#hard to get into something that feels like its not gonna last a decade

[mmmitchmmmarner]

so... are the pwhl team names not changing? are these the names now? its stressing me out that they haven't said anything

trying to support this new league but pwhl toronto is a stupid fucking name and i hate it any whoever's idea it was

[prettyboykatsuki]

lightning strike | h. iwaizumi

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader, recently established relationship, mutual pining, pwp, dry humping + making out, nipple play, implied raw sex, super love-dovey, deliberate name change from iwaizumi to hajime 18+

✮ wc ; 4k (???????)

✮ a/n ; something deeply frightening happened to me in writing this but whatever. made it with ten minutes to spare happy bday mr iwaizumi

pls be nice if characterization is everywhere its been a while

He’s nervous.  

So nervous. 

You laugh at him over a can of beer, even harder when he visibly flinches at the sound. The room is too quiet since all of your company has left for the evening. Iwaizumi is tipsy but not drunk - though you think if he has another can he’ll get there just fine.  

“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep frowning.”  

He shoots you a glare that makes your lips quirk up. “Shut up. You sound like my Ma.”  

“How is she by the way? Still good?”  

Iwaizumi snorts and takes a long sip of his beer. He tilts his head back against the couch, arm stretched along the seats. His muscles pull taut underneath the skintight material of his turtleneck. You find yourself sitting on your hands to calm down, but you’re too unfocused for it too work.  

“She’s good. She likes the countryside. Been growing squash and tomatoes and everything. Gonna try and stay with her a bit during off-season,” His voice is wistful and affectionate. An only son, filial and polite - you smile at him lovingly. “You should come visit with me.”  

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Guess it’s the same since we’ve already met but since we’re going steady I though you might be too nervous.”  

The realization settles in too late. Just when you thought he’d swallow the nerves down, they make an appearance once again. He sits up straight, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze to the coffee table separating you both. A blush spreads up, all through his body. His ears turn especially turn some shade of cherry red. Dusts all along his nose. He tsks at you, tongue clicking with a familiar petulance. You bite back a laugh.  

“Going steady? Seriously?”  

“Well,” Your face twists in mischief as you look up at him, your eyes locking briefly. “You’d get all hissy if I called us lovers.”  

His eyes go wide - in equal parts shock and mild disgust. You can’t hold the laugh back that time time no matter how hard you try. It bubbles up out of you, euphoric and hysterical. Your laughter is too loud to savor his displeasure, so caught up in it that it takes you a few minutes to calm down again,  

“I hate you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. A grin splits your face. 

“No, you don’t.”  

He frowns and his blush darkens just a touch  

The room goes quiet save for the sound of your heartbeat. You try and collect yourself. The house feels too quiet, all prior company absen. Not that Mattsun and Maki dragged out Oikawa to be considerate of your newfound love or anything. You’re sure you’ve already gotten a long text detailing your extortion related to the favor. Still, you’re glad to be alone with him.  

It’s easy to split your time between all of them separately when you’re all in the same place - but complicated to be all together. And alone time with Iwaizumi has always been hard to come by.  

You’ve been pining for him since highschool - the frequency you wish to see him tuned tuned by the passing years of your relationship and feelings. You’ve gone through the whole spectrum of desires. From wanting to see him everyday constantly, to hoping you’d never have to see him again. It took you well over a decade to make any progress, and the entire process (while surely heartfelt) has been unmistakably clumsy and so, so long.  

Spending alone time with Iwaizumi has thus always been complicated except for this one time. You got together, officially, just last week. The day he came home, where you incidentally found yourselves alone together. Something that’d been rare years prior due to said pining and trying to get over him. You don’t even really know how it happened. It felt like the most significant moment in your life thus far and incomparably anticlimatic at once. He was just sending you home since you’d got completely shitfaced, and before you left you grabbed him by the collar and announced it. Just like that.  

(You threw up half-way through the car ride back. Your Uber was nice enough to pull over so you didn’t do it in his car.) 

You went home after and didn’t speak for days. It took a few more days for either of you to work up the courage to sort things out forreal, but you made it work with the help of even more alcohol.  

Things get busy though, when Oikawa returns home and Hajime is off-season. It’s rare things line up, and when they do - it’s only natural you spend all your time together. You did today too, celebrating Iwaizumi’s birthday among the four of you with take-out and Godzilla movies on your nice flatscreen.  

But you haven’t been alone with each other since your chat establishing your relationship as not a pipe-dream, which was notably through text.  

He’s nervous, so incredibly nervous but so are you. Just a little.  

You look up after being lost in thought - to see Iwaizumi stare at you. The air shifts slow and steady, thick tension stirring in your gut. You bite the inside of your cheek, rubbing your feet together as you fold over yourself, chin resting on your knee. 

You wonder if you should be the one to break the distance. Iwaizumi beats you to the punch this time. You suppose you’re even.  

“Come ‘ere.”  

He pushes the coffee table farther away from him with ease, careful not to knock anything over. Your tipsy self swoons over his competence, but you’re sure you’d do the same sober.  

The look he gives you as you crawl over to him makes you feel bashful. You go over until you’re sitting side by side - stretching your legs out. Your thighs barely touches. Iwaizumi jolts, swiping a hand over his face in exasperation.  

“Sorry,”  

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” Because it is, then just to make sure. “Are we okay?”  

“More than okay,” He admits, a breath of relief following the words. “It was a good birthday, by the way. Thank you.”  

“They’ll get upset that you only thanked me,”  

He bristles immediately making you giggle. “I’ll thank those knuckleheads later.” 

You smile at him, wide and bright. He looks at you before quickly looking away, laughing a little humorlessly to himself. You wonder what he’s thinking about but decide against asking, comfortable letting him go at whatever speed.  

“Can I uh—“ He clears his throat. “Wanna kiss you. Just uhh… shit.”  

You’d love to tease him, but you feel like your heart might explode out of your body so there’s not really much room. Nodding, you sit up on your knees and turn a little to face him. His features soften with remarkable fondness. You flush at the sudden attention. He sits up straighter, turning his head to face you. His forehead knocks against yours softly, noses brushes. His eyes are so sharp. You have to close your own when you feel him leaning in to kiss you.  

Iwaizumi is warm. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be. His hands feel big as one snakes up to cup your neck. He gives you one deep kiss, followed by two pecks before pulling away to make you chase him. He rewards you by kissing you agai. The sudden pressure makes your head spin.  

You pull away dazed. “You’re… super good at kissing.”  

“Yeah?”  

You press your thighs together at his reply. So sexy it’s unfair. “Uh-huh.”  

He gives you a weighted hum. 

His reaction spurs you on then. You pull away from him momentarily. Iwaizumi stares at you in reply, worry making his brow furrow. Before he can get the words out, you seat yourself on his lap. He’s taken aback as he realizes your intent, your arms around his neck. It’s not even really the alcohol, as much as it’s everything else. Cramped in your living room together, pressed up against your couch. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and shiver in his arms smelling his cologne. Spicy with a hint of pine. He hesitates, hands settling so carefully on your hips.  

He lets you stay like that undisturbed until you’re ready to pull away. Like he senses you needed that. He’s always been so good at knowing what exactly you need. Suddenly restless you decide you need to look at him again - make sure he’s real. That this is real.  

“Hey,” He mutters. His pitch is low, sends your heart hammering.  

You giggle, fluttering nervously. “Hi,” And then, “You like me,”  

“Pfft,” His voice is so tender, so soft, so comforting. “More than that.”  

Suddenly overwhelmed by your own giddiness, you squeak. You want to bury yourself in his shoulder again, but he’s quick to hold your wrist and stop you. He pins you under his gaze. It’s so intense you can’t help but feel like a deer caught in headlights. Your head is empty and all he’s doing is looking at you.  

But maybe that’s the whole problem. He’s looking at you, and you’ve wanted that for more than a decade. Now having it is too much, too suddenly - and you’re almost afraid of having it. It’s just a gaze, but it’s yours. He’s telling he’s yours in a way that’s just like him.  

“You…” He starts on something before letting you go. “For a long time,”  

He doesn’t need to explain. You already know.  

“Me too,” 

He calms down when you get it..  

“Really?” He follows up. He doesn’t look at you as he goes on. “How long?”  

You think on it.  

“Since we were fifteen?”  

“Same as me, then.” He’s clumsy with the follow-up. “That’s…”  

“Dumb? Ridiculous? Too long?” You say, filling in the words for him. “I know.”  

The extent of your own longing comes to you in waves. Love, like the sea trapped behind ice - so easily shattered. You’re drowning, your lungs aching trying to get adjusted to what is finally yours. The shock of it comes and goes, but you’re surrounded by it all the same. Iwaizumi stares at you and you stare back and nothing in the world exists except this desire you’ve kept to yourself for years.  

His name comes out like a whimper on your lips. “Iwaizumi,”  

“Hajime,” He corrects, so tender. So sweet to you. “Please,”  

“Hajime,” You test the name out on your tongue. It’s sweet.  

He doesn’t say anything after that.  

Your breath hitches as Hajime crowds into your space again. His hands are firm on your hips as he kisses you again. It’s different from before, lingers longer - his tongue pressing along the seam of your lips until you open them and allow him in deeper.The taste of alcohol is clearer on your tongue, bitter remnants of malt making you drool at the corners of your mouth. You kiss hungrily, your hands carding through the short, black hair with a longing sigh. Hajime groans a little when you tug at the root and the only thing you can think to do is try to sink into him further. .  

The hear raises without warning. Your skin under your clothes feels like it’s on fire. It feels different too suddenly for you to adjust and keep completely calm. Lust that borders cosmic engraves into your bones. Crumbling under the weight of it, you kiss Hajime like your life would end without it. In the moment, it feels like it would. Exchanged breaths are the only source of air for that space and time. You feel frantic, hazy - and Hajime who you know to be so steady, proves to be in the same place as you. 

His hands are so big. You can feel how tight he grabs you, his thumb pressing into your hipbones - itching to go lower. You don’t want to pull away but you want more. In the second you take a breath you tell him as much. Your own delirium might bring you shame if you were in any place to really feel it. “You can touch me. However you want.”  

“Fuck. Don’t say that.”  

“Hajime, please.”  

You mutter something but you don’t catch what it really. Your head is swimming with unrepentant ardor and your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Hajime kisses you again and takes the lead. The pleasure echoes in how you sigh, your hips rutting against his lap as his hands squeeze your ass. His hands are so fucking big - strong and kind and hold you with no uncertainty. The groping goes straight to your cunt, stomach starting to twist with familiar arousal. You push your hips against him again.  

You’re hardly thinking about it. Hardly thinking at all - no coherency or sense thrumming through your brain except his name. Hajime, Hajime, Hajime. An incantation of destiny. A love song.  

You feel his fingers inch up to go underneath your shirt - all of a sudden feeling burdened by all the layers between you. You can’t calm down. 

He pulls away from you first in that instance. Before you can ask, he nudges himself close to your neck, kissing along your jaw. You feel the fabric of your shirt tug. “Can I take this off?”  

You nod rapidly, then mimic him wanting him to do the same. His laugh is raspy in the follow through - your shirt and bra discarded somewhere on the floor. He stops suddenly, flicking his gaze up to you like he’s asking permission again. You just nod, not knowing how else to convey your desires.  

Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal and cool air. Hajime’s tongue flicks from his lips.  

His gaze makes you feel ticklish. He runs his palms over your tits with an appreciative noise. His eyes linger long enough to make your skin go hot all over, your spine prickling with heat.  

“Staring,”  

He looks up at your face, amused by your pout then kisses you as he feels you up, calloused palms brushing against your nipples, tits fitting perfectly in his hands. He smiles a little against your mouth. “Guess I am.”  

“Take yours off,” You plea. 

He obliges you, peeling the tight shirt away from his body and leaving his bare torso in full view. The proximity makes your lungs tighten like they can’t get enough air - heat radiating from his skin. His physique is toned, layers of muscle soft and comfortable He’s structured and gorgeous like a statue. You’re greeted by his broad chest and the corded muscles of his biceps. All sinew and strength, down his core. Strong and stable and big everywhere you could possibly look. You feel awestruck, mouth-watering at the sight - clit throbbing. Objectively attractive, you’re sure anyone in your place would feel the same. But this is your Hajime and the body he’s worked so hard on, full grown and yours. The trail of hairs down his stomach, getting coarse. The v-line of his waist makes you clench. 

 Too much.  

 The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, like water spilling from a broken dam. “I want you to fuck me so bad,”  

His brows raise. You can feel something twitch hard against your clothed pussy. At full mast underneath the confines of his pants. \Your eyes go wet when you realize what it is. Mind sticky, you draw your lips into a pout and silent protest. Despite your desperation, you almost want to say it again, pleasure thrumming through your body at his reaction. It feels like electricity sparking up from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. 

 Hajime presses his face to your neck all over again - hot, open mouth kisses trailing from jaw to chest. You gasp when his mouth closes around your tits, tongue laving over the tender skin and making your back arch.  

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” He mirrors. His voice is scratchy and his grip is tight. “Been wanting to fuck you so bad for so long, you have no idea.”  

There’s something true and well pathetic about the yearning that wells up inside of your gut and settles itself in your sternum. It spreads and grows and tangles in your ribs, curls around the vessels of your heartbeat. The kind of yearning that makes your whole being tremble, makes you want to preen and sing like a canary. It’d be good if time stood still so he could fuck you infintely - never being able to go where you can’t reach.  

You rock against him and Hajime holds you steady like always. His voice drops down to murmur - speaking with alarming clarity. You’re teary from the sound of his voice.  

“Let’s cum together,” He offers as reprieve, so sweet despite the harsh grip on your hips as he draws your weight down closer to him. You’re suddenly conscious of your choice in clothes - how thin the fabric of your shorts really as as the rough outline of his cock presses against the seam. You’re glad you didn’t wear underwear “And then I’ll make you cum again. I’ll take care of you,”  

“You always take care of me,” You say with no awareness of your surroundings. He laughs breathlessly. ‘ 

“Yeah..since it’s you, it’s easy.”  

You go wide-eyed but don’t get a minute to dissect. Not bothering to unbutton his jeans, you gape at the hard outline of his cock confined in black boxers. his  He picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as your spine touches the carpet of your living room floor. You make a surprised noise as you’re let down gently. He doesn’t unfurl you from him. You spark back to life as his lips meet yours again chastely. The complaint you had dies on your lips when he trails down your jaw again. His voice is next to your ear, sinfully rough - warm breath tickling your skin. His teeth tug on your ear lobe and you shiver.  

“Tell me if it’s too much,”  

You don’t get a chance to ask about it.  

The sudden motion of his hard cock rutting and humping against your sticky, wet cunt punches the air of out of your lungs.  

There’s only a single layer of wet fabric keeping him from fucking you.  The very idea makes your pussy throb unhelpfully. You understand all of a sudden that this was what he meant about wanting to make you cum. But it’s Hajime, your Hajime - so making you do any work wouldn’t cut it. Humping you in missionary of all things like he’s already inside you.  

The thought overwhelms and you gasp.  

You don’t recognize the sound of your own voice, so high and pitchy with need. Pure pornography. But there’s no camera for you perform for, nothing but Hajime above with with a heavy gaze. Your spine arches at the sensation once it hits its stride, the angle of friction just right. The indirect touches makes your core throb. Your clit has been achingly sensitive for so long, and the release of tension in a single thrust is enough to make you shudder each time. It feels like you’ve been holding the feeling in your entire life. You wheeze his name out brokenly as he does it again - a sharp thrust, precise enough to be perfect like he already knows you that well.  

Your lower body feels week as the arousal starts to climb to a steady chorus. You pant for him like a bitch in heat.  

He’s not inside you but the smack of his hips against yours makes you feel like you’re getting fucked anyways. You imagine how it’ll feel when he really fucks you and can’t see straight after the fact. Each little movement spreads precum along your shorts, already wet with your own arousal. The friction of the damp fabric makes you cry out from pleasure,  animalistic with need. Your nails dig into his biceps as he kisses you all over, wherever he can possible reach. Along your neck, shoulders, collarbones chest. Any place he has accsess.  

You want him so fucking deep it’s frustrating, want him up to your throat - but the lack of direct touch makes you want him more desperately. And it makes it feel so, so good. The kind of pleasure that’s dull and throbbing but makes something in your spine go alight, like shoving your thumb into a bruise. You want Hajime to press himself into you hard enough to make the healed dull yellows vibrant purple and red all over again.  

You gasp helplessly each time he rocks his hips into you. He’s whispering such filth against your ear, into your mouth each time you kiss and you can’t reply with anything but his name. He praises you each time anyway, goads you into saying it again. Again and again and again until you can’t find your own voice.  

“Say it again,” Hoarse, punctuated by another thrust that nearly drives you over the edge and makes your eyes go wide. “Say my name again, baby”  

“Hajime.” So you say it- can’t think of any substitute since you’re not sure god would suffice. Locked between you in the warm sticky air is just Hajime, all yours.  

Every muscle in your body starts to lock up as you hit the final stride to your orgasm. You want to cum so badly for him and only him. All over his cock in any way he’ll light you. The thought pushes you over the edge. Over and over and over until you hang over the precipice of your own orgasm. When it hits, it hits like a crash of thunder on open plain. Like suddenly everything in you that’s every been grounded in Earth is scattered with sparks, skating and careening across your body. You feel him in the fiber of your being. Your toes curl at the sudden release, not able to voice a warning that isn’t just a soft gargle in the back of your throat. He doesn’t stop or stutter in his motion, instead gripping your hips tight as he can while lets you run through your high - nothing but praise and affection.  

You can feel him more than you can see him cum along with you. Sticky, hot seed flowing in spurts as his dick twitches for you - his ragged breathing covering your skin in goosebumps. You moan at the warm sensation drenching your poor, covered pussy and find the load to be wasted though you feel contented anyway. 

 You’re barely sane enough to catch your breath, but he eventually lets you down - though you can’t keep from hugging him. You pull back to look at each other.  

You brush the sweat matted hair away from his forehead with a lovesick sigh and giggle. He looks down at you with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours with.  

“Can’t believe I came in my pants like a teenager,” He says through a laugh.  

“It’s like making up for lost time,” You say warmly, all floaty. “Plus, the way you were fucking me but not fucking me…definitely a man. It was really hot, you know?”  

He groans. “I’ll get riled up again.”  

You smile at him. “Let’s fuck lots for your birthday, Hajime.”  

“Is that the present you mentioned earlier?”  

You pretend to think on it. “Mm..no. Not just the sex, anyway.” 

He looks at you confused as you lean in closer to him. “It’s safe so there’s no condoms anywhere in this apartment, unless you wanna go stop to get some.”  

He gives you a blown out look of lust with a soft breath, voice bordering a growl. “As if I’d make it through the door now.”  

You laugh helplessly happy and kiss him. “Happy birthday.” And then a little quieter. “I love you.”  

He softens visibly but doesn’t say anything else. You don’t need to hear him to know.  

You think the spare copy of your keys might make him cry. So you decide you’ll give it to him later. 

 The clock hasn’t hit midnight yet, anyhow. You have plenty of time.  

Now and always.  

[lmae98]

Parallels DMC3 - DMC5

The first four pictures are about Vergil pushing Dante away. In DMC3 he even threatens Dante with Yamato, but in DMC5 he doesn't try that hard, he just gives his brother one last chance to turn back. In DMC3 Dante is kind of processing everything (this is how I see his silence) and doesn't get the chance to say something; in DMC5, instead, he had enought time to think (like two decades) and he's 100% sure of what he wants to amend. Since DMC3 we can see the instant regret in Dante's face the moment Vergil falls. In my point of view, Dante does in DMC5 what he feels he should have done in DMC3: Stay by his brother's side.

The next two are about Nero taking Dante's place. Is now Nero who helplessly watches how the family he's just found (and the remaining one), leaves. His fear it's similar to Dante's (in DMC3), he doesn't know if he'll see them again but, unlike Dante (who thinks that Vergil is aproaching to a certain death), he knows for sure that they'll be alright. I believe that Dante's last words to Nero were of comfort, that he somehow kept in mind when he was in Nero's place and wanted to free the boy from the same thing he felt. I believe that Vergil had that in mind too when he promises his return to Nero (in his own special/weird way).

The next two are about the selfless/violent sacrifice. In DMC3 Vergil's attitude (cutting Dante's hand with Yamato) is not just about pushing Dante away, but a way to free his brother from him, to letting him move on and have a life too (that's my interpretation, not a fact btw, like almost everything in this post). It's the same when Nero is punched/knocked back because, in theory, he can go with them too and I don't think the world is gonna end for that, but they know (especially Dante) he has a life and bounds that ties him to the human world. That punch is about making it easy for Nero to let them go.

The last two pictures don't need much explanation. It's again about Dante doing what he thinks he should have done. He regrets letting Vergil go alone to the Underworld, so this time is him the first one to jump and making sure Vergil doesn't run off on his own this time. After all, they're meant to be together; in Visions of V it's reaffirmed. Both brothers stop fighting against it.

I probably didn't say everything I had planned, but this is a good summary. Sorry if there are mistakes, I wrote this from my cell phone and it seems that my autocorrect has a mind of its own.

[comicaurora]

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

[igetnosleep]

Rekindling

Sequel to "The Night we Met" another attempt at angst. mostly written in Leon's point of view set after RE: 4 remake in mind.

So some TW: Four pages of Leon picking you apart, Leon being needy (If you count that as a warning), thoughts of mutilation (Leon wants to get close to you but is unable to express himself properly), Anger, implied smut (I cannot write smut for the life of me), angst, some comfort but I take it from you.

Six years.

Six years since Leon had last seen you.

It felt so far away the memory of Raccoon City was ingrained into his mind like a brand.

Then they took you away had you relocated far away from him away from anyform of comfort. He wished he could have followed you at that moment and have you in his arms longer.

It felt like decades had passed since he saw you.

He wished he could pour everything out, rip his skin off and have the weight in his chest fall out bloody and ugly, but you couldn’t know that. He had to beg on his knees to make sure you didn’t end up like him. You wouldn’t have survived USSTRATCOM. He barely survived. You would have died.

Mission after mission, saving the president's daughter, the DSO decided to throw him a bone. Reward him for all of his hard work.

Now here he is finally, he gets to see you, standing in front of your apartment door. Not Sherry unfortunately, Simmons wouldn’t let him. “Make up your mind Golden boy, what's it gonna be? Think fast or I’m pulling my offer off the table.” He wanted to kill that man, jaw clenched as he accepted his superior's terms.

He steeled his nerves reaching up and knocking on your door staring hearing a dog barking and the sound of nails tapping against wood floors then scratching and more barking, you had a dog. “Coming!” your voice rang out as you unlocked the door and he was met with a determined pitbull sticking its nose past the door trying to get a feel on him.

You held onto its collar the large puppy with a powder face, sniffing excitedly as its tail whacked your leg. “Noooo don’t run off you’ll get me in trouble again.” You spoke gently, eyes trained on the pup. Slowly you looked up at him and your eyes widened in surprise, like you saw a ghost.

“Leon?” Your voice was confused and unsure. He gave you a small nod, his lip quirked up trying to give you some semblance of comfort. Your grip on your dog loosened giving it the chance to approach him, he offered his hand allowing for a sniff of approval and affectionate licks to his palm.

You had changed a bit, you looked skinnier, unfortunately, he missed the softness in your body even if it was brief how long he’d held you. You looked tired, you hadn’t been sleeping. Why did you look frail? 

You looked at him like you didn’t recognize him, your eyes searching for something, a remnant of him from when you met.  The same man who had left you alone now thinner, cheeks sunken and heavy eyebags and dark circles. Hesitantly you touched his cheek watching him tense before forcing himself still.

Those blue eyes you couldn’t get out of your head dulled and tired. The back of your hand gently smoothed over his cheek and he sighed shoulders drooping, a hint of vulnerability. Leons hand coming up and grabbing yours pressing your hand against his cheek as he took a breath.

He needs more, more than just you touching his cheek. Morbidly he wished he could sink under your skin and feel your warmth, would you mind? Would you mind if he did that? You wouldn’t would you? 

Sink his teeth into your skin and rip your throat out, maybe claw his way into your chest and make a home next to your beating heart.

Your life felt too inviting. Your warmth all too accessible, willing, open for something like him always longing for something.

Then again. There was that fear. Fear of getting too close too fast, seeming all too eager for something more. He’d come out bloody and red staring back at you scared and confused. 

Your voice cut him out of his head. He blinked and hummed a small beckon for you to repeat yourself “Do you want to come in?”

You led him inside pouring both a cup of tea, chamomile, “Helps the nerves..at least that's what the lady down the hall told me.” you spoke almost in a daze, still surprised to see him there. You pour some honey and lemon into both mugs.

Silence felt deafening between the two of you, his eyes trailing the interior of your apartment, the dog lying peacefully on the couch cushions, he never took you for a dog person, the way the carpets seem to overtake the living room, how warm it felt in the apartment despite the air being at the coldest temperature known to man.

“How have you been?” It feels like a stupid question to you, but he knows it’s all you could think of at the moment, you weren’t social you could barely keep eye contact. Were you trying to go back to the night when you looked at him trying to find the puppy you met all those years ago?

It almost felt nice that you were trying to find something to cling to like how he’d started trying to take note of how you lived every detail to how you dressed was something he wanted to write into memory. You were an open book he held the highlighters and pens writing annotations on your pages underlining and highlighting the details that caught his attention.

You could barely peer into him. Leon felt like a blank journal, the cover beautifully decorated yet when opened held nothing, no words or details to keep note of, how he preferred it now, it wasn’t your fault. He reminded you of the ones you collected but never got the chance to use, he seemed torn and frayed, being through too much to know pages torn out secrets hidden between lines and invisible ink. He felt more like the blacked out lines you’d see in a government document. At least in the movies you’d seen but at this point you were sure it was the same.

A part of him felt angry you didn’t immediately know, you couldn’t get a read on him, see what kind of person he was now without feeling like you were intruding. The man in your living room is more of a stranger if anything rather than someone you thought was a friend.

Could you classify what you had as a grounds for friendship?

You hardly knew let alone understood what happened yourself.

Leon barely tried to acknowledge it, finding himself torn between wanting to acknowledge and longing to forget what happened even if it meant forgetting you sometimes.

He almost wanted to scream at you, resentment at the life you were living now like he didn’t make the choice to protect you. 

He bit back a scowl. Glowering from his spot. “Fuck you.” his mind supplied it was terrifying how it felt like it was creeping into his veins, anger, resentment.

You looked small under his gaze, did you regret it? Did you regret meeting him? Were you starting to regret letting him into your home?

He took a deep breath, the aroma of honey and lemon mixed into his cup easing his nerves. He needs to calm down. He’ll scare you if he keeps going on like this. You hadn’t seen him in years. You didn’t even know what he’d done for you. “And you never will.” 

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. 

Leon knows better. He’s not his father. You’re not at fault.

“I’m..” he paused, debating telling the truth before shaking his head “I’ve been better.” you bit your tongue. Your cheeks flushed red as you rubbed your forehead. “Sorry..I just..You can’t talk about anything can you?” You were smart peeking into the cracks of his walls. He shook his head “No, sorry.” He looked down, somber hand coming up to rub his forehead. 

You sat in awkward silence, you weren’t used to the bitter tone on his tongue. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? What could you do? His shoulders looked squared; he was guarded; rigid. 

His eyes narrowed and observed the area, what was he looking for? God fuck who knows something a hint that you had moved on that you were just fine without him. 

Resentment towards you festering in his mind despite him pushing it down but it clung to his gut unwilling to go away. Bitterness coated his tongue. You were scared one wrong move could break him and have him crumble like he was fragile. He wasn’t fucking fragile. “You have something on your mind?” He asked his finger tapping against the mug in his hands impatiently. 

You weren’t stupid, mostly just caught off guard by his behavior. Shifty eyes and rigid body language. Clear indication that he wanted to leave, to go back to wherever he called home.

“Sorry..I guess I’m still surprised to see you..” you apologized for your lack of words, it only proved to make him feel worse.

This meeting felt like a mistake. Everything about it felt wrong. 

Leon placed the mug down on the coffee table as he tapped his knee anxiously. “I should go.” Already getting up and moving towards your front door. You stared at him confused. He wasn't here for maybe a few minutes.

You didn’t want to leave it like this: a wordless exchange of nothing too much simmering under the surface too much needing to be said but fear and reluctance prevented them from being said.

“Leon.” Your voice was gentle trying to pull him away from his head “Are you..feeling up to a hug?” You asked, arms opening up in a curious invitation. 

For a moment he wanted to decline her out before he did something he would regret but he wanted to be selfish. He gave so much and let his superiors take so much of him it felt like there was nothing left to take. 

Just for a moment, let him have something.

Let him have this.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, hands moving over your back slithering down and locking you in place while your hands hesitantly rest on his waist. Your hands were shaking at the unexpected contact not understanding how quickly he would change his demeanor. 

Leon nuzzled your neck, his hands clutching your shirt for a moment. He felt like he was reliving a good memory. A piece of heaven he thought was locked away from him his hands felt bloody, unclean, clutching your shirt.

You smelled nice. The scent of the soap you used was intoxicating a deep breath and he was ingraining it into his memory, his hands roaming down to your sides then up your shirt, feeling you jolt in surprise “Leon?” You voice surprised but not pushing him away cheeks flushed warm, almost burning feeling lips against your neck.

You pulled away staring at him eyes wide “Push me away. Please say something.” he murmured, his forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mingled with his while his fingers dug into your back pulling you closer with each moment of silence.

Your mind was racing, the sudden change the way he stared at you.

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You were certain you might blow a fuse or burn out with how he was staring at you. What could you do? Say no? He did say that but the words weren’t forming in your mouth. Your name was rough on his tongue “Please say something.” he whined his voice cracking his hand coming up to cup your cheek his lips brushing against yours as you managed break out of your thoughts staring back into those pretty eyes of his ones you knew you could get lost in staring into for a long time if he allowed it.

“Keep going.” You gently urged your hand going over his thumb brushing over the back of his hand. He could get used to that feeling. His eyes darted down nudging your nose as he murmured, asking gently “Can I?” a small pause and you nodded allowing him to continue.

His lips were chapped desperate over yours. Your hands on his cheeks as you moved your mouth clumsily against his. “Bedroom?” he asked clumsily, he felt like a rookie again, legs wobbly as he guided you to where you spent your nights and mornings wrapped up in nothing but peace.

Need and desperation were the two emotions he felt during that moment. Being able to hold you to bring you close to the feeling you wrapped around him, his nails digging and clawing into your skin begging to be let in to be a part of your life without the blood and the fear, without the constant mockery or over reliance of his skills.

The morning after it was like he’d slept for the first time in a while, a proper sleep, no restless tossing and turning, no screams and vivid nightmares that came for his throat. Just sleep.

Leon breathed for what felt like a long time. Searching for you before wrapping his arms around you pulling you close his hand smoothing over your chest, a familiar heartbeat, a rhythm that made him relax with a scary realization.

He didn’t want to leave.

He wanted the warmth of the mornings and the cold nights wrapped under your blankets wrapped in you.

You.

You.

Fuck how long had he needed you?

How long did he need to be away before realizing that this was heaven. 

The pearly gates that he knew he’d be rejected from, He realized he gladly fall if it meant staying with you.

His hands were stained in blood staining your skin with his filth. He needed to make his place here. He needed you. He wanted you.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was he doing? What was he thinking coming here? Back to you? Back to the memory he wanted to forget?

Leon buried his nose in the crook of your neck, screwing his eyes shut, reluctant feeling like a little kid after being told he had to go to school after summer break stamping his foot whining. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

He refused because he didn't want to leave. This was perfect. Everything about this was home. This was home. You were home. His nails dug into your skin drawing out a whine from you still asleep. This was only supposed to be a visit. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know he was expected back. 

Could he come back?

He wasn’t sure.

Leon stared at you, stirring in your sleep, blinking with bleary eyes staring back at him “You okay?” Your voice is still asleep but trying to stay up for him. “Yeah..go back to sleep sweetheart.” he kissed the crook of your neck while rubbing your arm lulling you back to a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up again, Leon was gone.

[luveline]

rockstar! remus where reader is lost in her mind maybe insecure and she's been a bit cold/distant cause she think this can't last but remus is not going anywhere he will always reach for her

thank you for your request, I love the idea!!! ♥︎ fem!reader

Remus does the weirdest of things. He's always been weird in his charming, awful way. You're rightfully obsessed with him, as are millions of others, but you're privileged to say you're the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Baby, baby," he sings under his breath, playing with your hands held aloft above his face, "let me sleep on it."

"No more Journey," you murmur tiredly.

"It's by Meat Loaf, my love."

You're more embarrassed than you should be for getting it wrong. Remus definitely doesn't care. You wouldn't normally, because everyone messes stuff up like that all the time. Like, every second of the day. But Remus is a rockstar, his band plays arguably some of the best modern rock of the decade, and he's a classic rock nerd. He knows every lyric Jim Steinman's ever written, hence his impromptu yet extremely accurate rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

And you're getting more and more aware of the differences between you.

"Shall I sing you something else?" he asks.

You love how he's dropped into this properness. "You may."

He sits up and wobbles with the tour bus. He always gives you this apologetic look when it happens, like he's sorry the roads are rough. It's exactly the kind of thing he'd feel sorry for, and it makes you wanna kiss him. "Turbulence," he jokes.

He starts to sing one of his favourites, Smoke on the Water. He's moved your hands to his lap, where he drums his thumbs against your knuckles haphazardly. You don't have a clue what he's up to, why he's decided to distract you like this. Well... maybe you do. You aren't good at hiding your feelings. He's waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He'll likely wait all night.

"I owe you an apology," you say quietly.

He beams at you. It's disconcerting. "For what?"

Being distant. You can't make yourself say it so you don't say anything, but you do turn your hands in his so you can squeeze the tips of his fingers. His calluses are rough, but his hands are sweet. He spreads his fingers and intertwines them with yours, eyebrows wagging at you.

"Do you want me to guess?"

"No," you say, "I don't want you to guess, baby."

"I love the way you say that." He's being genuine. It's excruciating in its earnestness. "You have a nice voice."

"So you tell me."

"So I tell you."

He doesn't seem particularly worried about his owed apology, tugging you forward so he can steal a kiss, another, firm pecks that don't quite line up with your lips. You don't manage to kiss back the first time, but the second is good. You turn your head into his and your eyes close, your hands vying for his waist even as they're locked with his. He fights back, hands pushing against yours, an impasse of squeezing.

"I yield," you mumble, trying not to giggle in panic as your knuckles twinge.

He laughs into your mouth and follows you backward, smiles squished together, his weight shifting. He moves onto his thigh and you know he's gonna climb on top of you if you let him. You want to let him.

You duck your head. "I really do need to talk to you."

"Sorry," he says, sitting back. "I wasn't trying to- Well, I was trying derail you. Not because I don't want to hear it." He cups your cheek for a split-second. "You're hard not to kiss, you know?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

He goes shy, eyes falling to your hands, one pair still clinging. "'Cause I mean it?" he suggests carefully.

"I've been... quiet. And not as nice to you as you deserve."

He livens up. "Dove, I know touring's been hard on you. I'm not expecting you to be happy all the time here. You're here for me, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices to come. None of that is lost on me."

Sacrifices? Had you made sacrifices? Not nearly as many as he seemingly thinks. "Remus," you say. "Don't do that, for a second. Don't be so nice."

"I just don't think you should be sorry. Or feel guilty."

It's very Remus to make excuses for things that aren't his fault, and even more for him to tell you that you shouldn't be sorry. You climb up on your knees and take his face into your hands, head swimming with perspective. Remus could've returned your coldness with his own, but he'd simply laid his head down in your lap and serenaded you, played with your fingers, pressed absent kisses into your torso. And now, when you're trying to say sorry, he's extending an olive branch. He's reaching out for you.

His hands curl around your hips.

"I'm sorry I've been weird," you say, enunciating each word purposefully. "It's- I really- I love you, Remus. And I love that you love me. And I keep waiting for you to realise it won't work, but you don't, and you're so," — his smile grows so wide you can't help but smile in return, joy warping your words and making them all sticky — "lovely. You're lovely. I don't know what to do with you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asks quietly.

"I can't stand you."

"That's not what you were saying at all," he says.

He looks so pretty. Remus doesn't get how fucking pretty he is, his light brown hair, his long eyelashes, his always-tired nonchalance. You follow the scar that strikes through his right eyebrow and over his nose with your eyes, and you kiss the end of it with vigour.

"No," you admit into his skin, giving him a badly placed, damp little kiss. "What I was gonna say is worse. Kind of shit you shouldn't say sober."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

You giggle voraciously and sit back on your haunches, hands falling to his biceps. He folds his arms back to squeeze your hands again. "Scamp."

"What decade is this?" he asks. "'Scamp'. That's done it, actually. Pack your suitcase, I'm leaving you at the next services."

You're so startled you burst into genuine, ugly laughter. You can't make any sense of it, and before you know it you're pressing your face into his chest and gripping his t-shirt.

"Fucker," you say as he laughs the same, his big hands braceleting your elbows. "Fuck you. I'm leaving you at the services."

"In that case, we'll split a room in the Premier? S'fucking extortionate pricing these days."

More awful laughter, keening and high-pitched and stupid happy. Being with someone like him will always be hard and a little bit scary, but Remus makes it worth it.

[vijinxx]

what makes amma & camille’s relationship so interesting is like, when you consider amma’s actions under the lens that she killed ann & natalie, all of amma’s behavior & how she chooses to act around camille matters so much more

because when you first watch. you don’t know anything about amma. you’re entirely subjected to camille’s perspective of all their scenes together, and you build this idea of amma that’s summed up as pushy, attention seeking, etc. there’s just always something off about her. she gets too close to camille, she’s invasive, she’s rude and she’s mean but that’s just a teenager, right? you watch amma through camille’s eyes, and that’s why it’s so easy for the viewer to relate to camille, how much she wants to accept amma, entitlement and all. amma’s got her in the palm of her hand. camille falls in love with her because it’s so hard not to, this single bright light in the cavern of camille’s trauma and decades old abandonment issues

but when you see the last shot of the show, both camille & your understanding of amma dramatically shifts, because she’s not just a nightmare metaphorically anymore. and that perspective shift is so important. it gives amma’s actions meaning.

she suffers from spoiled brat syndrome but she’s fucking deadly and she knows absolutely no bounds. you rewatch the season & suddenly understand why amma takes up so much space. and camille’s character, and why she allows amma to cross her boundaries so much, makes so much sense. she’s the loudest in the room because she feels like she’s owed it, like she’s on the top of the world, and she breathes down camille’s neck for no other reason than the fact she enjoys it. because she wants to. and camille lets her. camille lets her

it means everything amma does is on purpose, and she’s calculated enough to know what will set camille off, and she chases it until she’s bored or until she decides camille isn’t giving her what she wants.

“you make me happy, i could eat you up”

“i thought you liked it rough”

“you’re like my soulmate”

“mama always said you were the prettiest girl in windgap… no, you are. you’re so pretty…”

“—you take care of them… you can practice on me if you want.”

“you weren’t curious?” “about windgap?” “no, about me…”

“sister, i’ve never had a sister… i just wanna know you.”

(in reference to cut on her arm) “if i connect these two itd make a c, for camille.”

it’s amma barging drunk into camille’s room at midnight and forcing her arms around her, it’s getting all up in camille’s face at the threat of richard on her skaters, begging for camille to do something, be dangerous like mama said, like her. it’s amma prying camille’s jaw open and kissing her forcing the tab in her mouth, it’s amma’s gaze splitting her open when she sees camille’s scars, its amma pinning her down with just a touch on her back, lifting her shirt up and tracing camille’s scars too intimately, it’s amma looking down her nose at her and sexually harassing her, it’s amma getting camille higher than a kite and laughing inches from her mouth, it’s amma killing her only friend in st. louis because she was scared camille liked her more, it’s amma’s jealousy of their dead sister because she had camille first and “you can never be as good as someone dead”, it’s amma wrapping camille around her finger and trailing her along, absolutely fucking spellbound

i could go on about camille’s incessant need to obey and her trauma with her own sexuality and her fixation on teenage girls but like. it’s just so. it’s so. if i don’t stop i’m gonna green out

[fixated-on-something]

I think about the magicians too much so here are some of my favourite quotes

Silly ones

Julia and Quentin: DO WE NOT AMUUUUUSE?

Julia: We made up that dance and it was TERRIBLE!

Quentin: oh god

Julia: It was so.. white.. and BAD.

Penny: I like your sweater

Quentin: Are you saying that to be cruel?

Penny: No. I like your sweater, I saw no reason not to share

Quentin: Well then, shall we go fuck some shit up?

Penny: Yes.

Margo: Yes.

Eliot: Yes definitely. Definitely yes.

Penny: Agreed. Feelings are bullshit.

Alice: Is that a traveller thing?

Penny: It’s a hearing voices thing

Alice: Well at least it beats whatever you were snorting

Penny: Marginally.

Kady: Ok, Mindslut?

Quentin: I don’t know you EITHER, except that we just summoned a killer MOTHMAN from another WORLD!

Marina: Did you figure you wanted to learn magic at your blow dry last week?

Penny: You’re welcome. (Blows kiss)

Quentin: What does that mean????

Quentin: you really don’t have to try to make me feel better we basically just met

Eliot: Well, I bond fast. Time is an illusion…

Eliot: How about I find you, and I don’t say magic is real, but I do seduce you and so lift your spirits that life retains its sparkle for decades…

Quentin: …yeah that sounds nice thank you

Dream Alice: If you would shut up for 2 seconds this sex dream could pass the Bechtel test, Quentin

Eliot: Once one of them offered to blow me for a spell. It was barely worth it.

Quentin: Is someone being creepy on purpose?

Margo: that is…. Not super consistent with the books

Quentin (genuinely very distressed): no!!! It’s not!!!! And I find that devastating!!! ☹️

Quentin: You can’t possibly want to be a dick more than you want to live!

Eliot: Oh yes very pristine, it’s been taken over by a kiddy diddling mutant.

Penny: The hell are you drinking?

Alice: I don’t know- triple sec?

Penny: What did Quentin do.

Margo: So we are fucked without grease

Quentin: Sounds like us

Eliot: Must be a Monday. Onward to glory.

Penny: Whoa WHOA WE ARE NOT. NOT. Killing a U.S. senator. But we will commit a felony… almost as stupid.

Eliot: IHEREBYDECREE! Rulers… done gonna rumble.

Margo: Ps we still hate you, but it’s the 21st century it shouldn’t be this hard for a girl to get an evil demigod abortion.

Niffin Alice: what’s this bitch doing in my room?

Margo: By agreeing to marry a stranger on the spot?

Eliot: I did it!

Margo: That was different.

Eliot: You’re right. This would only really be equivalent if Ess was a girl, and you found pussy you know, interesting in a ‘sometimes you like Thai food’ kinda way and now it’s all Thai food forever TILL YOU DIE.

Eliot: Hooolyyy shit the walking plot twist returns

Penny: Hi I need something

Eliot: Shocker. Hey Fen look it’s Uncy Penny! That’s right, I knocked her up. No big deal.

Penny: Uh- congratulations?

Eliot: like I needed more people calling me daddy but yes, thanks, we’re… thrilled.

Eliot: I am in way over my head. I’m not even in control of which of my bodies is awake and my sexually aggressive wife- she could wake me up at any moment in Fillory and-

Fogg: There are certain student teacher boundaries which I prefer not to cross.

Penny: “Let’s go hunt the white lady?” People like me get SHOT for saying shit like that.

NOW THE HEART SHATTERING ONES

Eliot: Do you think it’s real?

Quentin: Some of the good parts have to be. At least I hope so.

Eliot: Things aren’t usually worth caring about

Margo: Eliot he’s gone. why are your torturing yourself?

Eliot: Because he’s gone. And it’s my fault. And of all the people in the world who don’t understand, somehow you top the list.

Quentin: Every book every movie… is about one special guy. The chosen. You know in real life, for every one guy there are a billion people who aren’t.

Margo: I'm a king. Not a goddamn princess. A king.

Julia: I think it’s because it happened. And there’s nothing… magic about it anymore.

Emily: I don’t blame myself. Except for when I first wake up… and when I go to bed, and all the time in between.

Then obviously any quite related to 3x05 and pretty much the entirety of The Mountain Of Ghosts

I missed a bunch and these are mostly season 1-2 because that’s when I was taking notes during my rewatch

[angelpink610]

Shadow Work is NOT meant to be easy or comforting;

Guess it’s about time that we talk about this!

This is a reminder to myself and to anyone that might need it—the ones who feel like it’s only bringing them down, that it’s making them feel miserable or bad. Let’s clear up some things.

Feeling down in the moment is the best sign you can receive that IT IS WORKING! Shadow Work is the courage to look at the parts of yourself you despise the most, you fear the most, you are embarrassed of the most. It’s not simply acknowledging that bad things happened to you, it’s experiencing them all over again but now straightening up your back and looking right to its face.

I, myself, also am someone that's still learning about it and have been experiencing hard times throughout it. Sometimes I feel unmotivated and down, also lately I had noticed my sleep was a bit more inconsistent and I have big dark circles. Well, I know that saying this is probably going to scare some people even more away—and I understand the unsettling feelings! But the way that I see it, it’s like anything great in life: takes time, heavy work and some sacrifices.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sacrificing my entire life because of it. I workout every single day, keep my mind active, go to university, all normal. But some minor sacrifices are the price we pay for lifelong healing. My personal experience’s greatest example of sacrifice is how much emotional energy it actually takes from you. I swear on my word that sometimes when I look at the notebook I use as my Shadow Work journal, I instantly feel kind of “off vibes”, like the energy that it has is unsettling—but, here’s the thing: it is!

The energy that it requires to heal your deepest traumas, pains, griefs, obviously wouldn’t be super light and nice. Your words carry the pain you felt, some that you still feel, the heaviness of its result on your life (maybe years, decades of constant suffering, even); it’s pretty obvious that the notebook that carries them wasn’t gonna be all warm and fuzzy.

It’s not easy, guys. And I know that, at this point, you might’ve already realized that, but I want to remember us all of something: it’s in adversity that we are able to grow. You are capable of living through this healing process, you are capable of surviving the dark before the light, you are capable of facing your monsters and returning with their heads on a stick. But you HAVE TO BELIEVE IT.

Live through the suffering stage of the process like the champion you already know you are. Don’t give up when you suddenly burst into tears during a meditation session where you talked to your younger self. Persist when you have to stop and take deep breaths at every few sentences you write when you are journaling about a traumatic event because it feels like it’s too much. Hold onto it tighter when you live all over again the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

One last time: I’m not saying it’s easy or simple (in reality, those may be some of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do through your entire life, perhaps). But I do mean it when I say you’ll understand why you had to go through all that once you reach the light on the other side, and your scars will be the forever reminder THAT YOU ARE A SURVIVOR.

The same way a lot of kids are not scared of/don’t see evil in certain horror imageries until they are told that it is scary and choose to follow that thought—we should learn from them as adults and finally understand: monsters are only monsters when we give them the power to haunt us.

[molarbeardoc]

SPIVE ANGST FANFIC IN THE WORKS The masses on the Axosun discord server really want it and I’m such a nice person that I wrote it for them

They do not have a gun to me pointed under the table /ref /lyr

HAHA uhm

I’ll make some art for it later I guess. This is gonna be pretty sloppy since I haven’t actually written a story in like a whole ass year or two-

Enjoy eugh I feel so cringe writing this

Chained and Drowning

By meeee :3

They say dreams having meanings; that they send omens to the REM resting host, warning them of potential threats seeping from the shadows to strangle unsuspecting victims.

Others say it’s the opposite; that they exist to bring comfort to the dreamer after stressful days, or nights for our poor graveyard workers, and exhausting weeks.

The debate on the subject has been argued for many years, decades, maybe even centuries. Each person having their own theory on what they exist for, each differentiating from the other be it slightly or massively.

Not for Split though.

The banana beagle fruit-taur found dreams to be a mix of everything. An omen, a comforting gift, a story, a future teller without a crystal ball, a puddle of mud; anything and everything, even if it weren’t plausible nor made sense. After all, dreams rarely make sense themselves, so why should their interpretations? Surely they were equally as bananas right?

Split would never pay too hard attention to them, enjoying them while they lasted yet still being a bit disappointed when they ended.

She would sit to the sidelines of the obstacle course, the fluorescent lights low and dim as the bleachers were clear of spectators. It was Sunday, the game show never hosted during weekends to give the crew a chance to find anymore overly confident players who thought the course a cakewalk. Of course, they were left flabbergasted when realizing how difficult it truly was, which she always found to be hilarious.

Split would raise to her paws, glancing at the digital clock that sat on one of the walls.

4:26

"Still early.." She thought, her ears lowering slightly out of disappointment. Maybe she should get up and moving now? But she’d still have to wait for her to get up. Then again, she doesn’t remember even seeing her sleep before. No matter the time or day, she was always awake. They’ll definitely have to have a talk about that; maybe get help from DrRETRO as well! Surely the feline would offer some sort of medicinal… Medicine…? Medium..? Whatever the word was, advice to help with insoma… Insofar… Is that even a word? If it is, it’s a funny sounding one!

Insofar, sounds like solar- Ah! No no can’t get distracted. Gotta get up! Gotta get ready!

She’d stretch her upper and lower body before hurrying off to get dressed and ready. The usual shower and such weren’t an issue, unlike clothing. Banana sweater or the banana T-Shirt? It was pretty cool yesterday… But what if it were all sunny and bright and beautiful today? She’d end up getting all hot and tired. Then again she did hear something about it being cool again today. Oh well! Sweater it is!

After deciding on the most important aspect of her day, she was practically set! Breakfast wasn’t an issue considering the plans that were in place so all that was left was to head to the elevator…!

Yippe…

She never really liked the elevator. It always smelled dusty, lights would flicker at random, and then there was the chance of it showing up out of nowhere and tormenting you until you got to your floor; some of its taunts more deadly than the others…! But for now the reward was well worth the risk!

She stepped onto the elevator and pressed the very top button with a plus on it, picking the “Funny Maze” (which she never understood why it was called that, there weren’t any jokes, puns, or pranks within it) and slipping in a few coins into the slot. After the process was completed, she waited patiently as the elevators electronic music began playing while it ascended the floors with relative ease.

OKAY CHAT LEMME KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THIS!!! YES IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE THIS SLOW AND LONG‼️‼️ I DONT HAVE AN AO3 ACCOUNT AND UNFORTUNATELY THEY SUPPORT ISNOTREAL SO I CAN’T MAKE ONE OR ELSE THEY GET MONEY 😔

Anyway I hope you enjoyed reading this it was very fun to write erm yea yes

[carmenpeach]

hm okay something thats been on my mind for like over a year now. sometime last year? or maybe closer to almost 2 years(!?) i started taking antipsychotics cause i just couldnt stand the paranoia anymore it had been ruining my life and i just could not function as a person and i was sick of the daily panic attacks. but like i thought "if i dont like how this makes me feel, i can stop and just go back to being crazy" and obviously i wasnt enjoying it- mostly it made me feel really numb to enjoyment and i found that my special interests were just becoming background noise for me at most and it was really hard like i didnt wanna draw or even play games it was like "wake up go to work come home smoke weed go to bed repeat"

and it was like my stuffed animals quit feeling like sentient and started to feel like just objects and it made me feel sick. like my toys had always been alive in a way and then suddenly they werent, but thats definitly not the reason i was so distressed being sane, since i know that special objects are bound to over the years not feel like friends etc etc <- mentally ill whatever. it was like there was a sudden wash of clarity over me and i hated it.

like it was like i was split in two in a way, and this is the part thats hard to explain unless you personally know the feeling. a lot of schizophrenic people have this feeling of like another person/ self residing in the back of the head or spine. and it gives this sense of paranoia, of being over your shoulders or under your skin just beneath you. and until a few years ago i didnt know this was something other people felt sometimes, and it was terrifying just feeling this entity of sorts possessing me in a way. i had felt it ever since i was a kid (maybe 9? for sure became a hard issue by the time i was 12 though so you know. early schizophrenia if not life long) but i never mentioned it to anyone for a variety of reasons, primarily because there was this feeling that if i outwardly acknowledged it, then it would know that i knew about it, and it would get me. whether that was killing me, torturing me, pulling me into another dimension, or taking over my body. and after 2 decades it just became part of my every day life, this thing within me that would always look for an opportunity to torment me in some unknown but inhumane way. and it was just this all consuming feeling, even feeling its thoughts inside my head, and not being sure where i ended and it began, and i accepted it as just a part of me for better or for worse.

and so starting antipychotics, they did their job and i felt "normal" and i was sleeping regularily for the first time in my life (would lay awake for hours and hours ever sinde like idk 3rd grade. 5 hours a night max usually and then that was plagued by nightmares. and of course the constant hallucinations and delusions in the meantime made sleep even harder) and i even felt less of that endless anger inside of me. and i hated it. it was like after being on it for idk maybe 2 weeks or a month or something i just suddenly in the day felt this clarity wash over me and just like that, the spine creature was gone. it was quiet upstairs. and ive felt hollow ever since. i quit the medication not long after but ive felt the same. its like it got mad at me and left to teach me a lesson for trying to toy with it. and ive been a half human ever since. its spacious in my body and in my mind, used to holding two people and now its just one. and ive spent so much time trying to induce epiosdes and just hoping(?) it comes back, but it hasnt.

its like im being forced to live as a human when im not. "being human" is this like aspect ive always struggled with, like im not gonna go into it but ive been forced to live as a non human my whole life, and every time i start to feel that feeling of "maybe i could be a person" something fucking outlandish happens and kicks me back down. i feel like a cartoon character the way everything is such a "yeah this sort of shit would happen to me" moments all the time. and like in a weird way, i always had this "evidence" i was a non human, with this otherworldly thing living inside of me and it was me.

for a long time i thought of it as the "original" me before all the events in my life forced me to create a new version of myself, and that it hated me. like i was one person ripped in two, and the part you have now (carmen) is the "active" "half" but its only half of a full person. but the other half certainly wasnt a person either. ive had many theories of what it is/ was, but knew i would never know, all i knew was that i could never acknowledge it. and its funny cause knowing that "its just schizophrenia" doesnt ease that feeling. its hard to explain. but what im getting at is that ive spent the last two years learning to navigate myself as only a fraction of what i was before.

its interesting cause i wouldnt say the insanity is gone, every now and then paranoia rears its head and certain topics that would make me have an episode will still freak me out. but i can walk past mirrors now (mirrors were always a 100% episode inducing thing) and i still sleep regularily and ive been eating stable too. but its still with this feeling of hollowness. im used to there being two people inside my body and now its just one, and its too spacious and its almost like i get lost in there. only one set of thoughts in my head, only one person looking through my eyes, only one person controlling my arms. i always felt like an alien and thought i always would. and i found great joy in embracing my schizophrenia rather than hiding it as some terrible secret. and it was the best thing i ever did for myself, was finally being open about my psychosis. ive made so many meaningful connections to other psychotic people, and im so happy ive met ppl that helped me understand myself and that im not the only one that feels this, and also that ive helped other people realize their own psychosis too.

i thought i could play pretend at being a normal person and go back to myself if i didnt like it, but i ended up staying this way. i know its not impossible for that feeling to come back maybe, but my god its horrifying to lose it the way i did. it feels only the more recent months ive started to adapt to being the only me in my body, and to feel like i could maybe be human too. yeah it was scary, but on the other hand now its kind of lonely in a really weird way, and not something i thought was possible either, i can still feel the impression where it was even as it fills in with my own shape now.

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #43: 1992

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Boyz II Men, Sir Mix-a-Lot, Kriss Kross, Vanessa Williams, TLC, Eric Clapton, En Vogue, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Color Me Badd, Jon Secada. End description]

More information about this blog here

Now in 1992, we're seeing the true force of Seattle's music scene making its way to the charts. By that of course I'm talking about the Hot 100 debut of The Emerald City's own Sir-Mix-a-Lot. I'm not even being cheeky (ha.) about that. Not only has Sir-Mix-a-Lot been successful in the rap scene prior to this year (including a platinum record), but with Baby Got Back we're finally seeing rap music officially represented in these polls (along with Kriss Kross). Yesterday, I talked about Miami bass and the obscenity trial surrounding 2 Live Crew. Baby Got Back may not have reached that level of litigation, but the track was incredibly controversial, with the music video being banned by MTV.

This year is also notable for featuring the R&B group, Boyz II Men, and this won't be the last we see of them. End of the Road beat the record at the time for holding the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100. This record was later broken by Boyz II Men again with the releases of I'll Make Love to You and One Sweet Day (two tracks we may discuss in the future...). The group dominated the charts, with a cumulative 50 weeks at the number one spot. As we get to the latter half of the decade and the boy bands start flooding in, it's clear to see where the direct line of influence was drawn.

But anyone who knows even the most basic facts about music history from this time may notice that something seems to be missing. It's interesting coming at this from a 2023 perspective, because the absence of Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit just feels wrong. It's hard to find a music retrospective that doesn't mention it. As the song that helped grunge find a mainstream audience, rock's shifting image, the changing attitudes and priorities of a new generation of young listeners, the commercialization of the PNW working class lifestyle, the final nail in glam metal's coffin. But on the Billboard Year-End chart, Smells Like Teen Spirit only reached number 32 (which is still an accomplishment for the pop charts). Will we ever see grunge truly featured on these polls? Probably not. At least not until we get to the genre's descendants in the 2000's.

[whenthewallfell]

hey I’m obsessed with your hunger games posts (both the art and the written analysis)

i just reread the series for the first time since I was a teenager and i forgot how hard they slap. I love ur posts about gale (he’s just a mess bitch) (and by bitch i mean character) (but also I mean bitch)

I was wondering if u have any thoughts on finnick (or if u have any fanart of) he’s always been the character I relate to and find the most complex and interesting. i so desperately want to know ur take on the tragedy that is finnick odair. I’m also tempted to send u my own analysis on him but idk if it would be at all appreciated

So there's this kid, right. He's only 14, and already people can tell he's gonna be a looker. Rather than wait for him to get older and have more of a fighting chance, they send him into the annual death match then and there (side note, this is a weird choice for a career district, right? We can all agree that. It's weird.) He wins because he 1. knows he's hot and 2. knows how to use that.

He's smart, resourceful, and understands the value of sex appeal. At 14.

Two years on and he finds out that he's a little too good at the charming Victor act. He's forced into prostitution, not to save himself but the people he loves. (THG is all about self sacrifice, about what we do for others at risk of ourselves. It's the aspect of humanity that Snow exploits throughout the series.)

But he's a survivor. He takes a shitty situation and makes the best of it, building a business around pillow talk and turning himself into the most valuable commodity rumours can buy. He successfully mentors a Victor and falls in love with her knowing full well it puts him AND her in even more danger (sorry to keep harping on about this, but oh look how love is once again its own form of rebellion, gosh it's like it's a running theme or something)

And then he joins THE rebellion, knowing that it will put them all at risk but also realising that if not now, then never. He marries the love of his life, becomes the big brother to K+P (his relationship with them is so sweet I can't even), sheds the Capitol persona that's kept him alive for a decade, begins to heal from all the trauma...

...and dies. No fanfare, no heroic last stand. He dies fleeing for his life, torn apart by monsters, just one more death in a sequence already filled with casualties. Blink and you'll miss it. It almost feels meaningless, and unfortunately that's the point – people die whether we want them to or not. It's devastating, but then so is war.

Finnick is a man built on contradictions. He acts like a playboy but is devoted to one person. He seems arrogant and self absorbed but will do anything to protect those he cares about. He's a main character but he dies like an extra.

And I'm still not over it.

(op thank you I'm amazed anyone's interested in my ramblings, and also absolutely send me your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!)

[sleepy-apparition]

New Feelings Unbound (Shenhe x Reader)

WARNINGS:None

A/N: Hi there! This is my first time writing and publishing something, so it won’t be great. Also, the title says ‘x reader’, but the relationship is platonic(for now). Word Count: 1.793

Shenhe has always found it hard to connect with other people. Even when she was still a little girl not yet burdened with the curse of calamity, interacting with other people didn’t come easy. You can imagine then, the trouble she’d have after near decades of living in the mountains with only Adeptai and the odd illuminated beast to serve as company.

Learning how to fit into normal, human society is a rather difficult task. Her distant and indifferent nature, combined with her impressive strength, leads people to avoid her. Whether it is out of respect or fear varies from person to person. This certain type of loneliness that comes with being the odd one out, brings…. a small amount of ache to Shenhe’s heart. After all, she’s only human. Not that most people would think that.

If Shenhe is kind, people take that as confirmation that she’s an Adeptus and hail her. If Shenhe puts them in their place, then she gets condemned and called a witch. That’s how all her interactions with humans have gone. All, until she met a traveler roaming the mountains of Minlin.

She had first assumed you were lost, just another person who foolishly overestimated their sense of direction. No matter, she’s dealt with plenty like this before, what’s another? As the moon takes its place in the sky, Shenhe approaches.

“Pardon.” Her voice caused you to jump from where you were kneeled on the ground, spinning to face her immediately. It appears her tone was too harsh; she’ll have to adjust it.

“You are lost, correct? Here, I will guide you to- “

“I’m not lost.”

There was an awkward pause after you cut her off. It only lasted a moment, but it felt dragged out by the rather eye contact you’re making towards her. This was not an expected outcome. She wondered if she should question what you’re doing here or if she should just leave, but you beat her to it.

“I’m sorry! For interrupting, I mean. I am not lost; I came out this far in search of materials for my work.”

“Oh.” Another awkward pause. This is getting tiring. “So, you do not need my assistance?”

You looked to your feet and say, “Well, no…actually, could you help me find a place safe from hilichurls and the like? I’m gonna be in the mountains for a while, and I need a safe space to set up camp.”

Your request made her raise a brow. Were you not aware that the Adeptai made these mountains their homes? She asked you just that, and you reasoned that since you had no intention to disturb them, that it was fine to be up here.

“Are you an adeptus...? Ah, I never got your name.”

You state yours, then look at her expectantly. All this attention was…strange. You seemed rather interested in her. Having someone be this enthusiastic to get know her formed a weird feeling in her chest. Weird, but not unpleasant.

She realizes she’d been spacing out and quickly brings herself down to reality. “My name is Shenhe, And I am merely an Adeptus’s disciple. Now, follow me. I will lead you to a safe place to settle”

‘This feeling doesn’t matter’, she thought to herself. Like most who’ve come face to face with her, you’ll grow to hate her, and then you’ll leave. That’s just how it goes.

But you don’t grow to hate her. In fact, your interest in her person only seems to grow as you spend more time together. And oh, do you prefer your time to be spent together.

At first, it was casual. Casual, but practical. Things like, ‘Why don’t you stay longer for me to make you food? It’s the least I could do for you.’, or ‘Would you mind showing me my way around the mountain? I’m not quite used to them yet.’, were common phrases on your lips. You were straightforward about your needs and wants, she quite enjoyed that about you.

Actually, there was a lot she found enjoyable when she was around you. Ability to make herbs tasteful aside, Shenhe finds that being around you is an easy de-stressor. Your work, and living style, she presumes, is rather simple. Not always easy, but simple. “I’m out here on commission,” you explain on one slow afternoon, skipping a rock across the lake the two of you stopped to rest at, “Some novelist wanted me to stay here for a period, and document what the great mountains Liyue were really like. For a new book I guess.”

“What’s there to document about a mountain? It’s essentially a giant rock.” Shenhe states off to the side, adjusting her braid that came loose during a treasure hoarder raid. This novelist sounds both dull-minded and indolent to Shenhe. To both not be able to think of the environment a mountain would have and being unwilling to experience it yourself, doesn’t make for a very inspired person in her eyes.

You just shrug and respond, “Yeah, I suppose. I didn’t accept the first time because I thought it was a scam. But then one of the Guild's trade routes got blocked right as a couple restaurants sent out commissions asking for someone to bring them food supplies.” You pause and move from sitting on a rock to the ground closer to Shenhe.

“Since both commissions required me to be at same place, I decided to take up the novelist on his offer. What’s a little journaling to fill some spare time? If it doesn’t end up being a scam, then great! Double pay! If it does…I’ll find a way to my money out of him, somehow.”

Silence fills the air after your last comment, so you assume Shenhe has nothing else to say. You both just sit there for a minute and gaze at the scenery in front of you. Then you see Shenhe turn to you out of the corner of your eye. You turn to her as well, curious about what she’s doing, and are met the most serious expression you have ever seen someone make in your life.

She puts one hand over her chest and begins talking, “Materialistic things such as money and mora have no meaning to me. However, common folk require it live healthy, stable lives.” The hand over her chest clenches into a fist. “With that in mind, anyone who dares trick you into wasting your time will surely regret doing so when they’re met with the sharp end of my polearm.”

Her tangent ends, and her former rigid posture goes slack as she waits for a response. You on the other hand, are staring slack jawed at her. Did Shenhe really just propose murder? In completely seriousness? It finally registers in your head that yes, she did, and you respond at quickly as you can at that point.

“Um, please do not kill anyone just for scamming me! Or at all, preferably.”

“Hmm? But is not most effective to remove the root of the problem completely?”

“I mean-Yes, but murder is against the law!” You yell out. Shenhe looks at you questioningly, “The law?” she says. Oh boy.

 It was a hot day in Liyue, like many others, but today was a bit different. Shenhe wanted you to come up Mt. Aozang with her, to either teach you to fight or to watch her fight. Her phrasing made it unclear.

You were initially excited when she invited you to her to come with her. She was taking you to what was essentially her home! But now, two hours into a three-hour long hike, you justifiably began to have second thoughts. And it’s already getting a bit harder to breathe, so you even want to imagine what it’s like at the summit.

Shenhe isn’t breaking a sweat, expected from someone whose lived most of their life up here. Sighing, you speak up, “Why did you want me to come along again? I didn’t catch your explanation.”

Shenhe looks at you questioningly, “The law?” she says. Oh boy.

She doesn’t even slow down when she responds, “You mentioned being paranoid due to your lack of self-defense; I’m bringing you up here to teach you what I’ve learned from my master.”

An easy solution, she thinks. Something she can help with. Gathering aside, most of your work involves a of trade routes and specifics about people she doesn’t know, so she’s glad to finally be able to repay your kindness with by teaching you a skill that will most definitely be useful.

Behind her, you groan. “You know, I’m sure there are friends who brawl with each other for fun, but I don’t think I could take a single hit from and still be able to stand.”

She halts faster than you can realize, and you bump into her. “Is everything alright?” You ask. You sound worried. She turns around to face you fully.

“Sorry. Yes, everything’s fine.” Despite her reassurance, she stands there in deep thought. It’s kind of strange to see her like this.

“…Did you forget something and just now remembered that you forgot? Or…was it something I said?” She shakes her head, but other than that doesn’t respond.

She bites her lip unceremoniously then speaks again, “You consider us to be friends...?”

You falter, “Are we not?” You’re a more than a bit crushed, and about to apologize for assuming

when Shenhe speaks up again.

“No-I mean yes, I also consider you to be very dear to me, and I hold you in high regard. It’s just…” ‘Just that I have no knowledge on how to be a good member of society, let alone a good enough friend for you’ Is what comes to mind, but Shenhe doesn’t say it. Not like that, at least.

“I have no prior companions from the mortal realm, nor do I have any knowledge in the realm of friendship.” Shenhe sucks in a shaky breath, “Despite this, I quite like the title of ‘friend’. And I am more than willing to learn about it. For you.”

You’re left stunned. What can you say? You were never expecting such a heartfelt confession from her. A moment passes without you saying anything, and Shenhe starts to regret saying anything. Before she can turn around and write it off, though, you grab her hand. Intertwining your fingers together, you bring pair of your locked hands into view and smile.

“Thank you, truly. And know that all the work you do is appreciated.” You bring your hands back down to your sides.

Those words leave Shenhe feeling…lighter. As if the heavy ropes that restricted her emotions had loosened. Instead of the usual numbness she felt, she was…happy.

The two of you walked up the rest of the mountain hand in hand.

[risingscorchingsuns]

hey guys! my posting/writing/general activity is probably going to get a little slower for a bit. i’ll still be here, but im going through a tough time right now. its been a frankly pretty awful week and im getting the feeling its gonna be rough for at least a solid minute. longer explanation below if you’d like it, but tw for mentions of trauma and abuse.

So ive mentioned it before, but i have complex PTSD. my parents split when i was very young, and my stepmom moved in with my dad almost immediately afterwards. when i try and remember it too much my brain gets foggy, but to put it simply, she was horrifically abusive to me and my younger siblings. she resented us for being born, as living reminders that my mother got to my father first. for over a decade she was the sole adult influence in my life, and from the age of eleven she manipulated me to believe she was the only person in the world i could trust. she bullied me for my neurodivergence, my appearance, my interests, anything she could get to lord over me. i had no escape for most of my formative years, because she cut me off and isolated me from any form of support I could possibly have, from trying to force me to change schools to convincing me my own father gave up on me. I only cut her off permanently last year.

Summers are really, really hard for me. When she and my dad moved across the country, I had to spend summers in Texas with her, and her alone. I had nobody. In a state far away from everyone who loved me, where she had full control and access to any form of communication. She’d regularly go through my messages I sent to friends, partners, even my mother to make sure I wasn’t “making up lies about her”. I was trapped, and completely, utterly isolated. Every day was about survival, and every day was about just making it to that night, through that hour, through that minute. Every single minute I lived in anticipation of the next, walking on eggshells to appease her impossible standards. When the weather starts to get warmer, my brain starts to anticipate going back there. I shut down, and go into survival mode. I have a tendency to isolate, though it’s something I’m working on.

The weather is starting to warm up where I live. I’m starting to get nightmares again, and I wake up feeling heavy. I’m stressed out all the time, and I constantly feel either hypervigilant to the point of paralysis, or completely dissociated. I know I’m in for a rough patch until my brain realizes I dont have to go back, and settles down my trauma responses. But it may be a while before that happens. I only ask to please be patient with me for a little while. I’m really sorry.

It’s hard for me to admit I’m not doing well. I might take this down if I find myself overthinking it. I will have good days, I always do. But for now, I’m in a bit of a dark place, and I deeply apologize for the resulting change in my interactions. I love you all deeply, and I want you to know I’m safe- I have a support system, and I dont ever have to see her again. I’m in a better place than I used to be, and I’m stronger every year. But the weather is starting to warm up, and I’m starting to shut down.

Please be well. I’ll respond to things as best I can, and I’ll still be around when I’m able.

Leon 🪲

[petewentzisblack1312]

i'm sorry about what you're going through 💔 it's hard but i believe you can stay strong and get through it 🫂

i am having such a hard time. sorry to just kind of use this as an excuse to dump all this junk but

my grandfather passed away suddenly last week, and the last time i met him in person i was a baby in arms so i never really met him in person, id only really talked to him over the phone except for one very shitty skype call like a decade ago. so i didnt really know what he looked like until hours after he was pronounced dead. and i have a lot of complicated feelings and resentment and shame about that related to bigger complexes and trauma i have. and ive been really really looking forward to the funeral because itll be the first and only time i see him in person, and its an opportunity to see all my mothers family, because i havent met a lot of them in person, but theyre so much more loving than my fathers side of the family who are very vindictive and cruel. and my mother cant get her tax return back in time to pay for my ticket and i have like, no money. definitely not enough for a flight to jamaica. (people do not get their tax returns back here its ridiculous and extremely depressing so shes owed a lot from like a 6 year period 6 years ago). so now im depending on my financially and emotionally abusive dad for yet another thing that matters deeply to me that he can use to ruin my life for some vindictive reason. and i dont trust that he wouldnt refuse just to hurt me, and even if he does pay for it i know hes gonna hold it against me. i dont really care that much if he does because i already missed out on seeing my grandfather, i dont want to miss anyone else. but i really worry that hes going to say no, or pretend to say no to stress us out or something. im just really not in a good way right now i wont lie.