#I LIKE. CANNOT FIT ANYTHING ELSE INSIDE MY BRAIN

[acaesic]

man. i wanna get back into multifandom stuff but at the same time i cannot feel anything for things that arent idkhow anymore :,)

#UUUAAAAAGGHHHHH #I HAVENT ABANDONED MY INTERESTS BUT I LIKE I HAVE. I REALLY HAVE #I REALLY REALLY LIKE. UGH I LOVE OBSESSING OVER OTHER THINGS BUT IDKHOW KIND OF JUST LIKE. CONSUMED EVERYTHING ELSE INCLUDING ME IDK #WHY IS LIKING MORE THAN ONE THING JUST IMPOSSIBLE TO ME AAAAAAAAA #I DONT EVEN LISTEN TO DIFFERENT MUSIC ANYMORE BECAUSE I CANNOT MENTALLY HANDLE HEARING ANYTHING NEW #LIKE. I CAN CONSUME OTHER CONTENT AND BE FINE BUT POSTING ABOUT THEM JUST FEELS LIKE WAY TOO MUCH FOR ME IDK #WWHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY IS MY BRAIN LIKE THIS WHY WHY BRAIN #like. okay. i love other things too but i think for my own comfort and energy im just gonna stay an idkhow blog for the next few months #seriously i was all in on being multifandom and that was like. relatively fine with me (i think i dont remember) and then the CONCERT #JJGJJGMGMGKKHHKHLGJKGMKHMHGGFJJJKGGK #I WAS MOSTLY FINE UP UNTIL THE CONCERT. FUCK #AND NOW IDKHOW IS ALL THAT I CAN EVER THINK ABOUT AND THERE ISNT ROOM FOR ANYTHING ELSE #IDK HOW I MANAGED TO JUST LIKE OTHER THINGS? HOW DID I HAVE THE ENERGY AT ALL #I LIKE. CANNOT FIT ANYTHING ELSE INSIDE MY BRAIN #IDKHOW CONSUMES MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT THEY SHOW UP IN MY DREAMS THEYRE ALL I DRAW. I USED TO BE A PERSON #idkhow #chase said something alright #yeah. if its okay im gonna stay an idkhow blog for a little while. ill reblog things from other fandoms occasionally but. not often #yeah :) <3 writing this all out calmed me down :)

[suiana]

ok consider -

yr artist yandere post but a bit different (preferably m/m but whatever ya think fits better)

you wake up to small drawings of you on your desk, always with a small comment on the bottom ("i can never capture your face right" "you're a wonderful muse")

but the more you get, the more you get worried. how did they know what you looked like naked?

alternate universe moment omg 😻

✎ yandere! artist headcanons PT.2 . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― stalking, nsfw, obsessiveness etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! artist who was completely infatuated with you the moment he saw you in his classroom. woah, the transfer student looked perfect?? his new muse maybe???

✎ yandere! artist who was too much of a wuss to actually talk to you so he just admires you from afar, memorising everything about you.

✎ yandere! artist who can't help but leave a drawing or two of you inside of your locker. consider this a confession of his affection. he doesn't do this for everyone ok!?

✎ yandere! artist who grows more obsessive the more he draws you. he couldn't help it, you're practically perfect in his eyes!

✎ yandere! artist who becomes bolder and draws you in much more intimate positions and leaves it inside of your bag. no one else but him should know what you look like! but how does he even know what you look like naked?

✎ yandere! artist who stalks you every where you go. he swears that it's just to find more references for positions! even though he could easily just search some up.

✎ yandere! artist who sighs upon seeing you so frightened from his little gifts. is it anything to be scared of? it's just a drawing of you naked, that's all!

✎ yandere! artist who can draw you in such intimate positions but cannot for the life of him, talk to you. what the hell bro?

✎ yandere! artist who always leaves you cute messages on the back of his drawings. that's the only cute thing about his scarily accurate naked, sometimes normal, drawings.

✎ yandere! artist who decides to just admire you from afar for now. maybe one day when you finally use your brain juice and connect the dots, he'll be able to talk to you. after all, who else is as talented at drawing as he is?

✎ "my muse is as pretty as always today ♡"

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere artist #yandere artist headcanons #yandere artist x reader

[rpmemes-galore]

sad quotes : from a mix of sources ... sentence starters

“I was happy... once.”

“Do you think I could be saved?”

“There’s no reasoning with grief.”

“I am so tired of being so scared.”

“If this is reality, I’m not interested.”

“I put all my trust in an empty dream.”

“But what is grief if not love persevering?”

“I was too young to know how to love her.“

“I’m too young for eyes this sad, this tired.”

“You're all duct tape and safety pins inside.”

“If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?”

“I can survive on my own. I have for this long.”

“I don’t want to give up hope... it’s all I have left.”

“I didn’t make the choice to give this up. You did.”

“How long have you carried this, all on your own?”

“I loved her... and, sometimes, she loved me, too.”

“Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.“

“Maybe some people are just made to be shattered.”

“There is no way to train your heart to be invulnerable.“

“You said you’d always be there for me, but you’re not.“

“I don’t trust anyone else. I can barely even trust myself.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be alone. Nobody can hurt you.“

“You don’t love me. You don’t. Love doesn’t hurt like this.”

“All that could be said has... and it hasn’t solved anything.”

“No one heard me screaming, then. How could they, now?”

“They’ve dulled your light. Even your smile is dimmer, now.”

“You were supposed to be my escape... not another prison.”

“How long am I supposed to wander before I can find home?”

“I hid my deepest feelings so well I forgot where I placed them.“

“Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you.“

“I have to keep moving. Eventually, someday, I’ll be safe, again.”

“How can you move forward when you keep regretting the past?“

“Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.“

“I should have been there. I should have done something, anything.”

“No matter how gifted you are… You, alone, cannot change the world.“

“Nothing... there is nothing I can do that will make my heart less heavy.”

“Loneliness is peaceful, but there’ll be no one to share happiness with.“

“Please don’t go away... No one’s ever stuck with me for so long before.“

“You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.”

“I just want you to be happy. Even if that happiness no longer includes me.”

“People keep telling me that life goes on, but to me, that’s the saddest part.”

“I thought I could just apologize tomorrow. But that tomorrow… never came.“

“How has the weight of this not crushed you? How are you still able to smile?”

“The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.”

“The scariest and the most painful thing is to be hated by someone you truly love.“

“Happiness is a fleeting notion. It fills you with false hope. Grief keeps you grounded.”

“Breathing is hard. When you cry so much, it makes you realize that breathing is hard.“

“Nothing has ever hurt more than realizing, in your darkest moment, you’re truly alone.”

“You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.“

“Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.”

“I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in, but you can't.”

“But, if you want to leave, you can. I’ll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves.”

“You can love someone so much... But you can never love people as much as you can miss them.“

“Why should I apologize for being a monster? Has anyone ever apologized for turning me into one?“

“I have to believe that there are still good people in the world. I have to believe that kindness persists.”

“You have been, in every way, all that anyone could be... If anybody could have saved me, it would have been you.”

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”

“Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it's there if you look deep.”

“But grief makes a monster out of us sometimes... and sometimes you say and do things to the people you love that you can’t forgive yourself for.“

“People think being alone makes you lonely, but I don’t think that’s true. Being surrounded by the wrong people is the loneliest thing in the world.”

“The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they don’t wish to see anyone else suffer the way they did.“

#misc #sentence starters #mine #angst #rp meme

[skaruresonic]

The idw discourse is so bad, I feel caught in the middle because each time I express how bad the storytelling is, in a new issue or how off model the characters are drawn, idw fans gang up on me. But on the other hand I don't want to be associated with the people who think think it's funny to tweet how Flynn should die or make weird assumptions about Stanley being a bad person ? Like that's weird and cruel. Hate their work not them as people.

I just decided to pretend the comic doesn't exist and it helps lol.

I'm sorry that happened to you. Idk if anyone else will tell you that, but I will, because I know how much it sucks.

One time, I saw a guy on Twitter blame us for his inability to criticize the book in what he believed was a much more "balanced" manner without getting harassed by people.

Digest that for a moment. It's our fault for other people's reaction to us. And instead of rubbing his brain cells together for a moment and questioning the reasons why this knee-jerk reaction occurs, or even reflecting on the fact that it occurs at all and perhaps realizing that the call is coming from inside the house, he fell back on old biases and decided it was the haters who were wrong.

The mental gymnastics on display here are unreal.

In this case, I think people are stumbling into the usual fallacious trap of assuming both sides carry equal weight, and thus believe that defaulting to a position of "neutrality" makes them morally superior somehow.

That's kind of what I hate about this fandom - the utter superciliousness. The rotten shit we as a fandom get up to (and no, being a little snarky in a reblog does not count as harassment) while proclaiming love and light uwu. Be nice to everyone, except those freaks over there.

"Neutrality" is in scare quotes here because it's not true neutrality, but a way of posturing to the in-group that you're not Like Us. As demonstrated by my Twitter-user anecdote, people around here don't want to say anything hater-flavored because it risks intense ostracization. That's why you have people jumping down your throat for presenting even mild criticisms. It'd be pathetic if it weren't so annoying.

I'm not talking about people who let well enough alone. I'm talking about centrists who sneer "both sides are bad," as if by distancing themselves from the situation in a smug manner, they're declaring themselves more enlightened than the rest of us.

Honestly, the other side should be just as insulted, but they're not, because this attitude only helps them in the long run.

In reality, this is more like the fishhook situation centrists have with antis vs. proshippers. Saying "this whole thing is stupid" really only benefits antis because they now have grounds to reply, "Yes, this IS stupid, don't you think proshippers are crazy for being upset at something so trivial?" while conveniently omitting the part where antis routinely send proshippers death threats and other heinous material.

Look at it from this angle: the most concrete harm I have seen their side say they've suffered is a deep discomfort and estrangement from the book. Which, yeah. That sucks. But it's also kinda on you to just click away if it makes you uncomfortable.

On the other hand, I have had legitimate crying fits because of horrible messages I received and have told people multiple times about the anon who mocked my recently-deceased mom. Which, unlike clicking away from a blog, I had no choice but to see sometimes because I was still naive enough to believe people would behave themselves in my inbox. In fact, a mutual were recently discussing our anxieties over retaliation should IDW be cancelled. There's stuff about this that you just don't want to think about because dwelling on it will freak you out.

"Both sides are bad" stings, especially in light of knowing the measures I have taken to walk on eggshells and draw proper boundaries. I literally cannot know if someone in this fandom will consider my explanations harassment and dogpiling, so I try not to reblog with commentary. On the reblogging site.

Reflect on how fucked-up that is, to feel uncomfortable adding a tag to someone's fanart because you're worried they might realize you're One of Them(tm) and shun you on that basis alone.

I won't sit here and say I've always been perfect in my conduct, but at the same time, it's just the infuriating experience of double standards all the way down. Somehow it never occurs to them that if I held them to the same standard they hold me, I could call them all out on intellectual dishonesty for refusing to engage with any of our points no matter how calmly or clearly stated because "lol ur just a hater," and tar them with the same brush as those who sent me death threats.

But ofc, things don't work out like that in the calculus of Le Sonic Discourse. It's just a rotten experience to the core.

#asks

[gaysullengirl]

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

❝ do you get deja vu, when she's with you? ❞

- deja vu, olivia rodrigo

Isabelle wore a wine red dress that was tight fitting on top and had a short flowy skirt- which concealed her gun easily.

She ordered some water's while Emily found a table, when she walked back she noticed Viper talking to Emily.

Isabelle walked to the table "Hi, Viper" Isabelle said flirtatiously, if Isabelle was an expert in anything it was playing men just like a violin.

"You promised if we met you on your turf, you'd show us something special." Emily smiled.

"Yeah, Viper, who gets pushed and who gets pulled tonight?" Isabelle asked and his eyes widened.

"Here let me show you." He spoke, attempting to re-gain his confidence, "You see, eye contact is a very powerful gauge."

"It's why you tend to look away from someone you're attracted to, because you know instinctively what a dead giveaway it is, but your brain goes there anyway, images, fantasies."

Isabelle laughed, "Don't flatter yourself."

"The eyes don't lie, they dilate, it's a chemical response, we can't control it."

After Isabelle's eyes didn't dilate whatsoever he moved to Emily, "Come on, do it, are you scared your eyes might dilate?" he teased.

"No, Paul, I'm baffled, I cannot figure out what the unsub could have learned from you." Emily said.

"What do you mean? He took my look, my words, everything that makes me successful to the opposite sex." He defended himself.

"Really? Because that guy can get beautiful women into his apartment." Emily provoked him even more.

"I wouldn't even let you on my facebook." Isabelle  deadpans. 

Emily Smiled, "Oh you have facebook? I'll follow you."

"Thanks-" Viper cut Isabelle off.

"Hey, hey, hey! I gave him-" "Shh" Isabelle cut him off. "Why'd you interrupt me? can you not stand the attention being on someone else for a second?"

"We've been watching all the women in the club and not one of them has looked at you, so who do you really go home with, Paul?" Isabelle asked in an innocent tone.

"Or- or do you go home alone?" Emily frowned, faking sadness.

"That was really good, ladies, that was really good, don't you think I know why you're here?" he asked.

"One of my students copies my moves, and you're here to get inside my mind, don't you see? I confronted my queen bee a long time ago." He raised his voice.

"What's a queen bee?" Isabelle furrowed her brows.

"You are." He exclaimed, pointing a finger at her.

"Every student who's ever taken my class has had one in his life, and the first exercise my students have to complete is to confront their queen bee."

"It could be the girl who cheated on you, the prom date who stood you up, you find them and you squash them." Emily and Isabelle shared a look before they walked toward the club's exit.

Isabelle saw Spencer talking to a bartender, she noticed him point to the women's ear and she grabbed a piece of paper from her hair.

Isabelle was pissed to say the least, not only was he flirting on the job but he was also using the same tactic he had used with her.

"Hey Em, I have to go to the bathroom really quick." she walked into the bathroom urgently.

Isabelle silently begged herself not to cry, she knew everyone would assume she's weak if she started crying. 

Isabelle took a few deep breaths and left the bathroom, her and Emily exit the club to find Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Reid waiting for them.

Isabelle brushed passed Spencer, purposefully knocking her shoulder against his.

"What was that for?"

"You're fine, if it really hurts maybe you should go get your girlfriend to comfort you" Isabelle spit angrily and kept walking.

"Girlfriend?"

"Really Spencer? flirting on a case?" Isabelle turned to face him.

"You were too" he argued, Isabelle scoffed "Because that's what I was assigned to do."

"No, I could tell you actually like him, you we're actually flirting." He elaborated.

Isabelle just stared at him, 'is he being for real?' was all she could thin, "Spencer that was fake flirting."

"Really? cause it seemed real." He admitted, sounding hurt.

"God! you're such a hypocrite, are you hearing yourself? You're upset because I was 'flirting' with viper while you're giving a random bartender your number? with the same tactic you used on me might I add. Come on Spencer you have an eidetic memory and you're seriously forgetting how we met?" She shouted.

Spencer's eyes started to water, "No, but i'm still a little blurry on how we broke up,  you said you wanted to break up then the next day you're gone, I mean did I even mean anything to you?"

Isabelle didn't want to have this conversation with him—ever, but especially not in front of her new coworkers, so she turned around and started walking toward the suv.  

"Go fuck your self, Isa!" He shouted.

If anyone dared to speak to Isabelle the way Spencer was she would turn around punch them, shoot them, then bury them six feet under and never be caught, but since it was Spencer she didn't.

Isabelle just quietly got in the suv.

authors note!

thank you sm for reading!! <33

#jade’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ * #criminal minds #fanfic #fbi #fbi agent #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid series #alexa demie

[undercoverpena]

hii! this might be quite personal and I mean no offense but how do you write so much? do you block time out (and how do you write so well?) I need to know!!!

I’m sorry I’ve sat on this one for a few days anon! my personal life has been a shit-show and I always worry if I respond when im under stress my British-wit/snark comes across as bitchiness 😂 because what I want to say is—

poor mental health + shit sleeping routine + a head full of stories

but that sounds flippant, doesn’t it? even if I mean it in jest. so I sat on it to give you and anyone else that will read this, the below insights into me, jo. a person you may follow, someone you may check in on but don’t follow, or someone who makes you seethe from a corner hahahah.

one. I have always created stories in my head. which sounds cliche, but it’s true. i assume there’s some psychological explanation like avoidance because I don’t have the tools to deal with real life or that I prefer the version of myself in my head than irl. but that’s point one. my head is full of them. and for as long as I can remember, on and off, it’s always been there. I didn’t always write, admittedly, but I thought about them. maybe made my dolls reenact them or created the story on the sims.

two. point one leads nicely into point two, but I find life very overwhelming a lot of the time. I cope, I function, but writing helps me so much. so I tend to do it daily. I physically can feel when I haven’t—like there’s too many voices, too many things bursting around inside of me. it’s how I cope with my mood disorder, and I’m happy to say 8/10 it works. (this is partially why I don’t get fazed by numbers, im going to write regardless if I share it, and if I do share it, there’s zero expectation from me anyone will read it. it’s more a gift from my brain to your day, you know?)

three. because of point two (see a theme here) I struggle to sleep. a good day for me is six hours. a bad day is three. somewhere in the middle I tend to cope and function. sometimes, when life is really fucking hard, I’ll have eight hours and you can tell—because I actually do not write. it usually means I’m burnt out, honestly.

four. more pleasant now, less scene setting than before, but I plan out things. before I share a series I’ll bank a handful of chapters in case my muse fucks off on vacation (the wench) and I’ll always write an ending so I can go about writing out of order (because I do not write anything in order, not a chapter, not a series or a one shot). so mainly, I find a routine that works for me. I cannot force myself to write chronologically, so why bother? you know? circles don’t go in square holes and all of that.

five. I’m rigid with my upload dates. yes, for lovely followers this means waiting, and for me this gives structure — which helps massively with points one to three. but it also buys me time. it gives me the chance to sit in my feelings when I share a chapter, and think logically about what I want the next chapter to feel like. I also like having dates associated to characters in my head, because it gives me some focus of when I should share it.

six. I can write on my phone, at a laptop and in a notebook. the phone one helps massively as I can do so anywhere and any place. this has meant long drives provide oneshots you all love, chapters have been written on planes and things that make you all hate me are written in bed, in the dead of the night, while the rest of the world sleeps. but again, I found a system that works for me. writing at night is my best and most productive time, so I had to adapt to be able to do so effectively without making my husband worry about me.

seven. surround yourself with people who don’t judge you for writing copious amounts. I’ve tried to do the fitting in thing, I’ve tried to dilute myself, and I’ve tried to lessen uploading because of comments “friends” have made or asks I’ve gotten. find people who celebrate you even one on one, because that’s when you’re creativity will really bloom.

eight. I mentioned earlier about process, but I have a process that works for me in terms of plotting. I do a few rounds of different things which I call skeleton, muscle and then skin. but my friend ( @thetriumphantpanda hi babe) loves to create mood boards before she begins. we all have processes and it’s finding one that works for you. my process helps me share all the things I do with you.

nine. I tell the story I want to tell. I pour my heart out onto a screen because I want too. and because im pleasing myself first and foremost, it allows me to feel creative. for the only time in my life, I am in control and I get to put myself first.

ten. I love writing about love. I love grand gestures, and small little moments; I love big speeches, and I also love the head turn and a simple, you’re not too bad you’re not. I love it all. and because of that, I fucking love what I do on here.

so, to answer the question what started all of this off, I write so much because I love what I do, because I can, and because i do it for me first with the secondary hope I make one persons day. that’s it. that’s my baseline, one person outside of me. the rest is just a bonus.

so, find the thing you love to write about, and just write it. take your time. there’s no right or wrong way to do it. write ten words a day or a hundred or a thousand. spend days moving a full stop or a comma or weeks thinking an idea over but not making a single note.

however you choose to do it, make sure you have fun. because otherwise, it’s just a job, and we already have to give to much of our days to that as it is.

#jo: writing advice #<- not sure if this is that as im just talking at you #but also like it’s nice to just share this #because people make assumptions #and they say things but they don’t realise the consequences or how it hurts #but sometimes a girl writes so much because life is hard #and sometimes it’s because she likes making silly men experience blowjobs under a sky full of stars

[mossbone]

C3E37 and Genre Thoughts

I’m seeing so many theories on the latest episode re: Laudna’s past and the things we saw, and here’s my take. On the last 4-sided dive, Marisha said she based ~Laudna~ as her character’s name based on laudanum, the medication. She chose it because “it sounded a little weird, and hazy...and fucks with your head.”

I believe episode 37 reflected that, on purpose.

With the additional knowledge that her birth name was ~Matilda~ it makes so much sense that she has such a personality-fitting name, because she chose it. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as a lonely child with magic powers she shared a name with Roald Dahl’s famous Matilda who did the same. But then Matilda died, and her narrative, her genre changed. So of course her name did too.

Delilah has been messing with her head and her memories for 30-odd years and episode 37 really showed us exactly what that looks like. The ages jumping around, the town shifting illogically, the purple sparks of our favorite dead girl answering to both names sometimes, the uncertainty of whether or not fighting her worst memories was changing anything, unsure if they were reaching out to her actual spirit all those times...not even knowing if the horrorscape was under the control of Delilah, or Laudna, or Something Else.

In the horror-adjacent novel Harrow the Ninth, there are both real ghosts and personal hallucinations and we never really get closure on which was which for certain scenes. The author goes into a little bit about that being on purpose, because sometimes the horror is in not knowing, and sometimes the horror is in having to rely on people you cannot trust to tell you what’s real, and sometimes it doesn’t matter if the horrors are physically real or not because you are experiencing them and that’s all that matters.

I feel like Matt took a similar approach with this episode, and I see so many people trying to decipher a Fundamental Truth about why Andy called her Matilda but her parents called her Laudna or other inconsistencies that happened. The theories are getting more and more elaborate, and like, that makes sense! Human nature is to solve mysteries! And I could be wrong but I don’t think there is an in-universe concrete reason. Of course people want there to be an answer—it’s terrifying to not understand what’s happening around you. But this was a horror episode! We got to see the characters physically explore the confusion and manipulation going on in Laudna’s head, so I think some things were meant to be nebulous or outright contradictory. Trauma does that to the brain. It makes you remember things wrong, and having the woman who killed you squatting in your mind, filling it with dark powers and shadowy illusions only expounds on that. Which is terrifying! So of course us viewers don’t like that and are trying to find safe logical paths to The Truth. But sometimes The Truth isn’t simple. Sometimes you can’t find the clues to understand what Actually Happened.

This episode, we got an inside look into Laudna’s mind. It was weird, and hazy, and fucked. Like a too-strong dose of laudanum.

#cr3 spoilers #cr3 #laudna cr #critical role #laudna #c3e37 #bells hells #matilda cr #delilah briarwood #critical role campaign 3 #obviously this is just my take and I could be wrong #I also think that each campaign has very different vibes and campaign 2 WAS full of solvable mysteries #it had trails of evidence that lead the party to individuals that could be interrogated under Zone of Truth and then jailed #but like. campaign 3 has much more of gothic horror vibes. #so I think for at least this case of Laudna's mindscape we're in territory that is not only uncharted but CAN'T be charted #because it's a fucked up traumatized necromancied mind and not an ocean #even Delilah seemed unsure of what was true and kept saying somewhat contradictory things

[somewhereinthepines]

lil thing that went nowhere lol.

a/n : this is the very first, tiny draft of my du'lie fic. basically, i was just trying to figure out how i wanted to present the story and such. it didn't fit anywhere in the fic in the end, but it's still fun to think about what might have happened, if it would have been included.

————–

No, no, no no! Please — oh God — oh fuck, please no!  

Charlie is on the verge of a full-blown panic. His mind racing, and his heart goes into overdrive as he fruitlessly darts from one end of the room to another, hands scrambling against the wall, like he can possibly find some secret exit, a handle, a passage, anything, that can be used as a way out. 

But there is nothing. Just wallpaper, just wood, just an obstacle that he cannot psychically overcome or do anything with. There is no way out this time. He cannot escape what will come next. His higher brain understands it with dreadful probability, but his animal one, retches and wrestles, and howls in pure desperation. He has to — he has to get the fuck out! 

“Pl-please…” he stutters under his breath, fingers spalling and searching, as a dying hope still curling under his chest-bone. “Not like t-this…please, not – I don’t —” 

He’s not ready. 

He’s so painfully not ready to die, that whatever else doesn't seem to matter much. He feels, that if he will survive just a bit longer, that he would be able to look past anything. His failing business, his loneliness, the growing amount of unpaid debt. He will be able to withstand anything, if he will be able to make it out alive. 

Nothing changes, though. The wall is just a wall, and he’s stuck in the end of the hallway, with the killer just a couple yards away from him. Waiting and watching him struggle, wrenching around like a cornered rat. It must be so hilariously ungraceful and dumb-looking from Du’Met’s view. 

Eventually, out of breaths and ideas, Charlie stops. Both of his palms are pressed against the wall, as he shivers, barely able to swallow a pitiful whimper of horror. He’s going to die. He’s going to be pinned to a wall, like a damn taxidermy animal, he’s — 

Behind him the wooden floorboard creak, violated by adding weight. Charlie flinches with his whole body, and goes absolutely still, any thoughts cut short. 

Du’Met. He’s here. Right behind him. Charlie can literally feel his presence now. The hair on his neck stands at its ends, and his skin feels clammy, blistering with sweat. Like he’s having an especially nasty nightmare or a high-strung fever. 

The wrongness of this whole situation nearly sways him off his unbending, shaking legs, but he forces himself to remain vertical and slowly peer over his shoulder. And yea, Du’Met is right there, at the end of the hallway, staring him down, hands seemingly empty, but it does very little to make Charlie feel better. 

He can still have a knife inside his pocket. Or he might want to finish Charlie off in some other grizzle fashion. He’s still a threat, even if unarmed. 

The older man doesn’t even dare to blink, holding that heavy, scrutinizing gaze with the best of his ability. He wasn’t sure why Du’Met wasn’t attacking him yet. Why was he just standing there without any clear intention, when he could easily murder Charlie right here. Lack of clear intentions, did nothing, but unnerved him further. 

But he has to do something. This might be his only chance to survive. 

Slowly, like he was afraid to trigger a response, Charlie turned around, giving up on an attempt to somehow pry his way through the wall. It was of no use. There wasn’t any means to escape this way. 

Du’Met wasn’t doing anything at all. He was just looking at him, eyes cold and calm behind the holes of his mask. Charlie, in comparison, was barely holding his remaining sanity together. He was completely dumbstruck with what he had to do here. Should he say something? Should he plead and hope, that it will work again? 

Somehow, he doubted that it would. It felt, like that one time was simple luck. Perhaps, Du’Met just felt like letting him go back then, but it won’t happen again. He was sure of it. 

“I’m —” his jaw locked and opened, but barely any coherence could be formed, when he was this nervous. What could he even tell him, anyway? That if he let him leave, then he’s…? He’s what? 

Either tired of waiting or Charlie’s general uncertainty, Du’Met walked closer, stance laid-back, steps well-measured and unhurried. Charlie pressed his back even further into the wall, hiking his shoulders up, as if in a defensive position. 

“D-don’t.” he grunted out, eyes wide and whole form shaking. “Please…don’t d-do this.” 

Du’Met naturally didn’t say anything back. Not that Charlie expected him to, but his eyes slightly lidded and then, he did something very bizarre. Instead of advancing forward some more, he slowly stretched his arms in front of him, before flipping them up, demonstrating empty hands.

Charlie peered at him. At his face, at his open latex palms, then back to his face. He did it at least four times, before succumbing to proper confusion. If Du’Met wanted him to get something from this, he clearly didn’t succeed. 

“Uh, I don’t…?” he made a helpless half-gesture, attempting to articulate, that the other man might need to be more direct with his intention. Charlie was completely oblivious of what this was supposed to mean. Let alone any way to read it.

What the hell was this? An indication that he came with peace? 

The thought was so absurd, that Charlie let out a hysterical snort, which made Du’Met tilt his chin a bit lower, brows most likely furrowing behind the mask. Did he — 

Oh god….

“N-no. No. I – I wasn’t laughing at you!” he quickly assured, stumbling upon his thoughts, and half-baked ideas of how to use this stalemate to his advantage. “I just don’t — I don’t understand what you are trying to say.” 

Du’Met lowered his arms, letting them rest against his sides. Charlie forgot how to breathe. Did he upset him? Was this his only leeway? Did he screw it up by speaking? 

The killer side-stepped to the left, freeing some more space in between himself and the hallway. Then, he over-politely gestured to the empty passage there, as if offering Charlie to take the opportunity and leave this way. 

He started to understand it then. His stomach sank. 

“Oh.” 

The only way to leave the deadend was to go back to where he came from, but to do so, he would need to pass past Du’Met. To walk right next to him, when there is barely an arm length, that would separate them from one another. A shiver shot up his spine just from this notion alone. Charlie shook his head, as if in denial. 

This can’t be the only way. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t stupid enough to walk right to the person, who could and would hurt him, if he sees so fit. It was crazy to even consider this, but then again, what other options did he have? He couldn’t break through the wall, and there was no window to attempt and leave this way, so…the hallway. 

It was his only way out. 

A way out, that was currently half-occupied by Du’Met. 

Out of all the horrible things, that happened to him today, this was surely the most horrifying one. Before, there always was a small passage, a chance for him to escape and outsmart the other, but now, there was no choice at hand. There was no side-path, just a dreadful way forward. 

But why? Why design it like this, when he could just mess Charlie up, where he stood? He didn’t even have to be smart or tricky about it. Deep down, Charlie knows why, though. 

He wants me to be terrified. That’s why he does this. 

It often was about control with these kinds of people. Perhaps, he wanted to control, where Charlie went and how he did it. Compared to all other times, when Charlie's ability to survive despite the odds was something, that Du’Met failed to expect. It was clear from the light surprise inside his eyes, when he stumbled upon Charlie in the garden. 

He wasn’t foreseeing this to happen. Du’Met most likely assumed, that Charlie was dead, when in fact, he was still alive and kicking. He wasn’t able to control how exactly the older man handled these situations. He thought, that he had it in his pocket, the second Charlie walked into these traps. They all were designed to kill him, after all. 

But that’s the kicker, they didn’t. After a few hours stuck in here, Charlie was still alive and in one piece. It must have been troubling for the other male to process. Being stripped of his main advantage by some commoner or whatever he depicted him as. But this instance was different. 

This, Du’Met will be able to control. Fully. Without any real unknown challenges. 

And what he's to do now...?

#ficlet #du'lie #i post it here bc i want to clean up my docs #and it prob be a while since i will write anything for them #or in general #so there it can rest

[biggestthighestgeminiest]

LISTEN TO ME RIGHT! NOW! I'm gonna say something WACK but the vibes are perfect with Neverafter rn in a very specific way that I very much love

One of my favorite kinds of horror and general feeling and vibe comes from how video games exist as a medium. Invisible walls, characters clipping through the ground, "You cannot go any further" and you just have to accept it and turn around and follow the story offered to you, even if you'd like to explore beyond the mountain, deep down.

Playing Disco Elysium on the switch sometimes results in a glitch when talking to someone that involves them walking away. They leave and you're stuck there, the dialogue not continuing. You try to pull up the in-game menu, you try to equip something, you try to smoke or drink, you try anything, even go to the Switch menu and come back- but nothing happens. Time doesn't pass in the game but the characters are still animated, breathing. What a horrible thing to think about, if it were real. Being stuck, feeling the cold air as time stays still and *something* was meant to happen but it didn't.

That EXACT vibe of horror happened in the last episode of Neverafter!!! I've been a huge fan of all the body horror and existential horror so far- but this was something else. So particularly video-game-y. When Brennan was describing the big bad wolf, saying he's got big teeth to eat Red with, and he just, stays. Neutral expression. Like in the Sims 2 when your sim's face just. Stops animating. And Red is there shivering. Stuck here. You would expect her to try to leave but she's stuck in a glitch. Something is supposed to happen. You're Harry Dubois and you can't leave this interaction even if the other character has fully left the screen. Red is standing there unable to leave and she can FEEL the world happening around her, she's still animated, she's still rendered. But something's gone wrong in the coding and the dialogue somehow stopped working. What I usually do when my game glicthes is just to restart it. Break it, somehow. Break the flow of the story. So that's what Red does.

It's even there with the description of Cinderella's book!! Parts of the sky that you can't see. Faces missing. Textures missing. Invisible wall, missing voice lines. GUYS I FREAKING LOVED IT! I don't think it was intentional but both those parts just reminded me of the weird, impossible tactile feeling of imagining being inside a video game. Endless landscapes that you can't reach, voicelines that don't follow up. Gaining experience from killing an innocent person. Your character rocking up to a serious cutscene with an extremely stupid outfit on. Being able to pause time to replenish your health. Repeating character models. Cheats. The horror of your body not fitting the constraints of your universe and clipping through. Switching catalogues and switching games. You're still yourself, right? Even if you're in another game, another story. Your brain can hop from Skyrim to Smash to Spiritfarer - just imagine ACTUALLY doing that. Our Neverafter heroes are letting us know what it's like I LOVE IT

#neverafter spoilers #neverafter #d20 spoilers #disco elysium

[linasofia]

Never Together

Part 1 l Part 2

Armitage Summer Splash #6

Trope: Friends with benefits

Quote: “You’ve got to get over this.”

Relationship: John Porter (Strike Back) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Thanks @legolasbadass for your help. 💙

”I can see you’re hurting.” Kate, my best friend, has a worried look in her big green eyes when she places her hand over mine. We are having a coffee at our usual table at the Grand Comptoir, a local café with a strong connection to its French big sister. ”Is he gone again?”

I sigh and nod. John left two days ago and just like last time I miss him more than I want to admit to myself. I try to persuade myself that my feelings have more to do with the fact that I’m worried for his safety when he is away and less with me missing having him in my bed all night.

”How long will he be gone this time?”

”I don’t know. As long as he needs to, I guess.”

I give her a smile and try to sound less bothered. The truth is that this is the very core of my problem. I never know how long he will be gone, where in the world he is, or what dangers await him there. He has told me only part of what he does for a living but I,ve gathered enough information over time to fill in the blanks by myself. Being a British Special Forces Operative is not exactly considered a desk job and John travels all over the world to execute operations rarely covered by the media.

Kate is my oldest and closest friend. We grew up together, learned to ride on the same horses, fell in love with members of the same boy band, graduated and finally moved to the same larger city. It was not until after we left university, that we stopped seeing each other every day. Nowadays we meet for at least coffee once a week. There are not many things we keep from each other and she reads me better than anyone else. We have seen the good and the bad times, laughed through the intense periods filled with euphoric feelings that always come with a new lover, and then later, we have both been the shoulder to cry on when the love fades to grey.

So when Kate gives me that special look, I know I cannot fool her. She says my name like it's a soft caress and my heart aches.

”Are you still only friends?”

”Yes. I know he doesn’t want anything else. We’re just having fun and enjoying each other.”

”And are you? Enjoying it?

”Yes, of course!”

”But it’s not really what you want, is it?”

”It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want anything serious and I accept that.”

”So you once again let him leave you without telling him how you feel?” Kate’s voice is filled with questions that I know I can’t answer. I don’t know why I accept it. Maybe it is because I still carry a small flickering light of hope in my heart. Because having him as a friend who warms my bed when he is home is better than not having him at all.

”Yes,” I sigh.

”You’re not happy like this. You must see that. We have talked about this so many times. Tell him or let him go, so you can move on. You’ve got to get over this. It’s not healthy for you.”

Tears form in my eyes when I meet her gaze. I know deep inside that she is right but my heart refuses to listen to my logical brain. Maybe John will never be ready for something more. I know about his ex wife’s death and that it left a big hole in his heart even if their relationship was complicated to say the least. And his adult daughter is a fragile soul, who for long periods of time still refuses to speak to him. Maybe he is too afraid to let anyone close again.

Still, I welcome him to my bed every time he comes back home. As soon as his messages reach my phone my body seems to bloom, like a spring flower ready to meet the sun again. Over and over again, the same pattern repeats itself. There is no way I can resist him. Every time he looks at me with his azure eyes I fall helplessly and my treacherous body betrays me as soon as he pulls one of all his well-fitting t-shirts over his head. At least the life he chooses to live gives him the body to match the heroic bravery he possesses.

His mind is another story. It didn’t take many nights sleeping together before I understood that he suffers during the late hours. The name Steve haunts him but he refuses to talk to me about it. From his nightmares I can understand that Steve is no longer alive but I have no idea who he was. He must have meant a great deal to John and I wish he would let me be there for him when the memories crash down on him.

Kate coughs discreetly. I have lost myself in my thoughts again and she smiles warmly at me.

”You know I love you like a sister. I want you to be happy.”

”I know,” is all I can say. I know far too well what she is going to say next. But I am not ready to act on it. Not yet. I tell her so, with a tremble in my voice, trying to make her understand. She holds my hand and listens, like she always does. The pattern repeats itself. And I will continue to treasure the last text John sent me before he left for another unknown destination: I can’t wait to see you again.

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @laurfilijames @enchantzz @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @s0ftd3m0n @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#armitage summer splash #john porter #strike back #richard armitage #fanfiction

[mmriesoftvat]

i've spent a good chunk of the morning reading about cyno's lore and storylines, and i can't come up with any ideas of my own, especially since the only two theories i can find about the divine deity he calls upon are either anubis or deshret.

i wanted to try and see if i couldn't find anything else to maybe use or that would fit, but unfortunately, my brain cannot. i'm writing off deshret as i don't feel it applies to cyno at all. i know it's a sorta popular fan theory that cyno looks like deshret, but we don't actually know what king deshret looks like, other than maybe cyno is a decendent, but so is candace. so i don't think that's applicable in the least.

which leaves choice number two: anubis. and there's no law or lore reason that says egyptian gods can't exist, so i'm going to say that cyno works with anubis and calls upon him for help. not all the time, as cyno is perfectly capable of handling fights himself. but in extreme moments, like when he sealed the snake god inside collei, is when cyno calls upon him. or such as facing something he absolutely can't handle himself.

i also don't exactly buy that cyno's calling upon anubis ever time he uses his burst, i'd like to think that cyno can manipulate his vision into giving him a more sinister appearance, and that his clothes have vague magical properties to make him look more intimidating on a whim. cyno's a capable fighter on his own, incredibly strong and agile, and probably doesn't care to rely on outside help to maintain his job. while the claws and the glowing properties on his helmet can be attributed to the god, cyno's more than likely putting on airs to scare whoever he's attacking/fighting/passing judgement on, and saving the divine for more perilous situations.

#( CYNO | HEADCANONS. )

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

*taps mic* *feedback* Uh--hello, good people of Tumblrville! I bring you good tidings and good fortune from the land of Skyrim. Gather 'round and sit by the fire as I tell you a tale I have written with my own fingers (with some assistance from my brain).

Uh, anyway. Tagging some of the usual suspects. Please don't feel obligated to share if you don't have anything, but I would love to see it if you do. @nocturnalswarehouse @oblivions-dawn @sneaksandsweets @blossom-adventures @rose-like-the-phoenix Also, if I haven't tagged you, it isn't because I don't love you. Please feel free to share. Sometimes I just feel awkward about poking some of you, and I don't want to be a nuisance.

Dahlia frowns at the piece of correspondence, not because she is angry with Lydia, not because she is displeased with the contents, but because she did not expect a letter from home to hit her this hard emotionally. 

Before she knows it or can even stop it, hot, wet tears slip down her face and splash onto the paper in front of her as she involuntarily crumples it in her hands. However, as soon as she notices, her stomach lurches uncomfortably, and her hands scramble to flatten out the paper once again. It has been a hard couple of weeks for her between the increasingly uneasy feeling in her stomach, her unceasing worry over Ulfric, and the cold emptyiness of her bedroll every night. 

Despite its fortuitous timing, the letter pushes her mentally and physically tired body over the edge, the brim of her cup finally overflowing its borders with emotions she cannot contain any longer. Dahlia tries to shelter herself from the oncoming flood by wrapping her arms tightly around herself, as if that would force them all back to where they belong—to the safety of the furthest reaches of her mind where not even she can find them, but ultimately, she is unsuccessful in trying to hold in her own sobs.

After all, where is there to go when there is no more space inside oneself? The only way is out.

She tries to find solace in the fact that she is alone. Perhaps, this is actually a blessing in disguise. At least that is the lie she tries to tell herself. No one else can see her bend like a sapling in the wind before she breaks.

This is how she falls asleep, body curled into itself, arms reaching around her, and tears staining her cheeks. However, even there, she finds no respite from her anguish, as her waking nightmares stubbornly follow her to plague her in dreams.

When Galmar wakes her not two hours later, Dahlia almost wishes she had never fallen asleep. All throughout her fitful sleeping, she dreamed of the many ways her fragile love could be stolen from her, seeing Ulfric dying in her arms over and over again.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #dahlia wintersnow #winter writes #wip wednesday

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hi :] so this is my first time doing an ask so I apologize if this sounds awkward or anything. But anyway, I saw a couple of your kotlc song analysis and was wondering what you think of Creature by half alive for Fintan or any character in general?

I don't exactly know why my mind was hyperfixated with this song and Fintan but it just did. Hv a nice day :]

Hi, Nonsie!! No need to apologize, you're doing just fine I promise. And I love that song!! It's one of my "my spine is being turned inside out" (/pos) songs that's just so *clenches fist*

There are so many lines that could fit Fintan!! The first one I think of is "Even the depths of the night cannot blind me / When You guide me," specifically in relation to Everblaze. It's like this thing he reveres, that calls to him, the power overwhelming and awe inspiring. And nothing an withstand it's fury, no darkness or hesitation or doubt, it's incandescent and ethereal and all consuming and he can control it--or at least work in enough harmony with this flame to achieve his goals. But this line specifically reminds me of that one scene where he's explaining it to Sophie before stopping, realizing she doesn't understand the appeal because she's not a pyrokinetic. The line just has that sense of openness and awe, if that makes sense. I don't know how else to explain it but it's falling to your knees in reverence, arms open to the sky, speechless.

for some reason the line "Haunted by a darker side / Transcends to walking in the light" reminds me very specifically of his relationship to everblaze as well. He's more than that but it's what my brain is focusing on rn. But the "darker side" could be his history with it, being the only survivor of an attempt to summon it gone gravely wrong, ending in multiple deaths of people who were probably his friends, but any hesitation or grief around it transcends instead to that reverence I mentioned before. He finds the beauty in it, finds the calm, finds the storm, finds himself, finds the light of the everblaze burning through everything it used to be to him. Now the past that haunted him has been transformed into something new and dangerous

oh and then there's "Hidden in the space between / Hero and the enemy" like that was a whole thing in the early books!! Sophie trying to figure out who were the good guys and who were the bad guys because they're not as different as we want them to be. And Fintan has a point about the treatment of pyrokinetics and the complacency of the council and how things aren't working--those are sentiments our hero would agree with, yet he turns around and kills people and manipulates them and tries to help force another species into slavery, which are bad!! Two conflicting parts of him where it's like he's a hero gone wrong, but we can't vilify every single thing about him because he's more than just a bad person, he's this grey area. He's helped people, he wants a right denied to him, he wants change. He's a hero and an enemy and a mix of everything in between, but he's still not a good person.

It's just!! It has this sense of Fintan that's much more personal and gentle and strikes a nerve, rather than him being a super powerful evil person, but more as...a person? I don't know if that makes sense but it's like it taps into a side of him we don't see as often and i love it!

thank you for the suggestion because I always love looking at this song, and I will do my best to have a good day! I don't have to do any homework today so!! off to a good start!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc music analysis #fintan pyren #quil's queries #nonsie #I also associate the song with sophie. at least pesonally #so that could fit well with the fintan/sophie parallels #or the 'fintan is trans time traveling sophie' thing #but also I just like the song :) #I actually had a project a few semesters ago where we had to define/conceptualize happiness through different things #like artwork and music etc. #and for the song one I chose this song #i bet I could find it if anyone was curious #could show you how I conceptualize happiness

[toki-wren]

the hollow of my chest

i want to be a bird. and then i realized i forgot my antidepressants today. i dont want to go to work tomorrow, but on wednesday i'm going to go ride a train. i've been feeling strange most of the day. my siblings call me by the name i chose and my parents do not. it's been several days since i chose it. i have hidden everything inside of me, and absorbed it all into my walls. mother and father do not believe, but it all swells to a point where i cannot take it anymore. i am typing on my phone and wearing headphones that are empty. there isn't any music except the hum of the walls. i am wearing a bra that doesn't fit right, the smallest i could find to hold the hollow of my flat chest. i am strangely lonely because i am alone. i haven't felt another's touch in days and maybe weeks. the last time i jumped was several days ago. i am so melancholy because my brain isn't quite right, and there's still a chance that i might die. everything i believe i am might be false, a made up person. am i jayde? i brought the music back. i want to write a song, but the sand fills the cracks in my mind where music goes. i want to play a song, but the sand fills my fingers where the music goes. i let the sound flow over my skin. i want so badly to make music that feels like water. my brother was cut open today, and i wasn't there. i took too long a shower, and all of me is waterlogged. all of me is wrong just a little bit, and trying to fix her takes all of my strength and all of my time until i'm afraid it will be too late. i'm afraid jayde is dying and that he will be here forever. i cannot tell you, because i'm afraid you might hurt me. there are things you do that hurt me and i don't understand why. my therapist tells me i interpret social situations as threatening and i don't understand why. i dont understand anything. i dont even understand myself. i am sand i am sand i am sand a pile of sand a pile of sand a pile of little bits from forever a pile of incoherent thoughts a piece of everybody a bit of everywhere and i dont know myself anymore. the difference between myself and my surroundings is or isnt. a stack of waves defines my existence and everything else's. a series of waves washes me away little by little until all that is left is a scared little girl who was never meant to be. a scared little girl that created herself from scraps of the sky. a lonely little boy writes himself friends and never comes back. who is he? i don't know him anymore, and i am closer to him than i've ever been since. i am everything she should be now, and everything he knew he shouldn't be. and i'm still so lonely. it always comes back to this. i didn't have a childhood, and the little girl that has always been tries so hard to live vicariously through me. my customer service voice is male. if i believe hard enough, venus will become me. it hurts so badly to exist sometimes. how unfair it is that it's so hard for me to have what other girls don't have a choice to. i am wallowing in my misery and my father's voice is silently scolding myself. a scared little girl washes up on the a scared little girl washes up on the a scared little girl a scared

#stream of consciousness #prose poetry

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

First of all, thank you for being willing to answer peoples questions, you’re a gem ❤️ you’re like the cool big sister I wish I had lol. I don’t want to trauma dump, so please don’t feel any pressure to answer this if you aren’t comfortable or anything

I struggle because even when physically I’m turned on or really into it with a partner I get triggered, which usually looks like a massive panic attack, and have to stop. It’s not that I don’t want to, because I really do, I just can’t seem to get my subconscious to turn off fight or flight so I can. I think some of it too though is I find having that a really hard conversation to have, because my situation was a didn’t say no but also didn’t feel like I could thing, which for me had a big impact but a lot of (mostly guys) don’t even really see as assault. So I just try to do it and don’t talk about which definitely doesn’t work well, but I also never know how to have the conversation.

I HAVE GONE THROUGH THE EXACT SAME THING!

trigger warning for sexual assault and sexual coercion

This whole thing essentially is why I wrote Mended- J.M.K, we gotta turn trauma into something else.

So, I was 19 when I had my first real (sort of) bf. I had never had sex before and he was my first real sexual partner. I didn't really know what penetrative sex was supposed to feel like because I'd never had it and it always hurt, its like I was just not wet enough and I thought I was broken, that i was one of the few women who just could not have sex without being in pain. Cut to us breaking up and me reeling with the fact that sex is not supposed to be something that should hurt, I straight up believed women weren’t actually supposed to like sex because it hurt and movies and porn were all a lie because I sure wasn't enjoying it.

It turns out I just was not physically attracted to him and he was not very patient or gentle. He pressured me into losing my virginity and going to motels on weekends just so we could try again but we never fully had sex because I could not get turned on enough for him to fit inside of me. I realized that I was the victim of sexual coercion. I never felt like I could say no because he was my boyfriend not some stranger. He would make me try and try and try again, he was so controlling, he showed nudes i sent him in private to his friends, and so many other god awful things, i don't even speak his name that's how much I want to forget about him.

Sexual coercion is still assault, a term i still have trouble wrapping my own head around because it happened to me, because their is no enthusiastic consent. Cut to me at 21, I found an amazing guy who treats me like a princess and we begin to try and have sex and I had a full blown panic attack, naked in his bed and I'm crying and I cannot stop shaking because something hurt when he and I tried penetrative sex, its like my brain did not understand I was safe and in good hands. He was concerned for me of course but wanted to know why i reacted that way, I told him my ex was awful to me and I haven't been with anyone else since. I didn't tell him all of the truly awful stuff just yet but enough to let him know, I want to have sex with you but something in my brain cannot turn off.

He was the most patient and understanding man, he held me or gave me my space whenever I would start to panic, we would go slow, he would talk me through everything, he let me call all the shots. Foreplay is incredibly important to be properly aroused so you don't get hurt, no amount of lube will help you if you aren't aroused because your vagina has to relax and expand and your cervix moves upward inside of you to make room, there is a whole internal process working and you cannot jump ahead of it. For a long time we just fooled around, lots of oral sex unless I wanted to try again. It took me I think six or seven months of our relationship before we finally and successfully had full penetrative intercourse. It was like the stars aligned and I had gotten so comfortable with him, we both knew where the others head was at all of those other times before and that allowed me to trust him and let my brain unlearn all of those terrifying things. The first time we finally had intercourse, when we laid beside each other, coming down from our highs, I was so fucking proud of myself, I cried literal tears of joy, I told him, It feels like he doesn't have a hold over me anymore, he doesn't control any part of me. I feel like I won. And he held me and I cried both in sorrow, from all of my pain I had ever endured because of his hand, and joy because I took my fucking body back, this body is MINE and no one else's.

It took me years to get over my trauma, but being able to simply understand that I most likely had (and still do have) PTSD from that abusive relationship, and that I needed him to sort of just be patient with me and know, this isn't you, this is about me. Your brain is doing what it thinks is helping you escape a bad situation because it thinks you are still there when you aren't.

In conclusion, most decent men, know that sex is different for women, statistically we know that 1 in 3 women have experienced sexual assault, that is STAGGERING. So, when you start to get intimate with someone, you don't have to do a big tell all reveal of your trauma, but do let them know, you have to go slow with me and be a little patient. Let them know your anxieties and what to expect, if they like you I really doubt you'll freak them out, they just need some sort of guidance because no one wants to hurt anyone during sex. Its a very scary thing to tackle but it is incredibly important to speak about it to your partners because ignoring it and pushing through or whatever, can cause you more trauma.

I am so thankful for you for coming to me Anon. I love you and I completely understand you. If you feel like you can't relate to anyone about this, know that I do. I'm here whenever you need darling. I promise you, it'll all melt away one day for you too. You can DM me whenever you want honey bun. 🧡

#i wont apologize for how long this is bc this means alot to me #my asks #my anons #sex ed

[evilweasel]

Fucking???? Blows my mind that people buy things regularly, or have things bought for them regularly. Like new video games every two weeks, new accessories or clothes/shoes every month, art supplies, even getting regular coffee or lunch out in supermarkets. I have a friend who constantly spends on shirts, sparkly rocks, cool notebooks, shoes, figures, pokemon cards, a sunglasses collection. Stuff she just sees and goes "I want that" and GETS it. She doesn't save to the endless void like I do. Doesn't hang on to every fiver, every pound coin, because she's going to need it for this big Future Purchase that never comes. Another friend, she gets money to buy lunch. She doesn't automatically get the cheapest food so she can save better. Why not? Aren't you worried you're going to need that? A third friend, she's in a wealthy tax bracket and gets money from her parents whenever she wants and spends so much on genshin and models and plushies it makes me wince because it's so much money to me. She has the balls to ask money from her wealthy parents and doesn't feel shame about it. Which, GOOD. THATS HOW IT SHOULD BE. WHAT THE FUCK THOUGH.

No shade to these friends btw they are genuinely the most generous people I ever met and I honestly aspire to be their level of generous. The amount of times the first 2 friends have bought me snacks, energy drinks, coffees, donuts (don't know the 3rd friend as well but she's also super generous to her gf). And all I can think is do you know. Do you know i will not be able to repay your kindness. My company isn't even that good im so shit at conversations and can barely stutter out a thank you because I'm super grateful but super embarrassed that I can't return the favour, maybe ever, because my brain just Save Save Saves, so why did you buy me coffee when this could have gone to YOUR Big Future Purchase. I aspire to be their level of carefree. Not to have to force myself to get McDonald's to fit in when everyone else is, and even then it's just a medium milkshake. To never have to weigh up the pros and cons of getting a coffee on a day you're super tired. To not count up the days you got a 3 pound meal deal 3 days a week. 9 pounds a week for every week of term adds up. Don't get me fucking started on things I actually want and don't need. I genuinely cannot buy a thing for myself without giving it 2 to 3 weeks of thought over whether I actually need it or can I Save Some More. Thinking constantly thinking about old purchases and whether they were justified or i went mad. I got that thing and don't even use it that often. I bought that game and haven't had the opportunity or spoons to play it yet, that was 20 quid wasted and i can't buy anything else until I've played through everything else. I bought those books and haven't read them yet. I got a mystery bag at comicon and didn't particularly like what was inside. All this stuff proves i can't be trusted, so I don't need that new video game, I have minecraft. I don't need new clothes, I don't like my current ones but they still fit me. I don't need that book. I can reread. I'm not hungry, I'll eat at home. Other people have it worse. Some people can't even afford to have the heating on. If I'm not Super Ultra Careful, I'll end up like them. It's like an eating disorder but instead of counting calories im counting pennies.

I'm not even working class. Our house has a kitchen island and a double fridge. We always have enough to eat, enough to turn the heating on. When I was a kid I got everything I asked for and the nice birthday presents. So why am I so scared. Whats been ingrained into me to make me scared. My dad tells me I'm so stingy. He told me when I was 5 I was told to put a pound coin into the charity spinner and I wouldn't do it bc that would mean I wouldn't have the pound coin. I didn't want to spend it on something else. I just wanted the pound coin bc I knew it might be able to get me something, one day. When I was 10 and went away to Cornwall, my uncle gave me 10 quid to spend, but told me if I didn't spend it then he would take it back because at this point everyone knew I had Spending Troubles. And I couldn't do that either. I looked around all the shops and dithered because there was nothing I wanted more than the tenner just to save it up and put it away. I was ten. What was I saving for??? A house??? A car??? A uni fund??? At the time i wanted a drawing tablet more than anything, but I knew even if I hung onto this tenner it wouldn't make any difference and ten year old me would never be able to get that on my own. I never spent any birthday money. Any Christmas money. At 14 I had enough to buy half a drawing tablet and got my parents to get the rest of it when it was on sale and they STILL only took half my money and paid ¾. Money im still hanging onto now, at 17, when they paid most because they wanted me to get something I wanted more, they didn't think I'd actually save for a drawing pad myself. I still haven't spent it. I'm terrified I'll think ill of myself in a month for it.

My friend had a birthday recently, and she always gets me nice gifts. She's gotten me promised neverland manga, a frog pin, homemade friendship bracelets and homemade jewellry made out of rocks ane crystals she's bought, alongside sweets and choccies she knows I like. Most of this wasn't even birthday stuff, just regular stuff. I am so LUCKY to have her as a friend, someone as honest and kind and generous and talented and helpful, so I wanted to get things she also wanted. She's been going through a big pokemon phase and I KNOW her favourite pokemon is leafeon, so I got her a little leafeon plushie, and as an added bonus a magnetic ponyta pin because she also likes my little pony and the galarian version looks like one of the old my little ponies. 21 pound total, three weeks ago I still remember because its the biggest purchase I've made in months. And the thought kept crossing my mind "you didn't need to give her the pin as well. The plush would have been fine", or even "she would have loved a card, you could have just gotten her a card and then you'd be 21 pounds richer". And I just feel disgusted with myself. Because she gets all her little gifts for me so unthinkingly, so willingly, and she never regrets them. I always tell her she doesn't have to, but she wants to, and she does it for all of her friends. Between me and her other 2 close friends, that's so much spent. I'm terrified. I'm in awe. I hate myself for not being like that. Hate myself for regretting when her reaction to the ponyta pin i almost didn't even give her was "OH MY G O SH I love the little Pikachu ears on the back oh its magnetic???? I don't think ill be able to wear this, ill lose it". I cherish her reaction. So why do I still feel such dread at the money I spent. What is wrong with me. It was 21 pounds. I wasn't gonna spend it. What I have in my bank account isn't enough for the PC I need for my college course, or the new art tablet I need because my current one is breaking for my college course, or the new phone im going to need soon bc this one is on the fritz. Today, I was at another friends birthday. Shes gotten me donuts more times than I can remember. We don't make a habit out of getting each other gifts on birthdays, just funny cards. I just gave her a card. Why didn't I get her a gift too?? Two of the others did. She has difficulty accepting gifts like me, but like, who cares?? It would make her happy. I don't want her to get things for me in return I want to see her face when I get her a badass notebook with an eye on the front, or a custom dnd dice set, or a sickass writing pen for her diary. I want to be able to make her happy like that. But the deep rooted well of dread at spending money is so fucking much and I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate that I can't fucking ever return their generosity. Why do they continue to get things for me. Why do they value me so much. I'm so terrible at conversations, at hosting, at gift giving, at affection, at having enough spoons to hang out most days. I'm not charismatic and I'm not worthy or all this stuff. All I've got going for me is I'm a great listener and can remember random details and im not even that good at that and cover it up most times because it's weird to hang onto too many innocuous details about a person. I love my friends so much and they'll never know because I can't show it, not physically (im too awkward for hugging or high fives) or verbally (im too awkward for compliments I say what I can but it always comes out so stiff and insincerely) or with gifts (can't spend) or quality time (no spoons most days) or anything anything anything anything.

You can't put a price on people but I have. I've literally put a price tag on everything. Even myself. And I get so confused when people give me more than the 30p I think I'm worth. Hate it. Hate it. Disgust myself. What the fuck.

#patchie is rambling #it was 2 fifteen when i started writing this now its 3 forty five #god im such a loser #thank god no one reads my posts