#is it because the job itself was anxiety-inducing in other ways?

[ace-and-ranty]

So I just recently quit a job.

It was relatively chill, with pretty good pay for the amount of work involved. But see, before that job, I've scheduled my own work hours for every job I've ever had. Since I worked mainly translation, well, clients don't care when you're sat down in front of the computer working, as long as they get things by deadline.

The fact that this job had specific working hours, during which I was expected to have my butt sat at the computer, was driving me insane.

It gave me the kind of low-level but constant anxiety that is the bane of my existence. It's the kind of anxiety where I cannot disconnect, I cannot relax, because I know in X hours I need to be at the job, and I hated it so much I, an extremely non-confrontational people pleaser, scrapped together the gumption to quit.

Why am I telling you all of this. You wonder. Well. Because for years now I have wondered, on and off, if maybe, perhaps, I'm like, a little bit autistic? I feel insane, in that I don't relate to a lot of the struggles autistic people often mention, but I feel just weird enough, just a-bit-to-the-left enough that I don't feel neurotypical, and I don't know what's going on there.

And well, one of the struggles I never connected to is "need for routine" because hum, no, actually, I've never really felt the need for a lot of routine. But oh? What's this? Now there's an expectation for how I gotta use my time, so my schedule is out of my control? And it's making me itch out of my fucking skin? How curious??

All to say, yeah, I don't know what's going on under the hood. But thank God for flexible working hours.

[auseyre]

kp questions and my weird theories.

I was gonna tag this with secrets but most of these are not technically secrets, just burning questions I want answers to.

What was Kimlock Holmes looking for? He had no idea about the Kittisawsds so what other threads was he following about his Mafia dad that were bad enough that he thought he could use them against Korn if he needed to?

Did Nampheung use fainting as a tactic like possums do? I refuse to believe the that woman who was bold enough to leave the Mafia life is so fragile that she collapses like a sack of potatoes every time anything happens. Does she have a medical condition that leads to anxiety-induced fainting? That would explain why instead of trying to revive her, they just hold her up at an awkward angle every time. (I’m kidding but only sort of. Each time she faints it immediately changes the tension in the situation, making it less dangerous for her and her kid)

Why did Papa Theerpanyakul suddenly decide it was time for Nampheung to come back to the family? The timeline is definitely wonky, but Chay would have been @ toddler age, so it’s not like his birth should have been the reason.

In Korn’s version he says “You know someone is out to get the family” implying immediate danger for them out in the world but in Gun’s version(true version y'all -fight me), Pat says that Papa Theerpanyakul is having his family killed off(is this a translation issue? I don’t remember it from my first viewing but I could have missed it.) It would explain why there was nobody other than Thee to take care of Porsche and Chay. If that was the case though, he was weirdly calm about it(sure he was angry but not terrified like he should have been -did he think they wouldn’t kill him for some reason?)

On top of that, why did Papa T take Nampheung in after he killed her family in the first place? Was it his Odin-Loki moment? Did he plan on using her in some way, maybe by marrying her off to one of his sons? I think it’s fanon that her family were Mafia bigwigs but it would explain why she was so important. 

Does Korn actually have any health issues at all or was this just an extremely long game to eliminate Gun and anybody that wasn’t going to be loyal to Kinn? And if so, I’m assuming that Porsche’s arrival sped things up. He was trying his best to send them on a long, long vacation once Porsche started to figure things out. I mean I could see the doctor giving him a “you’re not young any longer, you need to take better care of yourself” speech and him deciding to go from there and start getting things in order for the day when he actually did need to step down. 

What do the different colors of the bodyguard pins mean? Are they random? Are they based on seniority?  

And leading from that, why were the main family bodyguards so bad at their jobs? Other than the ones that were sleeping with the family members or hanging out watching series and partying with the family members I mean.

The minor family bodyguards are in a frickin' kill box and the main family guards are the ones that get slaughtered? My theory is that it was because Chan wasn’t actually any good at being in charge of the bodyguards. He was great as head bodyguard to Korn, and he obviously was kickass at bodyguarding itself but he was not equipped to organize or train other bodyguards. There are signs of it throughout the series but that shootout was a goddamned embarrassment of poor planning on the part of the main family. I know we all love Chan, but just no.

[avpdvoidspace]

Since you've mentioned a couple of times having comorbid OCPD, would you mind explaining more about the effect that disorder has on you? Out of every PD, it's the one I never find people talking about. Due to that, and the diagnostic criteria itself being (as ever) exasperatingly superficial and vague, It's hard to know where to even look for information about it..!

Sure. I agree that it's very difficult to find information about ocpd online. I guess I could categorize my experience with ocpd into three categories: things that are absolutely recognized symptoms of ocpd, things that overlap with other obsessive compulsive spectrum disorders (like things more traditionally thought of as OCD symptoms), and things that I have to assume come from ocpd because they seem to but I don't know if they're universal because I don't see other people talking about having ocpd. So in terms of things that are definitely ocpd experiences: I really don't feel safe or comfortable in situations I don't have at least some control over. I need to control my space, my food, who is around me, etc to feel safe. This also applies to my time and schedule. I get very agitated when it's interrupted, even if I don't show it. I tend to plan my day's activities pretty rigidly and it stresses me out when I'm not able to follow through. I also have very rigid ways I like to do things, and it stresses me out if I have to do something with someone else's method or if someone in my apartment does something differently to how I would do it, especially things like eating without washing hands first, not taking shoes off before coming in, etc. I try to keep this kind of thing in check because I don't want to be controlling or obnoxious, but it causes me a lot of stress internally. This has been very difficult when I've had a job and I'm being told to do things a particular way but it's not MY way. It's also difficult when I'm intentionally trying to push myself to try a different method for, say, drawing something. Even though I'm making the choice, I'm breaking my method and it feels extremely Wrong. The next category is overlap with other obsessive compulsive spectrum disorders. I definitely get intrusive thoughts and the anxiety inducing spiral of 'something bad will happen if I don't have the tv volume set to an odd number' and 'I feel compelled to make sure my foot touches to the floor in a very certain way right now for Reasons'. I also have health anxiety that gets worse if I try to engage in reassurance seeking behavior (but this only started after I got diagnosed with a chronic illness, so it could be a combination of ocpd and trauma). But you can apply the mechanics of health anxiety to other things that pop into my head to frighten me with no basis in reality that start the reassurance seeking/me becoming more convinced the terrible thing is true cycle. Then the third category, which is random things I think are ocpd but who knows because there aren't a lot of other people out there talking about their personal experiences with it: I like recording things. Every day, I write the weather conditions down in a notebook. I also have very rigid records of my drawing time and draw with a stopwatch going to make sure I'm keeping track and write everything in a notepad++ file like so

I get extremely stressed out if anything gets in the way of this process! You could say my life kind of revolves around this actually. I've actually drawn at least an hour a day for about a decade (knock on wood...), and I track it every day. In general, I have a lot of fun creating methods and systems to follow rigidly. It's like a game even. Maybe why I like playing games with a lot of organization/time management... Love giving myself a list of tasks and completing them. Speaking of games, I love Pokemon Legends Arceus because it is essentially a checklist simulator. Also, I experience something similar to special interests but maybe not exactly the same. I wouldn't say hyperfixations either because they're not fleeting. They're very enduring. I wish I could explain more about how they're unique from either special interests (in the autistic meaning of the phrase) and hyperfixations (like with ADHD), but it's kind of hard to explain without feeling like I'm explaining it poorly. And last, something that could go in either this category or the second because it's something I've heard people diagnosed with OCD talk about experiencing is I have a weird thing with my memory where my visual/auditory memory are weirdly strongly connected. So if I'm listening to something while drawing, if I listen to it again, I can 'see' what I was drawing at the time. If I look at the drawing, I'll remember the part of the audiobook or whatever I was listening to. It's to the point that if I was listening to an audiobook while playing a certain video game, hearing the audiobook again will make me crave playing the video game really intensely! It's like I can see exactly where I was in the game as if I was playing it right now. Anyway, I hope that was helpful. I tried to include everything I could think of. My life is very rigid, but I guess if there's one more thing I could say about that, it's that the rigidity excites me and feels like it lights up my brain with feel-good chemicals. I think having ocpd is like a combination of extreme anxiety and the ability to create fun engaging activities all by myself and with very few resources.

[mixelation]

i am becoming increasingly annoyed by my labmate

at lab meeting they announced they want people to be more mindful of keeping a tidy lab. by itself this is a normal request. but in practice this person's past attempts to have a "tidy lab" do not involve anyone else's input and have resulted in

twice tossing personal items from my desk

a debate in which i rejected putting a certain lab item in a storage area on the grounds that, even if it "felt" tidier, it made it more inconvenient for me to use, and other people would not know the item existed to be used for their own experiments. person agreed with me, and then put the item in the hard-to-reach, no-one-will-look-here place anyway. months later the person is having an issue that would have been solved if they had not forgotten [lab item] existed, due to it being moved to a weird place.

repeatedly sending passive aggressive messages out which basically sum up to, "i don't like having to do [communal cleaning task] for other people" but the person contributes to the communal mess???

(one of the messages was basically "i couldn't do my lab work because i had to clean up [thing which they did NOT have to clean in the moment]." i think one of their issues might be that they find clutter distracting/anxiety-inducing, which is a sympathetic problem, but also it is not the job of other people to manage that for you, and certainly no one can help you if your attempts to mitigate your anxiety are invading people's privacy and complaining about how you are being forced into doing communal tasks, instead of communicating what your actual problem is)

when asked what they specifically want done, they are unable to point to any specific issues they have, which makes it difficult for any issue to be addressed.

i'm annoyed they keep turning it into a lab-wide issue because it frames it in a way where any debate sounds like "well, i think i shouldn't have to clean up after myself." but also they have done a bunch of weird oopsies I have personally cleaned up after, including a pretty dramatic autoclave fucked up earlier this week, but it would be incredibly petty of me to bring this up, because cleaning up after other people is part of communal cleaning. (I clean up other people's messes because I know I have done oopsies which other people have had to clean, and we will all do them again.) at the same time this person seems completely unsympathetic to why other people might slack on communal tasks (e.g., it seemed baffling to them that someone might not autoclave trash-- which takes an hour-- at the end of the work day)

i actually don't think the lab is particularly untidy for one doing active research................

[icedmetaltea]

Heat-induced anxiety comin back full swing woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

What's more is I think the multivitamins I started taking a couple days ago have caffeine cause I saw green tea listed as an ingredient but I assumed it was either decaf or such a small amount it wouldn't matter since caffeine wasn't listed as a warning but nooooo

I took it like 5 hours ago and I'm fucking losing it

It's gonna be another 6 months of this bullshit at minimum. Half a year so I can live half a year in which my anxiety is manageable. I don't know if I'll survive it again... last time it nearly got the best of me, it really fucking did

And the fact that nobody in my life understands what a panic attack feels like, how you feel simultaneously like you're going crazy and having a heart attack, floaty and heavy, suffocating over and over.... it's not fucking fair. It's not fucking fair

suicidal thought stuff below

Every day I give my mom a hug because she doesn't know how much I want to die. I hug her as tight as I can because she seems to be the only one who would genuinely miss me if I was gone... and yet I spend my days thinking about how she's going to die someday and I'm going to have to live without her

Honestly, I think I'll just shoot myself when she dies. Or if trump wins... whichever comes first. She's getting older and so is dad. They're both going to die someday. One will probably die long before the other just like my bio dad did and leave the other to ache without them

I can't go through that again. These past few months I've waited and waited for my parents to give up on me, to just outright tell me I'm being a burden, I'm being overdramatic, but they haven't, they've stayed patient and been there for me when my sibling was content to leave me to rot

I hug her a bit longer every day. I know one day I won't be able to anymore... probably soon. She's in her late sixties, it's only a matter of time. The world is dying, wars are on the horizon, everything is just fucked

The one thing that keeps me going rn is one more hug. One more movie with them. One more meal with them.

But one day there will be no more. And that will be the time to leave, because otherwise I genuinely do not have anything worth living for. My quality of life is horrible if I can't even enjoy life half the year- which is shrinking every year due to climate change and the way the fall is turning into summer 2

She thinks everything is fine, she doesn't believe in climate change, she thinks the economy will sort itself out, she thinks I'll graduate and get a job and my anxiety will mind me... she doesn't know I think about blowing my brains out most of the time with the guns in their shed

It only makes me want to hug her harder and pretend I'm a kid again, that she can make all the horrors go away if she hugs me close enough

[krankittoeleven]

Snippet Sunday?!

Because Wednesday is sort of like a weird void in my week and I can't seem to remember that it's Wednesday when it actually is Wednesday, I present to you Snippet Sunday. It's just like WIP Wednesday, except it's on a day my brain acknowledges the existence of. =D

This is another snippet from CH 12 of Water of Life, just a quick little bit from a fluffy little scene with maybe just a little reminder that OH YEAH, these guys are Vikings that get in fights and stuff. LOL Hoping to have the chapter out next week but next week is also the most chaotic week of the year when all of my clients come yelling for tax advice despite the fact that I am not a certified accountant. So IDK, it depends on how needy everyone is *eyeroll* I love my job except the week before taxes are due.

Anyway...

Sighing, Vili casts his gaze over Ubba as he sleeps on his back. He is quiet and still except for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. It almost feels like an intrusive thing to see, like a private part of Ubba’s life he had not previously had access to, except in Jorvik when Ubba had been recovering from his injury. But even then, that had not been sleep so much as potion induced unconsciousness in which Ubba had often looked pained and uncomfortable, despite his many protests to the contrary upon waking. Any other time and Ubba would have been awake long before Vili had begun to stir, but here and now in the growing light of the early morning, Ubba looks comfortable and relaxed and it eases some of Vili’s anxiety that had been stirred up by his return.

Slowly, lazily, Ubba rolls onto his side, his hand sliding along the bedding as if he is searching for something. Searching for him, Vili realizes, as he uncrosses his legs and stretches them to their full length, giving Ubba’s hand something to find.

“You are awake early,” Ubba says, his voice husky with sleep as his hand settles on Vili’s ankle, his fingers caressing first, then squeezing.

It was still such a relief, an almost unbearable weight in and of itself, to feel Ubba’s touch again.

“Maybe you’re just up late?” Vili suggests, not wishing for Ubba to know just how much his being gone had affected him.

Ubba smiles, only half of it visible with the way his head is turned.

“Maybe,” Ubba agrees before he pushes himself up into a sitting position.

Vili scoots closer to meet him, and now he can better see that small patch of gray hair above Ubba’s lip that he’d noticed the night before, that he’d been staring at since the light first lit upon it that morning, and the new scar that leads up towards his cheekbone. Gently, Vili reaches up and turns Ubba’s head to the side and caresses the scar with the fingers of his other hand.

“What did they do to you in Dorstate?” Vili asks, curious not only about the scar, but also if it had come before or after the gray.

“Not Dorstate,” Ubba replies. “Even at home, I have the occasional enemy, perhaps in part because I left.”

“I hope they walked away worse off because of it,” Vili says, smiling, as he imagines Ubba very deftly defending himself.

Ubba turn his head back towards Vili, a surprisingly serious look on his face, considering the moment.

“They did not walk away.”

Ubba’s eye meet Vili’s and he holds them in his gaze, like he is frozen in a glacier.

“Good,” Vili says before leaning in to press his lips first against the scar and then Ubba’s lips. In all things he would have Ubba emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

[tiredvibehours]

Recently got into Citizen Sleeper, and gotta say, I only hope the best for our little sleeper PC (and whichever end you decide to pick for them/decide is canon]

Zero gravity sure is a delight.

Only adding a cut because I know me gushing about “human mind in robot body trope” isn’t necessary but I wanna put it here; spoilers for the garden ending if you haven’t gotten to it yet!

Okay, so the constant existential quandary you face in game and inbetween scenes as a “Sleeper” had me on the edge of my seat for 90% of it. And while the idea of corporations circumventing human rights by technically making it’s employees sign away their humanity while their meat bodies sleep is horrifying in and of itself, the kindness you experience from other characters (and even in jobs you do to earn quick chits, i.e being invited on board to share a meal) keeps the whole thing from teetering off the edge of SOMA levels of existential dread.

I love that in this grimy, cyberpunk-esque space station that’s already been ravaged by a partially societal collapse still finds room to be kind to you. After goodness knows how many games that bank off the world and it’s people being grimy, having NPCs offer you meals, shelter, and genuine companionship despite you being a “robot” is legitimately heartwarming. I love how much this game emphasizes the idea of community and finding kindness in a world that otherwise despises or openly disregards your existence.

That being said, the scenes where you experience the nods and ‘ghostly visage’ of the ship, all the way to when Riko gives you the homegrown interface also kept me on the edge of my seat. The uncertainty of venturing into this offline storm of noise and darkness while Riko holds your hand on the end of your lifeline had me both excited and dread-induced up until I met the Gardener.

Originally I kinda messed up and accidentally got the ‘hivemind’ ending where you sever your tether and join the Gardener’s chorus. But after returning and getting back to that turning point, I chose to stay on the Eye. I chose to stay in this clunky, robotic body that simulated human sensation at an 85% accuracy (most of the time). I chose to return to Riko and the Greenway, despite meaning I would still be stuck in a dying body that constantly needed upkeep and medication.

But I chose to stay home, with the connections I made and what they meant. And when I woke up after following my tether all the way back to my body? After I became aware of an anxiety and body that I’d had the opportunity to leave and be free of? Riko was there holding my hand, relieved and happy to see I was still alive.

I just love this game so much and if you have the ability to, play it.

[funkymbtifiction]

Thank you!

Thank you for answering my question on writing things and then deleting without posting. I'll be thinking about your answer!

Most of the time I identify with 9w1 (I see a lot of 1 black and white morality in my thinking, a lot of self-induced guilt, etc.). <- this can also be coming from a 6, due to being in the super-ego triad, and social 6s can be pretty black and white in their thinking (which is why many of them confuse themselves with core 1s)

But a lot of what you say about 6s really hits home for me, too, especially the anxiety/fear hanging in the background, the seeking of security of a trusted authority but also resisting authority, not wanting to be in a box, thinking a lot but getting nowhere, etc. <- yup, that's very core 6

But I will say I get confused about 6 vs Fi influence because Fi also hates being in a box and wants to be independent/authentic to itself. It's hard to know whether not wanting to be part of a team/community is Fi singularity or 6 not fully trusting the other members of the team. <- or maybe it's just 6 PLUS Fi?

I suppose between 6 and 9 I feel the least desire to be a 9 because of the reputation 9 has for being (at least spiritually) "lazy." I work constantly, but often my work is avoiding more important issues - so I do admit that! <- this sounds like using 9 in the service of 6, as in, the way your fixes work. 6 wants to be calm, so it pulls on 9 for calmness, but it can also get busy working on X, because working on Y would give them anxiety, so they are ignoring what needs to be done out of fear, rather than "laziness"

And my other issue with 9 is the reputation for lacking alertness - because I worry a lot, keep an eye out for potential physical and emotional dangers, etc. <- 6 core for sure, 9s are pretty chill

But as someone who has learned about these types almost entirely by reading your posts for over a year, I haven't had the impression of 6 as any worse than other types! So you do a great job of balancing the pros and cons of each type, and it seems to me that your approach should help people learn about themselves without as much distress. <- aww, thank you. I try to trash everyone equally. ;)

Having observed you over the years, I would say you're a sp/so 6 with a 9 fix (probably 692).

[sorceressofbones]

Undertale: Bittybones Completed Fics - Fic Rec

Hi! ^.^

You've reached my Bittybones Completed Fics Fic Rec, yay! Now scroll down and see if there's anything that tickles your fancy 😊

Happy reading!

[Last Updated: 2022/10/16]

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His Name Was Bob

Author: lywellen

Chapters: 50

Words: 90971

Ship: Edgy Bitty (Underfell Sans) x Reader

Tags:

Summary:

Humans are weird and are never satisfied with what they already have. They have to alter everything around them to make their own lives more convenient. Including other lifeforms. For example, people tampered with genetics to make fish that glow in the dark. Why? For no other reason than they thought they would make radical pets. As technology advanced, people moved from tampering with simple genetics to tampering with soul energy itself. Thus, Bitties were created: Tiny skeleton creatures powered by soul energy. And of course, almost immediately, they too were patented and sold as “pets.” But being simple things made only of bones and souls, could they really be considered alive? What does it even mean to be alive? What is a soul? You really didn’t want to think about such headache-inducing existential questions. All you wanted to do was earn enough to go to school, get your veterinary technician license, and live a simple and happy existence. But life had other plans for you in the form of an angry little creature staring you down from the confines of a jar. What the hell?

Getting Shivers

Author: Sephypsycologist

Chapters: 2

Words: 2383

Tags:

Summary:

You adopt a damaged naga bitty from the local bitty store.

Better Late Than Never

Author: Sephypsycologist

Chapters: 3

Words: 2612

Tags: pure bite bitty

Summary:

A very lonesome baby-sized bitty finally gets a home.

Noodle*

Author: Spectascopes

Chapters: 15

Words: 19340

Tags:

Summary:

*and Scar A small and pregnant thief breaks into your kitchen to burglarize your bananas. He's adorable, so you decide to let him stay. Tiny skeletal shenanigans ensue.

Little Bit Of Love

Author: Spectascopes

Chapters: 6

Words: 7904

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags:

Summary:

It's your job to take in and rehabilitate bitties. You've seen a lot of awful things- cracked skulls, severe anxiety, PTSD, starvation, the worst of the worst. You loved the little guys, and sending them on their way to a new home was the most rewarding feeling in the world. He's your first Cherry. If he doesn't crumble to dust by morning, you're going to have your work cut out for you.

Oops, I have a Naga

Author: Spectascopes

Chapters: 19

Words: 30755

Tags:

Summary:

You found him half dead in an abandoned house. You never anticipated having a bittybones, part snake or otherwise. But here he was.

I've Purposefully Acquired Two Nagas

Author: Spectascopes

Chapters: 7

Words: 10436

Tags:

Summary:

Autumn Sumners wasn't quite sure what she was getting into when she signed up for a bitty rehabilitation program, but she knew she wanted to make a difference. She is charged with being the caretaker of two severely abused naga bitties rescued from an illegal bitty breeding program.

Monsters Should Be Cute!

Author: TellCosy

Chapters: 19

Words: 65663

Tags:

Summary:

There's nothing better than having a terrifying(ly cute) skeleton monster in your life! You love Pumpkin, and Pumpkin loves you.

Is It Alright If I Call Your Name?

Author: jubilantscribbler

Chapters: 4

Words: 32129

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Tags:

Summary:

You find him shivering in the cold, all by himself as he's abandoned by his caretaker. You don't think you can handle the responsibility, but you take him in anyway. If only the two of you were better prepared for the cruel realities of this world.

SPOILER ALERT: It doesn't have a happy ending BUT there's an alternate ending fic

Because You Called My Name

Author: jubilantscribbler

Chapters: 6

Words: 38714

Tags:

Summary:

Life is made up a choices, as they both find out. It takes mistakes and mending to do it, but they finally find an ending where they can all be happy, even if it takes some work getting there. Brass is willing to see it to the end, if it means that his little family can be at ease and at peace.

SPOILER ALERT: It's the alternate ending fic for the previous one

Oh So Childish

Author: Onyxxxian (OnyxianDrake)

Chapters: 30

Words: 55668

Tags:

Summary:

He really wasn't that upset about being returned, really. They weren't a good match, he could find another owner! Someone nicer, who liked his puns and holding him, who wouldn't put him in a cage and want nothing to do with him. But first, he needed to be put back up front in the shop, if only this darn quarantine would end. Then there's the new employee, he isn't sure how to feel about her, she reminds him too much of...his previous owner. But he's fine, really!

A Little Bit(ty) of Hope

Author: Calcium_Cat

Chapters: 15

Words: 68438

Tags:

Summary:

Surviving. It's only thing this Edgy Bitty knows how to do. And he's good at it too. It's why he's still alive after months upon months of fighting for his life in the bitty-fighting ring. But when one opponent pushes him to his limits and he's close to dusting, a miracle happens. He escapes. However, he can't surive on his own for long. Even if he didn't dust in the ring, he's sure to dust if left to the elements. Especially since he's injured and all. But one miracle is rare enough, surely he can't expect another . . . . . . . right?

Seven Days

Author: ChibiKittens

Chapters: 3

Words: 6817

Tags:

Summary:

The first day, you had run across a Bitty being kicked out from a store by his owner. It's troubling, but you think nothing of it before he crosses your path again. Now you want to help him, but trust takes time, and it'll take more than a day's worth of sweet words to gain his.

Listing

Author: Sephypsycologist

Chapters: 5

Words: 11785

Tags:

Summary:

You are a pretty content little programmer, with a small apartment and a love of bitties. So when a tubby little naga gets stuck in your balcony railing, you embark on the beautiful ride of Bitty Ownership. Now let's just hope your ship won't sink.

War and Mander

Author: duckydotducky

Chapters: 22

Words: 50634

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags:

Summary:

After finding some bitties on the side of the road, you are never the same. It takes a lot of healing but maybe it is all worth it.

Crazy Bitty Lady

Author: ViridianSouls

Chapters: 41

Words: 96127

Tags:

Summary:

You frowned at another Bitty Bones add that popped up on the game you were playing on your phone. These guys were brand new, and already had lamia additions. They were pretty cute and all, but weren't there enough bitties in the world? There surely is no need for so many more...right?

Patchwork Family

Author: kissxsleep

Chapters: 60

Words: 180328

Ship: Undertale Sans x Original Character

Tags:

Summary:

Jo Newmore is a woman of few simple ambitions and routine. She's not the best person around, but she's far from the worst. She thinks it's all of the "big sis" training she's had growing up. Still, she always expected her family life to be what it was: strained. She never expected for certain tiny creatures to wriggle their way into her life. Or her heart for that matter.

The Snake Lady

Author: Crooked4913

Chapters: 20

Words: 87420

Tags:

Summary:

Ray has dedicated years of education and time to opening and running the Viper's Den. A non-profit exotic snake rescue. she likes snakes, knows a lot about them. She however knows next to nothing about bitties. it would be a real shame if 9 traumatized lamia bitties that need specialized care were dropped off at her rescue. Well, Ray's never backed down from a challenge if it meant helping a noodle.

[bubblegumlefty]

So... I'm just gonna vent for a moment.

I've been having such a hard time continuing my fic Music To My Ears lately. Not just because of potential burn out, but because of the lack of communication. I'm not just talking about going viral and stuff, I'm talking about basic communication. It's just when I go on the front page of the WWE tag and see fics being posted like Rk-bro and the sheild, which are obviously much more popular ships, I know it's naturally going to have a hell of a lot more traction than my little ship could ever muster, and for good reason too since they're so popular with the fandom.

Am I jealous? Possibly. And I feel terrible for it. But I just feel so discouraged sometimes. I get no communication. At all. Haven't in months. I'm at least 30 chapters deep into this fic so far, with at least 17 published. I absolutely love what I'm writing and want to share it around, but it feels like nobody really seems to be interested. I can't even keep a regular schedule to update the story because I gotta wait for my BETA to review my chapters first. Then I gotta rewrite said chapters from the ground-up with beta inclusions intact. It's obviously not her fault. She has a very busy and difficult job to pay attention to and I really appreciate everything she's done for me so far. I'm just too afraid of asking too soon for another chapter update so I end up waiting at least a month before I start asking, which also feels terrible and just anxiety inducing. I really don't want her to push herself into completing the work. I just wish things were a little more consistent.

And then there's the story itself. Side plots that I felt were awesome at the time now feel bland or cliched, not to mention potentially somewhat tonedeaf in retrospect, which was not my intention at all. All I wanted was to give a ship some more love and share it with others, but it seems that because it's so obscure, people aren't really interested or don't seem to know about it. I can't even ask for input anymore since the few others that were kind enough to give it are either too busy with far more important things or are just no longer around.

It's just so upsetting. Sometimes I feel like I should just give up writing all together. Cause what used to be fun and self-indulgent for me has now turned into an unrewarding chore to keep up with, and I hate that. I know this kinda thing takes time. Like, lots and lots of time. But seeing how it's been literal months since I recieved any sense of communication/traction for the work I put out, it just makes me question if it's even worth it to continue writing anymore if neither I or nobody else seem to be interested. I don't know how others are able to put up with it. Like yes, I get "hits" but what good does that really do? It just shows me that there are lots of silent readers out there. Or maybe they're just duplicated clicks at this point, I don't know.

So yes, I know I'm being very selfish and self centered, whatever you wanna call it, but I'm sorry. Writing just feels so unmotivating and unfulfilling right now, and I'm trying real hard to keep from calling it quits for good, cause I really don't want to quit. I've gotten this deep into the fanfic community and I can't just give up. All I want to know is how are people able to get traction and vocal communication on their stories, and if not, how are others so patient with it? It feels like my writing hobby is just about ready to die, and it just makes me feel so low for feeling that way. And taking a break doesn't help much either since my brain just constantly reminds me of needing to finish the fic. I've even put off fan-art and live-blogging to work on it and complete it. And it's been hell.

I don't even know anymore. I just really need some motivation and encouragement right now.

[lifewithzerowaste]

Be Prepared to Face All Strife: The Best Stress Reduction Mechanisms

In today’s world, where we prioritize work and money more than we should, it has become increasingly common to face high levels of stress and anxiety frequently. In extreme cases, one might even get severe panic attacks or become unresponsive entirely.  

The good news is that stress is largely self-induced, not in the sense that we are to blame for it but in the sense that our response to external circumstances is mostly dependent on our approach, mental state, and personality traits.

It is essential to develop mechanisms to deal with stress effectively. If left untamed, it can have various long-term consequences. Stress is primarily a mental and emotional response. However, it manifests in various ways through our body and behavior.

Stress Manifestations

Body Pain (Headaches, muscle aches, chest pain, etc.)

Increased heart rate

Over or under-eating habits

Irritation and frustration

Alcohol and substance abuse

Isolation and anti-social behavior

Sleep troubles

Heaviness, sadness, and depression

Low immunity

Memory issues

If you feel even two of these symptoms are faced by you because of stress, start right away with stress coping mechanisms—whichever ones may suit you best—or if the situation proves more severe and many of these symptoms are faced, consult a professional. Read various lifestyle and health tips by Dr. Diana to keep your mind and body healthy.

Coping Mechanisms

There are various ways of dealing with stress, depending on whether you wish for a long-term or short-term solution and whether you wish to eliminate the emotional aspect of the stress or the cause of the stress itself.

Problem-focused Coping

Problem-focused coping is a mechanism for dealing with stress by removing or solving the problems contributing to its cause. For example, if your job does not allow you to have personal or family time, consider changing your job.

There are times when our plates are too full. We don't enjoy any of the items on the plate, which makes us worry about finishing everything on time.

Wherever possible, try to get rid of things that are draining you. Know which things to prioritize, then minimize effort on others.

Emotion-focused Coping

This is where your coping mechanism deals with how to make you more equipped to handle stress or reduce its harmful effects using an approach focused on emotions.

Sometimes, we cannot help but face life's situations. Sometimes, there is no way out. In cases where the problems are harder to solve or even minor problems cause great stress, using emotion-focused coping is the way to go.

Deep, Conscious Breaths

In times of stress and anxiety, your heart rate spikes, and so does your breathing.

Performing a simple exercise of taking deep breaths and focusing on the here and now can help calm the mind and make it less frantic.

Take deep breaths and notice each one. Imagine inhaling your problems and slowly exhaling them away.

Imaginative Respite

Our brain is capable of wonders. It is especially capable of belief.

Imagine the calmest and most comfortable place you know. It could be a beach, a mountain, or a landscape. Imagine yourself there, lying down and completely free.

Do this for a few minutes, and you will be calmer and in control.

Mindfulness

Mindfulness is being mindful of all that is happening around you.

Close your eyes. Be aware of your breathing, the sounds around you, and the aroma. Be conscious of each sensation, whether it be your heartbeat or your skin.

When we remove our focus from the issue or the immediate cause of the stress to minute things like our breathing and senses, our mind eases down and becomes clearer and more equipped to handle the situation.

Creative Outlet

Creativity is a big stress buster.

Whether you like reading, writing, or the fine arts, find an enjoyable creative activity, and your stress levels will be sure to reduce. When we put too much pressure on ourselves, we get drained. The arts are among the most relieving activities out there.

Physical Exercise

Whether you go for a fifteen-minute walk or do a full round of kickboxing, staying physically active is monumental to mental health. Activity releases various hormones that make us happier and healthier.

Conclusion

Stress is common nowadays, but it shouldn't be. The biggest reason behind the growing stress levels is not the living conditions or the hard situations. It is, in fact, the lack of enough healthy activities to combat stress and equip the body with enough capacity to handle stress.

Stay physically and creatively active, and you will face stressful situations as cool as a cucumber.

Stay healthy!

[eavanyhuang]

The Depressive Realism of Addiction

Today’s podcast is, again, from Frontline Herbalism, an episode in which Nicole interviews her partner Rob about his experience of and thoughts about substance addiction. While I have known some advocacy for decriminalizing drug use in North America, Nicole is right that there is not much organizing around addiction, especially as a public health issue, in social movement spaces. This makes me into wondering if and to what extent “organizing” itself is narcotic, as well as how modernity-coloniality relies heavily on addiction-based affective structures to operate. But before it goes too far, I want to take notes on a couple things they discussed that are important.

First, being addicted to substance, especially in the current society that stigmatizes, infantilizes, criminalizes, and dehumanizes addicts, is extremely traumatic. Such trauma is disproportionate, considering other completely normalized forms of addiction, such as work, heteronormativity, ableism, standardized body image, meritocracy, hierarchy, capital, consumption, screen time, toxic positivity, etc., because the way modernity deprives societies of their medical sovereignty. It is particularly hard to maintain any kind of relationship with the world, such as medical professionals and schools, not to mention building and sustaining close communities of friends and family. Even those who built a bond among themselves often lose members to incarceration, sudden death, and/or displacement. In addition to this, the amount of anxiety produced by the unpredictability of the dosage and components of the drugs they get each day is insane. A big part of the high rate of relapse among addicts is exactly this traumatic experience and the sense of pain and isolation it induces, which drives them to seek more solace from substances.

Second, it takes coordinated social support to help, which in and of itself should be a political campaign. It is not easy to “come clean” once you are addicted to substance and forced to live on the street in the current society. On the street, drug addicts usually need to work extra hard to fund their habit via risky choices, a reality that Rob describes as a “full time job”. In such circumstances, community detox cannot happen. Only when there are funded infrastructures providing safe and free drug use and temporary staying spaces, as well as resourceful communities coming together to help individuals in need of healing and recovery, would the whole weaning off process be likely to succeed.

Third, drug addiction should be framed, thought of, and treated as a disease instead of a moral failure. At the end of the episode Rob corrected the language of “enabling”, as addicts don’t need drug dealers to “wave it” in front of them, they would seek it out themselves. By using such language, the society encourages the deprivation of substance from addicts as the ultimate solution, whereas in reality it could be deadly and immensely traumatic to them. Instead, addiction is a condition of sickness that manifests in substance abuse, the latter of which is the symptom not the cause.

I find addiction extremely generative for thinking about modern-colonial affect, not as a metaphor, but as a description. What if modernity-coloniality is a form of addiction, the forms of substance of which, as Rob points out, do not really matter. As I mentioned above, this could be work, heteronormativity, ableism, standardized body image, meritocracy, hierarchy, capital, consumption, screen time, toxic positivity, information, professionalism and authority, commodities, etc.. The objects can shift and change, but addiction per se is the disease left untreated. This helps formulate a loving critique of Lauren Berlant’s discussion of cruel optimism that limits itself in the confine of “American dream”’s brutal awakening: it’s not even timely, but applicable to modern-coloniality at all times. In the first chapter of Cruel Optimism she offers an interpretation of Charles Johnson’s Exchange Value that has stuck with me for a couple years. The story is about two black brothers, who grew up in poverty, robbing their possibly dead neighbor, ending up with a giant amount of money. They each approach this very differently, one through binge consumption, the other compulsive hoarding. She comments, in her usual style of depressive realism, on page 41,

“’Exchange Value’” demonstrates the proximity of two kinds of cruel optimism: with little cultural or economic capital and bearing the history of a racial disinheritance form the norms of white supremacist power, you work yourself to death, or coast to nonexistence; or, with the ballast of capital, you hoard against death, deferring life, until you die. Cooter is the realist; he can see that there’s no way out, now, no living as if not in a relation to death, which is figured in all of the potential loss that precedes it.”

Here she makes clear the disproportionately high cost of the transparency thesis on the black Subject. He simply cannot afford it because of the materiality of race. Throughout the whole book there were cases after cases of deep insightful analyses of why people of various backgrounds stay attached to the visions of a “good life” that do not work anymore. It is the kind of work that provide a descriptive account that is itself powerful in decluttering the affective barriers in the way of collective action and liberation. But in liberation work, there is only so much decluttering can and should do. I think “the good life” and the cruel optimistic attachments to it explains the choice of objects of addiction very well, but remains unhelpful for thinking about the root source of addiction in our organism. This is precisely why I want to holistically consider the attachment to the modern Subject expressed in Ricoeur’s golden triangle: ethics, morality, and justice. The economies of care, recognition, and power can only coexist harmoniously in the minority rich white Subject. The rest are forced to reinvest their excessive energies in one category at a time, readily sacrificing the others.

[mayflyuniverse]

felt like i spoke too much on my private twt so i’m retreating to my tumblr lol.

I am a little sad about the (suspected) stress-induced rash under my lips. It’s still a little small, but I’m hoping it doesn’t spread. It feels a bit like a see-saw between my mental and physical health. When I have a handle on one of them, the other one acts out... Balancing it gets tougher when there’s so much happening... Hopefully things die down soon but otherwise, all I can do is hold on, I guess.

I’m guessing the stress this time around is the lack of time to work, combined with financial situations, then the fact that I’ve been eating a LOT of fast food at my parents whenever I’m there, along with the whole shctick talking to big sis about paying the damages she made on car, not to mention the fact that I’ve found her guest all alone downstairs, bored while she was on call with her japanese pseudo-bf... My malfunctioning keyboards that i’ve had to replace by using advance instalment payments, my maxed out credit card, the upcoming website hosting/domain name/Gdrive subscription payments that will be due...... Then there’s the bit where there’s the appointment with youngest sis’ school principal about the bully in her class making inappropriate comments about me far too often to her (i know, wild), then finally there’s the bit where I just have yet to catch up on rest ever since New Year’s...

I mean this is not counting the bits on the side about projects and jobs i’ve applied to that I’m hoping to get within the new year since my other commercial projects are still stalled and there’s no news when it’ll be ready, unfortunately.

I mean, all around stress, but I’m not in a constant state of anxiety, which is good but I guess it manifests itself elsewhere physically.

I read up and apparently it’ll go away on it’s own if you don’t aggravate it within weeks or months. So i’m hoping, latest, by the middle of the year, i’ll be rid of this stinging and burning;;;

Hopefully, within like.. by 6th of next month, mum will be healed of her fractured toe completely that she can drive again and I’ll be relieved of driving duties soon. That would mean I’ll finally get my working hours back..

I realise I’m emotionally fatigued in a lot of ways since December and I’ve just never had the chance to recover from it before the next thing that demands my attention piles on. At least one of my younger sisters are kidn enough to help forward payment for groceries so I am still keeping to eating... and she does help with some of the driving when I request her to @@;; so things could be worse, all things considered...

I just keep telling myself “sunflowers face the sun” because it’s a phrase that reminds me i can keep keeping my head above water if I just make sure to get my thinking right. I’ll cry when I need to, be upset when I need to but. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. Just until february-- just until I can get back to my usual routine.

Anyways, if I stress more than I already am, my whole body’s going to breakdown, I can feel it :,)) and I’d like to keep away from hospital visits for the time being.....

AH! though! I did sign up for online therapy that is affordable... I’m waiting for them to get back to me but.. I’m hoping this might help with the burden in the upcoming year. I’m a tad anxious since I haven’t been to counseling in a while but, I have only good feelings about it. We’ll see how it goes.

For now, I’ve finished my yoga and I’m rewarding myself by watchign a little JCC Y_Y Mr. Suh is truly all that is holding me and my sanity together lmfao. after that, it’s time to get ready and go out uuu.. let’s !!! *punches air* get. this!!! *punches air even more*. done and over with!!!

[a-a-a-anon]

not a lot of people care about the prophecy anymore but here are my headcanons for a chardee macdennis double wedding:

they had to get married in a joint wedding, obviously. neither party would agree to getting married after the other. the topic was brought up and it led to hours of fighting and the threat of arbitration. each party presented their case to frank so he would be a deal breaker and pick who would get married first, but frank refused to get into that mess. they eventually agreed to do a simultaneous wedding

they frantically plan the wedding in one night, treating it like another scheme. during the course of that night they realize they don't really know a lot of people to invite. in the end dennis is appointed as dee's bridesman and dee as dennis' groomsmaid. mac's appointed as charlie's groomsman and charlie as his. they’re really pretending to treat it like a civilized affair. it's franks job to finance and to walk dennis and dee down the aisle (he's really involving himself for mac and charlie's sake. mac because he's proud of him because of MFHP and charlie because he's been his best friend for the last 20 years. he still thinks the twins are bastard crackheads)

they have 4 separate bachelor/bachelorette parties which are like mini versions of dee/charlie/mac/dennis days. frank complains he should be getting a party too and the gang yells at him that only people getting married get bachelor/bachelorette parties.

on the wedding day, the twins get ready together and charmac get ready together:

the twins are snide - "jesus christ sweet dee u should've gotten something with sleeves. that dress does nothing for ur fat bird arms" "well that blazer makes u look like a duck. it's too small" (she's right, the lapel bulges. for a moment dennis stops applying mascara:) "wha- i- why would you say something like that to a man on his wedding day..." or something like that. they're also weirdly competitive and are trying to have a Better wedding than the other, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve in a joint wedding

charlie and mac are in the other room, incredibly anxious and sweaty and trying to keep each other from freaking out. they're trying to huff glue without getting any on their tuxes. dee made mac promise he won't let charlie eat so much cheese before the wedding because it makes his breath repugnant. mac ignores this and actually decides to try stress eating cheese too in an attempt to quell his pre wedding anxiety. they also helped each other dress in their tuxes (they’re used to getting someone from a non-'white trash' background to help them dress for fancy events)

dee's vows include a bunch of bad dirty jokes, tailor written for the occasion. they are groan inducing

before the wedding, charlie was afraid his vows wouldn't come out good (because sometimes words get blocked up in his mouth and he don't say it no good). he felt pressured to write something and writing words in itself is scary to him. in the end, he does a short simple sweet song for his vows. he got artemis (artemis is there, obviously) to pull out a keyboard when he cued her.

a good chunk of his vows dennis devotes to himself

mac pulls out a goddamn STACK of cue cards when it's his turn to say his vows. the gang expects a repeat of the Gang Texts situation where mac has way too much to say. instead it plays out like this post

during the wedding frank does a speech for all of them and it's just like his awkward speech on the boat in thunder gun express. he somehow brings up the topics of the waitress and mandy and banging etc and the gang is like COME ON FRANK

afterwards they play chardee macdennis and all the fantastic points in this post takes place

none of them spend their ‘first night as a married couple’ uh consummating their marriage or anything. no, they get hospitalized because chardee macdennis always ends in disaster

and a bonus crack idea: artemis gets called in as frank’s emergency contact and the gang is like oh? we didn’t know she was your emergency contact. frank replies that of course she is, the wife is always the emergency contact. he nonchalantly explains he got married that morning before all of them. the gang is greatly angered because they had a whole discussion on who should get married first and they had agreed to do a Thing! but they’re stuck in their crutches/beds/neck braces/etc and are incapable of unleashing their fury on frank without immense pain (not that this stops them from attempting to do so)

and afterwards frank promises them ice cream or something

[monodipita]

COPE (Yandere!Getou x Reader)

Word count: 1,914

Warnings: Yandere content warning, drug-related themes (curse used as a drug)

He couldn’t cope with the rejection. You wouldn’t see Getou again—maybe weeks or months would pass of constant no-contact with him, until suddenly, your phone rang with his name as the caller ID. “I want to see you again,” he said smoothly into the phone.

This was your chance to make things right. “Yes, I’d love to. Where would you like to meet?”

”How about the usual cafe? If you remember where that’s at. I know you'd like to play with the cats and kittens. They recently told me that Narnia gave birth to some kittens a few weeks ago, and that they're already attached to the customers that come in.” The cafe that you frequented with him when you were with him. “Of course.” You responded with a small, oblivious smile pressing into your lips and cheeks. Kittens were always fun. “I’ll see you there.”

This was exciting and anxiety-inducing, wrapped into one meeting. You couldn’t wait to see how he was doing, but you were also nervous to see how he was faring after… well, after you rejected him. Your friendship was far too valuable for a relationship to come in and possibly ruin that, and plus, you were dating someone now. You just couldn’t date your best friend. You couldn’t.

You threw on something casual and nice, and began to head that way, toward the cafe. It was a cutesy cafe for cats. You always dreaded coming to this place because of your allergies, but the cats and their cute presence always made it better when you were there. After taking the subway station and hailing a cab, you were staring down the face of the building. The sign read ‘OPEN’ in large, adorable paw-print letters. You looked in through the window, but there seemed to be no sign of Getou. Curious, you step inside.

The sound of the familiar bell jingling overhead you while you stepped through the door gave you a strong sense of nostalgia. A soft, homely sigh escaped your lips and a smile spread across them. It was so long since you two last came here. If you had the gall to come here by yourself, you would’ve.

”You must be [Y/N]! Welcome, we’ve been expecting you. Right this way, please!”

You hesitantly looked up to see a smaller woman speaking to you. You nodded at her words and followed her over to a table that was already set-up. Getou sat in the seat facing the wall, with his back away from you, but you could tell it was him. That jet black mane of his, and those large ears, were unmistakable characteristics… or just characteristics you happened to associate with him. “Getou?” You called his name sweetly to call his attention, bringing another smile to raise itself on your lips. You see him turn to face you.

He’s as handsome as ever. It’s hard not to swoon at the sight of him—he always had that about him where he was so devilishly handsome. And the smile on his face was equally charming as it spread from corner to corner of his cheeks. “[Y/N], it’s good to see you,” he was relieved. He turned before he stood completely and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight embrace. You kissed his cheek welcomingly before pulling away and staring up at him to absorb more of his features up close, marveling in his beauty. He was so gorgeous! To go with that beautiful personality of his, he was truly the perfect man!

You pulled away and went to take your seat. The woman who lead you here was long gone by that point to go aid people who wanted to play with the cats that all lounged in the center of the beautiful cafe. Meanwhile, your eyes looked to the drink that he sipped on. “Looks good,” you hummed.

“Thank you. I got it for you.” Getou stiffly responded. You raised a brow with surprise. “You did?” You took the drink off of the table and observed the top of the cup. “What’s in this?”

”It's your favorite.” Oh… he still remembered. That was so cute. It was months ago, yes, but you truly expected him not to remember or care about what your favorite drink was. It was a kind gesture, though. You took his offer to drink it and did so. It was nice, and it made you happy.

Silence overcame the both of you. You didn't mind, though. Your eyes wandered to those who played with the kittens, primarily children. It was an adorable sight. The cafe itself wasn't packed, but it was still enough to make an introvert uncomfortable. Moments had passed when you realized that you were far too caught up in enjoying the sights, and not a word had been uttered between you two. It must've been awkward for him, right?

“So, I…” you started.

“I was hoping you could reconsider everything. About our relationship.” Getou overrode whatever you had to say. You stared at him, baffled by his words. Reconsider what? Not being in a relationship with him? “Why is that?” You asked. Getou folded his hands over his lap. His head hung a bit while his eyes lingered on the drink on the table. ”I just don’t think that there’s anyone else in this world that is worthy of being in the position to be with you,” he responded, “I don’t think anyone can protect you like I can. Like I would be able to if it was necessary for me to.”

You sat back and absorbed this information. Your eyes looked everywhere before landing back on his, and to your surprise, he was staring right back at you, as if his gaze was on you the entire time. Why were you even considering this? You had a partner.

”Getou,” you quietly cooed. “It’s a bit too late for that, now.” You assumed a worried expression. “I’m… dating someone now—“

His expression remained unchanged. “Break up with them,” he said bluntly. Your eyes widened with shock. Did he not respect what you have and what you were, now that the two of you weren’t together? “What the hell, Getou?” You furrowed your brows. “You don’t mean that—“

“I do. Break up with them.” He interrupted you.

”Did you invite me here just to say this?” You narrowed your eyes. “This isn’t funny.”

”I didn’t realize I was saying something that solicited a humorous reaction,” He was being completely serious. How terrifying. "Umm, no," you folded your arms over your chest while you glared at him. "If this is all we're going to talk about, then I'm leaving." You checked him over for any signs of a reaction before you reached down to grab your belongings. "It was nice seeing you," you said. However, Getou grabbed your wrist and squeezed it firmly, making you look up at him with an exasperated expression. "Please don't do this." You say softly. "Not in front of all of these people. Not in front of these children."

Your eyes began to feel heavy. You were beginning to feel heavy, like the world was putting all of its weight on you.

"Then I'll make it easier for us both,"

Getou stood with you, making the both of you rise. Instant attention came your way, as it often did when someone did something out of the norm. Behavior that was introduced to humans as children, where they'd watch someone walk in and out of a room. As you were older, it didn't make you any less uncomfortable. You smiled worriedly and forced yourself to grab his hand, threading your fingers together while a smug grin rested over his expression. He reached into his wallet with his free hand to produce the yen necessary to tip off the waitress who would be attending to the table, and then he began his trek away from the area. You were forced to follow him out of the cafe and into the street.

At this rate, you were depending on him to keep yourself afloat. You found yourself leaning into him and clinging to him. His hand squeezed yours, and you looked over at him. "It's just like the old days," he spoke softly, a gleam in his eye, and a smile on his face. You felt the entire opposite. "I'm feeling unwell..." you meekly coo to him, "I need to go home."

"Then I'll call a cab for you. It's the least I can do, right?" He said cheerfully. "You are going through a lot right now."

"Thank you..." you gently moved away from him. He let your hand drift away from his. You stumbled to the side, nearly into someone else. Getou pulled you back to his side, just as the person spoke up to voice their concern. "Are they okay?" They asked Getou, referring to you. He looked down at you and wrapped his arm around your body. "Feeling unwell. I'm getting a taxi, don't worry."

"Alright... well... I hope you two feel better." They say and wave their hand goodbye to you as they stepped away. You watched, feeling much like Tom while he was drunk, your eyelids lazily blinking as a car pulled up into your peripheral. Oh good, your taxi. "Thank you so much, Getou. I don't know what's come over me..." you utter.

He helps you into the taxi. You utter your thanks and focus on seating yourself and strapping yourself in. Thinking on it now, having your significant other pick you up would've been the better option, but you trusted Getou enough to help you leave.

But to your surprise, Getou gets in the car. "W-what..?" You stir from your tired state and sober up a bit to glare at him. "What's going on?"

"Did you think that I was going to let you have a say in this?" He asked you. He held his hand out to your nose and waggled his fingers in a beckoning motion. "The curse did a good job, didn't it, [Y/N]? Now I don't have to see you put up a helpless fight. You can come out now, Kiri."

You only caught a glimpse of the mischievous blob of black that resembled Kiri before your world went black.

Your eyes opened. Groggily, you rise and scratch your head. "[N]?" You call for your significant other. There was no response. This was your home, right? "Doesn't it look cozy?" That answered your question. You could see Getou emerging from around the corner. "I made sure to copy it down to the smallest detail. Anything for you and the life that we could've had together, [Y/N]."

"Could've had..?"

"I've been pining for this exact moment. To be able to finally call you mine in a house that I'll no longer be alone in!" He made his way over to the bed you laid in. You started to move away from him. "No!" You shouted at him. "Get away from me!"

"Don't deny me this moment! I have spent months, months trying to get into this exact position!" Getou snapped at you. He clambered over your body and forced you to stare into his eyes. "You don't get a say in anything. We're going to live as we should've lived. I'll take [N]'s place as your beloved. We'll live happily together, you and I."

He couldn't cope with the rejection.

[dodo-begone]

Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”