#the energy it takes to do it is outweighed by the relief i get when ive done that part of my routine and then go to bed

[zer0pm]

Imagine waking up with Luis sleeping on top of you while you both take shelter from the storm.

Warning: suggestive content 🤫

A/N: editted for mistakes and added upon by just a little for your reading pleasure ;) thanks for your time

“Think it’s safe?”

“Only one way to find out. ¡Vamos! Into certain danger we go!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan. This man’s optimism was breathtaking, confident in his strides towards the abandoned looking house that you two discovered. You follow behind him, careful in your own steps and had your gun drawn at the ready in case of any unfriendly encounters. Thankfully, your entrance went unanswered and after a thorough search of the building, you both confirm that the coast is clear. Finally, a safe space to squat and wait out the storm.

Sighing in relief, you didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you took a seat on a rickety wooden chair in what you assumed to be the remains of a dining area. Running around avoiding countless plaga in the pouring rain took a lot of your energy and your weary state did not go unnoticed.

Luis speaks addresses you. “Why don’t you take a rest, my friend? There is a bed upstairs. I do not think the owners will mind it.”

Your brow lifts upon reflex, tempted by the idea of laying on something soft after hours of running for your life. However, the consideration of well-being for your present company outweighed your desire to address your own. So you counter him, “And what about you? You look just as bad as I do.”

The man dismisses your suggestion with a wave of his hand, “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no scary monsters come bumping in the night. No te preocupes, I’ll be fine.”

Always the gentleman this one.

Still, you weren’t going to let him get away with it. Especially at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes. Chivalry be damned. You take a moment to absorb your dusty surroundings and listen closely to the weather. The two of you were lucky to even find this place amidst the pouring rain and you were certain there wouldn’t be any uninvited guests coming in to hack you both into pieces anytime soon with how bad this storm is raging.

“Pretty sure we’re safe here, Luis. Can’t see anything in this damn rain and place looks like it hasn’t been occupied in ages. Plus, with Leon Kennedy roaming about, think Saddler is commanding his minions to focus more on him than us.” You wave your finger around the air, figuratively drawing the argument back at him. “So if you need some shut-eye too, I was told there’s a bed upstairs.”

Luis chuckles breathlessly, evidently amused at how you effectively countered him. He then hums aloud, seemingly taking your reasoning with careful consideration before a coy smile curves upon his handsome face.

“Qué lindo. So stubborn just to get me to lie with you.”

The color drains from your face in an instant.

“Now hold on a minute-“

The man cuts you off with a rambunctious laugh. “You’re much too easy to tease, my friend. Very well, then. You win!” he says with an affirmative clap before making his way to the stairs. Halfway up, he stops in his tracks to look down at you. “Well? You coming?”

You wait to see if he would follow up with further teasing. When he didn’t, you wordlessly got up from the chair and joined him. As he said, there is indeed a bed on the far wall of the room. Like the rest of the house, it looks like it had seen better days but neither of you were in a position to be picky especially when sleep was beckoning. You approach the bed and lift the sheets off, dusting as much as you can before setting it back down and doing the same for the pillows. The bed was big enough for two people, so it should be fine to share without worrying about bumping into one another in your sleep.

“There,” you huff, satisfied with how you prepared the bed. “Is there a side you prefe-“

Your voice catches in your throat when you turn around and take in the sight of Luis’ bare back. It was only when you see him fidgeting with the zipper of his pants did you find it again.

“What are you doing?!” you practically screech.

The dark-haired man glances casually at you over his broad shoulder, not at all bothered by your sharp tone.

“What does it look like? I’m making myself comfortable,” shrugs Luis. “I suggest you do the same. You’ll get sick if you sleep in wet clothes.”

The desire to argue for the sake of arguing was strong, but you found yourself distracted by his physique. For a man who claims to be just a “simple researcher”, he is pretty cut. The definitions of his muscles are both impressive and pleasing to the eye. It didn’t help that the man is devilishly good-looking as well, not that you will ever say that out loud. The man’s ego was big enough as it is.

If you were taking too long to speak up, Luis didn’t say. He turned his head away from your direction. “I won’t look, prometo. And I’ll take the left side. Muchas gracias.”

A man of his word, Luis did not once look your way as he wordlessly went to his side of the bed and slips himself beneath the sheets. After a moment of inner conflict, you heed his advice and strip yourself down to your underwear as well, taking your clothes and his to hang off the stair railing. Finally reaching the bed, you see that Luis was still lying on his side. The heavy breathing your ears pick up suggests that he’s fast asleep. Although your heart was beating frantically, you settle under the covers as well. Your form mirroring his with your back towards him. Sleep came quickly.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you woke up, you only know that it is still storming outside… and Luis Serra is on top of you.

His whole body is practically draped over yours. He partially lied with his chest both against the bed and on your side. The heavy weight of his right arm was wrapped around your middle with his hand resting almost possessively on your hip. You can feel his breath fan against your neck, leaving warm, lingering tingles upon your skin. It suddenly felt impossibly hot in this chilly room.

You didn’t need to see the man’s face to know he is still sleeping, snoring soundly against your ear. Careful not to wake him, you tried to move away. However, the moment you fidgeted, Lus stirs and his hand moves from your hip to your shoulder, effectively keeping you in place.

Well, then. This is awkward.

The idea of waking him up came to mind but you thought better against it. Why embarrass you both and deny the other some meaningful rest? That was the excuse you came up with as you feel the man nuzzle against your neck and shoulder. The scratch of his facial hair feeling wonderful against your skin. An involuntary sigh of pleasure escapes your mouth and you had to bite your bottom lip to stop more from coming out. You needed to pull yourself together. The man is sleeping, for god’s sake, and here you were, getting hot and bothered.

Just as you were about to accept your situation with grace, you feel Luis move once more. Followed by a lethargic groan, he twists until he is on his back, withdrawing his hand from your person until it rested on his sculpted abdomen. His eyes are still closed. His expression is peaceful, absent of the coquettish mask he usually wears. The man looks impossibly beautiful like this and you found yourself reaching a curious hand towards his face. You manage to stop right before his cheek, mesmerized by his sleeping form. If lives weren’t on the line, you’d watch him forever.

“How long have you been awake?”

The sound of his thick accent made you jolt, retreating your hand back to your side. You almost thought you were imagining Luis’ voice until your eyes catch the flutter of his lashes. Grey eyes peeking in your direction.

Unable to think of anything better to say, you candidly answer back, “How long have you?”

The Spaniard grins wryly. “Tocado. Point taken.”

He turns his head, his expression telling that the man is well-rested and now focused entirely on you. There was something in his eyes that you cannot place. Or more accurately, there was an emotion within them that you recognized all too well as you were certain you had the same burning in yours but dared not to acknowledge our loud. You mimic his movements, ensnared by his magnetic gaze. When he turned his body so that he was completely facing you, you did the same. Neither of you have broken eye contact. In the corner of your vision, you see him lift his hand until it hovered over your hip at the exact same spot it was before. Luis doesn’t lower it, however, his eyes silently asking for your permission. A slight nod from you was the sign he was waiting for and you are graced by his warm touch once more.

His thumb caresses soft patterns against your hip bone, teasing the skin beneath the band of your underwear. Your breath hitches, his subtle touches already stirring something fierce inside you.

“¡Mierda! Don’t make that face.” the man growls, wearing a serious, pained expression. You blink in confusion. Instead of elaborating right away, Luis earnestly squeezes your hip, earning a wanton gasp from your mouth, and pulls you in against him by the curve of your back.

“If you keep looking at me like that, mi amor,” he says through gritted teeth, his hot breath mingling with yours. “I won’t be able to savor you slowly.”

That undid you.

You weren’t sure which of you two closed the distance. While the storm was pouring freezing rain outside, you and Luis kept one another plenty warm inside.

.

.

A/N: Thanks for reading. You can find the next (Rated M) part here ;)

[theemporium]

Sirius x (preferably james's sister) reader with the song pretty face by Public? pretty please :)

love your writing btw <33

not quite sure what this is because i listened to the song and somehow this came from it🤠anyways thank you for requesting!!🖤

.

“You look beautiful.”

You whirled around, the fabric of your dress spinning with you as you turned to find your brother’s best friend standing in the doorway of the suite, dressed in a fitted suit like the other boys had been wearing earlier when you saw them outside the window. 

The clock on the wall had been haunting you all morning, the seconds ticking by and the black hands slowly moving around the face until they quickly approached the time that left a pit deep in your gut. The fabric of your dress was overwhelming, the corset was too tight and the veil on your head felt like the weight of the world. 

You were happy. 

You were supposed to be happy. 

Why didn’t you feel happy?

“Is it normal for a bride to cry on her wedding day?”

The question caught you off guard considering the plethora of other people who had seen you hadn’t even questioned the red rimmed eyes, but he did. He always noticed the small things about you.

“They are happy tears,” you told him with a strained smile on your lips, one that you knew he would look right through but you didn’t have the energy for anything else right now. You had the rest of the day to fake your emotions and smiles through, you could let your guard down a little right now. 

“Are they?” Sirius asked simply and the bluntness of the question was enough to crumble the wall a little more.

“I don’t have a choice, Sirius,” you whispered, scared if you said the words any louder then the rest of the emotions would come flooding out.

“Yes, you do,” he said in a strained voice as he quickly moved across the room, the door shut behind him as he walked towards you. His face softened a little at your expression and, before either of you could stop him, he raised his hands to wipe away your tears. “You don’t know him.”

“I know some things about him,” you supplied weakly.

“You don’t know him well,” Sirius said with a single shake of his head. “And he doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“Sirius—”

“You know I’m right, love,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with hope as you sunk into his touch. You sought out his familiar touch, the same hands that helped you through so much growing up and here he was again. He was always there. 

“If my brother finds out—”

“I’ll deal with James,” Sirius assured you, taking a step closer as his hands cupped your face. “I’ll deal with them all. Just say the word and I can call this whole thing off.” 

“What about the guests?” you whispered, the guilt settling in your stomach but the relief outweighed it. “What about all the planning and—”

“I don’t care about anything but you,” Sirius told you plainly enough. “I’ll throw the flowers in a fucking fire myself if needs be.”

You cracked a smile.

“Say the word and I’ll cancel this nonsense.”

You let out a heavy breath.

“You should marry a man you love,” Sirius whispered to you. “Not a man you feel like you need to marry out of duty.”

“I don’t want to let them all down, Sirius,” you whispered back, your eyes welling up with tears just like they had been doing all morning.

“You could never let me down, baby, no matter what,” he told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I don’t wanna get married today.”

“Then you won’t.”

“I’m tired, Sirius.”

“Let’s get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable, yeah?” he murmured as his fingers already began making way of removing the veil pinned into your hair. “Then you can take a nap whilst I sort everything out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

.

[avirxy]

115. "Please don't touch me." But Werewolf Claire? (I love ur au btw)

She wakes up with blood in her mouth, cracked and dried along her lips, stained in rivulets down the hollow of her throat.

Claire blinks, wincing as she turns her head away from searing sunlight overhead.

It parts through the leaves, glinting across dry, withered underbrush. Spring is approaching but cold still nips and bites at the foliage, making it an off wicker brown that soaks up everything.

She doesn’t immediately see anyone or anything, just endless woodland. Curling her fingers into the soft earth the trickling sound of running water hisses nearby, not man made, to rough and tumbling.

The stumbling trip is made in short bursts of leaning against nearby trees, her feet catching along roots that rise from the ground. But she sees it eventually, slightly sloping lower into the earth.

Claire drags herself to the bank, aching for a drink, to get this—disgusting, tangy…sweet blood out of her mouth and off her hands.

It’s under her fingernails, wedged along each bed.

She doesn’t recognize the creek either, sandy little outcroppings, the trees, sometimes she can piece together a relative location, like once she woke up near the lookout or by those weary abandoned straggler cabins belonging to some sort of nature preserve.

The unknowing scares her, of what she did, or didn’t do.

Ice cold water stings her skin, but the want for a drink is far outweighing any chill she’s experiencing. It’s easier to focus on, keep the task simple so her mind can’t stray.

Claire almost doesn’t care as it drips in-between her fingers, soaking her ruined clothes.

She hears him long before she sees him, as she’s cupping another palm full of water, the twigs he keeps stepping on, his rushed breaths.

Something could hunt him down so easily, in the woods, where the beast knows best, it could be on his back before he has the chance to defend himself.

Jim’s an incredibly capable fighter, and part of her knows his rush is to reach her, uncaring with the noise he’s stirring up. But he couldn’t stop her when the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky if he tried, and he wouldn’t.

Even if it hunted him he’d play offensive, Jim would never hurt her and that terrifies her, because she knows the wolf doesn’t hold the same values.

She could end up over his body one of these days.

Claire’s already seen enough of that in her nightmares.

Ones that keep her sleepless and cagey, desperately fiddling with the tab of an energy drink before first period because she can’t close her eyes without seeing flashes of what might be true or not.

He’s breathing hard when he crests the edge, a tattered bag slung over his shoulder. Toby calls it something really stupid and joking, a recovery bag but the exact name is blanking her right now, too early for her mind to fully be slotted back into place.

Housing whatever Jim has carefully packed into it for her today. His eyes widen at the sight of her, relief the only emotion spread across his face.

It should be disgust she thinks bitterly, using her sharp nails to scrape at the dried blood still sticking to her wrists, but she can’t get it all off, even days later the ghost of the feeling lingers, the guilt.

Claire swears the blood is still on her hands sometimes, soaked into her skin as a reminder.

“I got turned around twice,” He talks so light, so softly, “this magic compass could definitely use some tweaking.”

He’s also awful with directions so, the cards are stacked against him.

He kneels down, carefully slipping the bag off his shoulder. Jim’s sword sits at his hip, he doesn’t take any chances after one month when a Ogre decided no one was allowed to cross his bridge without losing a limb. Funny it wasn’t a troll.

It’s never been used against her, not yet, likely not ever, not willingly.

His heartbeat thumps in her ears, so loud it’s almost enticing, closer still he approaches, bringing with him that—

Gold flashes violently across her vision and Claire shies away instantly, inhaling sharply.

“Please don’t touch me.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want his comfort, his touch. She’s covered in someone…something’s blood though.

And his heartbeat is far too leering.

Jim doesn’t press, he never does, gaze flitting across her face worriedly. Sitting down in the mud there’s ample space between, he’s safer that way.

Claire stares at her reflection, watching it twist and warp as the water ripples, just like last night. The nearly unrecognizable figure stays human though, untamed brown hair, the blaring strip of white. Her eyes look weird though, fighting between flits of gold.

“Did I…”

“No,” He assures steadily. “You stayed to the east of town the entire time, never got close, Darci had a spell going all night.”

Her bottom lip has been worn raw from the drag of her teeth. “And you didn’t find anything?”

Jim seems to infer what she’s asking. “It was probably an animal.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

“Claire, I don’t think you’d do that.”

She wouldn’t, but the wolf would, it did, she still doesn’t think Toby’s fully forgiven her for Mr. Fluffy, the poor thing was found mauled in a ditch not long after the full moon a few months ago.

“Why do you keep doing this for me?”

He wakes up before dawn, or maybe he doesn’t even sleep, treks through mud and grime, exposes himself to the danger of the woods.

All to find her.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

Claire doesn’t phrase it as a question, because she already knows the answer. If it were him, instead of her, if he was cursed to become a monster, to roam the woods under burning moonlight she’d do everything in her power to help him.

He smiled softly. “You can’t chase me off with a little blood,”

Would she chase him off with the fact that this is forever, there’s no cure, there’s nothing in the world that could possibly help her.

“Claire?”

The tears burning at the edges of her eyes are becoming harder to fight off, blurring her peripheral.

She tries to swallow the thick, wallowing knot in her throat unsuccessfully.

“Hey,” He breathes in a whisper, fast and worried.

“Can I?”

She fights with herself for several moments before nodding, squeezing her eyes shut.

Jim grasps one of her bloodstained hands, clasping his fingers across her own and Claire feels fresh tears sting her eyes, it’s done so gently she trembles at the force of it.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs as the first of many sobs escape past her teeth.

“Claire, it’s okay.” Jim repeats as she twists on the bank and grasps the edges of his shirt, hating herself for getting blood on his clothes.

His arms wrap around her, carefully, holding her up as Claire cries, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

She hates it—

She hates that she’s crying in front of him.

Claire hates that she can’t stop herself, that she can’t wait an hour until she’s sitting in shower as the water rubs her skin raw to sob, to cry until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are so blurry with tears it’s hard to see.

Jim just keeps murmuring the same two words, over and over.

Gently reminding her, staining his hands with blood just like her’s already are.

[rachetmath]

Jaune Vol 10 Character Analysis

You know what I planned to make this a few pages long, but screw it, let’s talk about it. In Volume 10, I want Jaune to have that same energy back in Volumes 9 and 6. I’m sorry, but after everything Jaune has been through should not go back to being a comic relief character. No, not a chance, considering they're in the kingdom of Vacuo.

Vacuo, the desert kingdom might as well be the crime invested, savage, and brutal nation in all of Remnant. And this was the best place to bring thousands of people to? Imagine the amount of stress Jaune will be under due to the amount of work needed just to have stability. And he just got back from the Ever After. Imagine how hard it will be for him to readjust to Remnant, especially if the people start losing faith in the hunters. Not only that despite being reverted to the age he left in, he still is mentally older than everyone else. 

Remember what Jaune’s mother told him, “A stranger is a friend you haven't met yet.” Well, that’s debatable now after being betrayed by so many people. So imagine Jaune thinking twice about trusting anyone, regardless of good intentions. Hell, have him question Emerald so she can prove herself or his allies for a change considering they barely do anything for him. Either way, Jaune… won’t be as trusting as before. 

Next, after failing his friends multiple times at least story-wise…Jaune might as well be more obsessed with getting stronger than ever before. Even though Weiss, Yang, and Blake slightly helped him, it’s not enough to help him move past the amount of pain he went through like isolation, paranoia, and self-doubt. These things can make Jaune question himself, and lead him to want to quit, leaving the hunter world for good. Or die. This isn’t a good idea, considering Jaune is needed and is a hero in other people's eyes. (Jaune has been doing a better job than most characters, despite being the weakest in the group.) 

Sadly, his friends may be unable to talk to him about it. I’m talking about Ren and Nora, mainly due to relating. But it's because they are both horrible teammates. 

Okay, I explain my beef with these two. Ren and Nora, I tolerated at the beginning volumes. However, after volumes four to eight, I got frustrated with them enough that I didn’t mind if either of them or both of them died. Jaune always has to be there for both of them but neither is there for him when he truly needs them. I get it he is their leader but still. And before you all say “Ren and Nora have moments with Jaune.” My counterpoint is that most of them are forgettable and were outweighed by their other actions. Don’t believe me? Then let us discuss the volumes.

In volume four, it’s crazy that Ruby knows what Jaune has been doing more than his team. Let’s not forget during a fight with a Nuckalavee they were conversing while Jaune and Ruby were fighting for their lives. Look I understand, the Nuckalavee killed Ren’s parents but still. And don’t get me started on how they were willing to stand aside in the fight with Tyrian. At least Jaune was trying to help in response to Ruby jumping in between Qrow and Tyrian’s fight by herself.

Volume five, not going to lie, Nora was worried about Jaune but that was in a trap set up by Cinder and Raven. And to make matters worse they fought one man together while Jaune faced a maiden alone. Then when Jaune was healing Weiss, not knowing how long it would take, the moment Ren got hurt, Nora rushed in to help him, knowing Jaune may need protection. (I know it was under Jaune’s orders but come on.)

Volume six…. No. Let us skip this because even though it was a bad time, at least Nora and Ren said the sweetest thing ever. It’s too bad I can’t say those same words held up for volume seven. Nora and Ren were barely with Jaune at all. Jaune is more with Oscar than they were combined. Then they were useless in the fight with Neo and argued half the volume onto volume eight.

In volume eight, I truly started hating these two even more. Nora seems to care more about Oscar, to the where she has hugged him more than once, while I don’t recall one time she ever hugs Jaune. So far, in many volumes, she was straight-up rude to him. And even when he and Ren return from almost certain death she never says “Hi” and after healing her, Nora and Ren start having their moment again. Nora never said “Thank you”.

Speaking of Ren, we can’t forget this man calling Jaune out like he did, over something they all agreed to do. Understand, the circumstances they were in. Oscar got kidnapped by an unknown enemy. They were in a snow field with no shelter insight and they could die. All while Oscar was in enemy clutches with no way to reach him. With the facts in mind, was addressing any of what Ren said, important? “No. Why?” because not only was it not of any importance, there were too many counterpoints to his statements.

And what makes this worse, is when the portal to Vacuo, appears before them, they immediately use Jaune as a test subject instead of Emerald. Nope, these two are unless to Jaune if he starts going on the deep end. Emerald and Oscar might be a better choice than either of them. Hell, I’ll take the red-haired woman over them. I want Raven to talk to him or at least Qrow. 

I want Raven to come back and talk to him, due to being one of the same. The only difference is Jaune’s actions were based on circumstances, while Raven’s were purely by choice. Imagine Raven telling Jaune every cruel thing she’s ever done. And how some of the decisions she’s made in her life, caused her more grief and hardship than good. She tells Jaune not to make the same mistakes she did. Telling him to press forward despite everything he has gone through. I wouldn’t mind if Raven bothers to train him if Jaune asks of her. And if that can't happen then give that role to Qrow. However, there is one person Jaune needs to stay away from and kill. Tyrian.  

Tyrian is one of those toxic individuals, who will use and manipulate people to do things recklessly. Like I said before, the people's faith in the hunters could be diminishing. People like Tyrian will take advantage of this by using violence and chaos as a solution. When it's simply him pushing his own agenda. Tyrian was already interested in Jaune, but he never expressed why. Tyrian, in theory was like Jaune but life changed him somehow to be a monster. Jaune who's already close to insanity might as well be another reason fueling Tyrian’s curiosity. Tyrian wants to see how long it will take to break the knight’s spirit until he becomes just like him. Or push him to become another ally for Salem. Basically, instead of like Marco where he just forgets and moves on with his life, Jaune, I agree, becomes more like Samurai Jack. Or in this case, Odysseus, who I probably talk about later.

Samurai Jack, as many know was a Samurai, sent to the future and out for revenge against a demon known as Aku. He has experienced multiple failures, especially trying to find a way home to the past. Soon, he lost all chances of getting home to his family. And to make matters worse, he loses his sword and his way. This led to Jack being on the run and hiding from Aku. Sending him into a downward spiral as he felt all hope was lost. It wasn't until he met Ashi and remembered the good he had done for the people is when he rose to fight again, overcoming his demons. Odysseus, on the other hand, learns a different lesson. Again later.

If that’s the direction Jaune’s character is taking, then these are the requirements. Jaune moves on and embraces the reality that he isn’t the same person he once was before the Ever After. And he needs to find his strength once again. Planning and making better choices than the supposed headmasters and rulers of the world. And the best way to do that is to work on himself while separating from the group. What I’m theorizing is, when Alyx said “You’re not meant to be the hero.”, what could she have meant by it? Probably because while being a hero is good, being a ruler and leader for the people is a lot better.

[thecuriousquest]

What would the Fairy Tale yans do with a broken s/o?

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, broken darling, bad mental health, mentioning of violence, mentioning of sex

Checkout my Master List here.

Natsu:

Being the delusional Yandere that he is, Natsu would think you have become submissive rather than broken. He would assume you’re crying into his chest and hugging him as soon as he gets home because you missed him. If he finds you waiting in once place for him for hours, he would simply smile and sit down next to you, pulling you onto his lap to hold you closely. He is planting so many kisses on your cheek and forehead. He’d think you’re FINALLY in love with him because you’re not fighting him or running away anymore. It’s purely a relief to him that you love him, that you can’t do anything without him.

Gray:

Gray notices a change in your behavior, and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s suspicious of you, thinking that you’re only doing this because you’re trying to get him to let his guard down. You want to know exactly what to cook him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You don’t know what he wants you to wear. You don’t want to go anywhere near the front door after what happened last time. You wait for him to tell you to go to sleep. All of these things lead him to assume that you’re planning an escape attempt, and he’ll only keep you even closer. He’ll smother you with his watchful eye, but you can’t do anything except let it happen. You’re not his victim anymore, you’re just his. Forever.

Jellal:

Jellal would feel guilty about breaking you, but he would be so happy for the chance to take care of you. If you can’t bathe yourself, he’s rubbing soap onto your skin, and he’s not going to be modest about it. He’ll take his time while washing your breasts and legs. If you can’t eat, he’s spoon feeding you every bite until you have the energy to do it by yourself. He’s reading you bedtime stories and holding you in his sleep. Jellal wants nothing more than for you to be happy again, but he’s perfectly content with showing you how capable he is at taking care of you, just like he always promised he would. So, he does feel guilty, but his love for you outweighs the guilt.

Gajeel:

Jesus Christ. On one hand, he would be frustrated that you’re not eating or bathing, pissed off that all you do is cry. However, you’re not flinching when he kisses you possessively, and he picks up on this. To put it bluntly, he’ll only beat you if he thinks you’re trying to rebel. You don’t plead for mercy anymore, an empty shell of your former self taking each and every ounce of pain. All you do is shed tears and cry even more. When he’s done, you turn to him, wanting to cling onto the hardened man for comfort. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s not stupid, he’s just confused. So, even if you are broken, don’t expect for him to take things easy on you. He’s still going to fuck you, kiss you, and beat you, but he’ll also reward you for no longer squirming under his touch.

Laxus

Laxus is overbearing. “Why aren’t you eating? What’s wrong? Are you sick or something? …ANSWER ME!” He hates that you are no longer responsive unless you’re in tears or asking him what time he’ll be home. All he wanted was a darling who would be submissive, but now, you’re more than docile. You’re broken. You’re a ghost of what you once were. You might as well be dead. I can see Laxus ignoring you until you get your act together. If you try to latch onto him for comfort, he’s shaking you off of his arm. If you try to sleep with him at night, he’s making you sleep on the floor. You don’t mind, though. As long as you’re at least near him. The floor is where you belong anyway.

[the-ultimate-puppteer]

Could you do Chihiro x depressed reader that's really into exercise cause that's there relief outlet and I picture them training Chihiro. If not Chihiro then Ibuki please?

Ibuki and Chihiro with a depressed S/O who uses exercise as an outlet

Chihiro fujisaki

•Was a little concerned when he found out that you suffered from depression, but was glad you had an outlet for relief from it

•He actually wants you to include him in your workout routine

•Partially because he wants to get fit but mostly because he wants to spend more time with you

•It's when he starts working out with you that he gets a bit concerned about you overdoing it

•Sometimes you have a habit of of exercising too much and not taking long enough breaks

•So thankfully chihiro also acts as your breaks so that you don't end up Injuring yourself

•So this new routine in your relationship ends up helping out both of you greatly and you both end up healthier and with a new sense of confidence

Ibuki mioda

•Oh yeah, she's probably one of the best girls for you to date

•If you already didn’t know ibuki is already an exercise nut

•Except she didn't consider it exercise,she was just burning off energy

•Well that and she's looking for fun things to do, so she decided to include herself in your exercise routine

•Honestly she just wanted to spend more time with you so she decided she join(takeover) your routine

• So now you have the living embodiment of energy dragging you out on walks with her

•Sometimes you even go put and wander around town with her

•Though this actually works out since you have an excellent sense of direction so she no longer gets lost

•Or sometimes you go around climbing on random objects that look cool or strange. You've long since learned not to question ibuki's logic

•And throughout this you've got to keep an eye on your girlfriend cause she really likes to wander off

•Also to No one's surprise she has more energy than you thought she's really good at telling when you hit your limit and will force you to go home and rest

•Doesn't matter how much you like to exercise she's not letting you overwork yourself

•Really even if this did have downsides, the upsides outweigh them, so be thankful for having such an amazing girlfriend

[marshmallowprotection]

Help! Ray got terrible headache than usual and a Believer informed you of this situation because he keeps on mumbling your name while working in his room. What do you do Kait?

The first thing I'd do is wonder if this a trap laid by the Savior, after all, she suspects I'm a weakness of his. If he can't focus on his work with whispers of seeing me again, then the problem must be me. That's all the Savior would think, you know?

As much as I would like to have faith in the other believers, I know how the hierarchy works here. Sure, there might be a few of them that care about him, but that's how I'm bound to last very long when it comes to his standoffish attitude and the way the Savior makes sure that other believers beat him down whether he gets a little too proud of himself. 

I can't always assume that people are going to act in good faith for him. Why would they? I'm pretty sure the Savior gives them a bonus if they find him doing anything he's not supposed to do. After all, how is it when she seems to know everything about us? She's got eyes and ears everywhere.

I would love to have faith in the person who tells me Ray is struggling in a way that only I could make better, but deep down in my heart, I can't have faith in that person.

Ray was the one who told me not to trust anybody but him. 

How can I have faith in this situation?

How can I trust that what they're saying is the right thing? How can I know this isn't some kind of trap to lure me outside of my room and take me to the basement? I have to be as cautious as Ray is because if I don't pay attention to everything that's happening around us just as it happens, it might just be the very death of us. Any step off the charted path could get rid of me or him. It's a careful dance I need to play as my footsteps remain feather-light against the ground.

Still, even if I can get in an impossible amount of trouble, how can I let him suffer alone? Even if it's a trap, can I find it in me to ignore a cry for help? I can't. The thought of leaving him there to suffer for any amount of time will outweigh my bitter paranoia, and that's saying something because he and I are anxious, paranoid creatures when it comes to this world. 

He won't be happy with me for leaving my room, but at the same time, I know he won't be too upset in the moment because his mind will be too focused on the relief that comes from knowing his room no longer feels bitter cold. It doesn't feel as cold as it did before, and his body finally stops traveling after hours of being unable to make the chill go away. His office is always cold, it's like a little ice box, and he keeps it that way because it's the only thing that keeps him awake whenever his energy starts to waver.

He says if he doesn't deserve to be warm, and sometimes, it's nice to be in the cold because the better fire of the elixir makes him want to find out what it feels like to bury himself in a pile of snow. There is a part of him that's afraid he might melt that pile of winter wonderland with how ungodly the heat is. 

But, this time he would be better cold, as he often becomes when he inhales one too many caffeine pills. For whatever reason, they get his blood pumping but not in the way you would expect it to. You would think it would make his body go into overdrive, and burn up like the sun, but it does the opposite.

It burns up all the energy he has left to spare and the only thing he can do is cry into his hands and pray it will stop long enough for him to get his work done. 

When I find him, he is in a state of disrepair, and he almost can't believe that I'm standing there in his room. Do you want to know the reason why I can get into his workroom when I shouldn't be able to? Well, it's because he put a failsafe on my identification card. He made sure my card had access to his room in case anything ever happened and I needed to get to him as soon as possible.

The Savior doesn't know about that, but the Savior doesn't know about a lot of things. 

He babbles, wondering if I'm a part of his fever dream or not, and I take that chance to help move him from his desk over to the couch. He's taller than I am but it's not too hard to move him. It takes a lot of nudging to remove his jacket; He won't let me slide off his vest of his shirt, but I can, at least, remove his dense coat so he doesn't feel hot when the chills wear off. I consider that a win, you know.

It takes more time to get him to completely lay down, and the only reason I can get him to do that is because I promise I won't leave his side while he feels awful. He'll say things like, "i don't deserve you... I don't think you want to see me so pitiful... please... go back to your... room... don't give me something I don't deserve." To which, I, along with many others I presume, would get him to stop beating himself up by rolling down on the couch in front of him.

He's much safer tucked against the cushions, and with me in front of him, he doesn't have to worry about rolling off the couch because of his nightmares.

When he has a headache, his awareness of the situation around him can be very skewed, and it brings out the part of him that is just a terrified child who wants nothing more than to be comforted. Lucky for him, I'm not bothered by that , and I would let him settle against my chest so he could try to get some rest next to my heartbeat. He might get in trouble for not doing his work, but he can't get any work done if his vision doubles and all he can think about is screaming. 

"Shh, shh. I've got you, my prince. Close your eyes... I'm not leaving you alone. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you... no more suffering alone... no more. I've got you."

[rhadinesthes]

I saw Ghost (and Amon Amarth) last night, and it was AMAZING.

I got my ticket in February, but I've been wanting to see Ghost basically since I got into them in November. I'm not usually a person particularly interested in concerts, so that's saying a lot. (And I have a terrible track record regarding the few I have been interested in.) But even the vids and clips people post of the rituals radiate an energy that makes me so happy and smiley, and that was enough to convince me to go when I got the chance. They put on such a wonderful show, and I sang and grinned and screamed and danced stupid the entire time. I kept getting all teary-eyed and emotional all through the show, too. Like, is this real? Am I really here in this moment with these wonderful people, both onstage and off? So much in my life has gone so, so wrong since I got my ticket that I'd been strongly doubting for months that I'd be able to make it there. But I did! And for that short, wonderful time, I did indeed get to forget it all and have a good time, untouchable by a world continually leaving me unimpressed. We all did, I hope.

So when the show wound down, and Papa gave us his regards and wellwishes, and when Respite began... yep, there were tears. I knew there would be. Perhaps it was my singing that kept me from just sobbing; my voice shook and wavered the whole time, I was so emotional. I straight-up screamed when I found out back in March May that they added it to the set. I recall thinking before then that it would make a great closer, but I didn't really think they'd do it (or more accurately, I thought they would've done it already if they were going to at all)-- but then they did, and I'm so incredibly glad for the catharsis. For the relief.

I also took so many pics. Some of them are cool, and some of them are very silly "cryptid" pics. I missed the memo about them re-adding Mummy Dust to the set, so I was even more excited at that point. The bills and confetti raining down on us were just magical, like glitter over our heads and all around us. And of course I got some to commemorate the occasion! AND I got to see Cirrus play the keytar solo. My girl! 💚💸💚

It was also really fun and funny when Copia came back out to tell us off for not leaving yet and have us convince him to do us all play the three encores.

Additionally, shout out to the person next to me in the pit, who was so stylish and friendly toward everyone around us and fun to chat with, despite my awkwardness definitely outweighing theirs. Also, I feel very, very fortunate that the show wasn't nearly as hot as I thought it'd be. My feet, on the other hand... hoo boy, did they suffer (well).

I also enjoyed Amon Amarth, and familiarizing myself with a hefty portion of their output paid off. It did take me until about the third song to loosen up enough to really get into the concert spirit, but after that? I was there. My favorite part was, of course, rowing in the pit. Other highlights include the viking duel, Loki harassing the band only to get kicked in the chest and chased off the stage by Johan, and all of Raise Your Horns and Twilight of the Thunder God. There was also a moment early on where Johan stepped offstage during a solo, and I caught a glimpse of him behind the display, grinning and chatting with someone. Honestly, that was just unexpectedly adorable.

But like. Nothing ever lasts forever. So what now? :c

[purrality]

I feel so bitter about being alive lately. like. resentful. towards everyone. I'm not alive for me. I don't really have any reasons to be outside of others. I have moments of joy and pleasure on my own but the opposite outweigh those heavily and have for a very long time now. I don't make enough anymore to do much. living alone costs too much in money and energy and time. I can't clean up after myself. I can't cook, I'm lucky to have nonfrozen food a few times a month. I'm lucky to be touched past a greeting even less frequently. suicidal thoughts have occurred to me at least on a weekly basis, even in the best of periods of my life, for over a decade now. I'm having withdrawal symptoms that make everything feel even worse. I have never in my life, not at any point, felt like I could consistently even tell anyone how much it all hurts as it does. nobody wants to hear how bad it is all the time. nobody could tolerate it. it's too much to know. I've been told I'm not too much over and over by loved ones, and I believe that they believe it, but I'm always punished with pulling away or abandonment if I try to be all of me for them. even just taking the lid off of the jar in front of people seems to be unbearable. what am I supposed to do? and how am I not supposed to be bitter when these are the people I'm enduring so much for?

I don't really want to die. I know that. I'm not stupid and I've fought with these kinds of thoughts more than long enough to understand why they're happening. I just genuinely don't see a way for things to improve for me. I won't find a better job. I won't find people who could do anything else for me. I won't have the means to chase passions(ones that I'm too depressed to gain any pleasure from anyways) that I can't already do now. this is it. it got better and I have everything I wanted the first time I wanted to die so bad. I feel hopeless and angry and exasperated and tired and I don't want to do it anymore.

I keep asking myself, how badly do I have to suffer for the people who love me to see my death as humane? how long do I have to keep doing this to justify it? at what point does the relief of giving up outweigh the hurt I'd leave behind?

I don't feel like I can tell anyone I know any of this. therapists or suicide hotline folks would get me caged and I'd come out worse than I went in. my mom's fuss would be unbearable. my closest friend has explicitly told me not to talk to them when suicidal. and honestly them or anyone else I'd just feel manipulative anyways.

I've gotten through this enough times before, right? I'll never actually do it, I'll chicken out every time, right? I'll make it out of the 27th year, right? even though I told myself this was when I could finally die if I still wanted to? what a fucked up baton to pass to my future self. but that's the nature of keeping on living. I'm passing on the baton. you, ahead of me, you get to decide if you keep passing it forward. you get to decide. you get to deal with my inaction. enjoy the apartment. enjoy the freedom. don't you want to live yet?

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 305: Wednesday November 1, 2023 - "Mustachioed for Movember"

Movember Manifesto 2023    

Upward Spirals

I dedicate my effort in the month of November to create a healthier lifestyle for my self, and for the global community of men, including my son and his generation, while raising money for Movember with the hopes that my energy creates some upward spirals that disrupt negative cycles.

At my best, I am taking care of my health.  Energetic and disciplined and focused on a task.  When I am at my worst, plagued with anxiety, I would prefer to be lazy and “rest” feeling like I have just too much on my plate; an apathetic victim; but what am I resting up for? How is this a good model for my son?   Can I create a better balance that positively impacts my outlook and engagement in life? Will I start now? Across the world, one man dies by suicide every minute of every day, with males accounting for 69% of all suicides. Too many men are ‘toughing it out’, keeping their feelings to themselves and struggling in silence.  Movember serves as motivation to move in dedication to the men lost every minute to suicide, and I will think about them as I battle to get my own self moving, as if pulling my own self up out of the hole of depression.   Getting back into my body is the best way to getting moving in an upward spiral- the best, most natural anti-depressant, and I will bring that energy into my world this month.  Though I am not sure if I can run one mile now at the start, I set the goal of running 60 miles over the course of November.  I also commit that even if it takes into December to get it done, I will cross the finish line.   And I will shave down to a mustache so that others might notice and ask and give me an opportunity to share this main goal.

I will share my story, but also I commit to sharing content, resources, and stories with one post about men’s health and mental health every day of the month of November.  While forcing me to find and learn and explore different areas, I can create some upward spirals by sharing that with others that might spark some change or some enlightenment that helps another person, while also adding foundation to my fundraising efforts.  Specifically, a growing number of men – around 10.8M globally – are facing life with a prostate cancer diagnosis. Globally, testicular cancer is the most common cancer among young men.  As I age, its time for me to start paying attention to preventative medicine and screenings and being more responsible for my health and I will take this opportunity to learn and share with men in my social media network.  But much of the mental health aspect impacts our relationships with others, and so I will also use this as an opportunity to share what I have learned and experienced with domestic violence, and creating upward spirals for the way we love and express emotions to help others be better husbands and dads.  To this end, I joined the Tired Dad’s group for Movember, whose aim is rooted in the same mission.

I have long come to believe, as helpful as it may seem in the moment, that leaning into substances to get through the day and week is the biggest obstacle to me being a better and more balanced healthy person. I believe many men struggle with the same exact fate as responsibilities seem to outweigh the energy needed to take care of yourself, and once you lean into the crutch of choice, its another day of not accepting the invite into that better story.  To help support the goals and the meaning of this Movember month, I dedicate to a substance free lifestyle.  Where I need a crutch, I’ll turn to meditation.  Where I need stress relief, I’ll turn to the bike or yoga or reading.  I will save my self for the work at hand, and take a break in the name of an upward spiral because I know thats in the way.

And now the real responsibility in being a man - following through on my word knowing that if I can do my part, I will better for it, men around me will be better and inspired, and Movember can help continue support projects that support men’s health from my successful fundraising.

Song: Dax (feat. Darius Rucker) - Be A Man

Quote: "I have to constantly re-identify myself to myself, reactivate my own standards, my own convictions about what I’m doing and why." ~Nina Simone

[quittingfiction]

First, We Make the Beast Beautiful

Now, a strange thing happens when you realize that some gargantuan, all-looming issue you'd been fretting over no longer needs to be fixed. You take a deep, free breath, expand a little, release your grip and get on with better things. (3)

It's the most incredible relief to know that we're all wearing masks... and to see them slip on others. (6)

"We must suffer alone. But we can at least hold our arms to our similarly tortured, fractured, and above all else, anxious neighbors, as if to say, in the kindest way possible: 'I know...'" ... When you realize there's no guidebook, an opportunity suddenly presents itself. If no one knows what they're doing, if there's no "right" way to do life, then we can surely choose our own way. Yes? (6)

I can now tell you it was all anxiety. All of it. Just different flavors. (7)

I take off my mask and share my not-knowing. (11)

To be told that we have an illness that is not our "fault" relieves some of the doubt and uncertainty, and absolves us of the guilt we feel that we should be able to cope better. Which in itself turns down the anxiety dial. (22)

I am not my sickness; I have a condition that can wander all lonely and cloudlike into view from time to time. I (the whole me) can choose to sit back and witness the clouds, let them be, let them pass. Pfft. (23)

For some of us, it does get to the point where the bloody clouds take over the sky. There is nothing left but black clouds. It becomes medical. (23)

Take on board all the theories. But given no definitive causes, diagnoses or treatments have been found yet, why not see this as an opportunity? An opportunity to define anxiety as something other than a problem or disorder that has to be fixed as such. ... "Perhaps the problem, sometimes, is the notion that there's a problem." (25)

"... a diagnosis can be a safe place to plant things until you have the wisdom and learning to take you into deeper understanding." (26)

cruel irony #1: The curious nature of anxiety is such that it defies its own diagnosis and treatment. (27)

Anxious behavior is rewarded in our culture. (27)

Many of us deny we have a problem and keep going and going. (27)

Depression is stigmatized, anxiety is sanctified as propping up modern life, which ironically sees depression treated as a legitimate illness, and the anxious left in a cesspool of self-doubt and self-flagellation for not being better at coping with life. And so we buy each other Keep Calm and Carry On mugs as though that's something you can just do. (28)

It's a self-perpetuating pain—we use anxiety to fight our anxiety. (28)

Many of us with anxiety don't look like we've got a problem because outwardly we function ludicrously well. ... We are a picture of efficiency and energy, always on the move, always doing. ... Sure, we look busy, but mostly we're busy avoiding things. (30)

cruel irony #2: The more anxious we are, the more high-functioning we will make ourselves appear, which just encourages the world to lean on us more. (31)

cruel irony #3: The less you sleep, the more anxious you get, the less you sleep... and so on. (32)

Some of us, though, do not learn how to self-settle, or have a reason to unlearn this ability to trust later on down the track. ... We feel unsupported and unsafe and so we must remain hypervigilant. (33)

... this need to reflect quietly (to reacquaint ourselves with ourselves), without the distractions and obligations of our daylight selves, outweighs the benefits of sleep and so we subliminally make the call: think, not sleep. (34)

When I can't sleep now, I remind myself that it might just be about a need to reacquaint my self with my self.  (34)

I was running around with a hot potato with nowhere to drop it off. I got even more anxious when I became aware that no one else seemed to be feeling the same things. (38)

SIT ON A SMALL BENCH WITH YOURSELF (41)

It’s like we’re searching for a Something Else that makes us feel... what? Like we’ve landed, I suppose. And that things are all good on this patch. (44)

Anxiety is a disconnection with this Something Else. (44)

It’s this lack of connection and clarity that leaves us fretting and checking and spinning around in our heads and needing to compensate with irrational, painful behaviors, whether it be OCD, phobias or panic attacks. It’s this sense of missing... something... that leaves us feeling lonely and incomplete and fluttery. Something is not right. We haven’t landed. (45)

I’m really fretting that I’m not able to exist calmly, happily on my own, on my own bench. ... I’m really fretting that something is missing that should be making me feel supported, comforted, and assured that everything’s going to be okay. (45)

You want to find something, but you don’t know what to search for. In everyone there’s a continuous desire and expectation; deep inside, you still expect something better to happen. That is why you check your email many times a day. (46)

This is what else life naturals do: they see a flower. And find it beautiful. That’s it. They don’t wonder if they’re liking it enough, or if the whole experience is a waste because today they’re too stressed to appreciate lovely things like flowers. Nor do they fear that the flower won’t last. And they don’t try to draw on that Zen proverb about how a flower doesn’t try to bloom, it just blooms on its own. And then despair that they’re failing to do the same. They simply grasp the is-ness as a matter of course. (47)

Some might say this move marked the turning of a new leaf. I wouldn’t. They leaves have never stopped turning. (49)

These approaches are rooted in working with what “is” and easing our way into the life we want, gently, kindly. Instead of building a bridge (with happy-clappy language and unicorn emoticons) and getting over it, we make the most of the river we find ourselves in, even if it might be a little dank and overgrown with reeds at times. By doing so we may find happiness, among other different, rich emotions available to us. Happiness is a lovely by-product of the process. Not the (mostly unattainable) end goal. (52-53)

... the search for happiness is making anxiety worse because “the expectation of how happy you should be are so high, you always feel you are falling short.” ... our pursuit of happiness—including the recently fashionable route via mindfulness—is particularly privileged. (53)

Happiness is put forward as a choice, not as a matter of luck. Yet happiness derives from the Middle English word hap, meaning chance or good luck (thus “happenstance” or “perhaps”). We’ve twisted the meaning in recent times such that it’s now something we just have to work hard to get to the bottom of. As though it’s an endpoint that exists. We just have to sift through various options and decisions and choices. But, of course, getting to the bottom of options is anxiety-inducing. ... the more relentlessly we value and pursue happiness, the more likely we are to be depressed, anxious, and lonely. (53-54)

We can’t blame those of us with a highly sensitive amygdala for being anxious. (54)

... even our best attempts to avoid or combat or criticize our anxiety will only make it worse. Instead, self-compassion is the way forward. (55)

They acknowledge that it’s easier for self-flagellators like myself to activate compassion for another than it is to activate it for ourselves and conveniently supply studies that have found showing compassion for others will have the same comfort system activating response in the brain, this dampening the anxiety-riddled threat system. (56)

TALK TO A KID (56)

Tell them they can’t be blamed for feeling as they do, and that they won’t feel this way forever. (57)

WRITE A “NO BLOODY WONDER” LETTER TO YOUR ANXIETY (58)

Yes, yes, I know it feels like it’s too hard. But you deal with this every time we land here. Let’s just look back on it all for twenty-seven seconds. The shittiest days have always led somewhere. Haven’t they? (58)

“Bad habits... can’t be reversed or eliminated. It’s not how the brain works,” he explained. He drew a line on his notepad with his fountain pen. “This is a habit, a series of thoughts. They clump together to form a neural pathway and the more thoughts you add to this the thicker it gets.” He draws more lines over the top of the first. “You don’t delete a bad habit, you build a new, better one. You feed this new habit, over and over,” he tells me. He draws a new line, this time parallel to the first clump of lines, and thickens it with more and more strokes of his pen. The new thoughts clump, layer by layer, and eventually create a habit that is stronger than the old one. You build habits that trigger the comfort system, instead of the threat system. (59-60)

My new habit was getting the urge, and resisting it calmly. I visualized this in a calm, meditative state of self-hypnosis, the best state for drawing new lines. ... I reproduced the calm of the imagined scenario. I stayed. I stayed. I kept breathing. I was aware of the visceral urge to check. But I stayed. To see what happened. (60)

It wasn’t about changing myself. It was about creating ease and gentleness around who I was, which allowed me to make better choices. (60)

If you don’t use it, you lose it. This is why it is easier to form a new habit than maintain an old one. (61)

MAKE YOUR BED. EVERY DAY. (61)

“It’s easier to do something every day, without exceptions, than to do something ‘most days’... It sets us up for decision overload.” (62)

Franklin Roosevelt proclaimed there is nothing to fear but fear itself. I’m kind of saying the inverse. Don’t fear the fear. Instead, see it for what it is. You’re feeling anxious. You just are. No need to berate yourself for this; it will only make you more anxious. No need to think that things should be otherwise and that you’ve got it all wrong somehow. For this, too, will just make you more anxious. ... Do the anxiety. Then leave it there. This is our challenge. (63)

JUST SAY IT: “I’M ANXIOUS” (64)

DO CORE EXERCISES (64)

... the primary motor cortex linked to the axial body muscles (our core) is directly connected to the adrenal glands. (64)

... when you’re an anxious type, mediation is non-negotiable. (65)

You can be crap at meditation and it still works. (66)

It turns the volume down on the thoughts. (66)

You recite a mantra, faintly, in your head, for twenty minutes. That’s it. If your mind wanders, return to the mantra. Don’t worry about your breathing. Or your posture. Or your chakras. Return to the mantra. When thoughts bubble up, that’s cool. Actually, it’s better than cool. Thoughts are like little pockets of stress that your consciousness encounters as it descends into calm. ... thoughts are all part of this process. I’m not fighting myself. (67)

... it’s really the repeated gentle returning to a quietness that counts. It’s this sturdy vigilance, this steering toward stillness, that builds the relaxation response—or calm muscle—in your being. (68)

“It’s not really about what happens during the twenty minutes of meditation. It’s what happens after, out there in real life.” “Right. This changes things. So meditation is like a little forum for airing our grievances, purging the crap. So we can move on.” ... “You’re watering the root so you can enjoy the fruit ... keep watering, get the three stable. And then things will grow from there.” (68)

... the thing about meditation is that you always have it with you. You don’t have to rely on anyone or anything. You site. With yourself. And just meditate. (69)

Working from a low base reduces the expectation. All that matters is that I’m sitting with myself. (70)

STOP AND DROP (71)

... stop your head and drop into your heart. As I say, the thing about anxiety, it’s all head. So anything that gets us out of our heads is good. It works a different muscle. (71)

You only have to hold the feeling for a few seconds to “get it.” Try pausing your thinking for a minute and drawing your focus down into the space just behind your sternum. (72)

ROLL A SPONGE AROUND YOUR SKULL (73)

... absorbing, mopping up the little anxious pockets. (73)

DEEP BELLY BREATHING ALSO WORKS (73)

... deep, controlled breathing communicates to the body that everything is okay, which down regulates the stress response, slowing the heart rate, diverting blood back to the brain and the digestive system and promoting feelings of calm. (73)

Sitting upright or lying down, place your hands on your belly. Slowly breathe in, expanding your belly, to the count of five. Pause. Slowly breathe out to the count of six. Repeat for 10-20 minutes a day. (74)

HAVE A GRATITUDE RITUAL (AS LAME AS IT SOUNDS) (75)

The simple act of reflecting for a few minutes ... (4-15 minutes) on the good stuff in our lives creates a congruency between our goals and their fulfillment. This moment of recognition that things are gelling cooperatively makes you feel synchronicity and oneness with the flow of life. (76)

“Gratitude can have such a powerful impact on your life because it engages your brain in a virtuous cycle. Your brain only has so much power to focus its attention. It cannot easily focus on both positive and negative stimuli.” (76-77)

... the brain loves to fall for the confirmation bias—it looks for things that prove what it already believes to be true. “So once you start seeing things to be grateful for, your brain starts looking for more things to be grateful for.” And thusly we build all kinds of right muscles. (77)

JUST WALK (87)

To do this you have to walk reeeaaallllyy slowly. Which is the point. Because all focus is shifted to the “breathing-and-staying-upright” part of your brain, the anxiety takes a backseat. (88)

... when you activate one network you dampen or disrupt the other ... when you focus on the breath and the earth and the steps as a simple bodily sensation, you dampen the nosy, wandering storyline mechanism. ... walking eases anxiety because it provides the surging stress hormones with an outlet. We were programmed to offload the build-up of stress hormones after the initial stressor was activated. (89)

Studies show any movement, but particularly walking, will ease anxiety when we’re in the middle of a stress hormone surge. Indeed, the studies show that a mere 20–30 minute walk, five times a week, will make people less anxious, as effectively as antidepressants. Even better, the effect is immediate—serotonin, dopamine and endorphins all increase as soon as you start moving. (89)

...I’ll also advise against hardcore exercise if you’re anxious. Gentle and slow stuff is the best. (89)

Hiking gets us into nature...and multiple studies show that folks who live in green spaces have lower rates of mental health issues. It’s been suggested that getting away from city freneticness allows the prefrontal cortex to take a break. Accordingly, stress hormones, heart rate, and other markers back off. (91)

Hiking connects us to ourselves. A University of Michigan study found that because our senses evolved in nature, by getting back to it we connect more honestly with our sensory reactions. Which connects us with our true selves, and enhances a feeling of “oneness.” (91)

... awe-inspiring natural experiences release oxytocins—the hormones that make us feel warm and fuzzy and connected with others. (91)

... even getting out into nature for five minutes at a stretch is enough to give your self-esteem a substantial upgrade. And I know this: walking near water seemed to have the biggest effect. (92)

... a big part of contemporary unease comes from having so much of our life occurring at a speed that our bodies are not aligned with. (93)

HANDWRITE ON A NAPKIN SITTING AT A BAR (95)

It lowers the expectations. The point isn’t what you produce, it’s the writing out. And connecting with what you’re thinking or feeling. (95)

cruel irony #4: We yearn for something even if we don’t know what it looks like or if it actually exists. (98)

“If we crave to touch this Something Else, to know it, to be connected, why do we also flee from it, from out selves, into busy-ness and distraction and, well, all the things that make us anxious?” ... “Because there’s a silence and aloneness that accompanies a strong relationship with yourself. In that silence we see the truth of our existence and the shortness of life. And this is painful. Also, when we come in close, we become larger...and this requires change. We become more visible, and thus more open to being touched by life, and thus more likely to be hurt.” (100-101)

“A psychoneurosis must be understood, ultimately, as the suffering of a soul that has not discovered its meaning.” (103)

“I suppose that people who live with passion start out with an especially intense desire to complete themselves. We are the only animals who are naturally unfinished. We have to bring ourselves to fulfillment, to integration and to coherence.” (103)

I wished I wasn’t sane, I really did. When you’re sane you have to witness the whole bloody unraveling with your eyes wide open. (112)

Its because we’re going in the wrong direction. We;re grasping outward for satisfaction, sense of purpose, and for a solution to our unease. When we really need to be going inward, where the comfort lies. Wrong way! Go back! (118)

Every man rushes elsewhere into the future because no man has arrived at himself. -Michel de Montaigne (118)

When you have anxiety, you do learn to give up on all the perfectly Instagrammable notions of how life should be done. You just have to attend to survival sometimes. (120)

cruel irony #5: We rush to escape what makes us anxious, which makes us anxious, and so we rush some more. (121)

Fear is a primal physical response; anxiety is both this fear and the awareness of what it means. (122)

If anxiety surges forward, depression is a clinging to the past. (123)

If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present. (123)

Depressed or anxious, it’s the unknown that we are more petrified of, so we grasp and cling to the certainty of what’s already happened or to the false security of micromanaging in our heads to what comes next. Or both. To this extent I think anxiety and depression are different expressions of the same thing—a severe discomfort with what we can’t grasp, what we can’t know. ... [S]ome researchers in this field, increasingly aware of the fundamental similarities between anxiety and depression, argue that both may be facet of a broader disorder. Other research has indicated that the same neurotransmitters play a role in causing both anxiety and depression. Some of us have depressed anxiety. Others have anxious depression. (123)

Some literature suggested depression is a natural coping mechanism deployed in such cases to stop us from self-combusting from anxiety that’s out of control. (124)

Depression and anxiety at the same time is being sucked into a hole, in the dark, but with all your nightmares chasing you, so you run around and around the bottom of the hole but never get away from anything. I have experienced both...sometimes anxiety can kick me out of depression. But then it’s like a yo-yo experience and I have trouble finding peace in the middle. They’re frenemies with me stuck in the middle. It’s sort of like one side of your brain begging you not to get out of bed with chains, meanwhile the other part of you barks like a military sergeant for not getting out of bed. Anxiety and depression make me feel as though I’m stuck in tar and can’t get out, even though my hear has so many dreams and aspirations. (125)

ASK YOURSELF, “WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?” (126)

“Ask yourself what ‘problem’ you have right now. Worries about the future or the past don’t exist either—they’re just narratives we create in the present. Practice asking yourself “what’s the problem?” often. See if you don’t start to feel the anxious cycle back away. See if those startled birds at sunset don’t begin to settle, softly, gently, at dusk. See if this gentleness is where you want to be. (126)

Real disasters are a cinch to the shit we make up in our heads. Actually, they’re a relief. When the future does arrive, we’re always okay. And I think my tendency to seek out risky experiences is about wanting to be reminded of this. (127)

“I noticed the industry is another system that tells you something is wrong with you and is about someone else giving you a ‘fix’ e.g. healing/happiness/peace/enlightenment as an end goal.” (128)

TRY A FLANERIE (133)

flanerie—a wandering walk (133)

I set my aims super low. My aim is simply to look at a few things, see what happens. You know, to enjoy staying close. (122)

HOW TO CHICK IN WITH YOUR INSIDE PEOPLE (134)

Just create the space with your Inside People and the rest will unfurl as it needs to. ... Try saying to yourself, as he does, “Are we good? Are we comfortable? Is this where we should be? Is it making sense?” “Don’t think or plan in this space, just check in” ... let stuff happen. ... it’s also important to listen to what your peeps have to tell you when you ask them how they are. It will probably be heard with a feeling, perhaps an expansiveness, a release. (135)

... anxiety tends to play out on the body (somatically) when we haven’t yet come to understand how and why our anxiety happens. This kind of panic attack happens when our thought trigger the ancient fight-or-flight mechanisms and we succumb to the response, believing something truly fearful is happening. In intellectual anxiety attacks ... we do the fight-or-flight response while simultaneously being able to understand what it’s about. Not that this helps, because our overawareness of how and why anxiety happens and thorough and genuine absorption in this feeds the spiral. (137)

cruel irony #6: The more banal the supposed trigger, the guiltier and more self-indulgent and pathetic we feel, this adding to the anxious spiral. (139)

She works to green versus red flags. A red flag tells her that she’s heading in the wrong direction, that she’s in the wrong mindset and needs to stop and get a grip. I work to black and white versus color. If something appears in my mind’s eye in black and white, it signals I’m being too rigid. (140)

I’m Wile E. Coyote who’s chased Roadrunner over the cliff edge, and I’m frantically treading thin air, trying to grasp at something to hang on to. But there’s nothing there. Just the abyss. And the more I gasp outward, the more frantic I get. And down I go. (142)

“They could not care less about the luxury of happiness. They just want to feel the absence of pain. To escape a mind on fire, where thoughts blaze...to be empty.” The only way he could escape his burning thoughts was to stop living. (144)

cruel irony #7: The anxious tend to seek solitude, yet we simultaneously crave connection. (145)

The very gist of why I jitter is the need to know I belong, I fit. (145)

cruel irony #8: We need easy-going people, but they can be our undoing. ... They can ride with our stuff. ... But they can also tend to flake, and not realize what a big deal their flakiness is for someone whom uncertainty can be their undoing. (145)

cruel irony #9: We cope with strangers better than our own mates when we’re anxious. I think this is because around loved ones we feel so bloody responsible and guilty and hyperaware of our inconsistencies and neurotic needs. It’s exhausting being that apologetic. (145)

cruel irony #10: We may come across as extroverted, but we have society anxiety. (146)

cruel irony #11: We can talk coherently and rationally about our anxiety, even joke about it, yet we freak out on a regular basis. (146)

Anxious thoughts, apparently, have more pull in the brain than knowledge thoughts, so sensible facts and data go out the window when we’re panicking. (146-147)

cruel irony #12: We seem doggedly set in our ways, but we have no idea what we want. ... We’re flimsily coping, albeit with a white-knuckled grip. (147)

cruel irony #13: We look strong and controlling. But we actually need others’ help more than most. (147)

cruel irony #14: We’re always thinking about everyone (and everything), but were so damn selfish. (148)

Rumination, then, feels like we’re doing something, at least. Anything is better than the nothingness of not knowing...and, I guess, ultimately, of having to sit quietly with ourselves. The doing, doing distracts us from the dread. (149)

... take charge when we’re not good. (150)

...leave open for a loved one to read...but only once you fully acknowledge that your anxiety is not their problem. (150)

Your patience and calmness will exist in such stark contrast to our funk that well start to feel silly and return to Earth. Our anxiety does pass. ... stay and be stable for us. (151)

My anxiety spiral lifted because a whole heap of firmness happened. A decision was made. There were sturdy details. (153)

... don’t confuse our need to control our environment with a need to control you. (154)

mediation ... it doesn’t work in an anxiety spiral or panic. ... Really, the only aim is to just come in a bit closer. In such frantic, spiraling moments, I find it’s best to come in closer via the body. The body is solid enough, but not too “out there.” It’s close enough. I find my cells take over from there. (155)

GET TOUCHED BY A SHOE ATTENDANT ... the off-beatness of doing something like this helps. No pressure, but don’t hesitate either if you find yourself needing to step very slightly to the left to break a spiral. A little bit of crazy might freshen things up. (155-156)

GET A THAI MASSAGE (156)

[coming closer into the body] a big fluffy makeup brush and stroke my hand or my face act of taking my hair down and then braiding it ... someone else braiding or brushing my hair Wiggling! ... I pretend that I’m physically pulling the anxiety out of my chest, pull it up and shake it out of my fingertips and slam it on the ground. I rock back and forth Counting steps helps me I read things forward and backward. I just imagine that other people don’t even care I wear earplugs to cocoon myself (157-158)

For us anxious folk the [fight-or-flight] switch is particularly sensitive, of course. (158)

[P]anic attacks are a misinterpretation of symptoms. We mistake anxious-like symptoms for actual anxiety, which sees us get anxious about being anxious. Which can blow out into a separate syndrome called anxiety sensitivity, or AS... (159)

ASK YOURSELF, “WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?” (AGAIN) (160)

I absolutely believe it helps to see anxiety as having a metapurpose beyond the arbitrary torture of our little souls. Pain is lessened when there is a point to it. ... “That’s all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.” (164-165)

“He who has a why can endure any how.” (165)

STUDY SOME FRETTERS TO KNOW THYSELF (166)

... the correlation between creative contributions (artistic, political, entrepreneurial) and anxiety is well documented. (166)

“Something is always born of axcess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.” (167)

A LITTLE LIST OF KNOW-THYSELF-BETTER READS, BU NO MEANS COMPLETE The Road to Character — David Brooks Your Voice in My Head — Emma Forrest The Noonday Demon — Andrew Solomon The Fry Chronicles — Stephen Fry Monkey Mind — Daniel Smith Reasons to Stay Alive — Matt Haig My Age of Anxiety: Fear, Hope, Dread, and the Search for Peace of Mind — Scott Stossel The Bell Jar — Sylvia Plath An Unquiet Mind — Kay Redfield Jamison M Train — Patti Smith Book of Longing — Leonard Cohen (168)

Those who experience intense moods are predisposed to building possible worlds, as well as to taking risks and testing boundaries. He explains that in the past, manic depressives pushed humans forward with their deep insight and creative urges; they strengthened the gene pool by who bravely venturing out of the insular communities into uncharted territory. When they returned, they brought new skills that enhanced progress and survival. (169)

I believe with all my heart that just understanding the metapurpose of the anxious struggle helps to make it beautiful. Purposeful, creative, bold, rich, deep things are always beautiful. (170)

... acceptance, rather than transformation, is her endpoint ... (170)

I long ago abandoned the notion of a life without storms, or a world without dry and killing seasons. Life is too complicated, too constantly changing, to be anything but what it is. And I am, by nature, too mercurial to be anything but deeply wary of the grave unnaturalness involved in any attempt to exert too much control over essentially uncontrollable forces. There will always be propelling, disturbing elements, and they will be there until...the watch is taken from the wrist. It is, at the end of the day, the individual moments of restlessness, of bleakness, of strong persuasions and maddened enthusiasms, that inform one’s life, change the nature and direction of one’s work, and give final meaning and color to one’s loves and friendships. ... By accepting the storms and complications of her “individual moment” she’s able to find a personal purpose to her life. Her beast becomes beautiful. (170)

It can be a choice to view your individual moments with bemused compassion and intrigue. To find them cute and beautiful. I try to do this. While trying to not lose connection with my humility. (171)

I’d learned that at a biological level, anxiety is a lot like excitement. ... I often choose to interpret anxiety as excitement whenever I can. ... it’s easier to convince yourself to be excited than to bloody well just relax when you’re anxious (177, 179-180)

“The hero and the coward both feel the same thing, but the hero uses his fear...while the coward runs. It’s the same thing, fear, but it’s what you do with it that matters.” (179)

I’ve found that it’s only when you put the brakes on its forceful charge through your system that it leads to things like freak-outs or brain freezes. Let anxiety be and it will be less so. And quite possibly beautiful and exciting, too. (179)

“Why do we all expect to be happy? We all came out of our mothers crying. Pain is what we do. ... Happiness is generally impossible for longer than fifteen minutes. We are the descendants of creatures who, above all else, worried. ... Worry is our default position.” (184)

We humans are the only creatures on the planet who can’t sleep even when we need or want to. ... We are the only creatures with the capacity, nay, propensity—to ponder our inevitable deaths. (184-185)

“Choose discomfort over resentment. ... Anxiety is a sign we need to move and change our lives. ... You’ve got to just sit in it, sit in it, sit in it.” ... We can sit with it by talking to it. ... We can feel into the physical discomfort and find it interesting to observe. ... We can acknowledge what we’re doing. ... We can let ourselves be wrong. ... We can waste a bit of time. ... Let the time pass with seemingly nothing productive happening. ... And it might mean coming off medication. ... when we take drugs we don’t just medicate away anxiety, we medicate away our souls. (186-188)

We’d always rather be right than happy (except maybe Jesus). (187)

To sit in anxiety is to stay a little long. A little longer. A little longer. And to see what happens. We experiment with it, curiously. (188)

By nature they [Holocaust survivors] tended to not resist the pain and instead went inward to draw in this “inner life” when things got really bad. And this is precisely what saved them. (189)

Frankl also concluded that the purpose of life is to suffer. Actually, he went further. The purpose of life is to suffer well. By which he meant go down into pain, own it, and not run from it. To sit in it. And in the process find meaning. To be specific, Frankl maintained that finding the meaning of life is our ultimate purpose and suffering brings us to this purpose. (189)

He [David Brooks] proposed that delving produced the deeper happiness because human beings are driven to find and create meaning in their lives, and because we are social animals who want and need to connect with other people. (192)

The pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is a fear of sadness...I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word “happiness” and to replace is with the word “wholeness.” Ask yourself “is this contributing to my wholeness?” and if you’re having a bad day, it is. (192-192)

“Anyone who thinks they can heal without doing the work is missing the point.” (195)

When we’re in anxiety, particularly an anxiety spiral or panic attack, we must focus on coping. Once it’s abated, though, that’s when we have to do the work. We have to ask the questions. Plus, we have to build the resilience and courage and muscle with a whole lot of little right moves to ward off other further fires. ... “You’ve got to get in front of the fire, be prepared.” ... it’s only hard; not impossible. (197)

I’ve found that all I need to do is take the first step—commit, show up. And my path unfurls from there. ... Showing up provides me with enough forward flow to keep things moving. ... The low aim helped me to just show up. ... Simply show up. Start. Things will flow. (198-199)

“Nothing any good isn’t hard.” And yes, going out on your own and doing this kind of work takes time. But nothing any good happens overnight, either. (199)

Its gonna take a while. It’s normal to take a while. You’ve just gotta fight your way through. (201)

Being vulnerable is saying “I love you” first, it’s doing something where there are no guarantees. It’s being willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. And it’s staying to tell your truth. When you do, it provides a glorious space for a love one—or a potential loved one—to step in and be their best person. (203)

GET YOUR GUTS GOOD Quit sugar. Just Eat Real Food (#JERF) . Eat 5-9 servings of vegetables and fruit in a day. Eat yogurt and fermented stuff. Take some supplements. (203-204)

So I phoned him immediately to find out why such banal decisions stall the anxious. He tells me it’s because we allow ourselves to be fooled into thinking they’re important decisions. ... “We automatically think if there are lots of options presented that a choice must really matter even if it doesn’t.” (207)

Of course modern life is one big cluttered drugstore shelf. Choice is sold to us as providing freedom. It empowers us, says the consumerist model. to define who we are. Which we know if just the most absurd thing ever. (208)

There’s a reason decisions bring us undone. First: biology. When faced with options, our two decision-making centers—the prehistoric limbic system (which makes impulsive choices) and the neocortex (which can look ahead to the future consequences of such choices)—are having a go-nowhere tug-of-war. If you’re anxious, your neocortex tends to be particularly fired up, so the tug-of-war is much more aggressive. ... the anxious tend to have decreased “neural inhibition,” a process that sees one nerve cell suppress activity in another, which is critical in our ability to sift through choices and make decisions. The worse the anxiety, the less neural inhibition we have. (209)

Anxiety is the awareness of the “impossibility of our possibilities.” (210)

Zerrissenheit: (noun) disunity, separateness, inner conflict; an internal fragmenting or “torn-to-pieces-hood” from toggling so many choices. (210)

Actually, I soon grasped what he meant by rendered choiceless and why this is such a glorious thing when it happens. I only had one choice available. To stay put. To give up fixing and meddling and grasping outward. (212)

“I’m trying to pare down decisions. I don’t want to make decisions about what I’m eating or wearing. Because I have too many other decisions to make.” (213)

“Happy successful entrepreneurs ritualize everything in their lives but their creative work.” (214)

... “dropping certainty anchors.” Drop as many as you can to hold you firmly so that you can flap about as creatively—or anxiously—as required ... and creatively productive—if we know we’re not going to fly away. (215)

...decision fatigue. They liken our decision-making abilities to flexing a muscle. With each decision we make, regardless of whether it’s big or small, we fatigue the muscle. (215)

HAVE A MORNING ROUTINE (216)

Having a morning routine is a certainty anchor with really sturdy stakes. (216)

Start off by letting go of the idea that you don’t have time. (217)

FLIP A COIN. GO ON. (221)

I flip a coin. But before I uncover it, I monitor my emotions to see what I’m hoping the result will be. There it is, my gut decision, peeking through my head clutter. This technique tricks you into thinking some divine intervention is going to make the decision and you switch to responding to the possible outcome. This switches off the decision-making muscle. (221)

Just. Decide. ... “If we’re actually debating the two covers, going back and forth,  then it means both are good options. Right? IF one was really bad, you’d know about it.” (221)

There is never a perfect decision. They become perfect when we make them. (222)

If a decision—about a thing or a person—feels 70 percent right, he just goes with it; 70 percent is enough. (222)

The studies show that when we decide to do something and it turns out badly, it mostly doesn’t haunt us down the track. We humans are master justifiers. Failing to act on a decision, however, will haunt us. The infinite possibilities of what might have been get us into all kinds of anxious messes. ... we might as well just decide. I share all of this mostly, to lessen the potency of one choice over another. If we’re investigated the options enough, it doesn’t matter. Moving up, up and away from the chaos of indecision does. (223)

cruel irony #15: I convince myself that controlling my life and aiming for perfection will cocoon me from anxiety. But it only causes more of the dreaded thing. (225)

“There a river that flows.” Some of us try to dam the river with piles of logs and other obstacles because we think the river should flow differently, by micromanaging our partners or blocking pain or by forcing a dinner that no one wants (they repeatedly cancel but we ignore the signs and keep rescheduling). When we do this, the pressure builds. And builds. The water (flow of life) banks up behind the obstruction, determined to continue its flow because, you know what? It kind of knows where it’s going. It’s ingrained in the groove of the valley, the gaps in the boulders, and it’s bigger than us. Way bigger and way more knowing. Eventually the flow wins out and Boof! our micromanaged pile of logs explodes from the force of the flow. Our stuff goes flying in all directions. It’s devastating. And then,...the river goes back to flowing as it was always going to. Before we came along and got in the way. I round my metaphor assignment off (cringefully) by advising the reader (poor Mrs. Cochrane) to perhaps try using the logs to build a comfortable little raft instead and to sit atop it and let the river carry them languidly down the river. (226)

FOLD FORWARD AND SURRENDER (227)

“The best way to beat a monster is to find a scarier one.” (230)

... recent science ... postulates that psychedelics may be good for sufferers of OCD. The drugs were shown the shut down the default mode of the brain and distrupt the repetitive and control-focused patterns of thought and behavior. “It may be that some brains could benefit from a little less order.” (231)

... these chilled, happy women “tilted” toward activities and commitments that they liked and found meaningful. Amid the chaos. They didn’t wait for the chaos and commitments to get under control. I love this idea. Tilting. It’s when you have so much to do and you could list it all out and try to prioritize. Or you could just in in the everythingness and lean toward stuff as it arises that just feels right. Tilting doesn’t involved holding up the hand and plonking a lump of logs in the flow. Nope. When you tilt, you grab a log that looks about right and jump on. (232-233)

Indian philosopher Guru Dev says the same: “Do the opposite of what you’d normally do.” Why? It injects freshness. The jolt of going against the grain gets you to look at things differently. ... treating it as an experiment. ... When you shake things up there is no such expectation [Perfect Moment Syndrome]. It’s so wrong it’s right. (233)

DO IT T THE WRONG TIME (234)

SLEEP AT THE OTHER END OF THE BED (234)

Picture a bunch of people loudly talking to you about everything you don’t want to hear—that’s how it feels in my head. Thoughts flood and for me paranoia sets in and I try to grasp on to at least one thought I can be rational about. [It’s] like there are a hundred things needing my immediate attention and knowing that I can’t attend to it al at once, including racing thoughts. Anxiety is like having new tabs opening very quickly [on your computer] one after another and not being able to close them or stop new ones from opening—but in your head. ... Anxiety feels like being the passenger of a race car driver while pleading to be let out. I close my eyes and take deep breaths at every endless turn. For me it’s like a boa constrictor around my body, getting tighter and tighter as more thoughts come into my head. Everything, all of life, is crammed into a tube of toothpaste while has a caked-over nozzle. “Like wanting to vomit but not having a mouth.” A very tangled-up spiderweb and all the web is mixed up with lots of emotions and tangled all together. The more I try to untangle these webs I get caught up in another web. (235-236)

... anxiety was “the feeling of having in the middle of my body a ball of wool that quickly winds itself up, its innumerable threads pulling from the surface of my body to itself.“ It’s impossible to know where all the knots start. Yet, we still try to find the original thread, somehow believing that once we find it, this one unifying explanation for everything, we can tug at it and have the ball unravel cleanly. We think the fix is linear like that. That one motivational philosophy or one successful relationship or one perfect job will straighten out the mess. But I put it to you that messy balls of wool don’t work like this. Nope Our filthy-mitted meddling and tugging only tighten the knots more. Instead, the only salve is to gently take the messy ball in both hands and tenderly loosen it, a bit at a time. The ball starts to unfurl and expand. It is still knotted, but not as tightly now. After a while a whole section unfurls. And then another. Then, after much careful tending, one end of the string floats loose. Maybe the rest of the ball fully unfurls. Maybe it doesn’t. But the point is, the whole bloody knotted mess is looser now. There’s more space. If you’re anxious, part of the healing journey is to create space.” ... Space implies gently unfurling. Time speaks to pressure. Most of cry out for more time, thinking that’s what we need (much like balance). But tell me when more time has helped anyone in a hot anxious mess? Time doesn’t release the pressure. Time doesn’t take the cap off the toothpaste. Time doesn’t loosen the knots. If we get time, we tend to just fill it with more thoughts. What we need is more space. (237-238)

... book out fifteen minutes either side of every one of her appointments. “I use it to reflect on what just happened,” she says. “It gives me the space to view what I need to do next.” (239)

I didn’t “use” the time. I just sat into the space. And fresh thoughts bubbled up from nothingness. (239)

FIND THE SPACE BETWEEN BREATHS (239)

SMILE WITH YOUR EYES (240)

Gently and softly. Perhaps notice the way it releases the muscles in your jaw and at your brow. ...this simple, brief action [smiling forcefully] stimulated the brain activity associated with positive emotions. (240-241)

If the smile is from a friend, it is equal to the feel-good brain stimulation of 200 chocolate bars; if it comes from a baby it equates to 2,000 bars! (241)

Modern Life does. Mostly, it’s frenetic and at a pace that’s not conducive to reflective thoughts. ... We don’t have time to adjust, to work out our priorities, and to reflect on whether what we’re doing when we’re running around madly is actually meaningful to us. ... We are “on” 24/7. Every gap is filled. ... Technology freed us up...to imprison us further. It’s created the imperative to go faster, to take on more ideas, and to juggle more. ... To stay on top of all the ideas and opportunities that Modern Life now affords us we have to keep multiple tabs open in our brains, which sees us toggle back and forth between tasks and commitments and thoughts. And all of it competes. And it clusters. (243-244)

When we had tantrums as kids, Mom would say we were overexcited. “Come on, a little less excitement,” she’d say. (245)

But self-mastery triumphs in this Modern Life of ours. So if we haven’t found happiness or calm or balance amidst it all—if we don’t cope—it’s because we’ve not tried hard enough. Because Modern Life dictates that there’s an answer out there...you just have to try harder to find it and master it. Of course it doesn’t exist. So we are set up to fail. (245)

“We have so much fucking stuff and so many opportunities that we don’t even know what to give a fuck about anymore.” (245)

All of it drives us outward, away from our true selves and from our yearning to know ourselves better. Plus, it drives us away from each other. Lack of community and belongingness is cited ... as the primary driver of anxiety today. (245)

... anxiety is not a disease. It’s not an unhealable disorder. It’s merely a symptom of having got a bit off balance. We don’t fix anxiety. It doesn’t need a fix. It just requires a little bit of rebalancing. (246)

HOW TO TAME YOUR VATA [flighty] I avoid con-con and fans. I back off from coffee when I’m fretty. If you’re asking if it’s bad, it might mean you feel that it quite possibly is. The routine bit is key. I eat heavier foods... I eat oil. I sit still for 5-10 minutes several times a day. O s tell friends I have to leave by 9pm when I’m out at night. I turn off social media on the weekend and after 8pm at night. ... keep my kidneys warm. I walk everywhere I can. I do yoga. I don’t go to The Shops. (249-251)

cruel irony #16: Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for our miseries and yet it itself the greatest of our miseries. (251)

... al of man’s problems come from his inability to sit quietly in a room alone. And to let nothing happen. (251)

I don’t think it’s bad to lean forward ... We’re human. We’re curious and we reach out. It no longer serves us, however, when we do it to run from something. (253)

... it’s a common mistake amongst hose wanting to get mindful with their angst to expect to achieve states of calm through mediation. “This is a form of grasping—s seeking to indulge in pleasant states and to avoid the unpleasant. ... “A wiser orientation would be to appreciate (and investigate) calm states when they do arise and to treat anxious ones with great kindness and respect. The radical encouragement of the practice is to sit with most disagreeable states for as long as they last. Sooner or later, they exhaust themselves of energy.” (253-254)

These [institutional and technological] boundaries created certainty anchors and reduced the number of decisions we had to make. They helped us keep on an even keel. But today there are few such boundaries. (255)

What we’re yet to work out is that we have to create the boundaries ourselves. This is the new barometer of success, wellness and happiness: How well an you create your own ways to shut down the distractions, reduce the toggling, stem the tide of frazzling data, carve out space in your week for reflection and stillness? (255)

BUILD YOUR OWN BOUNDARIES (256)

Check your emails twice a day only. Try the 10am Rule. ... [do] not “react to anything until 10am.” That is, first do the stuff that matters to you, rather than the knee-jerking out of the gates to the demands of others. Live somewhere slow. ..."Nothing makes me feel better—calmer. clearer, happier—than being in one place.” Have a Family Investment Bucket. Leave your phone at home. Get a room of your own. Try a Think Week. ... Focus on personal development. Create your own Sabbath. ... day of rest. Create a mercenary Out-of-Office notification. Don’t be Google. Just write less emails. Own less. (256-259)

Do the journey. Do the work. Do the little right moves. The crop comes. (260)

... anxiety widens personal space—we need more than the standard 8-16 inches that the average person requires to feel comfortable. (261)

Monachopsis: (noun) The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home. (264)

I’d run out of places to run to. “You keep moving. But it hasn’t worked for you. The irritation has just followed you. The problem has to be healed and can only be done when it’s in front of you.” (265)

... sitting in discomfort isn’t just about lessening it’s impact through exposure. It can also bring about a very particular joy. (268)

With lower expectations there’s less imperative to make things perfect. We can release our grip. We are in life, in its flow. We’re sitting with ourselves. We let our a sigh. (269)

... “distress tolerance” ... entails working ... to remain in anxiety-provoking situations until your fear capacity becomes exhausted. Which it does. The problem is that if you’re anxious, you tend to flee (or fight or freeze) before you give the distress tolerance mechanism time to play out. (271)

You keep it casual, with few expectations, so you don’t have to extend yourself too far. But the point is to actively seek out the discomfort so that you can choose to sit in it and do the experiment. Because you’ve chosen to do it, you’re that but more empowered. Also remember, it’s just an experiment, to see what happens. Nothing more. You’re just going to see what happens. (271)

Sitting in grim is also a defiant two-fingered up your to your anxiety. I think this is great. For an added bonus, the practice simultaneously forces you to stop the grasping and come in close and to connect with where life is. The simplicity, the inevitability, the flow, the truth of life. (272-273)

What we resist persists. What we sit in eventually fades to a manageable and livable volume. (273)

GET WABI-SABI WITH IT (275)

We can practice finding beauty in imperfection. ... ruts are best broken with small moments in whimsy, not seismic changes in behavior. ... Counting men with mustaches ... “Leave the kids’ fingerprints on the wall.” ... Pick some weeds and play with them until you find a nicely discordant arrangement. Stick them in a jam jar. ... cook a “fridge surprise” ... Have a floor picnic in the middle of it all. And then just see what happens. (275)

I can be a good thing, too, to learn to sit in your own weirdness. (276)

I generally find that anxious people spend a lot of the lives trying to have fun doing stuff that other people find enjoyable. ... The point is to recognize that we do this—defer to others’ notions of fun. And that this is probably because we struggle with choice (how do you decide what your preference is amid all the things to do in the world?) And to then try to play around with finding stuff that floats your boat. And, no doubt, to then realize that your stuff could be a little weird or unique. (276)

... focused on acknowledging that I simply don’t like doing a lot f what other people like doing. And over time, I got more and more okay with, and less and less anxious about, this. (277)

MEDITATE IN GRIMNESS (277)

DON’T CHANGE HOTEL ROOMS (278)

What helps me? I tell myself to try one night in the first room, as an experiment, to see what happens. Again, the metapurpose of the “experiment” gives me focus. So, too, does the fact that I have an out-clause (I can always swap tomorrow night). When I wake up the next day having slept, I have the courage to do another night in the same room. (279)

SLEEP WITH YOUR PARTNER (279)

ACTIVELY PRACTICE MISSING OUT (280)

... once we see dying as an option, our minds will focus on finding proof that this is right, ignoring all the evidence that it’s a shockingly bad idea. ... if nothing matter, if I have no attachments, no commitments and nothing left in my life, I could just quietly disappear. I could self-annihilate. Why not? There was nothing to stop me, nothing I was responsible for. This felt light and liberating. Or—and now the feeling gets even lighter—I could choose to exist, anyway. From ground zero, I could opt back in. And I could do it freely, working form a blank slate without all my old stuff—no expectations as to how life “should” be lived, no false and unhealthy ideas about my worth (that I have to achieve to be loved), no attachment to possessions or money. I could be an interloper with no fixed address and just the clothes on my back. I could do life completely differently. (283-284)

Grace goes a little something like this... You descend. ... You go into pain. ... Then you open. ... “it is what it is” ... Next, you release your grip. ... Then something shifts. (287)

Grace doesn’t bring a party to town. It’s not happiness. It’s not a fleeting high. It’s a delicate, yet whole, gift that whispers in our ear, “Life has this one covered.” It tells us that things fit. That you fit. You can’t try to get it, you can’t earn it or deserve it. It just is. Jut as a flower doesn’t try to bloom. It just does. (288)

“Most people don’t come out healed; they come out different.” (288)

... post-traumatic growth ... up to 70 percent of people who went through the anxious ringer report positive psychological growth at the other end. We’re talking about a greater appreciation for life, a richer spiritual life and a connection to something greater than oneself, and a sense of personal strength. You could call it character. ... a certain trauma can shatter our worldviews, beliefs, and identities completely. ... The more we are shaken, the more our former selves and assumptions are blown apart and the fresher the growth. ... this kind of seismic implosion often leads to creativity. The space created by stepping into the “is-ness” of life invites innovation thought and exploration. (288-289)

“The thing about life, sweetheart, is this, when we leap into the unknown, we always land safely. We just do. We freefall for a bit.” She does a zooming thing with her hands. “But then, as we’re falling, we grow angel wings that carry us to our destination.” I can’t quite believe she’s introduced angels without apology, but I nod. “Life supports us; it always does. The problem is, we all want to go out and buy ourselves a set of angel wings first. Before we jump.” She nods at me to check I’m getting her drift. I am. “But, sweetheart, there’s no such thing as an angels wing shop.” There most certainly isn’t. You have to jump first. And, you see, that’s the other thing about grace. You have to let go first. In our culture, we want guarantees. When we can learn to make leaps without them, then, well, things really do start to look different. (292)

GET OLD (293)

I’ve arrived at an age where accepting this is “just my life” brings peace and, going through the motions of anxiety when it arises, strangely it helps. This too will pass. You fight it still, but it lessens over time. I followed the “rather path.” doing all the “right things” to keep anxiety at bay. But it didn’t work. After 20 years you let go. Having toddlers are good [sic]—they do the opposite. You have to let go and give in or you will be one of those people whose bodies collapse. (294)

... life and its hardships only make sense when you get old enough and you’re able to look back and join the dots. You have to have dots in your experience for the picture to take form. ... But only once you have enough dots. (294)

Jump first. ... If we’re serious about joining life—like really joining it and not sitting at odds with its flow and existing constantly in a state of dis-ease—we gotta have faith. (294-295)

Life is mysterious. Life is uncertain. We don’t know what’s going to happen. Along with taxes, and death, the only certainty in life is that we just don’t know. So we might as well join this inevitability. ... this is ultimate way to live a wholehearted life—to get cool with uncertainty. ... a necessary experience that allows us to “become free in relation to our nothingness.” (295)

“negative capability” ... having an ability to be okay with the uncertainty of life. (295)

What an aim. To sit comfortably in mystery without grasping outward. To sit. To stay. And see what happens. It’s freedom, right? ... it takes patience and sheer years on the planet. ... I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. (296)

GO STRAIGHT TO COOL ... I go straight to being the person who is open and cool with not knowing. ... I found strength that is quite defining and satisfying. It meant my vulnerability was about being raw and exposed, but ultimately was something I steered and owned. (296)

... defines anxiety as resisting joining the unknown. (296)

... the journey we all need to do is the experiment with sitting in uncertainty. ... the ultimate endpoint, she writes, is growing up. The journey “offers no promise of happy endings.” Rather, the part of ourselves that keeps seeking security (when there isn’t any) and something to hold on to (when such a thing doesn’t exist) finally grows up. (297)

To see yourself—to see that you are part of a big, magnificent whole—you have to go to the depths. (298)

We get anxious if we feel we’re not connected with our true selves and what matters. Something is not right, something is missing, we don’t understand what life is all about, and this gnaws at us. (299)

We’re unsettled, we grasp and we grasp. (299)

... being in anxiety, by going down to the dark depths, we finally find the connection. (299)

That’s what anxiety does for us. It guides us home. And when we veer or we deviate from the truth, anxiety steps in and forcibly tell us “Wrong Way Go Back.” (299)

We can view anxiety as something to accept and live with. Sure, this is important. But I reckon we can make the beast more beautiful than that. I prefer to say (to quote Shai from one of the forums again) “anxiety is my superpower.” (300)

The journey has to be done on your own. ... if I want to let go, to truly let go and trust life, I first have to let go of the idea that someone else must hold me while I do it. No one else can tell me that life has this one. I have to do this for myself. (304)

... [he] identified ten factors that create resilience, among them having a moral compass or set of beliefs, faith and spirituality, an ability to leave your comfort zone and face your fear, having a sense of meaning in life and having a practice for overcoming challenges. ... it’s anxiety that leads us to these factors. Indeed, I’d say anxiety creates the resilience to thrive in this life. Anxiety is a beautiful thing. (305)

I don’t sit here healed. I sit here simply knowing I’m on a better journey. And this is not enough. This is everything. (305)

I am anxious often.But it’s kept in check if I don’t get anxious about being anxious. And while I’m learning more, understanding more, this is entirely possible. Yep, the journey is what matters most. It’s everything. (307)

[shiny-jr]

Oh, yes! I mean exactly your opinion of yandere, so thank you! If it's not bother you, can you tell what do you think considering rest of dorms?

Oh, okay, so I'm guessing my previous list was what you wanted to see? That's a relief. I was worried I typed that out for nothing. Anyways, here's my thoughts on the rest of the dorms.

Reminder: These are my opinions on having the TWST character as your yandere. So it's made up of my personal bias and a list I put out a while ago with ranking my opinions on the characters.

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim - 9/10.

If I had to choose one twst character to be a yandere that happens to like me, I would probably choose Kalim. There's multiple reasons for this. While he isn't my favorite twst character, I do like him. I rated him like 7/10 when I was going over my general thoughts of the characters. Now, let me explain why I would choose him as a yandere. I feel like the pros heavily outweigh the cons. The cons being you becoming a target to people wanting to ruin his name but that almost cancels out because you'd be well protected, and another con would be the really high extrovert energy from him (no, I do not think he would keep his darling in a golden cage) and he'd probably be over affectionate. The pros being he's filthy rich, he's loving and sincere, he's incredibly kind, and he's kinda cute, plus I do not believe he would be violent at all. I just think that if he got jealous, he would simply be more affectionate and clingy, or if something did happen to his darling he wouldn't lash out angrily but just panic very badly or cry while doing everything in his power to get things back to normal. Maybe he would try to beg you to stay inside the safety of his family's palace walls, but I think he would eventually break and let you out with lots of guards and security. It would be hard to get a better yandere than Kalim.

Jamil Viper - 5/10.

I meannnn... He would take care of you? He's got a lot of experience in many fields, especially since he's taken care of Kalim for so long. There's the cooking, the cleaning, the chores, seems like he can do it all with great skill. At times, he can even be surprisingly suave and charming, but let's not forget he would be a yandere in this situation. I feel like he would try to keep it under wraps for as long as possible, but it would eventually get out somehow. Like some of the others, I feel that Jamil would be particular cunning. Including not being above manipulating others, tricking them, hypnotizing people, and even hypnotizing his darling for a bit if it stops them from trying to escape or throw a fit of some kind. As we've seen in the story, Jamil is very good at tricking people so he would likely trick his darling and or the people around them to believe that his darling is happy with him, even if they really are not. And I'm not about that. Plus there's more amusing characters. Jamil is only funny when someone gets in the way of his plans and such. Now overblot Jamil? That has a lot of potential for a yandere, especially with his changed behavior, I would love to see more about him and a darling.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit - 2/10. 

Not happening. Nope. Not a chance. The only good thing I wouldn’t mind would be how Vil pampers his darling (I would like this to a small degree but it would get very bothersome quickly) and his way with words. Seriously, his “zero” speech from the latest Ignihyde chapter really stuck with me, it really felt like he was speaking to me. BUT one of thing I wouldn’t stand would be the beauty regimens and makeup. Y’all don’t understand. I can’t stand wearing makeup. It makes my face feel so heavy and I always have to worry about smudging it. I’ll get lotions and stuff only to forget about them and apply them once in a while. This would not work out at all. Plus, I hate when people give me harsh “feedback” or “advice.” You’d have to forcibly drag me in order to put on makeup and heels, and it’s just not happening. As much as his fond fussing and care might be nice for a bit, it would definitely become overbearing quickly and he’d want perfection. Perfection is not happening here. 

Rook Hunt - 9/10. 

Yes, he’d be a terrifying yandere solely for the reason that he always knows where you are so you can never run. He’s completely and entirely smitten and enamored, but hear me out. He’s not entirely bad. I can’t ever imagine Rook would hurt his darling or manipulate them in someway. I think he’d make it clear what he wants from early on, which is his darling’s love, and force them into a corner somehow. I actually think he does have a good chance of trapping his darling, sort of finding beauty in it like a “canary in a gilded gold cage.” But, he’s rich and he’s loving and wouldn't hurt you. Honestly, he’s on par with Kalim as my top choices if I had to choose a twst character to become my yandere. He’s a definite simp, so you can bet that he’d do everything in his power to please you but he’s not dumb. Oh no. Kalim may be naive but he has money and power to bring you back should you run. Rook, however, is one man, a clever and observant one. He can and will chase you down with ease. 

Epel Felmier - 5/10. 

Sorry, Epel, I don’t want to live in a little town. As pretty and peaceful it would be, I wouldn’t be very comfortable there for long. Epel as a yandere... is something I have not seen much of. So this is one of the characters I had to stop and think for. This probably took the longest. I feel like he’d be a lot like Deuce but a bit different in the way he appears to his darling. Epel wants to be strong and responsible, he wants to be someone his darling depends on. He’ll also definitely want his family to approve of you as well. However, I feel that if his darling became slightly nervous of him because of his true mannerisms and real behavior, he would take advantage of it but if it didn’t go away and only got in the way, he would grow annoyed of it. Overall, I don’t have many thoughts on this one. 

IGNIHYDE 

Idia Shroud - 9/10. 

Is this my personal bias showing? Yes. Yes, it is. The only reason I wouldn’t choose Idia immediately is because on the rare occasion, I do feel adventurous and would want to go out, plus I value my privacy. However, with how I imagined Idia would try to keep his darling as confined as possible and the constant surveillance even if you’re inside, it would make things annoying. But, I adore this fire gremlin. The pros? You got the fastest wifi, the newest technology, the hottest games and anime at your fingertip, remember he is filthy rich, plus I think he’s incredibly amusing and I could listen to his rants about games and shows for hours. And he’s not overly affectionate, I feel like he won’t even initiate much if anything at all. He’s another top choice if I had to choose a yandere. 

Ortho Shroud - 

That’s a child. Leave him alone. 

DIASOMNIA 

Malleus Draconia - 2/10. 

Haha, no. I saw how the British royal family and press treated Meghan. Can you imagine how fae royalty and press would be with a human from no significant background or special abilities or beautiful looks? Yeah, it wouldn’t be good. I keep seeing Malleus fics, some with the reader magically being accepted as queen. Like... no, it’s not that easy. I don’t even like Malleus, let alone want to be royalty. Yes, I think Malleus as a yandere would be possessive and would try to keep his darling locked up as much as possible. I don’t even think Malleus is amusing or charming. It would be awkward as hell. Actually, with his overpowered abilities and such, I find that incredibly annoying. 

Lilia Vanrouge - 5/10. 

A very hesitant 5/10. Do you even have a choice with Lilia? He’ll get his darling, one way or another. Yeah, he may be caring and amusing, he’d definitely be affectionate to a degree, but I’m just not feeling it. I don’t know. I’m not really about choosing a little old fae guy with thousands of years worth of blood on his hands. Also, I think he would want a family, whether they be related by blood or adopted, he’d want a kid or two or three or four or-- Yeah, you get the point. Me? I hate kids, can’t stand them and their screaming and their antics and their mess. Gonna have to pass on foxy grandpa. 

Silver - 4/10. 

Sorry, he’s just boring to me. Where’s the fun? And he’d definitely get his old man involved unintentionally, but now you got his dad practically forcing (threatening) you and Silver being unintentionally guilt-trippy. Yeah, he doesn’t want to force you, but his dad is already doing so behind his back and his sadness upon rejection makes you feel bad even if you did nothing wrong. At the very least he wouldn’t be violent or rough, just really protective. He’d actually treat you well. 

Sebek - 6/10. 

Simp. The only reason he gets a higher rating is because imagine he treats you similar to how he treats Malleus. You’re practically treated like royalty by him. But that makes it extremely easy to manage. However, the treatment would get old and annoying fast. Sebek insists on escorting Malleus to every class, can you imagine how far he’d go with his darling? He’d walk you to every room even if it were ten feet away. He’s always jumping to defend your name and honor, even if you are just an average person so there’s no real reputation to defend. But if you gave him random tasks, you can probably get him off your back for long periods of time. 

[electronswrites]

So, dark Lu Ten AU: suppose Zuko needs to seek out the gang for medical help, but blah blah honor etc. How about he feels he needs to bring something to show them he's serious, and decides that injured, traumatized, in severe pain and extremely emotionally compromised is the perfect state of mind to go rescue a sky bison for them.

I feel this is on a par with his canon decision making levels, and has the potential to make things Even Worse.

This is exactly the kind of bad decision making Zuko is known/loved for! Yes! He would do this!

So Zuko manages to get back in. We love one stubborn boi. He gets to the chamber where he knows Appa is. The blisters are tormenting him. The pain is indescribable.

Zuko tries to break the chains. He can do this. He KNOWS he can do this. He's done it before. He's just so tired. Even swinging the sword is so painful.

He collapses onto a pile of fur. He tries to get back up, but he can't. He just... can't.

The Dai Li find him there. They take him away for brainwashing. Zuko doesn't even struggle against the light. He doesn't have the energy.

Some time later, after the GAang has freed Appa on their own and invaded the Earth Palace, they end up fighting the Earth King's personal bodyguard, Lee. Once the whole reveal of Long Feng goes down, the GAang tell the Earth King that his "bodyguard" is actually a brainwashed prince. Sokka thinks they should leave him like that, but he's outvoted.

Katara, alarmed by the new burn scars, attempts to heal Zuko like she did Jet. It... doesn't work. Jet's true self had been fighting to make himself known. Zuko is hiding under Lee. Katara tries to coax him out, but he doesn't want to return.

They're kind of stuck on what to do with him. Lee is extremely friendly and helpful. They start to become attached to him. He's terrified of fire, but that's relatable.

When Azula begins her coup, she locks up Lee separately from Katara. She also sends gaurds to arrest Iroh and Lu Ten. Azula wants to know what's going on, so she sticks Lu Ten and "Lee" in a cell together to observe their interactions.

"Lee" has no idea who Lu Ten is, but that doesn't matter for very long. Lee is terrified of fire. He's terrified of burns. His terror has only just begun.

Lu Ten can't do too much physical damage before Azula steps in and decides to sperate them. There's not much to learn from watching Zuko be senselessly tortured. Still, he's a blubbering mess when Azula decides to try the same strategy but with Iroh.

Iroh has been looking for Zuko since he vanished, but his relief at having found him is outweighed by his horror at the state of him. Worst of all, Zuko doesn't know who Iroh is, or even who he, himself, is. Zuko backs himself into a corner as far from Iroh as possible.

"Zuko-"

"I'm not Zuko! Please! I don't know who Zuko is! I'm Lee. Go burn him, not me! Please, please, just leave me alone. I'm Lee. I'm Lee."

Iroh assumes the fresh burns are from Azula, but... there are old ones too. "How long have you been Azula's captive?" She must have been in Ba Sing Se longer than Iroh thought.

"Who's Azula?"

"She's the princess, the one who locked you up. Zuko, she's your sister. You must try to remember her. You must remember who you are."

The GAang does rescue Lee, eventually. They rescue Iroh, too. Iroh begs them to help his nephew, but they've tried. Zuko doesn't WANT to remember who he is.

Even as he helps them fight the Fire Nation, he refuses to accept that he is a prince of that same nation. He assures everyone they've mixed him up with someone else. Lee is Lee. He's not Zuko. How could he be?

Zuko is weak and pathetic. Zuko is untrustworthy and treacherous. He's vile and evil. He's disgusting and unlovable. Lee isn't any of those things. How could he be Zuko?

General Iroh, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just stating facts that everyone knows. Do you need a healer? Why are you crying?

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

I was looking through your older requests and stuff from 3rd life, and I remembered the one with Scott and Jimmy nearly getting sacrificed to Dogwarts and I thought hmmm...demons, red aesthetics, a generally more powerful side?

Basically, I think it would be cool to have a version of that with Sausage and fWhip trying to sacrifice Jimmy.

(And wow, Jimmy really can't get a break with religious tones after EVO, huh?)

THIS. is genuinely one of my favourite things i've ever written, if not THE favourite. i'm so so proud of it :D

cw beating, blood

…

Jimmy no longer has the energy to scream or fight. Having been beaten periodically throughout the day, his chest and neck are in too much pain for him to move. Sitting slumped in the tiny cell he’s been put in with his hands tied behind his back, all he can do is keep fighting against the dull pain all over his body threatening to drag him into unconsciousness.

All he can do is keep fighting to stay awake.

Finally, they come for him. Led by fWhip, Sausage pulls Jimmy out of the former’s base and out to the altar that’s been set up in the centre of Sausage’s castle.

Jimmy knows exactly what’s coming. Neither fWhip nor Sausage has made any secret of what they intend to do to him. And after a full day of being kept in a cell, hands tied behind him, beaten every time he tried to escape or fight back, he doesn’t have the strength to try and stop it.

As they push him onto the altar, Jimmy stumbles. As a response, Sausage hits him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Seconds from passing out, Jimmy is powerless to stop Sausage from pulling him up onto his knees.

Coughing weakly, Jimmy slowly lifts his head to look at his captors. “Wh-Why are you doing this…?” he croaks. “What did I do…?”

“Sorry Jimmy, but Xornoth demands a sacrifice,” fWhip responds, and Jimmy can almost hear a twinge of genuine remorse in his voice.

Jimmy tries to push himself up in one final desperate attempt to escape but his chest and throat are screaming in pain and he’s unable to stop Sausage from pushing him back down and holding him in place.

“Please…!” he rasps, pulling weakly at the ropes binding his wrists. “Please…”

Neither of them respond as Sausage pushes Jimmy’s head down and fWhip lifts the axe.

Tears fall from Jimmy’s bruised eyes. He wishes he could fight back but he barely has the strength to stay conscious. If he has to die, he’ll die with as much dignity as he can.

“STOP!”

Jimmy again lifts his head, and though he can’t see very well through his blurred vision, he can make out a figure standing on the wall several blocks away.

“Pixl,” Sausage growls.

fWhip’s demeanour completely changes. All his remorse and carefulness disappears as he roughly hauls Jimmy to his feet by the scruff of his neck and holds his sword against his throat, angling Jimmy in front of him like a human shield.

“Don’t come any closer,” he says coldly but calmly.

“Let Jimmy go,” Pixl orders, lifting his trident and aiming it directly at fWhip. “Now.”

fWhip’s grip on Jimmy tightens. “You’re in no position to bargain. One quick movement and we’ll see how much blood the Codfather has inside him.”

Nausea rises in Pixl’s stomach at the grisly mental image. “I’m not saying this again, fWhip: LET. JIMMY. GO.”

“How did you know to come here?” Sausage snaps suddenly. “You live thousands of blocks away!”

“I told him.”

It takes Jimmy’s fuzzy mind a moment to recognise this new voice but when he does, his heart skips a beat.

“Scott?” A hint of surprise is audible in fWhip’s voice. “Why would you do that?”

“Because what you’re doing is barbaric,” replies Scott icily. “Now listen to the Copper King and let Jimmy go.”

“What do we do?” whispers Sausage to his ally.

fWhip narrows his eyes, his analytical mind trying to calculate the odds of him winning this fight.

As he does, he twists the sword in his hand and nicks Jimmy’s neck with the sharp blade, causing him to let out a semi-conscious cry of pain.

That sound triggers something in Pixl and he lets his trident fly. His aim is remarkable and it slams into a tiny piece of fWhip’s armour visible just to the side of Jimmy.

fWhip staggers back, releasing his grip on the Cod Empire ruler, who collapses to the floor like a stone. “Retreat,” he hisses to Sausage. “We won’t win this fight.”

Sausage, clearly needing no further encouragement, takes off into the air with his elytra, followed closely by fWhip.

Immediately, Pixl and Scott both rush to the unconscious Jimmy’s side. Scott pulls out his dagger and cleanly slices through the ropes binding Jimmy’s wrists, while Pixl carefully rolls him into a position on his back. 

“Jimmy!” he gently cups his friend’s cheek as he leans close, trying to awaken him. “Jimmy, can you hear me?”

When he gets no reply, a horrifying thought occurs to him and he hurriedly checks Jimmy’s pulse.

“He’s alive,” he says in relief. “But only just.”

“He’s really beaten up,” Scott observes shakily. “How could fWhip and Sausage do this to him…?”

Pixl carefully lifts Jimmy into his arms and straightens up, making sure Jimmy’s head is secure against his chest. When he speaks, his voice is low and barely controlled. “I don’t know. But we need to get his injuries seen to as soon as possible.”

“Take him to his house,” says Scott. “Gem and I have been working on healing magic so I’ll fly over and get some of that to help him.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“You too.”

As Scott takes off into the air, Pixl rushes back to Jimmy’s house and carefully lays him down on the bed. As he removes Jimmy’s gloves, he spots bulging red burn marks left over from where the ropes dug into his wrists.

This simple sight almost unleashes Pixl’s barely-contained fury. Tears of anger spring to his eyes as he gazes down at the bruised face of his unconscious friend, twisted in pain even in sleep.

He turns his head to look out at the darkness through the window. fWhip and Sausage needed a sacrifice for their stupid demon and they chose the easiest target. It makes Pixl’s blood boil to see them continually pick on Jimmy just because he’s unable to fight back.

A weak cough brings Pixl’s attention back to his injured friend. To his horror, he sees blood pooling at the corner of Jimmy’s mouth, so he leans down and checks his young friend’s breathing.

As he’s doing this, Scott returns, holding a leather pouch in his hands. “How’s he doing?” he asks worriedly.

“He’s not breathing well,” says Pixl quietly. “And he’s coughing up blood. A few more minutes and we may lose him. What have you got?”

“I have a healing crystal,” Scott reports, pulling a magenta crystal out of the pouch in his hands. “It should heal any internal injuries and ease his pain, but external injuries won’t be affected.”

“That’s fine. Do it.”

Scott moves over to Jimmy’s bedside and closes his eyes as he holds the crystal over Jimmy’s body. The crystal glows magenta, and similar-coloured energy starts to flow from it into Jimmy.

Pixl watches this with interest. He’s never had an affinity for nature magic and it intrigues him how crystals can have such magical properties. But soon his interest is outweighed by the relief that the colour has returned to Jimmy’s skin and his chest isn’t heaving so much anymore.

Finally, Scott lowers the crystal, which has stopped glowing, and tucks it back into the bag. “That should help,” he says.

“Good,” murmurs Pixl. “He looks like he’s breathing easier.”

Scott nods, not trusting himself to speak again.

A brief pause follows.

“I want to ask you something,” Pixl says, in a tone that makes it clear he expects no argument. “Why did you call me?”

Scott glances at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You’re on their side. Why would you want to go against them like that?”

After a moment, Scott looks away. “Because a long time ago, Jimmy told me he didn’t want to look me in the eyes as I get sacrificed on an altar; I realised earlier that I didn’t want the reverse.”

Pixl nods slowly. He, like many others, heard about what happened on 3rd Life and even though he isn’t aware of specifics, he can’t help thinking that Scott’s remark is tied into that.

Scott lifts Jimmy’s limp hand and pushes back his sleeve slightly to reveal the burn marks that Pixl noticed earlier. He gives a deep frown as he tenderly traces the mark with his finger. “I don’t understand how they can do something like this to someone they once called their friend,” he murmurs. “No matter how much things have changed, he… They… You just don’t do that to someone.”

Pixl nods again as Scott carefully places Jimmy’s arm back down on the bed. As he turns to leave, he again glances back at Jimmy and hesitates. After a moment, he reaches out and gently brushes the bruise over Jimmy’s eye with the backs of his fingers, unable to hide a deep frown of worry.

“Why do you treat him so coldly all the time?” Pixl asks. “You clearly care for him a great deal and he cares about you. Why do you continue to push him away?”

Scott takes a moment to compose himself and steady his voice before he replies. “I’ve already gone through the pain of losing him once. I can’t do it again. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

Pixl almost argues but thinks better of it. “Okay. Thank you, Scott. For calling me and for helping Jimmy.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Pixl.”

“Goodnight.”

After Scott has left, Pixl locks the door behind him and pulls up a chair next to Jimmy’s bed. His friend’s face is a lot less pale than it was, though the bruise over his left eye and the thin cut in his neck are still very much visible.

Feeling a wave of affection and protectiveness, Pixl gently strokes Jimmy’s shoulder and takes a great deal of relief from seeing a small smile appear on Jimmy’s face in his sleep. Every instinct in his body is urging him to fly out there and enact vicious revenge on the people who did this to his friend.

“I’ll make them pay for hurting you,” he vows quietly. “I swear.”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he��s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[kaisa-ryo]

Itadori Yuji NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Itadori likes to chat for a long time. Topics for communication are usually very diverse: from listing the different sex positions he wants to try, to discussing brands of cars, televisions, types of soaps and colors of underwear. In parallel, Yuji will stroke your back, causing your body to creep. So the love attraction that you already experienced with him before suddenly takes on a special intensity. When he has a need to receive your affection, he will begin to sink under the covers until he rests his nose against your chest or stomach. By this action, he asks you to play with his hair. At this moment, he may stop talking altogether, because instead of chatting, he will hum with pleasure. In addition, he will try with all his might and in various positions to snuggle up to you with his strong male body. And you will begin with great skill to stroke his hair and gradually increase the pressure in order to induce real ecstasy in him.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Obviously the hips and butt.

It is a blissful feeling when he squeezes your buttocks as he continuously enters you. And in the morning, when you start looking in the mirror, you notice that your thighs are scarlet. As you examine yourself, Itadori in the next room sees your stunned expression in the mirror and smiles proudly.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

He usually ends up on the aforementioned body parts. Although he experiences no less high pleasure when he watches how his hot semen flows down from your vagina. Or the mouth. And if you also swallow his seed, it will completely discourage him. It's so awkward and at the same time arousing when a girl literally lets a part of you into her. It's like you start making it a part of yourself. The part of his soul that passes through your body, moving on to the next stage of orgasm.

D = Dirty secret

To tell you the truth - there are a lot of them. Despite the fact that he almost always speaks with you frankly on intimate topics.

He often thinks about how he will kick you through the school desk and fuck you under the light of the graceful sunset that falls through the half-open blinds.

About how madly tempting it would be if you suck him off somewhere in the closet.

How to fuck you by the sea on soft sand.

There is no limit to these secret desires. Someday he will definitely tell you about all of them. And, of course, it will.

E = Experience

The highest level of experience in intercourse is masturbation. Yes, he has seen a lot of different videos on porn sites and instant messengers. And of course, he remembers them every single one. He has a lot of sexual fantasies. And they are all related to you. But they need to be implemented.

It will also ask you about your experience. For example, can you do a blow job. If you do not know about any sexual arts, he will certainly show you a video, explain how and what to do, ask if you like this objectively.

You can even say that he has much more indirect experience than you. But Yuji likes it. I like to teach you everything that he himself knows from the erotic videos he has watched.

F = Favorite position

In general, you have tried an innumerable number of poses all the time, but none can compare with the one when he presses you into bed from behind. When your penis plunges into the innermost and holds you so tightly that it begins to seem as if it has completely absorbed you.

G = Goofy (Are you serious at this moment?)

In most cases, yes. Even if this is not the first time you have been doing this, this does not mean that intercourse may not go well. But sometimes passionate excitement can outweigh all expressions of seriousness and turn it into entertainment or stress relief.

H = Hair (Is the hair ok?)

Not that he regularly tidies them up, but tries to make sure that both of you are comfortable. Maybe he prefers not to show it, but Itadori is really worried that you will be uncomfortable. Although the hair itself does not really interfere.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Yes. And a lot.

Itadori literally melts when he sees you smile, the reason for which is his sweet and romantic actions. For him, there is no line between "boyfriend" and "spouse". And, of course, he regularly scrolls in his head how you have a large shared apartment, wedding rings, children ...

The guy is ready to even get you the moon from the sky, just to see your charming smile once again, to feel how you jump on his neck and say that you love him with all your heart. Sometimes he gets carried away - and then his hand reaches out to you to stroke your cheek, circle around your neck, say some banality, without which it is difficult for you to live. And sometimes you think that at such moments Itadori... looks a little more naive. But he does not see anything wrong with this and continues to cherish you, like the most priceless treasure on earth.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens. And even after the start of your relationship.

In moments when you are far away, he records your telephone conversation, asks you to throw off your photos, turns on a home video taken once secretly from you ... then he starts "playing with his snake", quietly moaning your name. And if you start writing or talking on the phone, how much you want him now, it will just go crazy, imagining how he is fucking you on the bed right now. After all, it is such a pleasure to realize that your body receives only what you so passionately dream about and what you want.

— Mnh... yes, y/n... please continue...

K = Kink (Kinks and fetishes)

As mentioned earlier — home video. Yuji prefers to do this in secret, since he knows it will embarrass you. And besides, you will immediately guess why he does it.

He also has one fetish that you know about. Namely — voyeurism. When you change clothes, stand in the shower, or try on a swimsuit, he closely monitors your actions while standing outside the door. So he initiates you into his intimate world, where you can become his muse.

In addition, he has several types of perversions that he considers esoteric. For example, he really loves to admire your naked body and inhale its aroma, starting from the neck. This also applies to your personal things — your scent is also felt on them, and Itadori constantly examines and sniffs your things, hoping to feel your scent. It's kind of like a drug for him, and he likes to wake up in the morning and feel that your hair is still felt on his neck. And if you put on his clothes... it seems like some kind of new fetish. Now on his things your next smell. It's fucking exciting...

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

It makes no difference. The place does not depend on the amount of pleasure received from the process. True, you still have to find compromises. Because if it is convenient for him to hold your legs, simultaneously entering your bosom again and again, then it is quite problematic for you to be in the air, holding on to his shoulders. Thus, you get less pleasure. But do not think, he is not a rabbit, to fuck you wherever he wants, the guy will definitely ask if you want it. And yes, he does have a line between "normal" and "too public."

M = Motivation

All your movements are in clothes, which emphasizes the whole aesthetics of your body. As if hypnotized, Itadori watches your curves, how they change when you change posture or movement. When you are in your underwear, you specifically approach him and start to flirt playfully. When you wear his things, as mentioned by the way earlier. And oh shit, how turns him on when you show yourself a new swimsuit and ask to rate.

N = No (Which won't do)

Anything that will harm you. It doesn't matter whether it's big or small. If Yuji feels that he can be rude to you, then he will definitely warn you to tell when it hurts. After all, on the verge of orgasm, he may not notice that you are uncomfortable or unpleasant.

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

More is to give. His head is blown away because you are moaning his name sweetly and loudly, demanding more. Your morning kiss and praise for being amazing last night will give him confidence. And then, perhaps, your next night will be even better than the previous one.

Although one should not ignore his desires with needs. The guy will be very upset if, for some reason, you do not give him pleasure with oral sex.

P = Pace

In this he is a real professional Yuji knows perfectly well how to stretch pleasure and orgasm as much as he wants. A small effort of will is enough for him, which he has at least a spoonful.

At first he will start with smooth movements, and then gradually accelerate. At the same time, it will be easy to prolong your pleasure, because you will feel the strongest sexual charge directed in your direction. And with each strong orgasm, you will experience not only physical, but also mental pleasure.

Q = Quickie

From slow and smooth thrusts to wet and hot suddenness, it makes you feel your own intoxication, as if you are high. Superhuman abilities do give good results. As it turned out, not only in sports.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

In other matters, he is unlikely to refuse, since he himself has long wanted this. But Itadori is a responsible person, so he will think a hundred times and make sure that you accept the offer accurately. Do not be surprised that he will act agitated during such sex. He, like you, understands that this risk is serious and can create real problems.

S = Stamina (Stamina)

You should prepare caffeine and energy drinks, as this machine will squeeze everything out of itself, despite the fact that you yourself were exhausted already in the third round. He will not be enough all the time, and if you ever start to black out from fatigue, the guy will scream that he has not finished yet. It even forces you to limit the number of your intercourse per week, as his stamina is exhausting. And you've told him about it more than once.

T = Toys

In this regard, Yuji is more cunning and impudent. He always refuses to have toys for himself, although he himself does not mind tormenting you with a vibrator or even slipping it into your panties, justifying this by the fact that he does this to keep you close, at the same time showing his concern for you, flickering his ghost in your head. But he's not lucky that you're not such a naive fool. Despite this, the guy gets hit on the head, with a very convincing request never to do this again.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Very much not even against, but not much into it. Over time, it bothers both you and him, and all actions cease to be unpredictable.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Pretty loud. But in the volume of your moans, you take over.

They start with stifled growls, to groans because of how fucking amazing and sexy you are. And it all ends like a sugary, but trustworthy silence. Your loud moans of pleasure are a sign that you both were good.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

Once there was a case where Yuji could not come. He felt that he could not come even if he wanted to. His arms and legs seemed to be glued together, and he himself froze. I started to panic, think of reasons in my head. You, in turn, noticed this too, and when you asked what was the matter, Itadori turned pale and speechless. After that, he sat down on the bed, and here you started to worry. It turned out that he had masturbated too much over the past month, which has formed a habit of certain stimulation of the penis. At the news, you laughed, and he blushed. But at the same moment he exhaled with satisfaction. The guy was glad that the reason was not in you and not in his health.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

16 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

Sex serves him for several purposes: relieving stress, sexual tension, just as a way to prove his love for you... Sometimes the beginning of sexual intercourse depends on his arousal. But for your sake, he's trying his best to hold back. Resorted to masturbation instead of sex, but as you already know, even this has its own problems. Seeing him so depressed, you also do not bypass the mutual concern. Even if you don't really want to do this or you are not in the mood, you will never refuse him. Although you will never let him relax and stop controlling himself. Do not miss the opportunity to talk to him about this, because, of course, he also needs it - to get rid of an inferiority complex and so on...

Overall, ± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

Quite surprisingly, even in spite of his endless chatter before going to bed, as soon as he put his head on the pillow and lean on you, he falls asleep instantly. You feel him in your arms like a small hyperactive child who constantly wants to tell you something or, out of habit, make a row. And myself in his arms — protected by a large and strong wall.