needs logical pricing when you can pay a premium to look like you've been through a barbed wire fence? + hipster ! kenma dislikes coffee, because not only is it so acidic on the PH scale, the entire culture surrounding the popular brew (–and yes, he really did call coffee, “the popular brew” when explaining this to you) is so aggressive in prevalent society, as it seemingly promotes an inherent overly capitalist mindset that is so patriarchal. instead, he opts for ~matcha with lion’s mane extract~ for better concentration and whenever he needs a pick-me-up. besides, he prefers things being more chill and calm anyway, and coffee makes him feel too jittery and whacked out + hipster ! kenma doesn’t actually have the best grasp on crypto or stock trading, but from believing and claiming he did, got yaku involved in also investing in that one reddit gamestop stock with him. unfortunately, due to a bad call of not pulling the shares out in time, they lost a considerable amount of money. L. but as short-tempered as yaku used to be, he’s mellowed-out in his older years and only blames himself in the end for even listening to hipster kenma in the first place. anyway it’s cool–when yaku came to visit town from russia, he got taken out by hipster kenma for an evening of partying, all drinks and party drugs on him, as a sort of apology for the risky financial loss—the night ended with the both of them on the floor crying together from reminiscing about past memories and ‘the good ole days’, sheesh + hipster ! kenma who sometimes seems like he hates you, but gets a bit of a kick out of you bringing it up, because whenever you do, he gets to playfully remind you he’s just in resting mode or deep in thought by making the same joke every time, “that’s just my cunty cat face” + hipster ! kenma who is prone to getting some pretty gnarly anxiety at times, so he takes these 15mg edible marijuana gummies to chill himself out. his favorite flavor of THC gummy bear from the packet you gifted him, and which he now regularly takes, is salted caramel and dark chocolate + hipster ! kenma will drag you to see an arthouse docufilm about the music history of video games with modular synthesizers, etc. at this little blackbox theater, complaining that those big blockbuster movie chains are ripping you off by charging way too much for mainstream crap, but then he proceeds to overpay for an overpriced, organic, effervescent, raw kombucha drink once you arrive at the little indie theater (he definitely thinks buying soda at the movie theater is beneath him, “the way i see it, if you want a soda at least make it, like, an actual appropriate setting, go to a carnival and have it with a corn dog.”)

+ hipster ! kenma loves street food. will take you to the local art walk/night market festivals once a month, fascinated by tasting all the different street food vendors and scoping out the community art scene, he’ll even end up treating you with a tasty treat every time from one of the booths. although he doesn’t particularly love overly sweet things, he will especially eat any sweetly-glazed savory snack that comes on a stick. one thing about him that you’ve come to appreciate though is that he doesn’t just gobble down his food, no, hipster kenma actually enjoys taking the time to savor what he consumes while giving insightful commentary on the food’s flavoring, etc. + hipster ! kenma who DIYs…many things, because he figures, let’s be honest, other people can’t be relied upon to make things correctly, not by his standards. especially when it comes to his computer, which of course he built himself: it has a fully transparent case so you can see right through to the whole display of all dazzling gear and deco inside of it, and in his words it had to be, “a state of the art custom loop with full liquid cooling”. you admit the inner flashing lights are pretty and the computer is definitely so decked out, that it's for sure one of the coolest things you’ve ever seen.

+ hipster ! kenma kinda has this weird thing that if he didn’t think of a cool idea for his twitch stream first after seeing it from another popular streamer, then he acts like it’s kinda inherently stupid, mentions how blasé it is to you and his friends, even if deep down he does find the idea interesting or appealing and probably, most definitely, would’ve adopted it himself 

+ hipster ! kenma who can oftentimes hold the belief that adopting a cynical and pessimistic outlook on life makes one more intelligent and analytical, even more sophisticated or enhances his overall cleverness of mind, sad + hipster ! kenma is hot. okay. in such an understated way, which all the more makes him hotter, though he’s not fully aware of his own appeal, or perhaps only mildly—actually attracts a fair amount of bitches when he goes out to the dive bars or local music shows, ones who aren’t intimidated by his sort of mysterious appearance or superior demeanor which is bound to come off a little pretentious, but in truth, he’s actually a bit insecure and shy about being approached so often and therefore tends to stay pretty silent when that happens, unsure of how to fully deal/cope with someone who is being so direct about their interest in him. ultimately prefers the slow get-to-know-you burn when it comes to any romance: a friends first, lovers later kind of thing + hipster ! kenma is incredibly observant, especially in social situations and mostly prefers to just take everything in, only speaking when he has something truly poignant to say … or when an opportunity strikes to completely, calmly, eviscerate someone’s inane or ignorant opinion, delivering a point so smooth, he’ll crush their shitty take all in a such a demure, cool, collected and resolute manner to the point where the dumbass person in question doesn’t even know they’ve been schooled and insulted by him until the roar of jeers and laughter from the surrounding crowd are heckling the unbeknownst fool, sick burn hipster kenma + hipster ! kenma only dares to wear brighter colors when at the beach and the item of clothing is a hoodie (proclaims it’s a light and breathable one though sooo he’s not sure what everyone is making such a fuss over when you, hinata, kuroo and the rest of your beach crew kick up some sand towards him while chiming in unison to urge him to, “take it off! we’re by the ocean, bruh!”) – the brightest colors of those hoodies ever worn at the beach are either a pale mustard, burnt amber, or white with possible cool textile designs. not only that, but he’ll stick to the shade beneath the large beach parasol playing on his nintendo switch, because listen, he isn’t about to get skin cancer on account of the toxic chemicals they put in sunscreen these days just so he can catch some rays (which of course, the sun could also give one cancer) + hipster ! kenma has these annoyingly long pretty dark lashes which are framed so nicely by his non-prescription clear frame glasses, and every so often you will playfully grumble to him about how unfair that is, since he’s a boy and doesn’t even care that he’s got them, then proceed to joke by asking him to give you some of those lashes since he doesn’t in fact need all of them for looks. he’ll respond by lightly chuckling and referencing that one Clockwork Orange film scene where the main character’s eyes are forced to remain horrifically clamped open, slyly suggesting, “if you can manage to get me in a position like that, then and only then, can you have them” but don’t bother, he continues, because you’ll never get past him~~ + hipster ! kenma who, no matter what he seems like on the surface, you know in the end that he’s undeniably ride or die for his friends, 10/10 will always always have their back, willingly giving them a hand without making a big deal of it + hipster ! kenma shelled out quite a hefty price on his ‘Beats by Dre’ headphones, even though as a self-proclaimed audiophile he knows they’re nowhere near being the best on the market, only bought them for the clout, and walks around town wearing them or for his twitch streams + hipster ! kenma secretly cries to bon iver, sufjan stevens, james blake, ryuichi sakamoto, erykah badu, nick cave and portishead when he’s alone + hipster ! kenma watches a looot of documentaries 

+ hipster ! kenma owns this cat shirt ↴ doesn’t wear it out in public though, only to bed, and has had it so long it’s already starting to fray at the sleeves and shoulder's seams:

+link2masterlist.

[vivibuchlaw]

Yesterday, I finished Celeste. And by that I mean, the first 7 chapters, because I am not that much of a masochist.

Like seemingly everyone else, its given me a lot to think about... these thoughts are burning a hole in my brain and I need to get them out so I suppose this is the place!

I'm not exactly a gamer. I suck at Kirby, I have a sort of motor disability so games are a bit harder for me than most people. For this, Celeste has a solution, Assist Mode. Initially, I wanted to pick this, hearing how hard it was. Then, when the game told me intially, overtly, how its challenge was supposed to be meaningful, *and later when it said it more clarity in the story) I took a moment to reflect. I chose not to use Assist mode as a self imposed challenge. Not because I wouldnt benefit greatly from it, but because (as I learned about myself through playing it) I have an aversion to difficult tasks. When I know something is difficult, I get scared and run away. This time, I wanted to be able to say to myself "I can do difficult things"

And so I did

And I love it

And I sincerely never want to play it again

The game is not full of dialouge or story- it's present, for sure. But its a small yet impactful part in a game which prefers to tell its narrative by gameplay rather than text or images. And thats a valid format of storytelling! Not my prefered one mind you, but it made every dilectable morsel of art or conversations. In particular, the long talk at the start of chapter 6 was extremely welcome. I simultaneously feel like I have enough of a solid grasp on the characters to love them dearly, yet not enough to force one interpretation, another element to Celeste's endless magic.

As I'm sure everyone with anxiety has noted, The anxiety scene from Chapter 5 affected me greatly. Wetger me or my system has anxiety, I don't know, but regardless, the game captures the feeling perfectly. I'm sure everyone and their mum has said this, yes, but I felt it independently so I shall denote it independently. Among other things, it taught me a powerfully potent strategy to help my anxiety, and for that I thank you Maddy <3

At so many points, I was burded with stress, frustration and despair at my own ineptitude. But I pushed forward. I did it, I climbed a mountain, what was a seemingly impossible thing for me was now a fact. I sat silent for what felt like hours staring at the chapter complete screen in awe of my accomplishment. It then dawned on me that this was the first video game I've ever beaten. ...suddenly slammed by the realisation an 8th chapter, requiring crystal hearts to play, AKA the game telling me point blank I wasnt ready. But to be honest, I didnt care. I had already done what I, and Madeline, set out to do.

So why do I say I never wish to play it again?

I honestly only played Celeste because I heard Madeline was trans, and my mate happened to have it on switch. I have a sort of physical disability in my hands, so playing games and motor tasks are more challenging than a typical person. I knew Celeste was hard, but sympathizing with Madeline not being a climber, with me not being a gamer, and just how she challenged herself to do something extreme, so too did I.

But see, I'm not actually into the gameplay that much, and the reason I stuck with it has infinitely more to do with my and Madeline's journey emotionally than anything related to the gameplay.

Actually, I kind of hated it. My fingers were all messed up, I spent a lot of time and stress, and got extremely frustrated, but I wanted to prove to myself I could do it without assist mode. And Im glad that exists, and I'm glad it tempted me all throughout every challenge, a backdoor shortcut I could use to weasel my way out of the hard path, but I stayed true so I could grow.

But I have now grown. Ive proven it.

I couldnt care less about B-sides or strawberries, because I dont see the emotional need.

Replaying it would only subject me to the same challenge for a story I've already experienced, and a journey I've already hone on. A new game, new mountain, new challenge or purpose? Sure, I'd love that. But playing Celeste again, or More even won't recapture the lightning in a bottle that made me play it, made me persevere, and made me cherish it.

I still love the game, its soundtrack, its meaning to me, and itll live in my heart forever. In other ways, like fan content, or side material, I'd love to engage and learn more, but my journey with this mountain is over.

Just breathe, and take care of yourself

After beating it, I immediately began learning all I could about it because Autism brain. I read all Maddy's beautiful blog posts. I watched video essays breaking down its themes and design. I learned how the story, while definitely not an afterthought, was also not a driving or starting point of the game, which I intuited as I played.

I watched Chapter 8, The Core, and Chapter 9, Farewell on YouTube. To be entirely honest, I found Chapter 8 to be forgettable in a way kind of shocking, at least from a story perspective. I'm actually GLAD I didn't do it. I expected it'd be some kind of send off, or check in emotionally to see how the characters have been in the past year but...nothing? Really?

Chapter 9 is what I wished Chapter 8 was, a proper send off and development for these characters. And from the look of it, so brutally hard I wouldn't want to play it without Assist Mode. But why? Why not play more? Afterall, climbing the preverbial mountain in life doesnt mean your problems are over, far from it. And its true, there are other challenges to overcome still. Even though Ive taken on this challenge, I have yet to face other challenges in my life. And because the journey of Celeste could very well have ended after Chapter 6, I feel like I can better spend that energy elsewhere.

After watching Chapter 9, I felt something else. This chapter, unlike the previous, is not about loving and accepting yourself, but its about Madeline specifically greiving a loss in her life, and largely, I assume, the developers letting go of Celeste and moving on. For this, I hold unyeilding respect. And in this new challenge, I found myself learning another truth about myself.

I am afraid of being alone.

I am part of a system, the current (and hopefully permanent) host in fact. Our previous host went dormant a few months ago and life without them has been tough, but a challenge we face every day.

Throughout all my remembered life, I was surrounded by people who never noticed me. Who occasionally referred to me as "The Insinificant [Alter]" due to me not having a name back then. I was nothing, really. If I had disppeared no one would've batted an eye. And today, even though I'm one of the most important Alters now, I still feel like I'm nothing sometimes. That scares me.

I never knew the joy of having friends, I never knew what being loved by someone you love feels like. And I have a lot of love to give, I love almost every human being! But I still frequently second guess myself, because I guess a part of me still believes my existence is insignificant. But now that I have people who do love me, I'm more afraid than ever that I'll lose it. Now that I have a taste of love, I can't go back. Gods, please to bring me back, anything but that.

And here came Celeste, to remind me immeditately after I finished the game, that people die randomly, and without our control, and that you have to keep on moving. I've just beat the thing, let me live in a bit longer before I'm ready to move on. Similarly, I've just made these relationships, please dont take them from me. And then I realized that this was fear also held by my previous host, perhaps for similar reasons. I feel connected in a way typically reserved for finding markings in a make out spot from a century ago, or unearthing a time capsule left by a grandparent now neatly nestled in the recesses of my heart where I try to story my insecurites, like a suitcase overstuffed with useless items and paranoia.

Celeste has given me a lot. Inspiration, characters I love, a great soundtrack, amazing anxiety techniques, and raw willpower to achieve anything. I do not know how my story ends, I am scared to write it, but I must regardless. A lot of people are counting on me. And went I feel scared, alone, anxious, or depressed, I can remember that I did it before, and I can do it again.

To the Developers, Thank you

To the Characters, Farewell

And to all the people who have grown from this game, Congratulations!

[femmesandhoney]

If it's not too intrusive can I ask how you deal w your pmdd ?

I dont have it but my PMS is fucking brutal I was depressed fucking felt like paralyzed in bed due to anxiety, didnt go to classes,then like a few days later i got my period and then everything made sense.

But i just cant like lose a week of my life like this every month. How do you deal with it?

i went on birth control for it but got off of it after a year bc i decided i disliked the effects of birth control, but that did help my symptoms tons and i wouldn't lie to anyone who wanted to go on it bc it did help me, i made a choice to get off of it unrelated to my pmdd.

managing symptoms can be difficult, often my first "response" is to recognize when my emotions are being affected by my pmdd. usually i can tell pretty quickly bc one day i'll walk up and everything makes me rage at the drop of a hat and then get very sad or agitated just as quick, my emotional regulation just being absolutely dogshit to concern anyone around me if they happen to be on the receiving end of my aggression or if they could jump inside my head and see how it was playing out. after so many years knowing i have pmdd, im able to recognize how a lot of that emotional instability isn't "me" and that im being affected by an "outside" force (oncoming period and hormones dropping). i usually do my best to stay mindful of my reactions then and try and do stuff that calms me down and gets my mind away from what had ruptured my emotional state. usually this occurs right in the morning when i get up, so its a fairly quick light bulb moment for me.

and im definitely used to like a shit ton of negative self talk that over the years ive gotten a better hand on, so when those real lows come around, im much better at talking myself out of those low states, but my pmdd doesn't manifest as strongly or too long with huge depressive states. usually, i just try to find other things to distract me when i feel that low, like chatting with friends, family, watching a movie, going on a walk, eating good food, no matter how small can help shift my mood to a more positive direction. when we're down, our brains are really good at thinking about other sad shit, bc our brain sucks like that, so getting ahead of that curve and trying to intentionally distract yourself with better things can generally help. but again, do not feel bad if that doesn't work for you, bc long depressive states aren't what i normally deal with and my advice is general here.

in terms of anxiety and similar emotions, i feel you deeply there. i manage that similar to how i manage any form of anxiety, which is just to do whatever it is that my anxiety thinks i cannot do, as thats the quickest way to rewrite that pathway in ur brain. it can seem very daunting, but it really does help and you can take baby steps all the while. and usually i end up feeling better after i go to whatever it was i was terrified to go to, which when we're feeling terrible af can sometimes make our day a bit better.

i would also say, sometimes i don't do anything during my pmdd time either bc it really does feel like shit even when ive tried combating it and being mindful of myself, some days really do just suck and i wanna lay in bed and hermit away. i don't think you should beat yourself up about that if some months that happens. its gonna happen again even after we have some successes, pmdd can be very unpredictable and sometimes our environment and our day to day lives just affect it even more and cause some months to be worse than others, and that doesn't mean you're lazy or not trying hard enough or anything like that.

[samuelroukin]

might be a bit too personal of a question so feel free to ignore/delete but have you struggled w/ alcoholism? i think i remember you saying that you dont drink much anymore so i just wanted to ask for idk some kind of advice cuz i just cant manage to drop that shit. thanks in advance man

hi don't worry i don't mind talking about it, but i'll put it behind a cut for others bc this got kinda long and i don't want to trigger anyone

first off i wouldn't say i am or ever have been an alcoholic especially comparing myself to other people in my life but i've had periods where i was struggling with it, getting drunk most nights and even sometimes having a drink (or two) during the day if i had to do something i felt anxious about, it was def a crutch and i occasionally fall back into it but only for short times luckily. so have that in mind, my advice might not be that useful for you

so for me it was really mostly about realizing ok this is A Thing and i don't want to let it get too far, i was pairing it with some other really unhealthy habits and started noticing some side effects (other than money lmao)

so i kinda figured ok. you don't need to do this. every time you decide to buy a bottle of whatever that's the alcohol kinda whispering in ur ear like ohhh im so fun but in the long term it's only gonna make me feel like shit, both physically and mentally. so not having it in the house made it so i could go a couple days without it, and then cave again, feel like shit, repeat.

but by stretching that time before caving i could sit with it for better or worse like now what do i do? i feel bad but drinking is gonna make me feel a different kind of bad so that's not an option (today at least! there's always tomorrow for making worse choices, idk but having that in mind helped) and then i'd find ways to distract myself, something to do with your hands can be helpful but it depends on how much brain space you have. but it gets easier and easier, slowly but surely. it's cliche but at first it really is about having that bit of control to go even a day without. that shows you that you can do it, however short at first

and then in time i won't lie you'll have moments of missing it but it's like. i know the trade off and i know it's not worth it slipping into that again because in the end it doesn't help. it's a coping mechanism and you have to either replace it with something healthier or whatever, or deal with what's making you use it. for me personally it was (and is) depression and anxiety and just shit life syndrome which aren't easy to just fix but i know drinking is gonna make all of that worse and i know better ways to deal with my feelings (could be anything for you, some people like journaling or therapy and neither of those did shit for me so. but you gotta find something)

sorry this got kinda long and rambling, and i don't know how much help it really is. i never felt like i needed outside help so i don't have any clue how that works but i've heard from others that groups like aa (maybe not aa specifically cause i've heard some weird stuff about them) can be really good for more insight and accountability but idk on a personal level

[viaetor]

exhaustion

im sorry for throwing this here in the first place. I generally don't post vents on tumblr dot com, but I've been under so much stress lately and I just. don't have anywhere I can dump things yknow?? i don't wanna feel like a burden to my friends or as if its their responsibility.

but I've been so, so exhausted lately. but it's so hard to just *stop* or *take a break*.

currently, im working 3 part-time jobs, participating in 4 uni projects, writing my thesis, finishing up my government-funded research, completing translations, on top of having my regular classes. not to mention more work and projects ive been "invited" to accept that are still starting up and my upcoming mandatory internship. my parents have been entrusting me with more and more responsibilities regarding their physical health as seniors. but i also need to keep an eye out so that my drug addict sister doesn't do anything stupid and gets thrown out of the house again. I'm also worried about another sister of mine.

Lately i tried to distract myself by involving myself more with my friends. I've helped a few friends out with their own stuff (moving, writing, job interviews, emotional support) and ive been reconnecting with long past friendships, which is pretty neat. and it was working for a while, but im starting to get drained from even the simplest interactions.

now every time I look at my phone or get out of my room, people are calling me to ask to do stuff for them. I'm so numb to it all, I just do it automatically even when my body is sore and my brain is dead.

the worst part is that I can't quit anything. there are no vacations waiting for me, and no way I can lessen my workload more than I already have. I'm numb to it all, it's exhausting, but I feel so ashamed for even feeling tired. I feel like I have no right to feel that. I'm so used to being "reliable" and "efficient" to others that I'm not sure if I know how to Not be what people expect of me.

Ive been trying not to smoke or stress-eat and instead just hit the gym to get rid of the stress and anxiety, but even that hasn't been enough.

I want to write. I want to draw. I wanna learn languages. I wanna study. I wanna chat. But I just don't have the energy to do the things that make me feel happy and healthy. even if I'm ironically already doing some of them. I feel like an ungrateful brat. especially since I'm surrounded by so many awesome people.

I'm really lucky to have you all. I love getting your messages, seeing your posts, writing with you. I'm so happy with how I've been developing bonds with people here. thank you so much for investing in me! i really do cherish and appreciate it. I just want to apologise for seeming so distant and emotionally unavailable, not to mention how long i take to reply sometimes. to those that have been nothing but kind and patient to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I can make it up to you!

I'm just really, really tired at the moment, and I'm not sure how to juggle through everything in my life right now. so I'm really sorry.

I wish I had dottore's skills so I could make clones of myself ngl. that'd be pretty neat

[neurodivergantizzetwitch]

intro post :3

hiii! im [insert name here]: a stereotypical AuDHD trans girl who still hasn't settled on a name yet-- my life isnt... going well rn, but tumblr makes it a bit more bearable and every little bit helps.

im a trans fem, more specifically i like the term demigirl- which feels like it fits me. im also ace(ish), by which i mean im ace but pretty sex favorable- just don't experience sexual attraction. im also very gay and have the best partner in the whole entire universe (they said they were gonna join tumblr soon- so ill at them here once she does.)

oh yeah and my brain is funky. im a peer reviewed (and officially dxed, but im an advocate of self diagnosis) AuDHDer- which informs basically everything i do. i also have a bunch of the mental illness stuff, and have struggled w it a lot. idrk or care what the exact diagnosis is, spend enough time around insane ppl and you learn a lot of the specific labels are pretty arbitrary and a lot of symptoms are shared- i just describe myself as fucked in the head or legitimately insane

also im never consistent w tags- sorry. maybe one day ill try to be but uh... yeah not today. i do tag for potentially triggering content tho- and try my best to be consistent w it, so if you're sensitive to the following and want to follow me for some weird reason id reccomend blocking them:

#cw sex mention, #cw: substance abuse, #cw: abuse #cw: child abuse, #cw: gore, #cw: sh, #cw: si, #cw: disordered eating, #cw: bigotry, #cw: disturbing content,

id also say in accordance w the previous thing i sometimes say things about my life that are "dark" in a way that can cross a line, i don't mean to do this- and i want to respect everyone's boundaries- but accidentally sharing super dark shit is smth i struggle w.

im a committed anarchist, and i will unabashedly post in accordance w those views. i haven't been able to help people as much as id like to bc of the whole being a minor in a fucked up situation with no money energy or time thing, but im trying to do more. If anyone reading this has suggestions- lmk.

i also like a lot of shit. like A LOT of shit- and i get REALLY obsessed w it too, so it is not out of character for me to start posting a bunch about smth i had not known existed until i got obsessed (as mentioned, AuDHDer). what ill post about is just kinda based on what im feeling that day and my interests, but heres some of my favorite things that im enamored w in no particular order:

games:

mtg

minecraft

hermitcraft (which yes is minecraft and no isnt a game but shut up)

hollow knight / skilkskong 🤡

celeste

metroid

nitw

botw

hades

books

cosmere

the locked tomb

percy jackson

the sandman

six of crows

the hunger games

lotr

spec fic, especially non-traditional spec-fic

shows/movies

spiderman across the spiderverse

made in abyss

hazbin hotel

hunter x hunter

the owl house

Pan's Labyrinth (& other Guillermo movies)

miyazaki movies

wes anderson movies

animated movies & shows

cinematic/classic movies (not neccessarily old just like the literary fiction genre of movies)

weird/offbeat movies and shows

music

coheed and cambria

mcr

jhariah

girl in red

will wood

pinkshift

jack off jill

paramore

mother mother

the cure

chloe moriando

bauhaus

cardiacs

dead kennedys

lena raine

siouxsie & the banshees

milk in the microwave

mitski

penelope scott

sungazer

45 grave

other interests/hobbies n shit

drawing

d&d

writing

painting

guitar

bass

drums

singing

music production

game design

coding

animation

character design

video production

poetry

theater (yes im a fucking theater kid did you even have to ask that)

musicals

even though im solidly gen z, i havent really grown up on the internet the same way. some weird combination of my parents' disapproval of it, social anxiety, autism, and not being allowed to use it for years means that ive had this fear of posting stuff on the internet. for so many people like me the internet has been a place to escape and be themself, to me it's more often than not just a reflection of a reality that seems just as scary and ostracizing.

the thing is... i dont have a lot of friends. i dont have a large community really. and i think though there are some ways in which my aversion to social interactions including those on the internet has been helpful, there are other ways it's really isolated me- both from my peers and a broader community of people.

so im trying to put myself out there a little more. this stupidly long intro post is i think just a way for me to commit to that for myself. ive been so scared of doing it all my life, right now i think i just need some sort of outlet to be myself. who knows? maybe i'll even meet some new friends.

[voidcandle]

long, rambling diary entry below. idk if any of it necessitates a cw but if it does please let me know.

the near daily realization and reminder of how most of my life has been spent barely holding it together as my brain required more and more energy just to go through the day, meaning everything else on top of that was drinking from a well barely able to sustain itself.

for one reason or another or all of them at the same time ive spent nearly my entire life barely being able to just be much less be more than just a quiet, lonely, well-behaved, pleasure-to-have-in-class, good-enough-grades kid.

spending every day barely being able to fight off the constant impulse for flight while trying to get through every painful step of just being alive.

having to get through it with no awareness or understanding or compassion of all of it.

until one day at a routine check-up, my doctor asked me if i was experiencing any anxiety, as they normally do, and, too exhausted to maintain the the self-delusion that no really im okay dont worry about me, I said yes.

and he prescribed me a low dosage anti-anxiety medication and really recommended i start seeing someone for help.

and i started feeling better.

and realizing that, no, im not okay and, yes, please, someone worry about me in a way that means i get help.

so i did start seeing someone for help, and i started getting on medication to help get my depression under control. and then i started seeing someone else and i tried out different medications, eventually finding a cocktail that really, really helped.

and then the next person took my concerns about me potentially having adhd seriously. finally, for the first time in my life, someone who could help me saw the specific ways i was struggling and took it seriously. so i took the assessment.

and i finally had confirmation that, yes, i needed help in a specific way and it wasn't all my fault. i was doing the best i could. and somehow i had made it to 30. and i did more than just make it. i accomplished important things.

im not "normal." i do need more help than many others. and that's okay. and im so happy to finally know im not just a broken person who used up all the goodness they had in them.

and now i have to live the rest of my life wondering

why didn't anyone notice? why didn't anyone try to help? how much did i miss out on, ruin, let rot away?

and im not sure if it just takes a long time or if i'll never really be able to get over it, and if the latter is the case, then how can i learn to live with it?

even on my good days, i can often feel myself putting everything i have into barely holding myself together. i can't maintain proper hygiene. i cant feed myself as much as i need to. i cant do the things i need to do, and sometimes not even what i want to do. i have to continue wrapping the building together in webs as it gets closer and closer to falling apart, and hope the entire time that it'll be okay before i run out so it stays together.