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moonlightperseus · 1 day

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breathe in the feeling

ambiguously set after the first half of s7 | 867 words

Being in love with Buck wasn’t an option.

It can’t be an option.

Because if it was, Eddie might do something stupid, like kiss his best friend.

Which is—not an option.

Eddie’s done that song and dance before, and that ended badly—leaving and being left, divorce papers, blood on hot asphalt.

But the thing is, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been over a month since Buck came out to him, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about how Buck is an option now.

Which isn’t even entirely true, because Buck is with Tommy—Buck is happy with Tommy—and Eddie feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself.

He broke up with Marisol last week, something that up until this moment, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Christopher—which he knows he can only avoid for so long.

He’s not even sure why he’s telling Bobby, because now Bobby is staring at him quizzically and Eddie is feeling closer to a panic attack than he’s been in a long time.

“You broke up with Marisol,” Bobby repeats back to him, because he’s been waiting for Eddie to continue and Eddie has made a point out of staring at his hands and not saying anything as his brain spirals. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“No,” Eddie says, because he really doesn’t—but he sucks in a sharp breath and rips the band-aid off anyways, “I think I might be in love with Buck.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.

Eddie finally gives in and looks at him, Bobby’s face is a carefully crafted blank expression—he’s processing the information Eddie has given him, but he’s not going to give any reaction in the meantime.

Eddie resists dropping his head against the table and instead settles for staring at the dormant alarm bell on the wall and hoping for it to start ringing to save him from this situation.

“I see,” Bobby says finally, “that’s… that must be a lot for you to process.”

“Understatement of the century,” Eddie mumbles, allowing himself to drop his head into his hands—it’s not quite as satisfying as the thunk of his forehead against the table would be.

“So how long have you been… processing this?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks, maybe—” —my whole life, possibly, he doesn’t say.

A hand lands on his shoulder, the touch is gentle and grounding, and Eddie is reminded of why he went to Bobby in the first place.

“Eddie,” Bobby says carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with it—being in love with Buck. If that is how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie exhales slowly, because that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? “I know that—logically, I know that. I’ve never had a problem with—I guess it’s different, when it’s yourself. But it’s not like it’s even—I mean, Buck’s with Tommy—Buck’s happy with Tommy—and Tommy’s my friend too, so it is kind of wrong, in a way.”

“Buck being in a relationship with someone else doesn’t make your feelings for him invalid—or wrong. Sure, maybe it’s a little complicated since you consider them both friends. But whatever you’re feeling—you’re allowed to feel it.”

“But what am I supposed to do with it?” Eddie finally meets Bobby’s gaze, “I mean—I feel like I’m lying to Buck, somehow, by feeling this way—by not saying anything.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it, at least—not right away,” Bobby squeezes his shoulder before removing his hand, “maybe right now you just let yourself feel it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest with Buck, but I think maybe you should start by allowing yourself to be honest with you.”

Eddie stares at Bobby, completely and painfully aware of his own heart beating in his chest, it’s not a panic attack, but he knows it’s a warning sign.

He takes a moment to breathe slowly, the way Frank taught him. Bobby says nothing, waiting patiently

“I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie says honestly.

Bobby offers him a kind smile, “That’s okay, you don’t have to have it all figured out, but maybe allow yourself the time to really think about it?”

“What if I lose him?” The words spill out of him unbidden.

“Eddie, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you and Buck have a way of finding each other, no matter the circumstance, the two of you will always fight to find each other again.”

Eddie blinks, and for a moment, all he sees is Buck, covered in Eddie’s own blood, begging for him to hold on.

He blinks again, and the memory fades, and it’s just Bobby sitting there in front of him, watching him carefully.

“Let yourself feel it, Eddie,” Bobby says gently, “and when you’re ready—talk to Buck.”

The bell rings then, because timing never seems to be on Eddie’s side.

Bobby sighs softly, “well, duty calls.”

Bobby stands to head towards the engine bay, but before Eddie can do the same, Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder again, “I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

He lets the words settle over him for a moment—breathing slowly in and out—and then follows after his Captain.

#eddie diaz #bobby nash #911 #911 fic #brotp: bobby & eddie #buddie #my fic #mine #abby writes #fanfic #i do have a potential follow up for this but this felt good enough to post standalone for now #special shoutout to winter who peer reviewed this for me <33 ily

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noosayog · 14 hours

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004 logical

✧ wc: 2.5k

✧ warnings/content: oikawa toru x reader, no gendered pronouns used but lease lmk if I missed any! sfw, angst to fluff, another breaking up making up fic, long distance relationship

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

“I don’t think this is working out.”

When Oikawa hears those words, marred by phone static, he drops the remote from his left hand and his fork from his right.

“Baby,” he says cautiously, disoriented. “It’s just a few more days.”

There’s a moment of silence. Oikawa picks up the phone and presses it to his ear.

“It’s not just that,” you say quietly. “How much longer are we going to do this – not seeing each other, missing calls, postponing flights? Even when we’re talking, we’re not fully focused on each other.”

“That’s not true,” he immediately protests.

“Yes, it is. Were you not just watching a game and eating right before this?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not fully focused on you.”

“Yes, Toru. It does.”

He has so much to say, yet none of it seems to come out. Nothing seems appropriate.

You sigh again. “Just… stay, Toru. Stay there. You don’t have to fly back to Japan for me. I know volleyball’s important for you.”

When he says nothing, you go on. “But I hate the way this makes me feel. Like I’m asking you to give up what you love to fly across the globe just to see me for a few days.”

“You’re not. I want to-”

“Toru.”

His mouth clamps shut.

“Last time you came back to Japan, you missed a last-minute practice match with that coach you’ve been wanting to work with. Last time I came to you, I spent 2 of the 4 days I was there alone because you had another last minute volleyball thing. Even when we invest the time to see each other, we’re not really… there.”

Oikawa knows; he knows.

“So let’s just… not.”

He knows, but that doesn’t mean he wants to… not.

“Just hold on a couple more days, okay?” he asks, trying his hardest not to beg and whimper. “Just a couple of days, and I’ll be back in Japan and we can talk, figure something out.”

“Toru…”

“Please, wait for me.”

“I don’t know if I have that in me anymore.”

The coldness of your words seize his chest.

Hearing nothing more from him, you sign off with finality, “Good bye, Toru.”

And the line cuts off.

–

Today is Friday, the beginning of the 3-day long exchange scrimmages with the visiting Brazilian and Chilean pro teams. Duffle bag tossed on the floor by his feet, Oikawa flops on the couch, downing the remainder of his protein shake. The bright screen of his laptop stares back at him, email confirmation of his flight change there to reprimand him, remind him.

Your Flight AE344 to Haneda International Airport for Thursday, February 8th has been canceled.

You’re booked for Flight AE267 to Haneda International Airport for Monday, February 12th! See you soon!

After you had hung up, he gave you a call back. You didn’t answer. He tried again an hour later, then 2, then 12. He had listened to the line ring, for exactly 20 seconds, 8 rings, before banishing him to your unset-up voicemail.

Shutting the laptop screen, he picks up his duffle and is out the door. After all, if he didn’t show up to the scrimmage, what would this have all been for?

–

Friday night arrives, and despite how tired he is, physically from all the exercise and mentally from all the socialization with the visiting players, you wander through his mind. He supposes this is hardly surprising, given you’ve always been his place of rest, regardless of the physical distance, sheer kilometers between the two of you.

Almost afraid to look, he checks his phone and immense disappointment and an increasingly familiar emptiness fill his chest when he sees nothing from you.

He tries your phone again. It rings, rings, and rings and there’s no reward, your voice waiting at the other end.

He showers, eats a quick dinner, and meal preps for Saturday’s scrimmage. Busying himself works momentarily, but at 9PM, his phone alarm goes off, reminding him that it’s time to call you. For the past year, his routine has been talking on the phone with you every night at 9PM. No matter where he is, at a bar with teammates, at dinner with friends, or late night practice, he always takes at least 10 minutes to talk to you.

When the two of you first established this, the agreed upon time was 10PM for him, 10AM for you. The two of you used to compete to see who could call who first. The first night, you called the exact second the clock struck 10. So the next night, Oikawa called at 9:59. Then the following night, you called at 9:58. And it went on until the two of you begrudgingly came to a truce that you’d alternate nights.

And tonight is your night.

Five minutes after 9, Oikawa knows the call isn’t coming.

–

Late Friday night – or technically early Saturday morning – Oikawa lays awake in bed wondering how the hell it all went down the way it did. It hasn’t even been a full year since the two of you started to do long-distance. And he’s still confused. He’s confused because he thought the two of you were doing the best you could be. He’s confused because he’s never even thought about the possibility of not being with you.

He twists over to lay on his side, facing his phone screen, open at your contact. His thumbs hover over your name for the nth time that night, only for him to flop back on his back, turning now to the other side, your side. It hits him then that he can’t even remember the feeling of you in that bed, the last time you kissed. If he had known that would be the last time, he would've savored it all the more. He’d burn the memory into his nerves, just so he could remember the feeling. Volleyball was all muscle memory; he never thought he’d need to commit you as well.

Before he knows it, morning arrives. He starts to get ready.

He brushes his teeth, packs his gym bag, and starts to eat breakfast.

His legs shake, knees bouncing up and down in a nervous tick that hasn’t shown itself since high school. His laptop screen is up again, the flight ticket once again flashing bright.

It’s a reminder. Now he knows that when it’s not reciprocal, the distance between the two of you is so much more than 18,000 kilometers and 12 hours. There’s no phone line, no facetime to shorten that distance, even if just by perception.

Then, it’s a striking thought: a realization that postponing a plane ride those few days could cost him a lifetime.

He dials your number again.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

“... Hello?”

“You picked up,” he hears himself say.

“Sorry I missed yesterday, Toru.” He knows what you’re referring to without you saying it. “And I’m sorry I hung up… like that.”

There’s a lot to say, but he can’t do it like this. So he asks, “will you wait for me to come home?”

“Toru…” your voice breaks with the syllables of his name. He hears the reluctance in your tone.

“If you want to break up, if you truly want to stop being with me,” it takes monumental effort for Oikawa to even speak of such an event. “Then say it to me in person. I have to know.”

You’re silent in response. He’s glad you aren’t refusing, saying that the flight, the cost, the time isn’t worth itt. He’s glad that you agree it’s still a worthwhile conversation to have in person. He’s glad you haven’t given up.

“Wait for me, okay? Please.”

It takes a few simple clicks and a significant chunk of his savings to do what he does next.

–

For the entirety of the flight to Haneda International, Oikawa’s knees bounce, colliding uncomfortably with the seat in front of him. Even with what little affirmation you gave him by simply picking up his call, it brings him little comfort as there’s absolutely nothing he could do for the next 28 hours but sit tight.

When the plane lands safely in Tokyo, local time of 9PM Sunday, Oikawa charms his way into getting off the plane first. He flashes a weak smile at all the people still in their seats of the plane, before rushing off with only his carry-on in tow. There’s no time to wait for a bus, so he shoves his way to the front of the taxi line, reciting your address as if it hadn’t been over 4 months since he’s been there.

Every passing moment does little to ease his nerves, exacerbated even up until the moment he arrives at your door. The seconds pass in loud silence, the hollow sound of his knocking ringing in his ears.

All the white noise fades, though, when the door opens and reveals you. No matter that your eyes are red and swollen, no matter that you’re wearing one of his old ratty Seijoh sweaters, no matter that the two of you are supposed to be breaking up.

“Toru,” you breathe. Oikawa forgets you’re supposed to sound like this, not the distorted, muffled imitation of your voice he hears through the phone too often. Yet another addition to his growing list of realizations.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but a single heave of a laughter bursts from his chest. “I told you I wanted to see you, didn’t I?”

“But… your flight wasn’t supposed to arrive until Wednesday.” You’re cautious and he hates that. He wants you to be uncaring of the emotions you show around him, to jump into his arms and forgive him. He wants it back.

“I changed my flight.”

“But volleyball…”

“That’s the thing,” he starts. “I think that’s probably one of the things I never made clear to you.”

You look at him, confused.

“Can I come in?”

It stings when you instinctively fold your arms over your chest protectively, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the ground.

“Will you let me in?” he tries again.

You look back up at him, moving to the side to let him in.

When the door clicks shut behind him, the first thing Oikawa does is wrap you up in his embrace. His arms engulf you. He forces his hold to be gentle, on the chance that you push away. You don’t, so he holds on tighter and tighter, until you squeak from the pressure. He thinks he mumbles an apology, but he’s not really sure because all he registers is your arms coming up to grab his sweater.

It’s not enough.

You let him just hold you, for how long, he doesn’t know, until you finally squeak out his name. He reluctantly pulls away and starts talking, as if he wants to get the talking part over as fast as possible so he can pull you right back in again.

“The thing I wanted to tell you,” he continues from before. “There’s no comparison – between you and volleyball, I mean.”

“Toru, you know that’s not true.”

Yes, it is,” he insists. “I’ve never seen volleyball as something that takes away from time that belongs to you. Every time you come to see me, or I go to see you, or when I push a flight, I’ve always seen that as just a… postponement of our time together, never that it would take away from it.”

“Toru…” you push further away.

“But, I think I get it now. I get that phone calls, video calls, text messages can’t be a substitute. I know because I almost forgot how your voice sounds outside of a phone and because I can’t accept us breaking up through a screen. And even more so because I can’t live off of the memory of how you feel.”

When your gaze softens, he knows he got it right. It only took all this time for him to understand what you meant when you said things weren’t working; it was never about a postponed flight.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get it.”

Your palm comes up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes a wet spot on his cheek. “Oh, Toru. I would never make you compare, I thought you knew that.”

“I know,” he says. I know. And he does.

“Sometimes, I just need to know you miss me as much as I miss you. I know you love volleyball,”

“I love you,” he interrupts.

“I know you love volleyball,” you continue. “And I would never want you to feel like you had to give any of it up for me. I just need to know that you feel what I feel too.”

His hands at your waist squeeze, like he’s reassuring you that he does.

“I know that you won’t be playing in Argentina forever. I was prepared to deal with long-distance for as long as it takes for you to be ready to come home. But-”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t need you to say it.

“No, let me say this. But, sometimes it felt like you were settling for how we were. Then… when you postponed the flight, I guess I was just bummed because I was so excited to see you. But you acted like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Yeah, he did, didn’t he.

“It felt like you would be just fine substituting me for the sport.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

There’s so much to explain and he’s afraid it would take too long. He needs to tell you that’s not how he feels and that it’s not true at all. And perhaps he’s become self-aware of his ability to grow numb to things like homesickness and he tried to apply that to you too so that he wouldn’t be crippled by the sheer magnitude of how much he truly missed – misses – you. And how appalled he was when he realized he was associating you with memories and nostalgia, as if you were a had-been and not a still-is.

But you seem to understand because your hands are still gentle on his face and your gaze is affectionate.

“Stop crying, you baby.”

“I’m not crying!” he denies.

“If you don’t stop crying, I won’t kiss you,” you tease.

He clams up, biting on his lips to stop the hiccups. His eyes roll upwards to the ceiling, willing any tears to stop overflowing.

You laugh lightly at the sight, voice still clearly weak from your crying marathon.

He has a lot to apologize for, doesn’t he.

You lean upwards for a kiss. It catches him off guard to this day, how much you can express in your gentle affection. It’s another thing he can’t feel through a screen.

With each kiss you press on his lips, he counts the things he has to apologize for, but more importantly he counts the things he needs to tell you he misses and loves about you when he inevitably puts the 18,000 kilometers between the two of you again.

And he’ll do it. Every day. Until the day he finally comes home.

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pip-pippin · 1 year

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help I've fallen into useless lesbianism AGAIN

#peregrin #tumblr tags stop victimizing me on my homosexual vent post challenge #i kinda saw this coming but the turnaround was MUCH quicker than anticipated!#and like logically... i know there are signs. these HAVE to be signs #classic useless lesbian and very much autistic moment but i am incapable of truly acknowledging the possibility that this woman is flirting #because when i do i am embarrassingly overcome with what the poets often refer to as butterflies #but like. if it were anyone else. i would be clowning them for their ignorance #listen one time im at her house and ask when she wants me to leave and she says I Don't #girl when i tell you my heart STOPPED #or like. Another time. We're chatting and she hits me with '' i cherish you and your words '' BITCH! WHAT IN THE EMILY DICKINSON #and just.. the way she LOOKS at me sometimes with this little smile #anyways as you can see I'm having a lot of big feelings that i have no idea what to do with!!!!!!#and like even if i accept the premise that she's flirting idk if this bitch knows wtf she's getting into!!!#and yes that's the low self esterm talking a bit but also consider the following: i am a fucking weirdo and while I'm okay with it...#i have a lot of idiosyncrasies! and insecurities! that might scare her away and that STRESSES MEEEEEEEE #sigh.........

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uncanny-tranny · 6 months

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Hello there, I really enjoy scrolling through your blog and I hope you're doing well today. I've noticed a pattern in myself --- every time I get close to going on T, I back off and wait. Been years now, and I'm not sure what I'm waiting for anymore. I was wondering if you had any words for this? Does that feeling of "waiting until it gets bad enough" or "waiting for a sign" ever go away, or do I just have to take the leap of faith?

I think it might help if you see if there's a deeper reason for your hesitation. I'm absolutely not saying I don't believe you, I do, and sometimes, we can feel hesitancy without really... knowing why, until we explore.

When I say "explore," what I mean is see what you aren't so sure about with testosterone. I've seen so many people express that they fear "losing" parts of themself when they go on T, such as a singing voice. I think that the fear of losing something is one of the biggest reasons people tend to shy away from going on testosterone, which is why I definitely want to encourage you to see that exploration as an option. It isn't about forcing you to or away from testosterone but to see where you're at. I've found that people who actively sought out answers to inquiries like that tend to have a firmer desire about their transition because it demystifies the transition process.

Taking a leap of faith can work out, but for some, that's just not how their brains understand, conceptualize, and accept change - and that's okay. If it comes to the point where you do take a leap of faith, what I would like to encourage you to do is both have a good support system and care team and be very vigilant about where you're at, and documenting how you feel and respond to hormones. I think this can help some people because they're still sorting out how they feel, so they aren't bottling it up or feel ashamed about any of the process.

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #nonbinary #trans advice #and if anybody has ideas of their own drop them please <3 #anon i won't encourage or discourage you from going on testosterone- but i definitely embrace any outcome that you decide #and know that you don't have to make that decision permanently! it's not like you're signing away your life if you decide to not go on t #and if you go on t you are allowed to come off it at any point for *any* reason #this is YOUR transition and you will always be as trans and always be whomever you say you are no matter what #i am no more a man because i am on testosterone and anon i don't know if you are a man but the logic applies to you too #you are no more yourself whether or not you have done things to transition

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aroacettorney · 3 months

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dont mind me. im simply just putting together a ludgercasey angst collection.

252

265

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268

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283

310

356

492

497

#aro ludgercasey propaganda #''why cant u be normal abt them'' how can i be normal abt them when solid 80% of their interactions is either angst or stemmed from angst.#even their ''fluff'' moments were also angst.#literally no one does angst like they do.#ludger prefers to keep most of his connections extremely impersonal/professional.#but whether or not he wants to admit it theirs on the other hand simply does not... fit in that category.#he'd even tried to convert it that way but it just didnt stick bc neither of them could help but be themselves around each other lmfao.#ludger is seemly still oblivious to caseys attempt to mend their personal relationship.#which is not too surprising considering he was also oblivious to the existence of their past relationship.#after all there was no reason for him to believe that casey would want to have anything to do with him. except maybe putting him in jail.#so pushing her away seems to be the most logical decision right? personal relationship is a luxury to him anyway.#alas casey who wanted to believe in their past friendship takes it as a sign that ludger has no interest in maintaining it.#she now has to take a step back because ''if you force a relationship it may become more estranged.''#so unless he takes the initiative they are likely stuck in this limbo.#(casey might use impersonal excuses to stay around but rn its all up to ludger to change the nature of their relationship)#casey girlie forget him i would have treated you so much better... is what i would have loved to say.#i wouldnt be suffering this much if ludger wasnt clearly holding himself back most of the time / if it was completely one-sided from casey.#i dont know if this is a slow burn or hurt no comfort but if casey gets no closure im gonna commit arson 😔

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narwhalandchill · 2 months

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btw if u equate childe and aventurines backstory in any fucking way please leave this blog and unfollow me <3 preferably block me while ur at it too uwu

#havent you people done enough to systematically destroy his characterization already? genuinely curious #turning him into generic YA sadboy with no narrative purpose according to yall than to be traumatize meow meow smolbean #who has no greater purpose no greater relevance whos just a victim with 868 made up mental illnessess #and actually the fact that he canonically displays no typical signs of mental illness or distress proves he has giga trauma #because we all know the writers intention is always the thing they give 0 time on screen 0 hints at in lore 0 presence in canon #because you people are so fucking boring and incapable of basic reading comprehension that 'fantasy isnt 1 to 1 with irl psychiatry'#and 'stories can ignore real life logic of human psychology in favor of a desired narrative'#are like completely fucking incomprehensible concepts #god i am so fucking mad #like now the fact that another character hoyo wrote from a different fucking game #has some surface level adjacent qualities to ajax. and turns out to have a sad backstory #THATS fucking proof to yall? imagine reaching this hard .#none of you people have ever genuinely liked childe as the character he is canonically established to be #leave him the fuck alone #i am so fucking exhausted #but NOOOOOO listen childe is female coded with prey instinct and actually showing 0 signs of trauma is proof you have SUPER trauma #and him being mentally well off and clearly at peace with who he is in all its contradictions is just him brainwashing himself to believe i #AND IVE SEEN WORSE. IVE SEEN WORSE #god i am so fucking mad and exhausted and depressed like NONE of the people in this fucking fandom actually care abt him #as the banger fucking character he is #because he just has to be the most boring fucking YA archetype bc you ppl cant comprehend nor handle anything interesting .#anyway woops.#delete later

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ghostzzy · 5 months

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good news: after four days, several angry phone calls, and approximately one million dollars, i finally have a working car again

bad news: my top surgery incision opened up under my arm and has been bleeding on and off for 24 hours and it's really fucking gross and it's stressing me out bad

#the trials do not cease.#anyway. i know logically that the incision is Probably Fine. the doctor warned me small spots may open up.#but like. listen. i'm not squeamish. and this little wound did almost make me black out when i discovered it yesterday.#like it's That gross. because it's Deep.#i stuck two bandaids over it and i'm giving it one more day to chill out before i text my surgeon like Am I Dying.#but like. the last thing i need is what looks like essentially an open fucking puncture wound under my armpit.#i do not need an infection or fucking sepsis. dear GOD.#i'm so exhausted yall. things have not fucking stopped and show no signs of stopping any time soon.#izzy.txt

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roetrolls · 8 months

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Current mood is full on weeping in the bathroom as I text my family about how much I love them

#i dont know why???? im so emotional tonight?#but im so full of love that im literally crying about it #LIKE IM NOT SAD THEY’RE NOT SAD TEARS #im just. SO overwhelmed with love and appreciation for the people in my life #of course because i have anxiety my brain is trying to tell me this is a Sign that something bad is coming #and my overwhelming urge to tell people i love them is because i have senses i am going to Die #*sensed #but the logical part of my brain says that is stupid and i am just on my period #feeling relieved because my first 2 classes went smoothly after a very long weekend #i just #i want everyone in my life to know that they are so so loved

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aroaessidhe · 7 months

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2023 reads

Saint Juniper’s Folly

YA paranormal mystery

follows a foster kid returning to the small town he grew up in, who runs from the judgemental townspeople and ends up magically trapped in a mysterious house in the woods

a boy who lives a boring life in the town until he finds him, and wants to figure out how to save him

and the young witch from the town over who’s heard the woods calling since her mother died, and wants to help

m/m, friendship & investigating a mystery

#Saint Juniper’s Folly #aroaessidhe 2023 reads #this is….okay #writing is quite young - it feels like middle grade. would be fine bc i like middle grade but it's a bit at odds with the fact that #they’re 18 and talking about college soon and driving round in cars a lot #There’s very little ghosty or spookiness - it’s more just about the characters and their developing relationships #I felt like there were quite a few pivotal scenes missing? Like it skips from the kid being back in this town for the first time #to suddenly he’s stuck in this house in the woods. We don’t see him go out there; realise he’s stuck; or anything.#(unless libby skipped a chapter in my audiobook again?)#It also felt like it skipped any of them like testing the supernatural stuff? They go straight to researching the house’s history.#Once the end is revealed it makes sense I guess - but it’s like the because the author forgot to make the characters (who Don’t know)#do the first logical things you might do in a situation like that. idk.#the boys hating each other at the start felt manufactured for some hate to love thing instead of for any reason.....I didn't buy it #Also my pet peeve of: having a character call her dad by his first name! …….but it's an indication of their bad relationship. okay then.#(I know that is also a real experience but MAN sometimes people just do that it's not always a sign of emotional neglect!!!!)#Anyway - I didn’t hate it by any means; there’s just a few little things that didn't work for me

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themoonunderstoodmydadjokes · 1 month

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If someone wants to send some nice words my way, it’d be greatly appreciated right now 🫣🫣🥺

(anxiety thoughts in the tags)

#it’s late and I’ve thought myself into a hole #she’s having a panic attack about moving out 😵‍💫#like do I know things will be fine? yes. am I still panicking? also yes #there’s too many things to do and I’m losing my mind trying to figure out how to get it all done #I’m also just terrified of having bad neighbors or shady landlords and idk I’ve thought about it too much now #and there’s just so many things that could go wrong #and then if they do I’m fucked because I signed a year lease #yes I am gonna go cry about it thanks for asking #trying to trust myself and trust my decisions is HARD #like I know this bitch she makes dumbass decisions #but we’re trusting that this is the right next step and that I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing #mine #text post #I don’t do well with change and transition #also logically I know that I can’t be certain of things going well or being fine but we’re trying to think positively😅#my therapist told me that this is really good and that there will be not so good things that happen but it matters more how I deal with it #which solid advice but also still just wanna cry and panick and avoid change at all costs even if said change is good for me

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tarantula-hawk-wasp · 5 months

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hands and knees begging myself to be responsible tonight bc i have so much to do but i can feel in my heart irresponsible brain is going to win and im gonna end up drawing and making myself more behind and stressed but like i spent 8 hours researching and writing art history texts at my internship do i fucking want to research for my history class tonight even tho i should so i can let the professor know if my topic is viable? no i want to draw. and like even research aside i need to do dishes and laundry and pack

#which frustratingly the relevant articles are from a journal our school doesn't subscribe to and like i could just ask her to change my topi #but like if i wait until after thanksgiving that is pushing it too close UGH #i hate school #i hate how busy i am right now ugh i was on the phone with my dad and he was like you sound really unhappy and i was like well thing is i #am and like i just have to slog through the rest of this semester but it is a hard slog #call my schedule oatmeal the way its fucking GRUELING #they werent lying that 25hrs a week internship but 1hr walking there and back 5 days a week (so 30 hours time) is a fucking LOT on top of #classes and teaching like im physically sore im tired and burnt out im behind on grading #i love the work im doing at the internship and i love teaching it is just challenging to balance both #and like i knew grad school would be hard and I knew this semester would be hard and i can get through it and i will get through it #i dont even like complaining about it bc like i signed up for this knowingly and i knew what i was committing to and the internship is so s #so helpful for me career wise and i really enjoy it and like my classes are also important career wise #im just constantly treading water but im drowning a little #every like mental health problem i have is being exacerbated #i feel like i have two parts of my brain like rational logical brain that knows what i need to do to get the tasks done and then wild #impulsive fun brain that just wants to goof off and that part of my brain has the steering wheel most of the time and i have to wrestle it #away to get work done anytime im not like in an office #which like yes that is a metaphorical way to describe executive dysfunction but i have not had time to try to get any diagnoses even tho #we've been suspicious for 6 years now

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pochapal · 1 year

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kind of funny how indirectly the story is signposting the reader to start thinking in the general direction of my notion of the 1-10 culprit theory

#umineko liveblog #we should be thinking about how the epitaph and the inheritance tie into the motive #since yes it does make no sense for someone like eva to kill this obviously #but the inheritance is still brought up and they died during the argument so it does indicate the inheritance still played some role #and eva is right that murdering the siblings like this is a very stupid way to do things #so therefore the most stupid ushiromiya sibling (krauss) should be considered #except since eva is the only surviving sibling and she wouldn't orchestrate this #you need to then think about why the occult stuff #which indicates someone with occult knowledge was involved #and logic dictates it could not be kinzo or maria so then you look further afield #and have to consider the servants who were close enough to kinzo to know about beatrice #which can be correlated with that one conversation between kanon and genji when the letter was read out #i know i'm kind of saying the same thing a lot here #but i think it's a good exercise to keep testing my theory against whatever piece of information comes my way #and so far it's still mostly holding strong which is a good sign (or i am just so wrong that i can't see anything but my assumption lol)

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universestreasures · 4 months

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@shacchou (Plotted AU Starter)

Never did he think his life would be like this...

Mokuba could handle where he was before the sudden changes that started a few weeks ago. Being the illegimatie child of King Kaiba meant he had to live a life of seclusion, for no one could know the man known as a perfectionist had a child he didn't intend for. It was lonely, downright depressing at times, but...it was something he had been able to manage after creating S.E.T.O., an ai meant to fill the role of an older sibling his own half-brother refused to take on in his life.

With S.E.T.O on the other end of his computer screen, he felt happy for the first time in his miserable life. He felt like he finally got a sense of familial love he had been denied all these years. He felt like he finally was able to accomplish something despite never given any opprounties to succeed or do anything of substance with his existance.

And yet his joyous days were never to last, it seemed. For the day Prince Noah died suddenly from an unknown illness, the rug was ripped from under him and his whole life fell apart never to be rebuilt again. His 'father' suddenly was forced to take interest in him due to no longer having an heir, and with that came many changes Mokuba was not prepared for.

He was suddenly thrust into a world he only got glimpses of, the Kaiba Kingdom his father had made through military might and dominance. New clothes, new servants, new routine, new everything was given to him without any time to process it all. It was so much on one so young, so inexperienced. But...he thought as long as he had S.E.T.O to come back to in his room at the end of each stressful and tiring day, he'd be able to make it through it okay.

At least...he did until he learned that when King Kaiba told him that everything around him would change, he meant everything.

Which leads him to his current predicment, tired and overworked by the very being he created to escape such things. S.E.T.O had changed by his father's hands. Not only did he have a physical form now in the form of a robotic body that you could not tell wasn't a human from a glance, his code had been completely destroyed and re-written, with none of his data from his times with Mokuba remaining, never to be recovered or restored.

Everything that made S.E.T.O well S.E.T.O was gone. For the Sibbling Emotion Thoughtful Openmind had been replaced with the Strict Education Training Operator, an ai with the sole purpose of training Mokuba to be a proper heir to the throne and protect him from those who'd wish him harm. Well...except his 'father', who ironically enough, is the person who has brought the most harm to Mokuba out of anyone in his life.

Between all the textbook readings, lectures, and strict disapline placed on the young boy for hours upon hours without breaks, he thinks to himself why did this have to happen? Was this what Noah had gone through? Why did his father reporgram S.E.T.O at all? What was really the purpose of all this studying to death? Was his father trying to kill him?

He's so tired and stressed he doesn't know the answers to any of those questions, but all he does know is that his heart aches like never before, desperately on the edge of breaking all together with each passing moment. Mokuba is barely able to stand as the clock on the wall signals the end of another hellish day that will soon come again the following morning. Purple hues glance at S.E.T.O, saying so much with no words regarding the state of his condition.

Trying to talk to his former brother figure was pointless. Mokuba had seen that enough these past few weeks, and yet...he can't help but want to keep trying, to try and see if even a bit of his old data remained in his system that he could somehow appeal to. A kid like him in a situation like this only could hold onto his hope to help him through this, a hope that S.E.T.O had once given him that he was so desperately trying to find again.

"S.E.T.O...?" The crowned prince starts, saying the other's name slowly and laced with sorrows and pleas. "Can...Can we please take the...day off tomorrow from studying? I...I can't...I can't think straight...I can't keep my eyes open...I'm so...so exhausted, that...I'm not really absorbing any of this information you're trying to teach me..."

His hands move to clasp together, a physical display of just how much he was begging for his desires to be granted. He looks at him with dull purple eyes that are accompanied by bags under them, his body swaying side to side as if he could faint at any second. The boy was in rough shape, rougher than he's ever been. For his sake, he prays this time things will be different, that the universe will give him a miracle like it day he initially finished the ai's code. It's all he could hope for, wish for, when he's been faced with nothing but pain for the last few weeks...

"Just...Just one day, t-that's all I ask."

#shacchou #💎 Vice Treasure (Mokuba Kaiba)#💎 Vice's Reprogrammed Fate (Mokuba Corrupted Code AU)#tw child abuse mention #tw mention of death #tw long post #( oof my heart already with this #(The first part is me just setting the stage cause I'm a narrative storyteller at heart #(and it helped me establish the context for mokuba's mindset #(but yeah mokuba lowkey hoping his physical condition is enough of a sign to appeal to seto in some way #(Though i imagine if he does its more to the logical sense that mokubas health is in bad shape and he was told to not let mokuba die #(i could see him having things akin to like baymax from big hero 6's ability to scan for heart rate and wellness #(protecting does involve health as well #(but yeah im so hype for this au! let me know if this works for you and if i need to change anything!!!

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