#the thing that keeps me up at night

[bublines]

i have searched for my mother’s love in all the corners of the world

[physicsfox7]

Okay. Same rules as always apply: you can interact if you want to, or ignore this if you don't. As always, I know I'm a lot to handle.

I've had good mental health for over a week. Things were going great, I felt good, was sleeping, kind of eating (still struggling there, but usually 1+ meal a day, even if the + was an uncrustie), didn't have any intrusive thoughts. Then last night I could feel the spiral coming on, and for the dumbest trigger imaginable. For a totally irrational and juvenile and stupid reason. Which makes it even worse really.

It doesn't help that I may be getting sick, or I may already be sick. Not sure, and not sure where that might be going, but I know its not helping.

I mentioned recently that my friends are everything, my heart and soul. But probably 3 or 4 times a week I think to myself: "Wouldnt it be easier, safer, less hurtful if you just...didn't? Let your friends go, they were probably at least as happy when you weren't around. You can drift away from them, let the distance get wider, and you dont have to hurt anymore."

I dont mean friends like we talk once every few weeks or exchange letters or whatever. I mean the friends I can barely go a day without talking to them, the ones that I seek out to say hello to. If I leave, they wont notice for long, and I wont lay awake at night wondering if I said something wrong, if they havent said hi because they're mad at me, if this is all a colossal fuck up and they're screwing with me. Because it has happened. To me. Multiple times.

I guess I didn't realize just how much I let certain people in. Which is stupid, right? Because how can someone be so out of touch they didnt see the 6 foot layer of bullshit come down?

So, what if I didn't? What if I went back to just me and my partner, and my thoughts? How long before I crack in half? How long before I decide I cant handle it, I cant be that alone. I was able to do it once, when I was so much stronger. But I lay awake at night, after the first wave has passed, in a cold sweat. And my mind says you could stop the anxiety if you just get cold again.

I spent 10 years working. I know, I know. Everyone has had a job, has dedicated themselves to it. It was nearly all I had. In my family, you get up and you do your chores, then you go to work. When you get home, you make sure nobody else needs help with their stuff. If you're lucky, after exhausting yourself in manual labor for 12 or 14 hours a day, you can watch tv until your eyelids feel like iron. I cant tell you how many nights I fell asleep on the couch. The last time I went on "vacation", I had to help put a new roof on my parents house. When I was a teen and wed go visit family in NY, there were always chores. Mow the lawn, repaint the fence, redrywall your aunts house, put new decking down. Work was all I knew. Much to my surprise, people didnt do all of this all the time. They had downtime, they had reasonable hours, they had the ability to say no.

Thats another one. Saying no. Seems easy, right? I can type it to myself all day long. If I told my parents no about work, or side work, or any chore that fell into my lap because my sister said she didnt want to, I was punished. In a backwards and manipulative way. Suddenly none of my favorite foods were in the house, my room was never clean enough, I had to do all the dishes from dinner because it just didnt make sense to run the dishwasher.

So when I say I could just flip the switch and become cold again, my whole body goes into panic mode. My heart is racing right now because somewhere, someone is going to read this and know what is going on inside my head.

The only thing more terrifying to me than making an ass out of myself in front of my friends, more terrifying than them getting mad at me; is not having them. I honestly think it might kill me.

I let them in too far, and now what if they leave?

I guess I can't let them go after all. I hope that they don't want to be let go of.

This was only slightly more convoluted than usual. If you're insane enough to read this, I'm sorry to subject you to what is essentially word vomit. I need to get this out, or it will eat me alive. Never really understood what people meant by that until now, that holding certain things in can kill you, can devour you.

I'm afraid of getting hurt, and I'm too afraid to be alone. I just need to not push people away, even though that is my immediate response. Just take a step back for a day or two, its no big deal. Then suddenly four months have gone by, and they're either tired of trying or didn't care enough to in the first place. Hard to say which of those is worse.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, except everything is lined with razor blades to make it more interesting.

[herhurthoneyheart]

I will forever be the person who says "it’s okay, I understand.." even when my heart is breaking into pieces..

[baahsu]

Does sanji know zoro ate the onigiri that little girl gave him at the beginning of the series? Does he know he ate it after it was thrown on the ground and stomped over?? Does he know he still said it tasted good?? Does he know???

[decolonize-the-everything]

Why are they mining so much right now?

Cobalt has become the center of a major upsurge in mining in Congo, and the rapid acceleration of cobalt extraction in the region since 2013 has brought hundreds of thousands of people into intimate contact with a powerful melange of toxic metals. The frantic pace of cobalt extraction in Katanga bears close resemblance to another period of rapid exploitation of Congolese mineral resources: During the last few years of World War II, the U.S. government sourced the majority of the uranium necessary to develop the first atomic weapons from a single Congolese mine, named Shinkolobwe. The largely forgotten story of those miners, and the devastating health and ecological impacts uranium production had on Congo, looms over the country now as cobalt mining accelerates to feed the renewable energy boom—with little to no protections for workers involved in the trade.

The city of Kolwezi, which is 300 km (186 miles) northwest of Lubumbashi and 180 km from the now-abandoned Shinkolobwe mine, sits on top of nearly half of the available cobalt in the world. The scope of the contemporary scramble for that metal in Katanga has totally transformed the region. Enormous open-pit mines worked by tens of thousands of miners form vast craters in the landscape and are slowly erasing the city itself.

[...]Much of the cobalt in Congo is mined by hand: Workers scour the surface level seams with picks, shovels, and lengths of rebar, sometimes tunneling by hand 60 feet or more into the earth in pursuit of a vein of ore. This is referred to as artisanal mining, as opposed to the industrial mining carried out by large firms. The thousands of artisanal miners who work at the edges of the formal mines run by big industrial concerns make up 90 percent of the nation’s mining workforce and produce 30 percent of its metals. Artisanal mining is not as efficient as larger-scale industrial mining, but since the miners produce good-quality ore with zero investment in tools, infrastructure, or safety, the ore they sell to buyers is as cheap as it gets. Forced and child labor in the supply chain is not uncommon here, thanks in part to a significant lack of controls and regulations on artisanal mining from the government.

[...]When later atomic research found that uranium’s unstable nucleus could be used to make a powerful bomb, the U.S. Army’s Manhattan Project began searching for a reliable source of uranium. They found it through Union Minière, which sold the United States the first 1,000 tons it needed to get the bomb effort off the ground.

The Manhattan Project sent agents of the OSS, precursor to the CIA, to Congo from 1943 to 1945 to supervise the reopening of the mine and the extraction of Shinkolobwe’s ore—and to make sure none of it fell into the hands of the Axis powers. Every piece of rock that emerged from the mine for almost two decades was purchased by the Manhattan Project and its successors in the Atomic Energy Commission, until the mine was closed by the Belgian authorities on the eve of Congolese independence in 1960. After that, the colonial mining enterprise Union Minière became the national minerals conglomerate Gécamines, which retained much of the original structure and staff.

[...]Dr. Lubaba showed me the small battery-operated Geiger counters that he uses in the field to measure radioactivity. He had begun the process of trying to find and interview the descendants of the Shinkolobwe miners, but he explained that tracing the health consequences of working in that specific mine would be difficult: Many long-established villages in the area have been demolished and cast apart as cobalt extraction has torn through the landscape. His initial inquiries suggested that at least some of the descendants of the Shinkolobwe miners had been drawn into the maelstrom of digging in the region around Kolwezi.

In her book Being Nuclear: Africans and the Global Uranium Trade, historian Gabrielle Hecht recounts the U.S. Public Health Service’s efforts to investigate the effects of uranium exposure on people who worked closely with the metal and the ore that bore it. In 1956, a team of medical researchers from the PHS paid a visit to Shinkolobwe while the mine was still producing more than half of the uranium used in America’s Cold War missile programs. Most of their questions went unanswered, however, as Shinkolobwe’s operators had few official records to share and stopped responding to communications as soon as the researchers left.

[...]“Don’t ever use that word in anybody’s presence. Not ever!” Williams quotes OSS agent Wilbur Hogue snapping at a subordinate who had said the mine’s name in a café in Congo’s capital. “There’s something in that mine that both the United States and Germany want more than anything else in the world. I don’t know what it’s for. We’re not supposed to know.”

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[televisionlassie]

Wally and Bart have the most insanely funny relationship, because normally Wally is so unnecessarily mean to Bart but when Inertia kills Bart he comes up with the most horrible verging on evil punishment he can, and I think it’s INSANE

[tricoufamily]

if you're wondering why bob is here it's bc in the original villareal story there was a very minor background detail that diego lobo and bob pancakes dated in college and broke up tragically and that's where the story peaked. so i included him it's still canon

thank you for these it was so fun!!!!!!!!!!!!

i did these in my this is the fall sim style so i'm thinking. if they exist in this universe what's all their opinions on the 'did jacques do it' situation. let's take a look

don: saw a photo of jacques's wife on the news during the investigation. said "whoa mama that's a hot babe!" like johnny bravo and did not read the headline. does not know anything about it still.

vlad: well he's psychic he could figure out the truth if he actually cared. and he has!

olive: obviously respects it. except for the getting investigated part, would never happen to her.

diego: does not think jacques did it but enjoys the tabloids. knows other rich people personally who he thinks have killed their spouses

morgyn: will post things like "friendly reminder that j*cques v*llareal literally killed his wife and is a billionaire so maybe don't go to one of their hotels" on tumblr and will then do a call out post about like a fanfic writer who wrote an unhealthy relationship with more severity

pascal: knows conspiracy theories and this one is bullshit. or maybe it just doesn't interest him as much as aliens and that's why he thinks that

jeb: has a very "well of course he did. them rich folk can do whatever they want. there ain't no hope for the rest of us" while kicking a can down the road approach

bob: thinks he did it. is very alarmed that it was brushed off. eliza's like bob book the hotel and he's like am i going crazy. does anyone hear me.

[visceravalentines]

[mci-writing]

Kyoya Ootori who calls you princess to tease you. He has a knowing smirk each time, brown eyes softening as he takes in your reactions. He knows exactly how to get a rise out of you, going even further to grip your chin between his fingers and force your eyes to meet his. His thumb rubs the bottom of your chapped lip, lightly pushing the plush flesh down with a soft flick.

Once your face is adequately flushed, the deep shade blossoming across your face in the exact way he wants, he tugs away from you as though he didn’t just send jolts and tingles down your body from a singular touch. Hearing your name drop from his lips later sounds foreign, ears desperate to hear the nickname again despite knowing it’s only to mess with you.

[stray-but-okay]

brb, getting this tattooed on my forehead

[alluralater]

kinky rambling confession about something i remembered this morning: okay so like two and a half years ago for halloween i went to this party with a bunch of other people. it was being thrown by a few close friends and it was really fun! i went dressed as envy and one of my friends (let’s call them violet) who was throwing the party was supposed to go as poison ivy but earlier that day she texted me and was like “i was freaking out about my poison ivy fit and almost called off the party but i chose something else and i think you’re going to like it.” when i walked into their apartment later that night, i was ill-prepared for the ravages of whorish need that began swirling and curling in my stupid lesbian veins. they were done up in a tiny white slip-dress romper type number with spaghetti straps. the neckline outlined and dipped between their breasts. the soft material cinched at their waist, and fell more open around their bare thighs. she has these killer dark brown eyes too, so yummy to look at. tonight their natural dark lashes were coated in black mascara, and their lids were— oh god. cow print design. intricate and detailed, white base with black spots and black blurbs. their dress was the same, cow print. now, alright, let me be clear. i am not immune to hot people or what they do to get my attention, but this was something else. i didn’t notice that i’d been standing a few feet in front of the door, midway between taking my shoes off when violet is walking over and happily welcoming me in and telling me i look gorgeous and im just fucking stunned. “do you like it?” their voice filled with this self-contented sound yet they still wanted my opinion. i could hear their hopefulness. i summoned every ounce of cool girl i had in me and went “oh i absolutely love it!” i had nearly fallen taking off my boots and now here i was standing in front of them as they fawned all over me and my outfit and my makeup and my hair and every small detail. i wasn’t even really hearing their compliments. i couldn’t even respond, for fear i might say something wildly inappropriate aloud instead.

i couldn’t say that i was thinking of sliding my fingers into their top and massaging their breasts, soft nipples hardening to my touch, rolling and pinching until they moaned in a way that satisfied me enough to begin sucking. i couldn’t say that i was entrenched in the idea of eating their pussy from behind while i have them on all-fours, no way could i mention the way my mouth began watering. every light touch all over my body made me want to slam them into the wall beside us and tell them they make such a cute cow. i wanted my fingers inside them, my lips wrapped around their pink nipples. i wanted to use them. i wanted to take them right there, because of that small tone in their voice, because they had wanted my opinion, my thoughts, my validation. what better validation than to slap their pretty fucking face when they’re on their knees before taking them by the throat and guiding them swiftly all the way down to the floor on their back. tightening my grip and letting my lips graze overtop hers as i play with her swollen clit. my dumb breeding toy, hastened breathing and warm body pressed to the floor. my pretty little cow just needs to be played with and touched and felt up all over. no thoughts, no overthinking about what anyone thinks of them, just pure pleasure. i want to ask my lovely violet if this is what they wanted, i want to hear them say it. i want to milk those yummy tits until they’re begging me to stop because they’re so sore and much too sensitive. i want to see them writhing like a slut in heat underneath me, desperate for more yet whining through how good it feels to get what they want. and i don’t want to take it off, this cute costume. i want to leave it on them. i want to tell them exactly what i like about it and how it makes me feel. i want to ride their thigh while i pump my fingers into their wet pussy and tell them how fucking pathetically sweet they sound practically begging for my attention. if that’s what they want, that’s what they should have. all of my attention. i want my fingers in that beautiful dark brown hair, my lips and teeth and tongue working out my oral fixation. i want them to feel— “allura? hello?”violet’s hand waved in front of my face. i’d been lost in thought. “do you want a drink?” she asked. blinking twice and trying not to think of how good their lips feel, “god yes. please.” they gave me a curiously pleased smile, eyes narrowing for a slight second and taking in the red hues on my cheeks. it wasn’t so long ago they’d seen that look on my face before we were attacking each other on their front porch and devouring one another there in the middle of broad daylight. “i can always tell what you’re thinking about, you know.” the burning in my cheeks intensified when they walked into the kitchen ahead of me and i was left to follow after them like the slut i am as i mockingly muttered under my breath, “such an annoying whore. i cAN aLwaYs tEll whAT yOu’Re thiNking abOut. ugh.” i dont fucking doubt it

[trobeds]

i know the hunger games isnt about romance i know it isnt a love story but. theres just something so beautiful in the way peeta is the personification of what it means to heal and he /is/ the dandelion and the bread and the hope that things can be better even if they wont be fixed. even if the nightmares dont stop he will still hold her. wake her up and tell her shes alive. shes safe. and when its over and done and theres no more saving or protecting or trying their absolute hardest to die if it means keeping the other alive, the horrors dont stop. but katniss will still find that comfort in peetas arms.

[your-fuccked-up-dad-volume61]

You wanted a stalker boyfriend yet when I sent you your own coordinates in your messages, you call me a freak? Here I was going to show up at your doorstep with the heart of the man you looked at today.🔪🌹

[fairyrona]

alex is fully to blame for this one !!! [ byler mówią, że jebią to wszystko i jadą w Bieszczady (kuszetką)]

[ataraxianne]

Thinking about how permissive Blitzø is with Loona, even and especially at his own expenses.

The only two times he tried to "impose" himself were either because he was being protective or because someone pushed him to do it, but in general Loona is free to act as she pleases: distant, sometimes mean, she can fight back both figuratively and physically, bite him and hit him and Blitzø would still let that slide and even compliment her for how strong she is- and I cannot stop thinking that it's probably because of the relationship he had with Cash.

He was always controlling, always forcing him and manipulating Blitzo to do what he wanted, he even sold him around with no remorse. I hardly doubt Blitzø ever had the chance to fight back or that he ever had even the slightest praising from his father

He probably even encourages Loona in being so violent and strong with her feelings- better getting hit than letting her daughter think she can't be free of expressing herself or shouldn't dare fighting back if she doesn't agree with him on something

Better annoying her by constantly telling her how good she is, how beautiful and flawless she is, how proud of her he is rather than never have her hear those words at all- from her own father nonetheless

No chance Blitzø would make her daughter feel the same way Cash made him feel