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98prilla · 4 years

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Gray

AO3

Part three of what I’m dubbing my “dark side logan” series.

Patton is having a bout of depression after everything that has changed in the mindscape, and his own failures as a friend. Ambition decides to visit for a talk.

….

He is having a “gray day”.

It doesn’t happen often, though it happens more than it used to. He’s trying to let himself feel all his emotions, even when they hurt, or make him feel bad, because repression doesn’t help, he knows this, now.

So, it is a gray a day. A day where the sparkling sepia of his room is gone, dimmed, the comforting aura of summer days and childhood nostalgia shifting into cold winters and soft regrets. A day where nothing seems bright, or good, or happy. A day where everything and anything brings tears to his eyes, so he doesn’t leave his room, because even that takes too much energy.

Instead, he is laying atop his bed, not even under the blankets, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He can feel the fat drops of tears slipping down his face, but he doesn’t move to wipe them away. He is numb, more than anything else, he is numb against the pain as he turns up the volume on his ear buds.

It’s Logan’s playlist. Listening makes him feel worse, makes the numbness recede enough for the ache to set in, and he doesn’t know which is worse. Feeling nothing or everything.

Still, a smile slips through as the elements song plays, reminding him of when Logan would quietly hum it to himself, remembering the pride in his voice as he recited it from memory for the first time, having listened to it endlessly on repeat after Thomas had heard it in science class. Roman had given him a standing ovation.

In the next breath, his small joy turns to burning shame as Erase Me plays. It is so obvious, had been so obvious, that Logan was hurting, that he was hurting so, so badly. He is emotion, he is supposed to know what the others are feeling, he is supposed to help them, he knew Logan was having a hard time, he knew he was in pain, and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t stepped in, because, what?

He was afraid? Afraid of offending Logan, afraid of pushing him away, afraid of breaching his privacy, afraid of making him even more unlikely to share his feelings in the future?

He’d done a terrible job at being Logan’s friend. He hadn’t listened to him, had never acknowledged his contributions, had belittled and talked over him until he didn’t even see the point in speaking anymore.

And now it is too quiet. The silence follows him everywhere. He misses coming into the kitchen, Logan already sipping his tea, book open in front of him. He misses being in the commons, Logan idly sharing factoids about whatever is on the television, or spouting information from whatever topic he’s currently researching, he misses Logan’s quiet and steady presence, misses his grounding influence, misses the way he was always, always there.

He wishes he’d given Logan even half of the care Logan had given them. He wishes he’d put aside his own stupid doubts and talked to him sooner. He wishes he’d ever taken a second to ask Logan if he was ok, because he knew that he wasn’t.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. Logan left.

That brings another wave of tears down his face, and he rolls over onto his side, hiding his face against his pillow as he sobs silently, clutching to his chest his scrapbook, the one with a picture of the four of them on the cover, and he can’t bring himself to open it, even, to look at them, happy and together, and wonder if Logan had actually been happy in any of them.

He knows it is selfish, this mourning, because Logan isn’t gone, gone, not really. And as much as he’s mourning for all the willfully ignorant hurt they put Logan through, that’s only half of why he feels like this.

The other half is because he knows that Logan is happier now. He knows that Deceit will take care of him, that Remus will protect him. He knows Ambition will have long debates about philosophy with Deceit, that don’t end in frustration and anger but in mutual appreciation. He knows Remus will drag him outdoors, and Ambition will appreciate the complexness of his creatures, probably fill binders full of notebooks with scientific observations and notes about their behaviors and physiology.

It’s selfish and low of him and he hates himself for it, but he aches because he knows that Ambition is happier. And he’s sorry, so desperately, endlessly, sorry, that it took Logan leaving to force him to see how badly he needed someone, anyone, to reach out to him.

He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already doing it. Because if he thinks about this, he will lose his nerve, and he won’t do that again, won’t hesitate now, when last time it cost him one of his best friends.

He feels their eyes on him as soon as he pops up, hovering uncertainly in the entryway, not wanting to intrude on their space, because this is their space, and he’s been shitty enough to them in the past, the very least he can do is simply respect them.

“Patton.” Deceit’s voice is surprised, tinted with an edge of concern, and a fair bit of suspicion. Which is fair, honestly, given everything between them. Everything that happened with Logan.

“Lookin pretty disheveled, Daddio, did someone show you a good time?” Remus asks, exchanging a worried glance with Deceit as Patton doesn’t react at all to his comment.

“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. About… about the callback, and the wedding. Not… all of it, but there could have been a compromise, there could have been something else there, and I wasn’t willing to listen. I never listen and I should and you should be heard and not just dismissed. I… I screwed everything up. I’m sorry.”

“Patton, are you alright? Not that I don’t appreciate the apology and enjoy you finally broadening your horizons a little, but…”

“But you look like shit. And not the fun kind.”

“didn’t know there was a fun kind.” He murmurs, voice wavering, and they exchange another wide eyed look of alarm as Patton chokes back a gasping sob, one hand flying to cover his mouth, the other wrapping tight around his middle in an almost hug.

“remus. I’m sorry I dismiss your ideas right away. I’m sorry I don’t take you more seriously. I’m sorry I classified you as bad and Roman as good. You’re not bad, you're just you, always and unapologetically, and that’s not bad, that’s brave. I’m proud of you, kiddo. I’m… I’m proud of both of you, not… not that that probably means much to either of you. I don’t think it should mean much of anything, anymore.”

“Patton. Please. What’s wrong?” There’s a desperate edge to Deceit’s voice, that makes him hesitate for just a moment, but it’s not their problem, and it shouldn’t be and he’d said what he came to say.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He whispers. He sinks out before the noise building in his chest can escape his lips, before the pain can turn itself into sound, before he says or does something that makes them feel obligated to care.

He collapses back onto his bed, this time pulling the covers up over his head, burying his face in the scarf he’d dug out of the closet earlier, holding it tight to his chest and curling around it, barely able to gasp in air through the fit of tears shaking him to the core, because it was Logan’s scarf, from his Sherlock outfit.

He wants those days back, more than anything, he wants just one more silly roleplaying adventure of Watson and Sherlock, running around the mindscape solving mysteries, driving the other sides up the wall with their antics, it was one of the few times Logan let himself be seen having fun, had showed himself loosening up, ruddy cheeked and breathless as he accused Roman of drinking the last of the orange juice and putting the empty carton back in the fridge while he gasped in surprised horror at the crime, or tracking down Virgil’s lost head phones, interviewing suspects, until their path led them to under the couch, where they’d been accidentally kicked to after Virgil had set them down on the floor.

He misses Logan’s smiles, his small, proud smile, when they all learned something, his soft, stricken smile when he learned something, his tight lipped, frustrated smile, his grinning, rare, wild smile, his soft voice, his loud voice, his frustration, his joy, he misses it, misses it, misses it.

He slips his ear buds back in, numbing nothingness cresting back over him as he breathes in the scent of Logan, pressed laundry and sun warmed wood, the playlist starting back up at Equation, from the Little Prince. Surprisingly, one of Logan’s favorites. He wonders if it still is.

…

“So… that wasn’t normal, right? I’m not going even more mad, that just happened, right?” Remus asks, eyes flicking between Deceit and where Patton had just been standing.

“Whatever it was, it was… sincere. The only part that was a lie, was-“

“him being ok? Yeah, that doesn’t take a genius to figure out.” Deceit frowns, looking at Remus, who quickly looks away.

“Remus. He meant every word he said about you.”

“Who did?” They both look a bit guilty as they look at Cygnus, who is looking at them with an eyebrow raised.

“Patton.” Remus blurts out, and Cygnus inhales sharply, eyes narrowing.

“What did he say? I told them to stay away from you, if he hurt you, I swear-“

“Cyg. He… apologized. To the both of us. He looked… very bad, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Patton acting so… un patton like.” Deceit interrupts, before Cygnus can get riled up even more. Instantly, he relaxes slightly, though his gaze is still puzzled.

“I… is he… ok?” Deceit bites his lip and Remus shakes his head firmly.”

“No. no, he’s not, he’s really, really not.” Cygnus takes a deep breath in, reaching to readjust glasses that are no longer there. Old habits are hard to break.

“It’s ok to still care about them, lovely. It’s ok to go visit. And I think… I think Patton has some things he wants to say, now. And I think it would be good for you to hear them.” Cygnus hesitates, before smiling smally, shaking his head.

“alright. You’re right, as always. I… will be back shortly. I suppose.” Cygnus shoots them a small, brave smile, before vanishing.

…

He doesn’t know how long he’s been laying here. The music has long since gone dead, but he doesn’t have the will to turn on something else, or to start it again. He’s replaying Ambition’s words over and over.

He was right. In that moment, all he had been afraid of was being left alone to handle Roman and Virgil. He can’t do it on his own, he can’t do it alone, and he’s not the perfect pinnacle of light, he knows this, more deeply than probably the others realize, and how could he not have noticed Logan was gone for five whole days?

There’s no excuse. He doesn’t have one, wouldn’t even attempt to produce one, because there are no words that can justify that lack of attention. He’s been a terrible, awful, horrible friend.

“I’m not mad. I could never be mad, at what you did. You… you did what was best, for you. And you’re happy now. You’re… you’re taken care of and listened to and all the things we didn’t do for you but should have. I’m happy for you, I am! I’m just… I’m sad for me.” His voice wavers, breaking, because he knows how selfish that is, how terrible it sounds, after everything, but it’s the truth, and he won’t give anything less to Ambition.

He hears Ambition let out a soft, low breath, feels the bed dip down as Ambition sits on the edge, and he curls tighter underneath the covers, glad he’s already spent all his tears for the day, already emptied himself out.

“i’m sad. I’m so, brokenly, sad. Because I should have known. I should have said something. I should have been there, for you. And I wasn’t. I haven’t been. And I miss…” his voice cracks and he is proven wrong, more tears slipping down his face as he swallows, “I miss you. It’s selfish and stupid, and I know it, but I miss you. And I wish…” He can’t finish his sentence. He’s so choked up he can barely breathe. He doesn’t need to, he supposes. Ambition can already tell, better than he can put into words what exactly he wishes.

“oh, Patton.” Ambition murmurs, the softness in his voice only makes him cry harder, because he doesn’t deserve that, not from Ambition.

Cygnus doesn’t know what to do. He can feel everything Patton wishes and wants, and it is a conflicting cacophony of sorrow and hope and want and fear.

He wants everything to go back to the way it was, but he wants Ambition to be heard. He wants Logan back. He doesn’t want Logan back if he’s going to be unhappy. He wants to hate Deceit and Remus for taking away Logan, but he knows it isn’t their fault, he loves them for taking care of Ambition, loves them for loving Ambition as he should be loved, he wishes he didn’t wish for any of this, he wishes he didn’t feel at all, he wishes he could just somehow fix everything even though he knows that’s impossible.

Above and beyond all of it, all of the turmoil, is one singular burning wish.

He wants Ambition to know he still loves him, even if Ambition hates him, as he has every right to. Nothing could stop Patton from loving him.

“I’m sorry this is what it took, for you to be listened to. To be happy. I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you needed. I’m sorry I wasn’t good. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’m sorry I didn’t care. And I’m sorry that I’m sorry because being sorry now seems like too little too late!” He sobs, not looking up as he feels the blanket being gently folded over, his head now exposed from under the covers, and he feels Ambition freeze for a moment, at the sight of him.

He must look a mess. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter, he just… doesn’t know, anymore, doesn’t know what he feels or wants to feel or wants at all, because everything he wants he can’t have, he doesn’t want Logan back at the expense of Ambition’s wellbeing and mental health, he wants Ambition to be happy, he wants Logan back, he can’t want both, but he does, and it hurts, and he deserves the hurt, because this surely must be what Logan was feeling before he left.

“Patton. I’m still here. I’m still me. My role has changed, yes, but not my personality. I’m still here.”

“I know. And it should make me feel better, but it doesn’t, because I know now that I don’t know anything about you, I never took the time to really truly know you, and I know this… guilt and shame, it doesn’t help anything, it doesn’t make up for anything, it’s nothing but selfish, but I can’t help it, because I hurt you!” he swipes at his eyes, having sat up during his outburst, legs pulled to his chest. “I hurt you. And I’m sorry. And that’s not enough. I know it isn’t. But it’s all I have.” He whispers, head against his knees, eyes closed as he tries to take a shuddering breath, tries to calm himself before he breaks completely.

“Patton. I don’t… I don’t hate you. I know I was harsh, with you especially, but I don’t hate you. I was angry. I still am, a bit, and I’m hurt, but I don’t hate you, Patton.” He feels Ambition carefully wrap an arm around his shoulders, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a pained cry, folding against Ambition’s side, burying his head against his side, crying harder as Ambition’s other arm encircles him in a soft embrace.

“s-sorry, I’m s-s-sorry, you sh-shouldn’t have to b-be here right now, I’m n-n-not your problem.” He chokes out, shame bubbling in him because he can’t bring himself to pull away, even though he should. Instead, Ambition just holds him closer, letting him sob himself dry once more, until he is barely sniffling, exhaustion cresting over him, that almost wonderful numbness creeping back into his bones, settling into a depressed apathy.

“You’re right. You’re not my problem. But I would like to still be your friend. I don’t mean to be antagonistic. I still want to work with everyone. None of that changes.” Ambition replies.

“y-you d-do? S-still want to b-b-be friends?” he asks, brokenly, looking up at Ambition’s mismatched eyes, lip trembling, and he’s so utterly miserable that Ambition doesn’t think he could say no if he tried his hardest. But he doesn’t want to.

“yes. I do, Patton. Deceit and Remus are my family now. They love me like family should, take care of me like family should, that’s what I needed, that’s why I moved, because I needed to put myself first and take care of myself for once. You failed, as my family.” He flinches, but he doesn’t say otherwise, because Ambition is right, they did, he did, and it hurts, but it should. “but I think we will do better as just friends, instead of family. I think not living together anymore will help alleviate some of our problems. Will help me be listened to, more. And If I am not listened to by you all, I won’t be as frustrated because I know Deceit and Remus will.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, because that’s all he can muster, as lame and lackluster as it is, it’s all he can say, because he had enough chances to do something about it and hadn’t. “I want to do better, I want to be better, I want… I want whatever you’re willing to give me, I…” he doesn’t realize his eyes are slipping shut as he feels Ambition gently stroking his hair.

“I know, Pat. I’m not… I’m not going to give you everything, right away. I might never give you my name. But I will give you another chance, to start over. To… to try again.”

“I wouldn’t ask anything more from you. I wouldn’t even ask that of you.” He mumbles, barely aware anymore, because this feels so good, it unties something inside of him, it gives him hope that things can get better, that they will get better. It is one tiny ray of light that cuts through the gray.

“What you said, to Deceit and Remus… why?” He swallows hard.

“because I should have said it sooner. I hesitated with you. I broke the last of what we had. I won’t do that again, I won’t ignore that again, I won’t… I won’t let anyone else be hurt like I hurt you.”

“I… that’s good, Patton. That’s a good first step, to making things right. It tells me you mean it, when you say you want to be better. You’re willing to actually put in the work and the time to change for the better. I know that isn’t easy.” Ambition’s voice is a rumble against him, and he feels him pulling away.

He wants to grab hold, to not let go, to be held tight and close until he falls asleep and wakes up well rested for the first time in nearly a week, but he desperately tries not to want that, because then Ambition will know that he wants that, and he won’t ask Ambition for it, because he hasn’t earned that closeness with him.

He hears Ambition sigh softly as he tucks him in, managing to peek his eyes open as he feels Ambition softly tuck his hair back behind his ear. There are so many more words he wants to say, but he doesn’t need to say them, because Ambition already knows.

“I love you.” He mumbles instead, because it’s still true, will always be true, no matter what, he loves them all.

“I know. If… if you wish, once you are rested, you should come have a longer conversation with Deceit and Remus. I think everyone would benefit.”

“ok.” He whispers. Ambition hesitates in the doorway, before stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly as Patton’s eyes slip closed. He freezes as he hears another door open, eyes meeting Virgil’s.

He stays frozen as Virgil approaches, unable to read anything from him, he is keeping his thoughts so controlled that he can glean nothing from him, even as he stands right before him, fiddling with his hoodie ties, dark hair hiding his face.

“hey.” Virgil says softly, hesitating. “he… he doing okay?” Virgil finishes, nodding towards Patton’s door.

“He’s… doing better. We talked. I… it helped, I think.” Virgil nods, biting his lip, hand on the doorknob, pausing before he turns it, looking back at Ambition with hesitant trepidation.

“Are… are you doing okay?” Ambition smiles smally, looking down at the ground.

“yes. More than ok, in fact.”

“Good. I… that’s good. They… Deceit and Remus… they’re doing alright with all of this too, yeah?” That gives Ambition pause, there’s something to unpack there, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is, and now isn’t the time to pry.

“They’re fine, Virgil. We all are.” Virgil winces a bit, at the use of “we”, rubbing his forehead in the way he only does when he’s overwhelmed or frustrated or both.

“cool. I… just… it’s goodtoseeyou,Ambition.” He stumbles out, then he’s in Patton’s room and the door is closed and Ambition is left staring at the closed door, wondering what exactly that was all about.

Perhaps he’ll ask Deceit and Remus for their side of the story later, now that Patton is on the road to doing ok. At least he didn’t seem angry anymore, just… off.

For now, he has to get Deceit and Remus ready for a longer visit from Patton. He doesn’t know how they’ll react, but a conversation is necessary. And he thinks they are all ready for it. Ready to start moving forwards. To start being… better.

#logan sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #dark side logan #Ambition!Logan #patton sanders #sanders sides #patton angst #heavy angst #Angst with a happy ending #emotional hurt/comfort #virgil sanders #mild depression #sympathetic everyone

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the-writerly-night-owl · 4 years

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When Shopping is Fun

Mother of the Year/Thomas Mendez x MC (Gloriana Day)

Summary: A year after the events of the custody battle Gloriana Day and Thomas Mendez are in a comfy relationship. School shopping just became fun again, especially when their daughters aren’t around.

Authors Note: Woo double posting tonight! I actually wanted to do this yesterday but my computer was acting up. This MC really needs to catch a break so a fun story I hope.

Hope you enjoy this!

Thomas Mendez glanced around at the shops before back down to his list. It was the first day of fifth grade and he needed those school supplies again. Why he didn’t use the stuff from last year just baffled him.

“I’m glad that we can do this together,” said Gloriana Day next to him.

“We can kill two birds with one stone a date and school shopping,” he said a smile on his face as he couldn’t help but stare at her if a bit longer. She was really beautiful taking in her scent of vanilla shampoo and the way her well-worn jeans fit just right. “I’m just glad that the sitter can watch the girls.”

“You didn’t have to do that, I mean I’ll chip in for…” said Gloriana as he put his hand up stopping her mid-sentence.

“No, I offered so we can get school shopping done. It’s not very often that we get much time to spend alone time together.”

With that he took her hand and kissed her cheek gently. A red tint colored her creamy caramel skin making him want to do it again. They’ve only been dating a year and it was all so new to the both. It been just about a decade since either adult had been in a proper relationship.

“Well then it’s my treat to get one of those big pretzels and slurpie to share.”

“I haven’t had one of those in years, it’s a deal.”

The two made their way to the foot court. True to her word Gloriana paid for both before they walked around a bit before heading to the book store. It meant that they would probably have to head back right away. Neither really wanted to cart around bags of school supplies for a long period of time.

Smiling at him she shared the slurpie taking him back to days as a kid. Together they took the long way around the mall to the book store. Comfortable conversation between them talking about their daughters and everything else.

“Are you okay?” asked Thomas as she stopped and looked in the store window.

Gloriana just giggled as she pointed at the mannequin.

“It’s just that, I used to have a pair of pants exactly like those as a teenager. I was so sad when I outgrew them, they were my favorite.”

Thomas’s eyes flitted over to see a pair of dark red corduroys with a flare. They were a little form fitting as he tried to picture a teenage Gloriana wearing those pants. Or rather taking them off her one night. Steering her toward the store, she looked at him confused.

“What are we doing?”

“You should try them on maybe get a pair.”

“I don’t have the budget for that.” She hesitated and bit her bottom lip before finally caving in. “But I’ll them on mainly because nostalgia.”

She quickly found the pants before heading to the dressing room. Glancing around Thomas knew what he was going to do. Nobody seemed to notice him before finding something that he could add to that thought. A white sweater with a simple pattern that screamed her name caught his eye. Just a nice simple outfit that would make her smile. It’s not like it would cost much.

A cough made him turn as he looked at his girlfriend.

“Oh, you do look great in those,” he said as she turned his eyes lingering slightly on her bum and long legs.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She walked over to him while his eyes lingered on her with that childlike smile on her face. He wanted to see Gloriana light up like that again. It was never a bad thing he thought and shook his head.

“You look perfect in those.”

Thomas leaned in and gently kissed her lips pressing her close to him. Finally breaking apart grinning up at him coyly. “Wow in public and everything, what happened to the shy guy I was dating?”

“I think he met someone special. Anyway, we should probably get to the school supply store before they run out of those fancy binders.”

Gloriana laughed leaning over slightly before straightening up. Her laugh was contagious while he laughed too before she put the pants on the rack. He told her to meet him outside the store fibbing to her that he needed to use the bathroom. It would just be a quick minute and then doubled back for the outfit.

Once the shopping was done and a quick meal from chipotle; did they head to his car. Alone time was always great, and it was even better as Thomas realized that they had an hour of extra time together. Blinking her brown eyes up at him she thanked him once again for the ride.

“Before you go, I had something for you,” he said grabbing the bag, the store logo on the front.

A dismayed look turned to a smile and then shook her head. “You bought those pants for me? Thomas you didn’t have to do that.”

Then there was that look that he could not say no to. He couldn’t help it but love how humble she was and shook his own head.

“But I wanted to because you look amazing in them. Please keep them for me?”

She sighed and pressed her lips against his in the car. Sighing into the kiss the moment was going to end too soon as he savored it.

“Alright, only because you said please. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“In those pants.”

Gloriana burst into a grin and nodded. “In these pants.”

With that the flirting and banter was gone as their daughters shattered the moment. Luz and Lucia smiling at them. Today was definitely his day.

Tag list!: @flyawayboo @queen-among-writers @am-i-invisible777 @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl @elainew13 @itsbrindleybinch @brightpinkpeppercorn @darley1101 @mfackenthal @jlpplays1 @writerapprentice @indescribablechoices

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged when I get ideas!

#thomas mendez #mc: gloriana day #mother of the year #choices mother of the year #choices: mother of the year #choices: moty #choices moty #thomas mendez x mc #choices mc #choices #choices stories you play #choices: stories you play #playchoices fanfiction #playchoices #choices fanfiction

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chibimonkey · 6 years

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So I am drawing a little yonkoma type manga and I’ve got a billion pages of material scattered around various sketchbooks and scrap paper, like character designs, outfit designs per character, chibi vs normal style, etc. I have condensed my mess into one binder plus the actual manga book. That way I can look up those things without scrambling to sift though dozens of books.

I also in the process found some EXTREMELY old (10+ years) art from the first incarnation of the comic. That was pretty nostalgic. I don’t draw nearly as stiffly now, but the characters have remained nearly identical. I included it in the back of the binder for inspiration and nostalgia.

#my art

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tumblunni · 6 years

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Social anxiety C C C COMBO BREAKERRRRR

I had a real good day yo!!

I was in a really stupid emotional state at 4am this morning cos of a dumb nightmare about my abusive mum that i havent seen in 15 years. But at least because of it it prompted me to try and find the address of my childhood home again, and i successfully did and i had a huge nostalgia wave just looking at google street view. I dont know if i'll ever be brave enoughto actually visit there and walk down the same road again with my new and taller legs, but just knowing that its not impossible makes me feel a lot better.

But then srsly i was in real big panic attack shakes and i couldbt get back to sleep and i had a pounding headache and my eyes hurt and then when i finally passed out i kept waking up like half an hour later and having to go thru all the hell of getting asleep again. And then when i woke up at 5pm having wasted the whole day i realized my electricity was out and i needed to walk the 1.5km to the shop where i can pay the bills and AAAAGH giant headache and on the verge of tears and its the middle of a heatwave and my hair dye is all faded bad and so many damn excuses. And 'oh well itll take like 20 minutes to get ready and then what if i walk too slow and the shop is closed'. All the stupid reasons i use to excuse my social anxiety!

BUT IM REALLY PROUD THAT I STILL DID IT

I'm not just giving myself the 1.5 on my kilometres count, im definately getting two points for 'survived anxious social situation with style and grace'!

Cos seriousky cos of the heatwave i wouldnt be able to wear heavy baggy coat yo cover myself up, so i went out in a short sleeved shirt with my binder and i was really inpressed with how good i looked in the mirror. Yknow even tho my face was like sleep deprived mega anxious death hell! XD but yeahi managed to accomplish the Basic Things Of Daily Life despite being in my worst anxious state for ages, and i did it in sweltering weather and while unconfident in my ability to pass. I actually ended up having a swing in my step on the way back and enjoyed a completely un anxious walk for once! I just saw myself in the mirror in the supermarket bathroom and was like 'holy shit i look perfectly fine, what was i worried about?' And then i didnt completely fall apart due to the now new worry that if i was actually successfully passing then maybe i'd get kicked out for using the bathroom of my birth sex. It was a slow shopping day so nobody else came in there, it was fine. And i mean i'd still feel equally as anxious using the other bathroom, there arent any unisex toilets for nonbinary folk :(

But yeah i handled it really well!! Its such a small anxiety to other people tho and i still feel ashamed that i cant completely shed my peoplephobia all at once. But this was a really big step up that metaphorical staircase!

Oh and while i was there i actually felt confident enough to Actually Do Some Damn Shopping! I didnt just limit it to a basic run and gun, get in there, get the one thing and leave thing. I very often do that!! Sometimes it takes me two trips to the shops to get everything cos i got so anxious i just ran home after the first thing XD But today i actually wandered around the whole supermarket and checked if there was anything on sale or anything i forgot to put on my shopping list. Again, very basic thing that normal people do every day, but for me i usually get irrationally panicked so this was a disproportionately big accomplishment!

I BOUGHT A SHOES

I havent bought a new pair of shoes since like.. 4 years? 5 maybe? I cant recall if it was before i moved here or just after. I have a stupid habit of only owning one thing and only replacing it when its broken, because like.. Leftover instincts from being poorer. And its stupid cos im perfectly able to splurge on electronics or pokemon merchandise or whatever when i have spare money, yet when it comes to actual life necessities im like 'nah what a waste'. I guess its cos avoiding paying for them was a common experience during those homeless times, whereas splurging on self birthday gifts was not a thing i could ever do at all. Possibly this is the same reason i get easily suckered in by scratchcards and lootboxes, its easy to not notice how much i'm wasting when its not something i have a long experience with. Plus they kinda cheat by making each singular pull be cheap and then encouraging you to keep gambling fifty more times. But its only 2 bucks each time~fuckin hell im dumb to fall for that shit.

ANYWAY thats why ive been using the same shitty pair of trainers for like five years. Theyre really durable but theyre not exactly comfy or very good looking. Theyre like this neon green and yellow and black tron lines abomination that i DO KINDA LOVE but ive gotta admit that it doesnt fit with many outfits. I literally dont own a single other yellow anything.

So yeah i bought three pairs of shoes on sale for 15 pound in total HOLY SHIT thats a good dealio! I got some plimsolls/daps/im not actually sure what they call them in other countries sorry. Its like the fabric shoe but it has a good grip runner's sole to it? Always used to wear them in gym class at school, i liked them beter than trainers cos the sole wasnt as thick and inflexible. I mean im already clumsy without like 3cm more height on me! And then i got some sort of loafer thing thats similar but more The Comfort. And then i also got some super soft indoor slippers! So now i actyalky have shoes for differebt occasions!! Jogging walking and laying around being a couch potato! Not just wearing these big chunky trainers for all of that! I mean lol it used to be even worse, once my Only Shoes were actualky these huge mountain climbing boots XD i got them free from the homeless shelter and kept them for years after i left, even tho they were too tight and always cut up the back of my ankles. Ah, memories of past trauma! Why am i stirring up so many of these today!!

So anyway yeah thats my Very Boring Normal Day that for once i managed to handle like a normal human being. I'm proud!

Oh and i also got a glitter cowboy hat and i dont know why they were selling a glitter cowboy hat but it was the only sort of sun hat they had so i went with it. It kinda helps with dysphoria somehow?? Like i know people will criticize that part of my fashion first before they notice how ugly the rest of me is XD and its hard to be sad when you're thinking 'beep boop gender cowboy'

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textsacc · 3 years

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a list of notable things yozora has in her bedroom.

windowsill

three succulents. they’re fake, made out of cheap plastic. she wants them, very much to be real, but her circumstances wouldn’t allow for it. they’re potted in white ceramic, the only part of them alongside their soil that she’d keep fragile and real. when they topple to the ground, at least the plants won’t be damaged. she scoops them up, gently and neatly, and takes out reserve planters from a bottom drawer by her desk. then, when the morning comes, things would be back to normal.

a statue featuring two cats, intertwined in a slinking embrace. its surface is rough, painted over with white, but the art piece weighs as though it was made out of stone. it’s too tough to be knocked over. one of the cats is longer, larger than the other. yozora thinks it symbolizes something to her, but she hasn’t figured out what yet. when she looks upon it, she feels nostalgia and longs for better days.

bookshelf

a picture frame. it’s pristine, with its price label still attached to it at the back. it costs 500 yen. yozora contemplates on replacing this with a paper craft alternative.

a set of shonen manga. the series she had her eyes on was starting to end soon. it’s the only set she has, and when she gets her hand on its last volume, she’ll have a whole set complete. then, yozora believes, it would be worthy -- and convenient -- to finally trade it away for cash. no one else her age would rightfully keep manga anyway.

a set of difficult literature. their sizes vary between publications. the large ones she refused to bring to school; rather, they were keepsakes she’d carry to and from her part time gig, on the house to keep because her employer had misjudged their neighbourhood’s desire for books like those. long, exhausting, boring. rarely was there choice material for her to sift through and reread. some of them have tab markers along the top. no one would ever see them, so she allows herself some enjoyment from rereading philosophical fiction with questionable morals. then there were the smaller titles, with cover paperbacks still locked onto them. romance titles. fantasy novels. only the stories she wasn’t able to let go of would remain on these shelves. when she feels as though she is ready, she finds a way to dispose of them, occassionally enjoying the new yen in her pocket on a new picture frame or a sturdier looking pot for when she needs them again. all of them are tidy, neat. two of them have a fabric book mark, woven with a dark, contrasting textile pattern.

a first aid kit. it’s tucked away in a corner. yozora needs to restock this.

desk

a lavender notebook. it has thin, powdery pages, lined with fading ink and paper in lesser quality, but its cover features a prismatic rainbow under the right lighting conditions. the scratches of japanese writing is done in cheap blue ink, curves on hiragana exaggerated.

dark ring files, tucked away in a black wooden bookcase. there are dents made in their holders, but the binders and most of the papers within are left untouched. some crumple and fold, but yozora’s managed to combat their seams with excellent care.

foolscap. its rarely used for planning; anything of that import goes immediately behind the privacy of a glossy purple cover. instead, she jots down thoughts and notes that crosses her mind or meets her on short notice. additionally, she has a specific binder specifically for her notes for classes, meant for revision and sorted by subjects. what she would remember from this pad would then be torn out and slotted away into their appropriate categories.

school bag. she leaves it against one of the table’s legs whenever she gets home from school. it’s usually emptied per day, and what appropriate texts she needs to switch out are swapped right before bed time. since most of the material for classes can be found under her desk in school, she rarely finds an occasion to have missed or forgotten an item or two for a class, but it does happen. somehow, she always finds a way to cope with the loss on her own.

closet

st chronica’s school uniforms. they’re neatly pressed, yozora’s seen to it that she puts on a good, presentable air once she steps out of the house to head to school. they lack wrinkles, save the days she sets them aside for laundry. there are three sets of the standard blouse and skirt, whilst two blazers are kept folded away to a side for half of the year. often, yozora wears a set for two to three days. for phys ed, the school rarely calls for it more than once a week, and hence one set is enough to satisfy her needs. their school’s tracksuit had not been complimentary, and so is absent from this line up.

clothes in street fashion. the last remnants of her naivety, yozora believes. she’s not entirely correct with her statement. had she managed much success in handing them off to someone, perhaps they would be gone from their hangers. alas, the girl sees little luck in her endeavor. their cloth varies; polyester and cotton of mixed ratios and qualities. most of them are paired with a hat or two that compliments the attire. some don’t.

minimalist clothes. this would be what makes her mature -- if only to keep her features discreet. from plain black tees to her retail-sold tracksuit, each item is featureless and dark, a 180 from her previous haphazard selection of wear.

a maid outfit. she bought it if only to appeal to the internet. it did. now yozora has a distaste for the internet and infamy, for forum boards and solo or livestreaming performances. she will handle no questions about her past.

bed

a box of sentiments. the shoebox it’s kept in has been wrapped in golden paper. its tucked away under the bed, kept at the base that meets closest to the wall. the collection of diary entries, photographs and cutouts leave only but a mystery of elements behind, an enigmatic map only known to its sole walker down her beautifully scattered memory lane.

#character study

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olivereliott · 6 years

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Custom Bikes Of The Week: 3 June, 2018

Moto Guzzi’s Bellagio gets a glamorous new set of clothes. Vladimir Putin gets a new motorcycle, with a little help from Kalashnikov. And the French photographer and racer Dimitri Coste gets acquainted with the Indian FTR1200 prototype. It’s been a pick’n’mix kinda week.

Rostec Izh concept Ever wondered what bike Vladimir Putin would ride, when he’s not shirtless on a horse? Wonder no longer. The Izh is a concept motorcycle developed by the Russian corporate juggernaut Rostec and the makers of everyone’s favorite assault rifle, Kalashnikov.

With a nine-and-a-half foot long wheelbase and a curb weight of 1,124 pounds (510 kg), the Izh probably isn’t the most nimble of machines. You may be thinking it’s because in Soviet Russia, bike rides you—but the extra payload comes from bodywork designed to stop bullets. Which seems unnecessary, since the rider is still fully exposed but looks and sounds as badass as Ivan Drago with a broadsword.

Despite this, Kalashnikov cites a 0-60 mph time of an impressive 3.5 seconds: at 133 lbs-ft, there’s enough torque to uproot a Siberian Elm. They also claim 250 kph (155 mph) as the top speed for this beast, so we hope the binders are well in check too.

Details on the powerplant are scant but it’s obviously a boxer motor, presumed to be liquid cooled, with a reported 148 hp on tap. The first batch of Izh are apparently being commissioned as we speak, specifically for Putin’s motorcade, but you can expect a few oligarchs to place orders soon after. [More]

Moto Guzzi Bellagio by South Garage The crew at Milan-based South Garage has a reputation for subtlety: a nip here, a tuck there and smooth lines everywhere else. Their sublime creations exude style and attention to detail, and really grab the peepers around here.

The Phoenix is SG’s take on the Moto Guzzi Bellagio, Mandello del Lario’s cruiser-ish roadster from about a decade ago. The Bellagio’s shortcomings stemmed from odd proportions, so SG went to work in the fabrication shop to right those wrongs.

The new tank is a handmade aluminum unit, sculpted to look at home in a Guzzi showroom, and the rear is now a hand-laid, one-piece carbon fiber unit topped with an Alcantara seat. The visual change is utterly sublime and suits the bruiser stance to a T.

In terms of performance, the Phoenix has been treated to a plethora of niceties including carbon fiber Kineo wheels, custom mounted Öhlins suspenders, and extra sticky Pirelli rubber. But it doesn’t stop with the changes you can see. Engine work, combined with a custom exhaust, has coaxed an extra 20 ponies from this transverse twin. [More]

Suzuki Katana by Team Kagayama If you wanna see Chris, Wes and I nod in unison, roll up on a Hans Muth-designed first gen Katana. If you wanna see us start to salivate, roll up on this one—a race ready custom with the powerplant from a 185 hp Gixxer Thou.

This jaw dropping piece of 80s nostalgia is the creation of the Team Kagayama racing outfit, and the goal of team boss Yukio Kagayama is to win the ‘Taste of Tsukuba’ race. But there’s much more at play than a simple engine swap. The GSX-R1000 needed a full suite of custom electrical work to make everything communicate, and the lower half of the frame had to be custom built to fit the new motor and beef up rigidity for race duty.

When the original Katana hit the streets in 1980, Suzuki claimed it was the fastest mass production moto on the market. This one is undoubtedly faster, but rumors abound that a new Katana may be heading to market. Here’s hoping they follow Kagayama’s lead and look to the past for the aesthetics. [More]

Yamaha SR400 by Benjies Cafe Racer Unfortunately, for most of us, lane splitting is a two-wheeled advantage we just can’t exploit. Despite the many documented benefits for traffic flow and rider safety, most legislation simply won’t follow the logic. But that didn’t stop Benjie Flipprboi from creating this lithe traffic scalpel when a local Yamaha dealer tapped him for a custom creation.

‘Lane Splitter 54’ is based on a 2016 Yamaha SR400, and its width has been shaved to a slender 54 centimeters (21 inches). The work began with ditching the SR’s subframe, as the stock unit was just too bulky to get where Benjie wanted. A stainless steel tail and seat assembly was fabricated and mounted on the new, elevated perch. The metalwork is spot on and the custom exhaust exits through the tail unit.

The front fairing and tank are both hand formed aluminum units, again designed to minimize girth while maximizing style. The dash has been re-jigged; the tach has been frenched into the tank and the speedo now resides below the windscreen. The only feature that added any width during this build is the disc brake: it now has an art deco-inspired vented cover, again crafted from aluminum, which looks fantastic. [More]

Dimitri Coste rides the Indian FTR1200 Every enthusiast with petrol pulsing through their veins must be waiting with bated breath for Indian to finally pull the wraps off the civilian-spec FTR1200. This pending street-tracker, provided it comes from the same mold as the prototype, is the exact weapon Indian needs to grab the extra market share it fervently desires. And just to make sure we’re all still paying attention, they’ve loaned a prototype out to photographer Dimitri Coste.

Dimitri didn’t just throw some diffused light onto the bike for PR shots, either. He’s pretty handy at going fast and turnin’ left too, and he got the chance to thrash the FTR1200 around the dirt oval, the way it deserves to be. He’s dubbed this bike ‘The Mistress’ because, in his own words, “Your wife’s gonna be jealous.”

Well, until an FTR1200 lands in our garage, we’re the jealous ones. So hurry up Indian! [More]

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