#i am but a small mentally ill person who wants to do a little something nice

[stillfruit]

no one would love me if i was a worm

[azulsluver]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑

tw. aggressive behavior, mentioned hallucinations/murder.

|| Note: You will be addressed as [Mx. LN]—which means last name ||

[01]         [02]

you always thought of the good of people, everyone deserves a second chance. with files in hand, you enter the luxuries building filled with lost souls. the very first patient who goes by the name, 

Riddle Rosehearts,

waits patiently for your arrival. dying to meet his savior.

                            the queen has gone mad!

People always told you how good of a person you were. With a pat on the head and a pinch to the cheeks you were a good child with good intentions. Always seeing the bright side of things, aware of current and past situations to make you even more mature. It was a perk everyone adored from you.

Likewise, you wanted to do something more with your kindness. Studying the human behavior was interesting and unique in your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to help those in need, those less fortunate. Your heart was heavy which often times let’s you trip over the hands that wish to take advantage of you.

Your life was going just where you wanted, hired in a field where you can help the mentally ill, and with a supportive fiance who waits for you every night with a hot meal on the table.

—

(0)

—

With a click of your pen pressing down on the tip, the sound soothing your ears with each press. Your eyes scan over the many files of your assigned patient, it switches up every week with new faces. Wanting to be familiar with them you study each character’s appearance to their background. Interesting, intimidating and beautiful, pictures from mugshots to present photos. Looking up at the clock in the wall besides the clicking of your pen, the handles little movements are just as loud to remind you.

You gather the files back in a neat pile by slamming it gently on the table in order, tucking them under your arm. The pen clipped to your work shirt as the outside of the room gets busy. Heels ponder the floor as you make your exit out of your office, admiring how docile some patients are as they go for a walk near the garden.

The hallways were something you were determined to remember by, each carved figure and painting makes it unique to look. You’re almost too caught up in the beauty of your surroundings to see how your area of people tend to get smaller and smaller.

“Are you insane? You let him speak to me as some peasant!? I can’t take this any longer, I’m reporting this to the headmaster..” A lady screams just across from you.

She storms right pass you without notice, bumping into your shoulder. She’s wearing an ID clipped to her chest, the first thing you thought of was how unprofessional that was but kept that to yourself.

“Ma’am! Please wait—“

“Leave her man, they always complain.” A blue haired guard runs past you, ignoring his coworkers comment.

What an odd encounter. You turn your attention to the more laid back security guard who puts a hand over his neck. Disappointment spreads his features before irking a smile your way. Your lips pull back into one as well, a small wave.

“Say, are you new here? Haven’t seen you around before.” His voice is playful and lively, the atmosphere changing just as quickly.

“I am. I’ve grown accustomed to this place just last week before moving my belongings.” Small talk, but hopefully it was quick because your first patients room just so happens to be right behind him.

“Sweet, we’ll I’ll see you around!” He tips his cap towards you, his walkie-talkie flaring to life as the man from before crackles.

Now that they were out of the way, you noticed that the lady who stormed off left the room you were supposed to enter. Shrugging, you make your way towards the door. Your hand grazes the handle, its oddly making you feel heavy and warm.

You stop yourself from turning the handle.

Knock Knock

“May I enter?”

It’s silent for a moment before you heard someone. You enter. The room is coated in a nice smell of herbs and roses, you close the door gently behind you before looking up to meet the eyes of your patient.

His face is relaxed, yet his lips look more of a frown as his brows are sharp and small. His demeanor is slightly intimidating yet his looks are beyond pleasing to look at. Large eyes watching you as you sit on a chair across from him. He seems to be having tea, his spoon mixing the herbs together. You’re unsure of who has been providing him tea, his records show that he should at least be supervised.

You eye the tea, it’s not hot because there is no smoke piling off it. You get straight to work, clearing your throat.

“Good morning, Riddle. My name is [Mx. LN]. We will be talking just for today, how does that sound?” You place a hand over your chest putting up your best introduction to get him comfortable to speak with you.

He brings the tea cup to his lips, not a noise made but the movement of his throat as he drinks. Riddle seems to be pondering for a moment, gazing at the tea before straightening himself up. His eyes seem to glare at you now, the sudden change of his attitude didn’t alarm you however.

“You’re much more civilized than the current one. How rude of her to walk out so sudden, it’s not my fault she can’t handle simple criticism. Doesn’t she know who she’s speaking too!”

Interesting, you nod along to his angry rant, taking note on how his pupils dilated and how the grip on the teacup makes his knuckles turn white. Strangely enough his body heat is clear to the eye, his face contorts from a lovely looking man to some angry sports fan. The redness on his face nearly matching his hair.

Riddle let’s out a sigh, that got out of his system and he never felt better when not being interrupted.

“Apologies…how crude of me to behave towards my underlings.” You blink.

There is a small silence again, you aren’t sure on how to respond, not when his smile is nothing but comforting. Was he aware of his behavior? How he speaks to you like some higher being yet with a tiny pinch of kindness.

Almost like child playing make believe.

“I see. I can understand how upsetting that is. Is there anything else that’s upsetting you?—“

“My king.” Riddle snaps at you, his brows furrow at you.

“Pardon?”

He makes a face of irritation, you’d have no choice but to play along to not further anger him.

“Right. My king..” The name is funny yet sends goosebumps down your arms. “I’m here to listen for your troubles.”

There’s a flash of calmness through all those fury, his breathing is much more softer and so was the atmosphere. You played carefully with your words, testing some phrases to see how he’d react. Riddle doesn’t like any back talk from what you’re understanding. His records were right about this “delusion” he’s been experiencing lately. A terrible outburst, stuck in the past as he believes rightfully the name he’s being addressed by is appropriate. 

Although it’s unhealthy to encourage this behavior, you’ll try to worm your way into his comfort. That way things could be settled easier, communication would flow once he’s trusted you enough to set personal boundaries. 

Riddle thinks over his next response, touching his forehead with a silent hiss. Medication, each patient must have medication in the morning. You cough into your hand.

“Have you taken your medication yet?”

“No…that imbecile of a woman has not yet fulfilled her duty.” You’ll call someone in later to give him his meds. Maybe next time he’d be more docile.

Time goes much slower than you expected. You get to understand a picture of Riddle’s world or view. He’s seeing things that shouldn’t be there, but those are rare occurrences. You don’t disagree over certain topics, he enjoys talking about the garden he gets to visit during his free time. Riddle is much more kinder when agreed upon, he wants things his way. Although it isn’t entirely that difficult to twists those needs.

By now he’s finished his tea, you’ve been chatting for a good hour now. You stand up and bowed a goodbye for your leave, Riddle was pleased with it at least. As you close the door behind you with a huff, you remember to report his medication to his personal nurse.

Trey, was it? You have plenty of time to get to know your new colleagues.

—

(0)

—

The door shuts with a soft click, it rings a melody in his ears. Riddle frowns at hearing your footsteps slowly disappear. He sits quietly in his seat, taking glances at the empty tea cup and white clean room. The light above him burns when he looks up. He’s bored. No one is around to talk with, not until another hour or Trey comes back.

…..how silly, he does have friends to talk to. He can’t wait for free time, there’s a white rabbit hidden behind rows of rose bushes. It doesn’t make much noise anymore, but it’s good company.

[saetoru]

omg bc you asked for loid thirsts the other day i binged the series (i’ve been meaning to for months now, that just kicked my ass into gear lmao)

but loid feels like the kinda person who’s so used to taking care of everybody else that the moment somebody starts taking care of him he just ~melts~ 😮‍💨 give him a handjob or blowjob, and don’t ask for anything in return, just doin’ it ‘cause ya genuinely love him and want him to relax? mans is getting a ring not even a day later

#𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — 𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐑.

tags: nsfw, gn! reader, hand jobs

notes: sobs i am so mentally ill over him THANK YOU FOR SPARING SOME THOUGHTS

loid can’t remember the last time he’s had time to just sit. nothing to do, nowhere to be, and no one to find. but he’s here right now, slumped across the couch, you seated on his lap, and he thinks maybe he should find more time for this—because this, you, this is a real shame to miss out on.

it’s almost muscle memory for him. it’s almost instinctive to reach for your waistband and sink his fingers past your folds—but then you shove his hand away. he furrows his brows, wants to say something, and he even opens his mouth to voice his thoughts, but then you palm him through his pants, and all that manages to escape his mouth is a choked groan.

“just relax,” you murmur, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, and he breathes heavier as your hands travel past his waistband to wrap around his stiff length, exposing it to the cool air as he hisses. “you just sit there and look pretty,” you hum.

he almost blushes—though you notice that the tips of his ears are just the slightest bit pink.

“what about you—”

“some other time,” you cut him off, “jus’ wanna take care of you.”

he frowns. loid forger doesn’t get looked after, it’s just not something that happens. ever. he’s used to being the one that does the looking after, the one that makes sure everyone’s okay before himself—and it’s meant to stay that way. but his cock is pulsing in your hand, hot and heavy and aching to cum, and he almost contemplates if he should really be putting up a fight.

it’s second nature to protest though. “but i always—”

“c’mon,” you groan, “just let me.” and you’re pouting.

you’re pouting like the prospect of him not relaxing, of him not melting under your touch as you care for him is making you upset. it’s foreign being handled so gently, like he’s fragile and dainty and vulnerable (which he’s not—ever), but he’ll admit it’s not exactly awful.

he must look a little skeptical still because suddenly, without warning, your thumb smears the pre cum leaking from his slit around his tip before gently stroking him a few times. his eyes flutter shut, and a low, quiet groan falls from his lips.

“see? it’s not so bad relaxing, huh?” you whisper against the shell of his ear, still dragging your palm up and down his hardened length, squeezing slightly at the tip each time. “you get to feel good. isn’t that nice? just let me help you relax.”

“fuck,” he grunts, and his hips do a little twitch that has him thrusting into your fist just a little, chasing the friction before he can stop himself. he wonders if it could be that bad to just listen to you this once. “okay,” he mumbles, eyes squeezing shut, “yeah, okay,” he finally caves.

you murmur a happy little “yay,” and he’s less than willing to admit he almost imagines you with a wedding band around your finger. he quickly tries to fight the scene in his head of your ring adorned hand wrapping around his cock before he cums too fast.

but then you squeeze around him a little tighter, your free hand moving to cup his balls and making his head fall back against the couch, and he’s not sure if he can hold himself out for too long in the first place. he moans, eyes squeezing shut as his lips tug between his lips, and your thumb glides through his slit. for the first time, he seems to be caught off guard—if the slight hitch in his throat is of any indication.

“i love you,” you say gently, littering soft kisses along his jaw, hand still gliding up and down his cock. “always taking care of me—you deserve the same too, yeah?”

everything feels hot, your skin on his and your breath fanning against his ear as you praise him. he feels pleasure burn through his nerves, chest heaving up and down as he approaches his orgasm slowly. loid can’t help but let out a soft gasp when you increase your pace, louder groans spilling from his lips—and his lips are pretty, so you lean in and press a soft peck to them, once, twice, then a third time before he desperately kisses you back.

it’s a messy kiss, a light clash of teeth and labored breaths as he pants against your mouth, letting out sweet little moans that you drink in as his fucks into your fist. he’s flushed, skin a dust of blush over his face and peeking through what little you can see of his chest from his shirt. his cock twitches in your hand, tip swollen and red, leaking pre cum and glistening in your hand as you stroke him.

“fuck, like that. feels so good,” he rasps, “g-gonna…gonna cum.”

“c’mon, baby,” you encourage, “just let go.”

a few more strokes of your hand as the other lightly fondles with his balls, and you feel him twitch in your hold once more. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the noise he makes is a strangled whine as he spills into your hand, his own hands gripping your hips tightly for stability as he bucks up desperately into your fist and rides out his high. he groans your name lowly, voice cracking in the middle before finding your lips again as thick ropes of cum paint your hand white.

“god, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, and with a few more spurts of cum, he finishes, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he pants, trying to catch his breath. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“just wanna show you i love you,” you huff, face softening as he slowly wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you a little closer. “you should let me take care of you more often.”

his heart does a little jump, and something unfamiliar bubbles up in him as loid takes in your words. and he’s not entirely sure what to say, so for now, he settles for sighing with content into your skin as your clean hand threads through his sweaty locks gently.

guys he’s so hot i’m gonna throw up

[oftlunarialmoon]

5 Super Fun Age Regression Self-Care Ideas! - Age Regression Series

Originally posted to www.onlyfunthings.org on January 14, 2019

Ciao lovelies! Today’s post is for all the age regressors out there that read OFT! (Hi yes, I see you, you are valid and amazing!). You all seemed to like my last two posts on Age Regression (my post on What Is Age Regression, and Age Regression Journaling) and I got a lot of positive feedback, so I wanted to make you all more content!

If you are confused about what Age Regression is please see this post (click me!) regarding what it is, myths about it, and some regressor’s personal opinions as to why they regress and use regression as a coping mechanism.

A short definition is: Age Regression is a coping mechanism used by some to help with trauma, anxiety, depression, PTSD, and other mental illness, and some just use it to cope with stress. During age regression a person’s headspace becomes regressed to a younger age. A person who is regressing may act younger and more carefree and may have more “Childish” interests. Simply, age regression is a coping mechanism.

I am not a therapist nor a licensed professional, any and all advice and information given on this coping mechanism comes from a variety of sources such as: testimonies from age regressors, personal experience, and personally knowing some people who age regress.

So now that all that is out of the way, let’s get into the self-care ideas!

#1- Coloring! Many people use coloring as a stress reliever, and I know of many, many age regressors who love to color! Coloring can be fun because you don’t have to draw from scratch, you can just focus on filling in blank space with beautiful color. You can find all sorts of kids coloring books on sale at dollar stores for $1! Dollar Tree has a bunch! You can also print your own coloring pages if you don’t like any coloring books at the store. You could even make a whole coloring book binder completely customized to your interests!

#2- Treat yourself to a little something! Whether you get yourself a blindbox toy, some candy, or even an ice cream cone, maybe take the time to get yourself a little something, because you totally deserve it!

#3- Have a small day! Has life been stressing you out? Have you been busy with work, school, and other stressful things? Well, if you have the time, maybe take a day to just be a kid! (AKA- let yourself regress!) Take the time to make a nice little day out of it. Maybe plan a small outing to the park or to the mall, or if you’re more comfortable, spend the day at home. If you stay at home, maybe lay out a blanket on your bed or on the floor, wherever you feel more comfy, and make a small space with your favorite toys, stuffed animals, and coloring book! 

#4- Blanket Fort! A great fun thing to do when you’re regressed that can be awesome for self-care is to build a blanket fort! You can use pillows and chairs and blankets and sheets to build the fort, and you could have stuffed animals guarding your fort! 

#5- Make yourself a sticker chart! We have a whole post explaining why Sticker Charts are Good for Your Mental Health! Make yourself a sticker chart with all your daily to-dos, and reward yourself when you fill up a row!

What do you think of these ideas? Let us know in the comments! And let me know if you want to see more content like this! I figured since our last age regression posts were so well-liked, I should make some more content like it!

Remember to Stay Awesome and Love Yourself!

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons

I just wanted to write some headcannons, about Arthur, literally anything, I don't care what it is exactly so that's what you're getting.

Some of the headcannons might be a bit more oriented towards a female reader, but not all, I myself am a woman, so, I'll more than likely put some in.

Arthur Morgan is a man who will gladly enjoy any person, regardless of size, but let's be real, I think he has a bit of a soft spot for bigger women. Chunky or thicc, he likes 'em

He thinks that with more there, there's more for him to grab and less of a chance that he'll break something when he's with you, whether it's in a bit more intimate situation, or even when he's just giving you a small hug or kiss.

Arthur is extremely observant. He pays attention to the things you like, and he is literally always on top of doing the things you like or buying you whatever will make you smile. 

If he finds out how much you like his voice? Uses it against you, because he doesn’t want to torture you, but he does want to see you riled up. 

You like how warm he is? He’ll always be watching to see when you get cold, and the moment you do he’s right behind you with his arms around your waist. 

Arthur has a SEVERE gambling addiction. You thought his smoking was bad? He plays poker almost every single night that he’s in camp, and sometimes it’s a blessing and others it’s a curse. He can go rounds at a time, winning each one, but as soon as he has one bad round, they all go bad, but he’s never willing to give up until you make him, and by the end of the ordeal he’s lost more money than made. 

He also has a huge ego problem, obviously he’s mentally ill and he’s depressed with who he is as a person, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself, but the moment you manage to boost his ego, that little swagger walk of his that you so dearly love grows more confident. 

Hell, sometimes even you just saying good morning can change his whole mood, and he’ll even be nice to other people in camp when he usually only tolerates them.

Arthur has this thing, that when he leaves camp for a certain amount of time, anything that’ll be longer than a day really, but usually when its about a week of being away. He’ll come back to camp, make a beeline for you, and whisper only loud enough for you to hear “Can you be quiet for me while I fuck you or do I have to take you outta camp?” 

And thus, you are prepared, obviously.

He’s like a dog in heat, mainly because he hadn’t been with anyone in so long and after a while he’d stopped going after working girls. No one had really made his body react like you did, so it never became a problem until he got with you. 

He draws you all the time, obviously he draws, he’s got a whole sketchbook dedicated to it, but he draws you almost any chance he can. Not because he’s some corny “I love you more than life itself” kind of person, which, he is, but because he thinks that out of everyone in camp you are the most fun to draw, your features are just more entertaining and enjoyable to make out with a pencil.

Arthur loves to eat good food, and while Pearson does a decent job it’s not exactly what he would consider gourmet food, so whenever he gets the chance to try new food, or get good food at least, he’ll splurge the money. The only reason he hasn’t gotten completely fat, though he is a little on the chubbier side, which you absolutely love, and think is hot as hell, is because of all the work he does for the gang.

He calls you all kinds of nicknames and pays attention to the ones that get the biggest reaction out of you. 

He’s found that Princess does a particularly great job at getting a rouse out of you, but he’s also found that if he says it in his normal tone it doesn’t have the same effect, he has to lower his voice for it to work the way he wants it too. 

Darlin’ and Sweetheart have about the same effect, although Darlin’ seems to make you feel a little more for him in serious situations. 

Sugar makes you go beet red in the face, and he’s figured out that one is another one he can lower his voice for. 

Honey is one that he thinks you like, but he also thinks you’re a little neutral on it. Sometimes it works, other times you just don’t seem to care that much. You’ll answer to it, but that’s about all.

Good Girl, or My Girl, regardless of tone, but especially when lowered, always gets you messed up and he knows it, which is exactly why he waits until you’re at the fire surrounded by the gang to whisper it in your ear. 

On the other hand, you have only a few nicknames for him.

Cowboy, it’s tried and true, describes him, basically to a Tee, although Outlaw works better. 

Honey, again, a neutral one. 

You are the only person, and I mean, only person he allows to call him Pretty Boy, if anyone else tries it they’re liable to find a knife beneath their neck.

Big Boy will send him skyrocketing, his face will flare so hard his ears will turn red and he’ll start stuttering over his words like a newborn calf stumbling on its legs. 

Good Boy will really get him motivated and usually if you say it to him in public, he has to excuse himself until he gets rid of his problem. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s bad for him, but you think that when he smokes cigarettes, he’s at one of his hottest points. When he finds this out, he makes it his goal to smoke more around you.

Occasionally he’ll wait until you wake up and walk out of his tent shirtless and lean against the wooden poles to smoke, and he’ll send a smirk your way, that he knows you like. 

When you start to share his tent together, he does the same thing, however, rather than getting up he just simply leans over you and grabs the smokes, he’ll light a match against the wagon and puff away with his hands behind his head. 

His absolute favorite thing to do is smack you on the ass and run away, he thinks it’s the absolute funniest thing ever to watch you chase him, he’s got longer legs, so it’s easier to stay away from you. 

He also loves it when you wear his hat, however, if you do, he’s going to use it as an excuse to take you to the tent. 

If you get him drunk, first off, I’m sorry, second off, you better have a leash. He’s a lot happier drunk, he likes to sing and talk, and he compliments everyone, but he also likes to stumble around and go adventure, and if you don’t keep a good eye on him he’s liable to mount up on his horse, albeit slowly, and then make his way into the nearest town to cause mayhem.

Do not let him drink with John, because rather than being a fun loving drunk he will start trying to fight John and then the night is ruined for everyone. 

He also gets more handsy when he drinks, he was already handsy before, but now, when he’s drunk and he couldn’t care less about what people thought about him, he was going to touch wherever he wanted on you. 

Your stomach? He’s got his arms around it.

Your ass? Being grabbed any time he’s walking, or stumbling rather, with you. 

Tits? Regardless of gender? They have been honked at least twice. 

He will kiss you, if it’s on the lips or on the neck, that is anyone’s gamble. 

He’ll even talk dirty to you, and not quietly like he would if he was sober, he’ll do it for everyone in camp to hear, and the only way to shut him up is to either kiss him or somehow drag all two hundred and forty pounds of him into his tent. 

All in all Arthur Morgan is Arthur Morgan and if you make the decision to be his you better be ready to deal with it.

[shannankle]

My Top Shows 2023

Doing this at the last minute but here goes--the top 10 shows I watched in 2023!

*Note: I rate my shows on a letter scale cause I don't like narrowing it down to a specific number. (S-standout As-Strong Bs-Fine Cs-There's some problems Ds-ooof)

1. Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This one instantly became an all time favorite. It covers themes about grief and loss in a deeply empathetic and humanizing way along side the supernatural elements. I don't know if it's because I've experienced loss myself or because it's a universal experience, but I love shows like this that help you understand what it means to grieve and heal in a familiar yet new light. It reminded me a lot of Natsume Yuujinchou (another favorite) in that respect.

Aside from the larger themes, you have a distinct directing style, quirky sense of humor, well-rounded cast of characters, and excellent acting (the lead actor was also in Your Name Engraved Herein and he's just as standout here). In addition to all that, the show gives us a main trio of characters whose strengths are deliberately not their wits. This is used for humor but also to make more meaningful points about connection, empathy, and different ways of thinking (yes, I headcanon the main trio as neurodivergent).

Rating: S+

2. The Eighth Sense

This show! Another piece that is deeply rooted in exploring trauma and loss. This time within the framework of a romance. I'm usually pretty hesitant with stories that bring disability into romance, especially mental illness. There's a tendency to lean into the idea that love cures all and other not so great tropes. The Eighth Sense does a great job balancing that line, giving us romantic beats without wading into them uncritically. In the end, healing and love are things we choose not something guaranteed, but there's still an immense hope in that. I'm an giant sucker for shows that tackle both queer and crip experiences with nuance and grace, and the Eighth Sense hit that mark for me (so much so it even had me writing a little meta). On top of that it has beautiful cinematography and visual choices.

Rating: S

3. Moonlight Chicken

A beautiful show all around! P'Aof constantly knocks it out of the park with every show he directs, but I felt particularly strong about Moonlight Chicken. I adore the way it centers on themes of home and community. It even inspired some meta and a bit of personal reflection for me on what it means to choose home as someone who is queer and disabled. The show gives us the messiness that comes with navigating new and old relationships and somehow also the simplicity of it all. And of course, the show includes a Deaf character and handles his story with nuance and clear care.

Rating: S

4. Shadow

Singto, Fluke, and Fiat in a queer horror show--sign me up! It wasn't as scary as I expected, more psychological (which is good because I am so picky about what types of horror are too much for me vs what I enjoy). I loved the way the show played with time and reality and drew upon various religious practices to create a unique atmosphere. I also adored the attention to small details that make the piece ripe for analysis. I will probably be eyeing clocks and tech in many shows to come. It's also a show that is bringing up themes about queerness, mental illness, domestic violence, and historical trauma. I'm continually drawn to pieces that are queer and crip, so I suppose it's no surprise that this one drew me in too.

I know this show was divisive, about as many people thought it stuck the landing as didn't. I happen to land in the former category. I adore media that makes me stop and think, and given the amount of meta the show had/has me writing, I'd say it well and truly tickled my brain. The show didn't always go where I most wanted or expected but I think that challenged me even more to really think about what the show might be trying to do (my thoughts on that here, spoilers though).

Rating: S

5. Our Dining Table

Japan does a lot of things well, but I'm particularly fond of their slice-of-life. Our Dining Table fits right in there with food and found family at the center. It's warm and cute, but has a depth beyond it's soft exterior, delving into loss, loneliness, and what it means to be fully seen by those around us. All of this tied up in a queer bow. It was easily the show I was most excited to watch each week when it was airing.

Rating: S

6. Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Another one I fell in love with this year! While it has plenty of tropes, cutting through the core of all of this is the growing friendship between the main trio, especially between Li Lian Hua and Fang Duo Bing. Their relationship and personal growth as characters was really beautiful to watch, on top of it just being a fun show with a great balance of humor and drama. Plus Fang Duo Bing's mom 😍

Rating: S

7. One Room Angel

Another solid entry out of Japan. As much as I love Japan's bright slice-of-life offerings like Our Dining Table, they also excel at stories that don't shy away from heavy or complex emotional themes. And I'm noticing as I tackle this post that I really resonate with heavy themes. One Room Angel has it's lighter moments and own quirky humor. But it also tackles depression and suicide as it explores the journey of finding enough connection and meaning in life to keep moving forward.

Rating: S

8. I Feel You Linger in the Air

I Feel You Linger in the Air was such a beautiful show! I'm so happy we got a historical thai bl this year and that it was so so lovely. I really liked last year's To Sir With Love but it does have it's Lakorn/soap style that is a bit more of an obstacle for me. IFYLITA certainly has it's drama, but it feels more tightly drawn. Throw in a little time travel and beautiful love scenes and it was a delight to watch.

Rating: S

9. My Beautiful Man S2, Eternal

When I watched the first season of My Beautiful Man I liked it but wasn't exactly sold. I read a bit of meta from the community which changed my tune a bit. But it wasn't until watching season 2 and Eternal that something really clicked. I immediately went back and watched season 1 after finishing the film and oh boy did I fall in love. Not only do S2 and Eternal give us great character growth and forward motion to Hira and Kiyoi's relationship, and they feel like a natural expansion of the first season in the best way possible. What can I say, I love the whole series!

Rating: A+

10. Kiseki: Dear to Me

Kiseki: Dear to Me feels like an outlier to me. It's hard for me to put my finger on just what made it click for me, but I was so into it when it was airing. I recognize that plot wise this show is a bit of a mess, but at the same time it hit something just right in my brain. Perhaps it was the emotional intimacy the actors portrayed? They did a fantastic job drawing me in. Apart from that I couldn't take my eyes off of Ai Di's impeccable fashion choices, and the many many cameos were quite fun.

Rating: A+ YMMV

A few close contenders:

My School President (S) *split airing 22' and 23'

Tokyo in April Is... (A+)

Laws of Attraction (A)

Bed Friend (A)

The End of the World with You (A)

Me, My Husband, and My Husband's Boyfriend (A)

If it's with You (A)

Our Dating Sim (A)

Love Tractor (A)

The Warp Effect (A) *split airing 22' and 23'

The New Employee (A) *split airing 22' and 23'

La Pluie (A-)

Midnight Museum (A-)

[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two (explicit)

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst

x x x

“It’s not rocket science, Chris."

My annoyance hits the roof. What the hell is his problem? Why's he turning this into a damn soap opera?

"You're back in LA. New York—yes or no?"

Chris tiptoes the line ever since last year's scandal close shave. I get playing it safe, but I'm alone in a six-bedroom Jersey fortress. In the U.S. media game, I'm golden. No cancel threats, not yet in my rising career.

But the spotlight got hotter after the last single went viral. Chris, in the crosshairs of relentless management, dances a careful routine.

He's the big shot, leader of the world's hottest K-pop group. His company would shoot themselves in the foot by axing him. Yet, Mr. Libra doesn't dig rocking the boat.

"-I want to, babe, but it's too risky right now."

I sigh. Twisting my computer chair, neon lights bathe me in purples and reds. I'm in the studio, bullshitting on songs for the third album.

I've had it. "Catch you later, Chris." The call drops, facedown on the desk, anger swirling.

"Seriously, fuck you." I spit out, taking it personally.

Being a foreigner feels like the snag. His industry would call me a disgrace tagging along.

I don't need that energy.

Am I settling as his 'little secret'? I'm 29, he's 27 – grown folks. Pings remind me of him, but I silence the noise. Facetime interrupts, Jake, the friend with benefits. Games or busy, no time for emotional plays.

Warner signed my band, deep in commitments, mind racing. A shrink's gift? Adderall for my ADHD.

Now, even less time for the BS.

"Hey, daddy." I purr, thickening my accent.

Jake’s smile fades as he eyes me. "What?" I giggle,

"Stop playing with me like that, y/n."

"How am I playing with you?"

"You're gonna end up with your legs cocked back like last time, girl, cool it."

Laughter ensues. I glimpse his background – a parking garage stairwell. We catch up every couple of weeks via Facetime.

"Where are you at?" I squint.

"Recognize it?" Jake turns his phone, revealing the New York City skyline.

"You're out here? Aw, shit." I lean back in my chair, a half-cocked grin, tongue behind my lower lip.

"Aw, shit is right! What's up? What are you up to tonight?"

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. "Nah, uh, Jake. We gotta play nice. I got a good thing going on right now."

He sighs, exasperation audible. "You two still a thing? Thought you were photographed over there, outside the JYPE building?"

"I was."

"They ain't letting that fly, you serious, y/n?"

"I mean, they're being hard on him, but we're still trying to make it work." I express more hope than Chris does. Jake’s viewpoint is valid – he's been through the K-pop circuit, burned out, went solo, and found massive international success.

Which is why he bitches about it.

It's unfair.

"I do wanna see you, though," I admit, the need for an adventure kicking in.

"That's my girl. Hey, I'm about to hop in the car. Should be able to make it over in twenty. You at your spot in Jersey?"

"Yes, I am, Jake, but don't come in on no bullshit."

"I'm always on bullshit. See you in twenty."

Jake hangs up before I can fight back.

Why is my grin so wide? I roll my eyes at my own excitement, surprised at how genuinely thrilled I am to be around someone who wants to be with me. Scanning Chris's messages puts me in a better mood.

babydaddy: there’s no way you just hung up like that -_-

babydaddy: this is my life…my career…

babydaddy: why can't you be more patient?? this is hard for me too…

babydaddy: we need to talk tomorrow…

babydaddy: about us, and where this is going.

The last message triggers something in me. My stomach twists like it always does before bad news. It doesn't change, whether in poverty in my hometown or a small Jersey mansion. The same sunken gut reaction. We've been going back and forth, but this sounds... final. At some point, he'll grow sick of it. I know I have.

Yet, there's so much I love about Chris. Selfishly, I don't want him with anyone else. He's the man of my dreams, flawed as he is, he’s human. My human. I panic, feeling like my boat has sprung a leak, desperate to plug it somehow.

Knowing myself, I turn my phone upside down, placing it on my desk and stand up, distancing myself from the setting. Something else would trap me; all I want is not to reply to him with charged emotion. It wouldn't help anything.

Jake’s on his way over.

I take a deep breath, letting my anxiety settle. I'll talk to him; he always has good insight and wisdom beyond his years. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm in comfy mode, barefoot, walking across hardwood floors.

Entering the dimly lit kitchen, I brew hot chocolate, curling my toes against the balls of my feet, cracking knuckles as I chew my lower lip, mind drifting to Chris. Resistance is weaker now; the reasons to text back sound more convincing. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, grab my cup, and sip as I walk past my bearded dragon's tank. It's late; he's asleep, tucked into his pink bed. I stare at each plant, trying to keep my thoughts in check.

My outdoor motion detection buzzes the smartwatch on my wrist, signaling someone's arrival. I glimpse headlights through my foyer. My grin widens; I bite my lip, urging myself to behave.

"Alexa, shuffle my evening playlist on Spotify, downstairs."

The nearest speaker obeys, filling the space with music. My dog scurries around my feet as the doorbell rings, and my bigger dog's deep barks echo throughout the house.

“Hey, cool it!" I shout at them, stepping over the little one weaving through my legs, nipping my ankles for some ungodly reason. I open the door, visibly exasperated, while my larger dog bellows from the top of the stairs.

Jake points to her behind me, furrowing his brows dramatically. "I thought we were friends!"

My dog hurls another final, loud bark before slowly making her way down the stairs. I let Jake in, lock the door, and he takes off his shoes, grabbing a disposable guest pair from the basket by the front door. I turn, starting down the hall, and Jake’s full body weight slams into me from behind, arms wrapping around my body, causing me to stumble. Seemingly unpredictably, he stops us from falling while laughing. I catch my footing, give him a firm shove, swipe stray hair behind my ear, and correct the other side, giving him a side-eye.

"Now, you know damn well I'm too clumsy for some stupid shit like that," I scoff, turning into the living room. I walk over to the glass coffee table near the sofa, grab the nearby gold electric candle lighter, tip it into the wide, three-wick candle, and light each of their blackened tips. The scents of apple-cinnamon, cedar, sandalwood, and vanilla fill the room, complemented by the warm orange glow of well-placed LED lights. I sit on the edge of the sofa, and Jake takes his favorite spot on the oversized black beanbag chair nearby. He pulls his hood off, followed by his knitted beanie, ruffling his dark brown hair.

I've got to say, Jake is a handsome guy, no doubt about it.

But I've got problems, and I've caught heavy feelings for one of my biggest headaches lately—Christopher Bang.

We're in this so deep, at least on my end.

I start to think a little harder, trying to see beyond the rose colored glasses for a moment. His text plays through my head as I scroll on my phone, my excuse being searching for another song to skip to on Spotify. But, of course, I get back to the messages Chris sent earlier.

"About us, and where this is going…"

We'd never had an official conversation about being exclusive. We met by chance, fell for each other, and started sneaking around together. I consider Chris my boyfriend, and I’m saved in his phone under ‘baby.' That's got to mean something, right?

The horror begins to set in—has this been a situationship this whole time? Is that why he never went public?

Anxiety creeps in.

"Yo," Jake snaps his fingers, waving his fingers. Damn, I must've been really distracted, crinkled brows as I stare into my phone, thumb tapping against the glass but not doing anything. I look up at him, raising my brows as if I had just briefly missed something he recently said.

"Hm?" I ask.

He's sitting up more, his left hand stroking one of my cats. "Talk to me, girl," he gestures to the marble ashtray with half of a joint, "And pass it."

I lean forward, grabbing the pink joint and placing it between my lips. I use the lighter nearby, sparking it, blowing a few times, the smoke thick and pungent, rising into the air. I tap it into the ashtray and lean over, passing it his way. Jake takes it graciously, placing it between the center of his pink lips and taking a big inhale. He holds it in, nodding, looking down at it as he blows the smoke out the side of his mouth.

"Chris and I got into it again. He told me they were coming to LA for a show over at KCON, and he was like 'maybe I can fly over to see you,' trying to fit it in, delaying his trip to Korea by like three days, which didn’t seem like a big deal. But then after everything ended, he was just hyper-aware of the attention on them and changed his mind," I begin to explain. Jake has taken a few hits during my story; he's leaning forward, passing me the joint again. I take it, hitting it.

"Did he say why?" he asks. Jake’s voice is low, even-toned. He’s invested in my story and the way I’m feeling, I can tell by the way his laser focus is on me as I speak. His eye contact is intense, fiery, the Aries in him.

"No, he didn’t, and that’s what frustrated me, so we got on a call tonight. He like—called me and was dancing around it, and I was like 'look, it’s not hard, are you coming to New York or not.' I was just... over it," I reply, pausing to take another hit before passing it to Jake once more. "He was all 'I want to, baby, but it's too risky.'” I mock his Aussie accent, and Jake can’t help the cough of smoke that comes out from trying to repress a laugh. He turns his head, full-on coughing a couple of times before he catches his breath again.

"Do you need water?" I ask, successfully holding back my own laugh. I don’t wait for his reply, instead, standing up and taking a few steps over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a bottle of spring water, handing it to him.

Plopping back down on the couch, I sigh. "So I didn’t even let him get the rest of it out. I was like 'ok, I’ll talk to you later' and like, hung up."

Jake places the burnt-out joint tip into the tray, effectively ending our puff-puff-pass session, making us both more relaxed and a little spacey. "Oof, y/n, this is... such a unique situation that very few people go through, and even fewer non-K-idols. I mean, I don’t agree with any of it, right? But it’s not me, and Chan, he’s in like–the peak of their career as a boy group, dude." Jake shakes his head, sitting back, my cat jumping from his lap, considering him having moved too much for his comfort.

"I don’t—care," I blurt.

Jake’s head drops back with a sigh before he picks it up again. "That’s probably part of the problem. Chan’s risking his career; Korea is no joke when it comes to this shit. I promise you, unless you’re physically in the industry as an idol over there, you have no idea. It’s so obsessive, and these companies, the management, they will not let you breathe, and the bigger you are—the tighter they hold onto you because there’s so much more to lose at that point."

He only leaves a half second of pause before he says, "I don’t think you’re compatible with—nor do you deserve, that kind of relationship with anyone."

Ouch.

It hurts that much more because—he’s right

"Now that doesn’t make Chan a bad person, or you a weak person. He’s got a right to this life he’s worked super hard to get to, and you’ve got a right to someone to love you the way you want to be loved, especially while you’re in the beginning stage of becoming great yourself. It’s a huge distraction—maybe not a relationship, but like, that kind of relationship."

I can do nothing but sigh, throwing my hands up and sitting back onto the couch, feeling, well, defeated. Can you blame me? It fucking sucks, the reality of it all that I was trying to avoid.

"Fuck," I finally say aloud.

Jake’s looking at me; I know he feels bad for breaking it down so plain, but he does it because he cares about me and wants the best for me, and I know that. “You still do what you want; it’s your life. Whatever you two decide is what you two decide, but that’s just—my limited experience.”

I scoff with a roll of my eyes, “Limited experience. Yeah ok.”

He laughs.

We both understand the subtext of the brief exchange.

“He says we need to talk tomorrow, about us and ‘where this is going’,” I say with air quotes.

“I mean, hey, it’s an opportunity to get your concerns out there, listen to his, and decide what’s best for you. He’ll decide what’s best for him. If that’s being together, great, if not, great. Either way, you’ll be ok. That’s how I like to see these kinds of things.” Jake says, his words profound and his perspective valuable to me. He leans forward, “We’ve known each other like what? Almost a year now?” I nod to confirm, and he continues, “In that short period of time, I can just—tell that you’re a strong person; you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t. If you ever need someone to talk to, my line is always open.”

I let another long breath go before laying across the sofa on my stomach, bringing myself closer to Jake as I lazily hug a pillow, resting my chin atop it. His advice is logged in my thoughts. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore—the way he phrased it did something to lower my anxiety so I was going to let sleeping dogs lie. “What about you, huh? What’s got you on the East Coast? You’re never over here, rarely in America anymore for real.”

“Yeah, I’ve been—busy, but it’s a blessing, you know? I’m so grateful that so many people support me, as a solo artist, doing my own thing, my way.” Jake never fails to acknowledge those around him that have supported him, and keeps himself grounded and humble somehow through being an international celebrity. “But I was at the Versace show over in Soho. I’ve got a couple of other shows to see for New York Fashion Week, but I touched down and had to come see you.”

I lift a brow. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jake.”

Without hesitation, he fires back, “I’m not asking you to, y/n.”

It’s enough to drag a snort from me.

He laughs, “The hotels get lonely, and most places I go, I don’t know anyone. I like it here; you’ve done a lot since the last time I was here.” Jake looks around at the decor. He points to a painting of a cat skeleton on a black canvas. “That’s new, I like it.” He says.

“Yeah? I do too; it’s simple but it matches the vibe of the space, I found it by accident one day.”

When Jake says the hotels are lonely, I believe him. He often confides in me about how lonely his lifestyle can be and how it can drive him so crazy that he’ll call everyone through his phone until someone answers, and when that person hangs up, he’ll keep going. More often than not, he doesn’t have anyone to call, despite my insisting that I was an option. Some nights, when it gets really bad, he’ll have a tendency towards drinking, which is something I don’t like, and we’ve talked about ad nauseam. Of course, he’s always welcome in my safe spaces.

“So what’s new with the band? When you texted me the other day, you had like, tons of shit going on that you were freaking out about.” Jake cracks open the bottle of water, taking a gulp.

“I’m flying out to LA next week for a couple of events, but we’re like focused on album three right now; I’ve been locked in the studio just writing.”

“Ok, ok, you got anything for me to hear yet?” He seems to perk up to ask this question.

“Eh, nothing I’m ready to show or anything, just fragments of songs right now. The label is really pushing the work we did with album two to build the hype up for album three, and that’s the one they funded.” I kick my feet slowly in the air behind me as I talk.

“We should do a song together.” Jake says, quite suddenly. He can tell I’m taken aback. I mean, creatively, Jake and I get along great, but we had never discussed merging on a record before. “An official song, I think it could sound incredible.”

I immediately want to agree, of course, but I have a couple of hurdles I know I need to jump now that I’ve gotten to this point in my career. I hated that. I used to be able to agree to a collaboration immediately. But Jake had even more hoops to jump through; he couldn’t commit to something official now either.

So why was he proposing it?

“I gotta ask the label—”

“Fuck the label, dude.” Jake waves his hand, “They don’t have to know anything, not yet. We’ll just work together and see what happens. Whaddya say?”

It takes no thought for me to reply,

“Let’s do it.”

—

Jake wore me down enough to bring him down into the studio, insisting he didn't have anything important to do until tomorrow evening. I don't want to encourage his drinking, but when he spots the whiskey decanter, he gestures to it as I sit down in the main chair in front of the soundboard.

"What’s in there? Hennessy?" He answers his own question as I spin around in the chair to see what he’s talking about. He’s already over at the mini bar, opening it up and whiffing.

"Yeah, but I rarely drink it. I got it for guests." I turn towards my soundboard again, powering it up and waiting for the two large screens to load. I add another thought to the end of my sentence, albeit, to myself. Not like I have guests anyway.

Jake comes over with a glass, the brown liquor sloshing around as he tilts it in my direction. I roll my eyes, taking it, and he’s already got his glass, which he holds out for a toast.

"To the music," Jake says.

"The music." I oblige, clinking his glass and taking my gulp down a lot less gracefully than he does his, before he pours up another for himself. "Don’t overdo it; you’re gonna have a nasty hangover, and I won’t be the one to blame for it." I press a few buttons, and the house lights lower, back to the blue and purple hue I was sitting in earlier.

"I am a grown man that knows my limits." Jake states, matter-of-factly. He sits in the rolling chair at the table alongside me, pulling himself up to the soundboard and sitting back in his chair, sipping his drink as his eyes dance across the screens while I click around, pulling up my digital audio workstation of choice.

I point to the keyboard nearest to him, "Press a key for me?" He does, confirming it's connected and functional, the note ringing out through the monitors.

"Aw yeah." Jake sits up, setting his glass down on the designated cupholder space on the edge of the mixing table as he places both hands on the keys, beginning to fiddle with the limited random keys and chords he had learned how to play while being forced to learn as a trainee. "Damn, it’s been so long." He says, a half smile on his face. I can tell he’s reminiscing, I just can’t tell if it’s good or bad. "You’re so lucky to have control over your music, you know that?" He says, looking over at me before focusing back on the instrument again, slender fingers of his right hand climbing up the keys.

"I don’t really have total control, not anymore. Not sure I ever did." I say with a sigh. "It’s always been like—an Eli and me thing, not just a ‘me’ thing. I just get a little more attention because I’m the one out front, singing." I continue to explain. Jake’s stopped playing, instead choosing to lean in his chair and eye me over the top of his glass as he sips, listening to me with an empathetic nod. "Now with a major label involved, there are so many other factors now."

"You get the final say though, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I do." I say with uncertainty, not because it isn’t true, but because it still feels like the decisions I make have to be based on what everyone else thinks is best for us. If I vehemently object, I’m persuaded down to the decisions of others. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being gaslit. But I don’t have much time to ruminate on that, since everything is moving forward at top speed.

"Guess it’s complicated?" Jake concedes.

I nod.

"Girl, you got it," Jake croons in his gruff voice, eyes closed, fingers snapping to start a rhythm. "And I know it, baby, why don’t you?”

I nod, sliding him away from the keys as I hit some chords to match his singing. Unsure if it's a freestyle or something pre-written, I catch the composition unfolding. Music flows through me effortlessly—my natural talent that's brought me this far. It didn't happen overnight, but creating is the part of music that feels like pure joy, a distraction from all the BS.

Soon, we're vibing out a hook, laughing for hours, blending funk with '90s groove, a nostalgic fusion. My phone rings, freezing me in place. The weight of unresolved problems crashes over me. Jake senses it; I bolt before he protests. His eyes speak understanding; he knows when to let me deal with my demons. I answer the phone, attempting to steady my voice.

“Hello?”

“You answered.”

It’s Chris.

His voice is tired, ironic, as if he couldn’t believe it himself but didn’t care.

It irritates me. Why call back so soon if compromise isn't on the table?

“I just called to say, that I’ll be there in about four hours.”

A lump forms in my throat; I glance around for a clock. Holed up in the studio with Jake, time escaped me.

“But you said—“

‘First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark, First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark.’

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in a few, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

The phone beeps, leaving me in stunned silence. The studio's muted song hums in the background. I'm not ready to face it yet, still figuring out what this sudden visit means.

“Said I wouldn’t do this.” I mutter, pressing my fists against my forehead, heaving a frustrated sigh. I vowed not to let another man stir my emotions, yet here I am—almost having a meltdown. But my feelings are valid. No explanation after a heated argument, and suddenly he's on his way here?

Maybe he got another perspective from the members or his friends. Maybe he thought about it. Either way, he'll be here in four hours. We can hash it out then.

I muster the calm to return to the studio. Jake sits back, his chair turning towards me. “Well?”

I plop onto the nearby sofa. “He’s boarding a flight here now, said he’ll be here in four hours.”

Jake’s brows lift in surprise. “See? I told you…this was going to push you two in some direction it needed to go. Four hours? My man, okay BangChan!” Jake laughs, toasting with his glass. “So I added some drums, check it out.” He plays the track; the groove multiplies.

“You added that part too?” I notice another musical flair, and he nods proudly. After a few seconds, he turns it off, a slow fade of the volume knob.

“I think that’s enough for me to work with for now, what do you think?”

"The skeleton is definitely there, but what about more instruments?" I question. Jake pushes his chair back, picks up his hoodie, slipping it on as he stands up.

“It’s enough to write to; we can come back to it; if Chan’s on his way here, the last thing he needs is to see another guy here late night.” He slips on his shades, his phone reflected in them as he orders an Uber Black. I didn't think he cared like this, feeling closer to him; he did what he felt was best. I was freaking out about how to get him out in time, and Jake took the initiative.

A relieved sigh escapes me. “I owe you.”

“Absolutely nothing. You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I had a good time here tonight.” He tucks his phone in his jacket pocket. “Twelve minutes.”

I nod. “Follow me upstairs, I made some cookies yesterday; you can take some with you.”

“Ooh what kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“A classic.”

[n30nwrites]

Bring Me To Life (Prologue)

Summary: Against all odds, you've survived. Having graduated high school and moved out of your Parent's place, your sibling decides to join you for the summer, and your first stop is Santa Cruz in California, you had always wanted to live there anyways so why not now that you're experiencing freedom? One problem: This doesn't look like the 21st century, instead it looks like a scene from your favorite movie, in fact it looks exactly like your favorite movie.

How are you meant to survive in the murder capital of the world? With vampires of all things, and your sibling hates this movie.

a/n: prologue for this fanfic, this will also be on AO3 and wattpad. Preface for this, fuck Max :}

Reader: Male Reader, uses Y/N, third person.

Oc uses they/she pronouns. Will be using both, Y/n refers to them as both sibling and sister, which is okay

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Pairing(s): Michael Emerson x Reader, Paul x Reader, Dwayne x Reader, Marko x Reader, David x Reader, Sam Emerson x Nonbinary! Oc, Edgar Frog x Nonbinary! Oc, Alan Frog x Nonbinary! Oc,

It was one thing moving the United States to California by yourself, it was another thing bringing your 15-year-old sibling with you, not to live with you, but to stay just until summer was over and school was starting again, your parents believed it would help with their 'rebellious streak'. That streak being that they just don't care enough to do class work and keep staying up all night playing video games, therefore they fall asleep in class.

Nik had a firm belief in changing the radio whenever any song that they didn't like came on, and you had a firm belief that your sibling needed to shut up because you liked your music and if you had to drive without some good tunes you would probably turn into the next psycho on the news.

You two did listen to similar music, but for this trip it was specifically 80s and 90s songs that you shouted loudly, windows were rolled down because the air conditioner in your car didn't work. It was small and shitty and cost a year of pay, thankfully your parents were there to let you live rent free. One of the few things you could be thankful for.

"Do you know how to be quiet?" Your sibling groaned, their jacket wrapped around their body despite how hot it was, "Put on Hozier, or Doja, hell I'll even take Taylor Swift over this... What is this shit?"

'Cry little sister'

"I know damn well you aren't talking to me about my music taste-"

'Thou shall not fall'

"What's wrong with mine?"

Come, come to your brother

"It's literally only tiktok songs, half of them aren't even good."

'Thou shall not die'

"At least I don't say 'They sung this on Glee'"

'Unchain me, sister'

"Every hot, mentally ill, gay person went through a Glee faze."

Thou shall not fear

"I didn't"

'Love is with your brother'

"That's why I said hot."

'Thou shall not kill'

You quickly stuck your tongue out in a childish way, before looking back into the road, ignoring your sibling who mumbled and repeated your words. "Theres a reason we're heading to Santa Cruz. Found a nice place right near the beach so we can-"

"Sleep all day, and party all night. I know, you've said it hundreds of times." Nik had heard the phrase from you so many times, you had tried to show them your favorite movie, even almost tricked them into it, but they were quick to leave the room. They simply hated it because you loved it, something you were forced to accept about them.

The car ride became silent as you got closer, to fill it, Nik had turned up the radio as it switched to a different song.

"Finally some MJ." The beat of Billie Jean came in, causing you to start tapping your hands to it as your merged.

"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene" The two of you belted the lyrics, switching over the 80s playlist to one consistently of Michael Jackson. "I said don't mind, but what do you mean, I am the one" you shook your head, "Who will dance" you turned to your sibling and sung the words to them before turning back, repeating it each time you sung, "on the floor" again "in the round?" and then turned back, "She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round"

The house that you bought with a loan wasn't the biggest, at least not compared to your parents house. Two bedrooms, One master and One guest, and 1 in a half bathrooms. The half bathroom was connected to the master bedroom, which Nik tried to get but was quickly locked out. They would be staying in the guest room, while you set it up they would help. They were also supposed to attempt to find a job this summer, as their parents wanted Nik to learn some responsibility. 

"Okay, change outfits, shower if you need to! We are going to the beach!" You were excited, thrumming almost. You felt as if you belonged.

"I'm tired."

"Party all night!" You yelled, grabbing a suit case filled with your clothes. The two of you didn't have a lot. A few suitcases filled with clothes, and then a few boxes for the rooms. You didn't even have mattresses yet.

"Let's just sleep a bit." A nap did sound good, you didn't have the best sleep due to the anxiety about the drive.

"Fine, a nap! I'm setting an alarm." Nik went into your room, both of you grabbing the blankets and laying them on the floor, setting up some pillows and collapsing as soon as you could.

Instead of waking up to your alarm, you woke up to Nik shaking your shoulder, harsh rain hitting the window and the house was shaking.

"The doors are opening."

You stood up quick, running out of the bedroom to the backdoor refusing to close. You pushed against it but it quickly fell open, so you held the door. "Grab the heavy boxes." Nik followed through, pushing against the doors as lightning flashed. "It wasn't supposed to storm."

"Don't they get Hurricanes here." A siren went off, "Well-"

"Not another tornado." You groaned. You had your fair shair of them, being where your from. "We need to grab our shit, head to the basement."

The house shook again, you two grabbed your phones and chargers, rushing down into the basement that still had cobwebs. Nik almost ran upstairs at the sight of them, claiming they would rather take their chance with the tornado. You had to basically pulled them down as you two sat in the basement, the house shook as you two fell to the ground, hitting your heads.

Your eyes rolled back, your vision turns black as your body hits the ground. Your siblings hand lays against yours as their body falls onto you, and in that moment, you had gone through the impossible.

[plusvanity]

Alright so, I wouldn't have finished this so soon but some of you showed interest in my silly ramblings sooooo... here are some of my headcanons for Larry's 'aloof' personality.

Asperger Syndrome

-Since he was a small child, there were a few behavioral differences between him and the rest of the children.

He never really knew how to properly communicate. That might be very common in children BUT he literally had struggles trying to explain anything. Sentences like: 'I want that' or 'can I have that?' were never on his tongue and lots of time he'd get upset at himself/ people around him for not being able to read his mind and take care of his demands. This kind of behavior crosses a bit into 'anti-social' tenancies. (Hard time to communicate, preferred playing alone, very poor social skills, etc) Shortly, his 'forever-upset' personality resulted in children excluding/ isolating him from their games and plays.

-Larry didn't know why nobody wanted to play with him, why everybody avoided him like plague and gave him dubious looks. Throughout his kindergarten and early-school years he never made friends, never had any significant relationships except with his parents.

Why did nobody see these signs and act accordingly?

We're in the late 90's. There's no such thing as ‘diagnosing kids with mental illness’ unless they've got some kind of schizophrenia that really makes them act out. Parents had little to no information about mental health, let alone autism and how it manifests in children. Rough times but that's how they were.

-Growing up lonely, Larry found his refuge in drawing and writing silly little cartoon stories. Solo hobbies are extremely common in the autistic spectrum, especially when they come in package with die-hard fixations/ obsessions.

-Sensorial sensibility: he can’t stand bright lights in his basement. That’s why he always keeps a small desk lamp on and nothing else to see around him.

-In school, he did poorly. The motto was: it’s either you’re the only one who gets it and nobody else does OR everybody else gets it and you’re the only one who doesn’t. No way in between these two.

-The internal struggle of 'Why am I like this? Why do they hate me? What's wrong with me?' never left his brain. Now, communication was absolutely required no matter if he liked it or not. That's school, you're supposed to answer stuff, use your brains to solve problems and get through the day.

-Firstly, he did what his autistic mind told him to do.. he went fully fucking honest and blunt. With every occasion when he got asked about something, he innocently pointed out everything that bothered him/ seemed wrong or annoying without any fucking filter whatsoever. Needless to say, his true-nature approach didn’t escape punishment. His mother was called, the teachers complained that he’s ‘too mean and arrogant’ , ‘never focused’ , ‘too lazy and selfish’ etc. Everything while Larry looked like a fucking deer in the highlights telling his mom that he didn't do nothing wrong.

-When he finally understood that ‘being honest’ wasn't the key for normal human-communication, that's when his mind began searching for other ways to go by.

-Masking-

Masking was the second option.

-He watched, heard, studied, learned and taught himself the Fine Arts of mimicking normal human response in social situations. Now, that's how he mostly made it work.

-As a chill but tragically misunderstood child, he had finally learned how to make friends. It started with Ash and Maple (alternative music and general outcasts) and later in middle-school, Ash presented him to Todd. (Now, I'd rant about Rob and their 'brother from another mother' dynamic and friendship but that's for another long post if any of you are interested)

-When his father abruptly disappeared from the family frame, it just.... made everything ten thousand times worse for Larry (This is gonna be another post if you're interested)

-All in all, now with a select group of friends he’s still aloof, weird, too loud or too quiet sometimes BUT at least he’s not alone and miserable anymore.

Normally, he's a laid back dude, a stoner (autism and substance abuse is another headache of a post..) a metalhead and maybe just a little delinquent sometimes after 8 pm because of teenage rebellion and all that stuff.

-His ‘masking act’ falls sometimes when he talks about painting, video games, music and basically everything that interests him. Asperger in boys is a lot different than in girls. Girls tend to keep their ‘masking act’ better than boys as boys often don't realize when they slip and start talking miles and miles about their favorite hobbies/ subjects without noticing if the person they're talking to completely loses their interest or gets angry for being talked over and interrupted all the time.

His friends find him a bit annoying at times cause… fuck, who like being talked over? but they’re so used to him that it’s just common and gets easily forgotten.

-When the sudden chronic-insomnia hit him, the fatigue and lethargy didn't go unnoticed by Lisa. Finally, she managed to drag him to a doctor that surprisingly or not, completely missed to diagnose him with autism. The shrink blamed his insomnia on weed (another rant here) and …. ADHD?. Larry took the classic DSM-4 test (oh boy, gotta love the 90′s..) it came back negative on symptoms, confirming everybody that he didn't have ADHD. (Now, I know that the two behavioral illnesses often came in package but with Larry it wasn't the case) After that, nobody did anything.

-Now, he lives freely his teenage years hanging out with Sal, regularly smoking weed, getting deeply offended by the un-true belief that he might have ADHD, still trying to figure out what's actually wrong with him that no shrink or DSM could tell and ultimately enjoying his hobbies and little shenanigans him and his best amigo do.

-The ‘masking act’ has long become an automatic behavior, an unconscious switch for normal social situations so, now he’s most definitely not aware that he’s doing it. 

Sal highly suspects him of being autistic due to the fact that he had far more contacts with doctors and psychiatrists in his entire life that he knows VERY WELL the red flags or autistic behaviors. That and because of their first interaction when Larry was like ‘Sup, you like metal? You GOTTA like metal!’ it screams autism from a fucking mile.

This post is embarrassingly LONG and useless.. and I'll shut the fuck up now for real. BUT If anyone feels like asking questions or going deeper down this rabbit hole, feel free to text me <3 as I love waffling about psychology and pretty much anything lol.

Sorry for my bad English, I did my best in trying to explain all that's written above. These are just some of my little silly headcanons and possibly?? more in-depth explanations for some of the things that go on in my SF fanfic.

Ko-fi l  DeviantArt

[sitp-recs]

Hii Liv, do you have any drarry recs where one of them are mentally or physically ill? I’m craving some sadness right now and would love to wallow in some hurt/comfort <3

Thank you so much!!

Hi anon! I have a list for chronic illnesses and injuries/disability, so this one will be focused on mental health issues. I’m sure you’ll find some excellent h/c here!

Let's Pretend the War Is Over by pir8fancier (M, 8k)

The war is over and Draco is alone, fighting demons of a different nature.

Between Myth and Man by slytherco (E, 16k)

Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

World's Edge by RurouniHime (E, 15k)

In the harshest environment on earth, Harry finds that escaping is harder than simply running.

Holly and Hawthorn, Thistle and Thyme by bryoneybrynn (T, 31k)

After the war, Harry can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong with him and he has a terrible feeling he knows what that “something” might be. He has a terrible feeling Malfoy might know, too.

Breathe In (and Feel No Hurt) by Constance1 (T, 38k)

A tale of love, loss, and of finding hope again. Or the story of how Draco turned into a house-cat in order to secretly bother a depressed Harry Potter until he was no longer feeling sorry for himself.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper.

Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (E, 50k)

When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected.

A Reckless Frame of Mind by Lomonaaeren (T, 52k)

HPDM preslash, AU after HBP. Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Kiss Me (Under the Light of a Thousand Stars) by Iwao, Sophie_French (E, 114k)

Harry rescues Draco Malfoy from Azkaban, where he has been imprisoned for three years after the war. Draco is not as Harry remembers, as Azkaban leaves its mark on even the strongest of wizards. With no memory of who he was or how he came to be in Harry's care, Draco needs Harry's help if he is to have any hope of making a full recovery.

Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

[girlbossyndrome]

Who the hell is Girlboss Syndrome?

I’ve been spending the last 6 months looking for a good introduction, one as iconic as: “Hello Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here… your one and only source on the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite” but this ain’t a gossip page.

When I first created that page, I’ll admit to being extremely bored and pretty much exhausted from life on a beautiful July summery day. I hadn’t gone out for weeks (it was my summer of rest and relaxation). I think every (genius) philosopher was sitting bored looking at something and just yapping on and on about it until somebody decided that it makes sense.

You’re lucky, because that would automatically make me an undiscovered genius.

I think that’s the whole point about every influential person you’ll meet/cross paths with. They’re not geniuses, they’re just not silenced. The more you talk, the more people actually listen to you, and think you’re a messiah. When in reality you’re just expressing what they’re too afraid to put into words.

I’ve always been a cyber girlie, girlblogging is like my life legacy, it’s as if I was destined for it. I lived through WeHeartIt, I lived through Tumblr 2014, and today ten years later here am I once again.

Imagine my excitement and utter pleasure to see that the art of girlblogging is yet back again. Girls like me who keep diaries and journals about their lives, who enjoy a little small tiny lie, invent stories, seek “the great perhaps” I love this community wholeheartedly.

Girlboss Syndrome is not a mental illness, it’s a trait, a legacy, something you’ve always had within you, the urge to express yourself in every way, whether it is artistically or hysterically (lol)

Embrace your unhingedness, and enjoy the insanity, YOLO, do you want a boring life? I fucking hope not

[thelonelyme]

♤𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡♤

.

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞: ディズニー ツイステッドワンダーランド[Twisted Wonderland]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐨/𝐢: Malleus Draconia, mc, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: Malleus reacts to the reader that they curse themselves to go back to sleep. [mc x Yandere Malleus Draconia]

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello!! I just read your Spoiled and Just a kiss and it was super good!!! But there is something I wanna ask if you don't mind. I saw that Malleus didn't really regret after cursing reader with Sleeping beauty spell even though they did not wake up for many years. And even when they finally woke up, he went and killed the man who saved them. I would like to know how he would respond if the reader became mentally broken or returned to eternal sleep (not death) like before due to all the shock they faced as soon as they woke up. I am sorry if I somehow inconvenienced you. Thank you for all your amazing fics. Love you 😘

𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐄: FEM READER, This is the third part of “Spoiled[1]” and "Just a kiss[2]", so if you haven’t already read that, make sure you do. Yandere content, threats, physical and psychological violence, misogyny, depression, mental illness, torture, gore, mention of non-con, allusions to suicide.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @tragedyofdevotion I hope you'll like it and thank you so much, you can't even imagine my happiness when I received your request! I swear, I'm so happy, and thank you for asking me &lt;3 <3 Btw, sorry if this doesn't show Malleus' point of view much, I hope I haven't screwed it up. Love you too 😚.

"..." You said absolutely nothing, not a gasp, not a small cry, nor a breath stronger than the others, as elder fae sighed.

Again, no reaction.

For days you refused to eat and sleep, you did not want to leave your room, as if you were scared by the corridors of the gothic castle. He could not understand your fear, in his very long life he had to see and hear the people most dear to him die right in his arms.

As much as he loved his son, he could only blame his reckless youth and willful ignorance. After all, he knew you were from Malleus, and now there wasn't much he could do for him other than visit his body trapped in a glass coffin.

If he managed to go further and forget his fall, why couldn't you? If he, his father, had managed to go on living, why couldn't you? Then, Malleus was right to have killed him, no queen with a loyal husband at her side would ever think about shedding tears and even refusing to satisfy her primary instincts for the one who should have been a simple personal guard. Furthermore, trustworthy.

If he, Silver's father, managed to go further and forget his fall, why couldn't you? He was his son, but he couldn't feel any remorse; after all, Malleus had warned every single living and wandering soul since he still lived in his dorm not to even dare to look at you for more than a second. His obsession had grown out of all proportion: the young fae had always been raised alone, no one had ever dared to approach him for fear of being potentially burned alive or otherwise.

He was just a harmless child, but those comments, all those insults only served to increase a feeling of infinite emptiness in his soul. And when you, a defenseless and innocent little thing, presented yourself to him, you automatically signed a contract even stronger than Azul's by doing a simple and apparent thing:

You naively gave him your name.

Really, how ignorant could you be? Haven't you ever heard that you absolutely mustn't give your name to a fairy? Expecially a powerful one? Then you should have expected your impending kidnapping.

Life doesn't go our way, and being a docile and innocent little lamb in a herd of beasts ready to slaughter anything, being a ceramic pot in a sea of ​​iron pots is nothing less than begging for a bad ending.

He has always been a respectable fae with great intelligence and many tricks up his sleeve, but he had a small problem; he always tended to underestimate what he didn't think was noteworthy enough.

He had always ignored your every desperate screams for help, even when Malleus punished you even more fervently for yelling a name other than his own, or when he forced you to eat even when you could no longer swallow anything, or when he forced you to take care of your child by silently threatening you.

And after all, any part of him couldn't feel any kind of pity towards you: he thought that what you were complaining about, all those screams and your tears were just a whim, and that it would have been better if you had submitted to Malleus ever since from the first moment to welcoming the dense seed of your loving dragon into your womb with a smile on your face.

You would have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

But now, even that calm didn't suit him. And maybe it was his fault that young fae was so.. spoiled.

He had always achieved everything that any human being and could never have desired: wealth, excellent social status, beauty, a great deal of power in his hands, but he could not be envied for his loneliness.

Lilia, tired by the smell of your blood and bored to inflict other wounds on you, got up from your bed soaked in the liquid and headed for the exit, noticing that Sebek was closely observing every move he had made.

The half-fae observed apathetically how, although Lilia was literally tearing your arm apart, you did nothing.

It was as if you were a simple rag doll, with glassy, ​​lifeless eyes and a limp body that would move at the first touch. Maybe your stubbornness was something he could have envied.

But instead of watching his superior inflict wounds that likely would leave marks despite instant healing, you just kept staring at him relentlessly. He would have wanted to take those eyes off you just to make you stop. Lilia was torturing you and you had the damn courage to look at him?

With a wave of his gloved hand, he signaled to the mint-haired fae that it was his turn.

Sebek, on the other hand, was deeply irritated by your behavior.

Not only were you missing the essential points in being a good wife, but you were also affecting her master's emotions, which then spilled over into her entire kingdom.

Sebek hated you.

He hated your being a mere human unworthy of being alongside a powerful and majestic wizard like Malleus was, he hated all your pathetic attempts to escape from his master, blaming them at your stupid stunts and making him lose faith in them.

He hated how you were given everything from the most expensive clothes to the finest jewelry to the most opulent foods, and how you completely despised all these gifts from your husband.

He hated how much concern Malleus put into your health, he hated the fact that even though you were still a stupid human, you still managed to seduce him in unknown ways. And thanks to that Silver, now Malleus probably would have thought he had to throw them out, if not take them out.

In fact, he was still grateful and surprised that he had not yet been killed by Malleus's jealousy, which he constantly praised and thanked him for, as a good servant should do.

He especially loved the moment of your punishment.

Master Malleus had specifically told them to get a reaction in every way, and obviously he had chosen one of the more classic ways of getting someone to talk.

He loved how he could take out all his frustration and tension on your helpless body, he loved having control over your miserable human life, temporarily forgetting about his dirty human father who had dirtied him with a human side. But even though he was half like you, he had no remorse in his actions.

He saw all of this as a pass that would raise him from the mass of ungrateful people in Malleus' eyes, he wanted to be his favorite, he wanted to be the one he would care for with so much concern, he wanted to be the one to be drowned in the great amount of compliments that he gave you and that you despised hatefully, he would liked to kill you.

════════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*════════

"So, let's summarize the situation. I charge you to get my beloved wife out of her particular moment, and she still refuses to come and talk to me?!" The monarch told them menacingly, approaching step by step their figures kneeling in front of him. He couldn't believe they couldn't use any method he advised them to use to stop her from continuing with this nonsense she was doing.

He was honestly disappointed with their results.

If the two of them couldn't convince his wife to go out and finally abandon her stupid childish behavior, they wouldn't have been of any use to him.

And he had had enough.

Years and years of pampering you were probably never deserved. With a sudden movement he rose from his throne, meanwhile frightening even the two children who were blissfully ignoring the conversation until then.

He cast a cold glance at the two knights.

"Take the kids and take them to the woods, I need to have a chat with my wife. Now." Without even waiting for an answer, he quickly walked away, purposely avoiding teleportation.

He had to think about what to do.

The weather outside had changed drastically: cloudy at first, now the sky was completely black, big clouds charged with electricity and rain ready to burst at the slightest change in Malleus's magic.

Slight rumors could be heard from your room.

But it didn't matter anymore. You understood. You finally figured out the only way you were going to hurt Malleus once and for all.

You.

You were his only weakness.

Paradoxically, at that time you had much more power than the most powerful wizard in Twisted Wonderland. You had the power to destroy him in a way that no one ever did, and you didn't care in the slightest about the consequences your actions would bring. For you everyone could all have died in atrocious ways, you don't care about the aftermaths. The world had completely forgotten you, and this time it was your turn to do so.

Slowly craning your head towards the bedside table, you watched apathetically at the dagger that Sebek had put down some time before. You were happy to be hated by Sebek, you would have felt like shit otherwise.

With the last strength left in your body, you reached out to grab the blade.

Then you bent down to take the vial you had jealously guarded between the mattress and the headboard.

You crushed the object in your hands and immediately one after the other, many pieces of splintered glass pierced your hand from side to side, but in the end the liquid had managed to slip on the blade.

You took a sigh.

"THREE."

"TWO."

"ONE!"

"NO!"-

Total darkness.

════════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*════════

You finally managed to escape from him. You loved no one, and no one could ever wake you up.

There was no other Silver, there was no one.

Nobody could break through that barrier in your head.

You were free. Eye for an eye, tooth or tooth.

You had chosen freedom and had to sacrifice your body, but now you were finally free to dream.

════════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*════════

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

[ship-discourse-confessions]

genuinely have to wonder what these people who are so staunchly anti non-offending paraphiles want to happen to said paraphiles. like... what, do you want them to be killed for their thoughts they cant control? you think they deserve to die because theyre mentally ill? do people with homocidal intrusive thoughts deserve to die too, for an act they have not and likely will never commit? i hate to break it to you, but paraphilias are way more common than you think, and the people who have them are humans just like you. some of them seemingly come from nowhere, but a lot of them stem from trauma, which yall dont like to think about because it reminds you that if things just went a little differently, you couldve ended up like the inhuman, irredeemable monsters you advocate for the murder of. either way, its literally not something that the paraphile can control. fundamentally its unlikely any of them will ever be able to shirk their attractions. they can, however, just like you, control their actions. they are people with mental illnesses so stigmatized that its socially acceptable to publicly call for their slaughter. if you fancy yourself someone who thinks that people can be reformed and rehabilitated, someone who identifies as a prison abolishionist or an anarchist, you cannot also advocate for the involuntary killing of people with mental disorders. and you cannot perpetuate this culture of shame and fear and hostility, because all it does is push paraphiles who desperately need help further into isolation, away from the help that they need, and closer to actually offending. if someone is outed as a paraphile, their entire life is ruined. all of their connections are severed. theyre met with constant active hostility for something they never asked for and something they cannot control. so why, then, would a paraphile ever feel comfortable asking for help? how could they ever feel like they can reach out to a professional or even just to their friends and family when the risk is so high? when theyre told that theyre going to hurt people no matter what anyway?

full disclosure, im a paraphile. i wont specify anything beyond that. but for the longest time i really did feel like an irredeemable monster who was doomed to hurt others, that it was only a matter of time. that mindset, unsurprisingly, is not very conducive to recovery. it was only when i found other paraphiles online, learned i wasnt alone, that i didnt have to feel like the only option was death, that i finally felt like i could take control of myself. the isolation was the biggest hindrance to that. feeling like i was entirely alone in the world aside from people who had committed heinous acts, because the paraphiles who havent obviously cant talk about it. except they do, in small corners of the internet, where they still face incredible harassment and shame. still, knowing i was in the company of good people and knowing that my attraction wasnt some conscious choice on my part that made me into an inherent monster helped majorly. i didnt choose to grow up in the environment that i did. i didnt choose what i was exposed to as a kid. i didnt choose how any of that would affect me. i didnt choose to be a paraphile. but i am choosing to be a good person despite it, and im choosing to let other paraphiles know that they can do the same. i know there are some reading this. youre not alone, you can get help, and you can choose to be a fantastic person. youre not doomed. you dont have to die to keep others safe.

to summarize: paraphiles are human beings with mental illnesses just like many of you. and just like you, they need help and support, but its incredibly difficult to get that when the public opinion on them is generally "you deserve to die no matter what." we are incredibly common. you probably know a paraphile. and if that deeply upsets you on a moral level, i hope you know thats the reason why paraphiles hide it and just get worse and worse.

paraphiles are always going to be here no matter how hard you wish they were all dead. thats just a fact. so you can keep making graphic threats against mentally ill people, literally only causing further harm to them and to others, or you can show compassion and a genuine desire to see things get better by at the very least not perpetuating obvious anti-recovery, pro capital punishment, pro thought crime propaganda.

.

[mostremote]

reflecting on 2023, thoughts for 2024, long personal post

How would I sum up 2023? Well, it's certainly been productive. Securing a permanent position at a university I adore is unreal, and I still subconsciously assume there's been a mistake and they'll fire me any day now. After what was essentially 7 years of precarity, having professional stability is absolutely wild. I love my job, I love my students, I love my colleagues, and it's insane to me that I seem to have actually "made it" professionally.

My second book is coming out with a Big Publisher and that's very nice too. I don't have much emotional attachment to that project, but it took a lot of work and I'm satisfied that it is reaching its appropriate conclusion. I will make, I am sure, zero money out of it, but that's academic publishing for you lol

I gave my first keynote paper at a (cute, small) conference, so that was also a milestone. I also organised a very successful conference in which like 1/4 of the speakers cited my work, which was absolutely surreal and made me want to disappear into the ground.

I made a huge amount of progress on my novel, it's pretty much finished, and my one real resolution for 2024 is to make a proper effort to get it published. I'll wait until my academic book is out to start that process, but that's the one resolution I'm setting for myself. I don't know if I'll have any luck (it's not exactly a book with mass appeal) but I want to at least give it a shot.

Healthwise, well. It's been a ride. A good ride, but a ride nonetheless. I switched medications for my chronic illness, coming off a really major one and getting onto a much milder one, as I've been basically asymptomatic. This is good news all round: I've adapted well to the new meds, and I don't have to deal with all the nasty side effects of the old meds (they fuck you up long term). The main problem I have now is that I can't drink much alcohol, but that's a small price to pay for good health.

But one side effect of the medication was weight gain. I gained around a stone after I'd been on it for a year but I figured that was just "not being in your early 20s anymore" weight gain. Turns out nope! I haven't weighed myself lately but I have visibly lost a lot of weight and it's a little disconcerting to be suddenly, well, very skinny again. I look much younger and smaller. It's not bad, it's just a stark difference to adjust to and not something I was expecting to happen in my 30s.

I've also adjusted my hormone regimen. I don't have any long term plans (i never do lol) but I've been enjoying playing more with feminine presentations. I'm just, comfortable with my body and happy with who I am. How about that!

Mental healthwise, hoo boy. Let's address my being cursed by an ancient amulet and becoming crushingly obsessed with the fictional villain of The Hunger Games. I haven't spoken about this on here but The Shivering Season is significantly informed by my own experiences with different forms of abuse and mental health problems, and I have been processing a lot while writing it. Sometimes I've had anxiety attacks while writing, which never happens to me! There was a point before Christmas I was having anxiety attacks at random everyday, just hanging out watching TV, because it seems I was bringing so much stuff to the surface. And I seem to have worked through some things, because the intrusive sexual abuse thoughts/fantasies I have experienced compulsively for, idk, 15+ years have gone. Completely gone. Really, really weird! I need to go back to therapy about this but I just don't know how to explain "I became obsessed with The Hunger Games and now I have 70% less trauma" in a normal way.

And I have been extremely manic these past 2 months. That is probably obvious from how I've been posting, but jesus christ. I wake up at 5am, I fall asleep at 11pm (and as someone who historically needs 8-9 hours every night, this is significant). I write thousands of words almost every day. I am generally inclined to periods of mania, but this is extremely intense and it has lasted since the start of November. I'm scared of crashing, both because this hyperproductivity is giving me a lot of positive brain chemicals and because I don't know what kind of person I'll be if it goes. Will the intrusive thoughts come back? I don't want them to! I've been very happy without them!!

And that's the conclusion, really: I've had a very happy year. I'm mistrustful of happiness, but I am still happy. I don't know what to expect of 2024, but I am optimistic, and content, and marvelling at in what a good place I'm in now compared to how I was.

Happy new year!

[bluravenite]

Can people please put content tags and warnings when they talk about regressed ghouls????

CW: mentions of trauma and abuse, fetishization of age regression, sexual abuse, parenting? Just complaining about people romanticizing age regression, trauma, abuse and treating other mental illness/disorders badly... Also very brief mentions of self harm and eating disorders...

Summary: I'm upset

I feel like people baby ghouls a lot, and while I understand that age reg and little space is a trauma coping mechanism, trust me.. I know... I also just feel like sometimes I open Tumblr to a bunch of people babying ghouls in ways that make me upset...

I think often the way people handle regressed ghouls is by treating them like dumb little babies, instead of the actual procedures that should take place to ensure someone who is regressed is emotionally and physically safe... It's not just about which toys they love playing with, or which sippy cup they use most, it's also not A GATEWAY FOR YOU TO WRITE AGE REGRESSION AS A SEXUAL FETISH, I understand that sometimes when you regress your body may still experience those feelings, but mentally???? It's not going to be safe or enjoyable, cannot consent properly either BECAUSE ITS UNDER A TRAUMA RESPONSE, and also??? It can be even more traumatic and DANGEROUS for a person HANDLING a regressed individual, to engage in sexual acts WITH A REGRESSED INDIVIDUAL

I get that Tumblr used headcanons as comfort, but if you're going to talk about traumatized ghouls experiencing age regression and instead of having people/other ghouls take care of them safely and properly, then I can't stop you but at least TAG THEM PROPERLY??? This goes to mentions of SH and EDS, should not be romanticized... Can it be talked about? Part of a story? Yes, just like it can be part of people's lives and needs to be discussed... But please just don't romanticize it... Don't make regressed ghouls engage in it too if you're not going to properly explain the content and the reasons why it's there.

I have my own way of dealing with small children, age regressed individuals (and littles)... It may not be correct, but it caters towards listening to the individual I am responsible for taking care of...

You don't know what they want or need, you need to talk to them and ask them how they're feeling, how you can help, what they would like, what is safest for them. Get them something of comfort, something for entertainment, and at all costs try to ensure their safety, even if you fail, you can talk them through calming down. I do understand that 1. Children can be difficult sometimes, it depends a lot on the kid... 2. Not all instances will have bad experiences or feelings involved, but sometimes they might, which is why you need to understand age regression is a trauma response... 3. You cannot treat children as dumb brainless babies, AND YOU SHOULD NOT TREAT AGE REGRESSED INDIVIDUALS HAVING TROUBLE PROCESSING EMOTIONS like CHILDREN.

My point being, just try to learn some gentle parenting. It doesn't always work, it doesn't always ensure everyone's safety... Yes you can still have your cute headcanons of things people enjoy and it does not have to be exclusive to age regression...

I have spent entire summers volunteering with special needs and disabled kids, as well as having my own mental issues and disorders and I'm just tired of seeing people treat a lot of them like they're toys to play with and sexualize... And since I know I can't stop anyone from doing that, AT LEAST FOR SATAN'S BELOVED COCK, USE TAGS

[bob-mirum]

hey man this ‘mental asylum’ au of yours is like... almost cartoonishly offensive and insensitive. I’d appreciate if you thought a little more about how seriously hurtful a caricature of mental illness like that can be.

people are horrendously abused in facilities like that, and portraying the mentally ill as delusional, babbling crazies that need to be locked away for their own good further stigmatizes those of us that do deal with delusions and illnesses such as psychosis and schizophrenia. it’s just as bad as drawing a caricature of any other marginalized group, and I really hope you’ll rethink how you portray the mentally ill in the future.

Oh, yes, it's time to talk about what many people will probably hate me for. Sorry not sorry.

First: I am not the author of this AU.

Second: And I think you need to take some things easier. For some reason, I have several friends who were in psychiatric hospitals, I have a friend with schizophrenia who was not treated in the best way. Do you know what they were doing? They joked about it in a caricature form, because they have a healthy self-irony. People who were on the verge of su*c*de joke about it because they have a healthy self-irony. I can give an infinite number of examples.

I'm not saying that people who have experienced a negative experience should be persecuted for the sake of humor and other things, but if people who don't have their own heads to not joke about it in the presence of those who don't like it and do it anyway - these are people with low moral responsibility. It's not the fault of the artists who draw such content. And let's think, maybe, for example, I, as a person who could lie in a hospital, want to draw this because it gives me an emotional release? And people take and forbid me to do things that help me feel better. This can be tied to a lot of things, and I hope that you guys are smart, and I don't have to explain the small details about what is accepted by moral norms in society and what is censured.

Unsubscribe from a blog that does something you don't like. I also advise you to unsubscribe from me if you don't like my opinion, because I won't change it and I'm not going to argue with anyone further.