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revivif-y · 23 days

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Also posted on ao3.

---

Fabian doesn’t know when it started to hurt.

It’s the little things, you know? The stupid things that feel like nothing to everyone else but feels like iron weights to him. Things like Sklonda mussing up Riz’s hair with a grin, the proud look in Sandra Lynn’s eyes when she looks at Fig, the way Gilear worries and worries and worries and the way Jawbone hugs Adaine.

It feels scalding to look at, sometimes. Boiling hot water poured down his throat that he’s forced to swallow down. There’s a deep, roiling shame that reverberates through him in these moments– a feeling that cooks him alive and leaves him thrashing for escape. He can’t stomach it, can’t swallow back the acid and the jealousy and the jagged bitterness that threatens to cut through.

He reigns it in, best as he can– averts his eyes when Ragh and Lydia share a look, focuses hard on his breathing when Gorthalax says “That’s my girl!”

He digs his nails into his palms when the Thistlesprings fuss over Gorgug, tries his damndest not to stare when they pull out bandages for his scrapes after practice. He leaves, mentally, checking out every time because the affection feels like thorns, gnarled and tearing at him if he thinks about it for too long.

(Because he wants it. He wants it so, so bad that the absence feels like it’s eating him alive. Chunks of flesh torn away as his bones flake and crumble, a void where his chest should be.)

(It doesn’t hurt, most days.)

(But other times it’s all he can feel.)

Fabian breaks, sometimes. Only sometimes, not all the time– only when he’s fallen far enough that he thinks he can change anything.

When Fabian breaks, (chest heaving with stuttering breaths, palms clammy and his mind swimming) he calls people. A truly pathetic display he’s glad only he can witness.

Calling his Mama is one thing: Fabian lets it ring, feels the droning ringtone vibrate in the air, the sound measured as he dry heaves in his room. Calls once, then twice, then three times. Over and over until the sound lulls him to sleep or he’s worked up enough that this makes him shatter his phone against a wall.

She always apologizes for missing them, after. There’s always something– another stroke of good luck for Gilear, she was asleep, she was partying, she was sunbathing, she was drunk– always, always something, but when he checks her Crystalgram it says she posted it while he called and that. That.

It breaks him. Chips away at him further, shards shattering into splinters pulverized into dust. It shatters him, eats at him, rends him limb from limb as he screams in his empty manor and wonders why.

He thinks of calling his Papa, sometimes. At his lowest, at his darkest and most wretched. He thinks of broadcasting his misery onto all of Hell for even the slightest chance that he will answer– that Bill Seacaster will race to his voice like a beacon and tell his son that everything will be okay. That there is nothing wrong with him and that he loves him and that he is never, ever alone.

…It’ll never happen, though. Contrary to popular belief, Fabian knows how to be realistic.

(His Papa loves him. He does. Fabian knows he does.)

(Just not that much.)

He tries not to put too much stock into these one-sided calls– tells himself that no parent would drop everything for their kids, would come running if they called, kill the Devil just to return home. No parent would do that, it’s unrealistic and certainly not for someone his age.

He’s the man of the house. He’s the man of the house.

(“I told my dad about you guys,” Riz told them, once, his voice soft yet so happy. “He said he listens, you know, every time I go to his grave and talk. I only really tell him the cool shit, but…”)

(Riz grins, wide and toothy.)

(“He told me to tell him about the mundane, too.”)

It takes a few seconds for Fabian to realize that the wheezing, ragged breaths in the room are coming from him.

The thing is. The thing is.

The thing is that Fabian doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

Harsh, ragged crying spills past his lips, spikes of pain blooming from his palms. They’re reddened and his nails are bloody but he doesn’t care– Fabian rips off his eyepatch, stares at scarred skin and an empty eye socket and cries.

The noise he makes is broken, almost animalistic as silver hair covers his face, sticking to his skin. He feels like a wound, oozing and raw and searing with pain. He feels broken. He feels like something unworthy of love, the kind that stays hidden in the basement because the rot of him is too ghastly to stomach.

Questions rattle and whirl around in his head– a hurricane of sinking ships and splintering wood, blood pooling in the waters.

Questions like why and why not and why can’t I have that. Questions like is it me, is there something wrong with me, is it something I’ve done wrong. Questions become statements become I would change myself if I could. I would mold myself into what you wanted if I could. Teach me how teach me how teach me how teach me how.

I would if I could and I want to be loved. I want to be loved and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I wish that I did because then I could fix it and I’ll be worthy I’ll be loved and I’ll be wanted.

There are sharks under the water in his mind, sharp teeth and smelling blood as Fabian bleeds, bleeds, and bleeds.

Why don’t you want me? He wants to scream. At the grey, thundering skies, at the endless, unfeeling torrent of rain. He thinks of his Father, battling devils in the fiery realm of Hell. He thinks of his Mother, lounging in the sun and giggly with wine, relaxed and happier while Fabian’s at home. He thinks of them, and he thinks of Sklonda, of Gorthalax, of Sandra Lynn and Gilear and Jawbone and Lydia and all the others that love their children like they’re gifts and not a curse.

He thinks of the way his Mama looks at him and his chest rips wide open as the sharks rip and tear at his flesh. He thinks of how far away her love feels and how he misses his Papa and he’s drowning, drowning, drowning.

Fabian wakes up. He looks like a wreck.

He pushes himself to his feet. His palms sting, his throat dry and raspy.

It’s just another bad day, Fabian tells himself, dull-eyed as he drinks mouthfuls of water, wiping at his lip. It’s just another bad day.

Fabian wakes up, just as alone as when he passed out.

…It’s okay. It’s okay.

(That’s the only thing it can be.)

#fabian seacaster #d20 fhjy #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #fabian aramais seacaster #fantasy high fanfic #ryan's writing

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 years

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Less Misery, More Company

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Warnings/Notes: fluff, implied smut, slight angst, implied past masturbation, mentions of alcohol, cursing, flirty Jake, spelling mistakes i’m sure.

So my life kind of fell apart over the last month and I have written very little. I finally got back to it but I’m still trying to get back into my writer’s flow. This is not my best work, at least from my point of view, but I did my best under the circumstances, so I hope some of you like it anyway. I’m actually very nervous to post this. Like heart-pounding nervous.

To those who made requests, I finally have a bit of time to start tackling them again so thank you for being patient.

Words: 3706

Requested: Yes

“You really want me to be miserable, don’t you, sweetheart?”

That not-so-simple question threw a hefty wrench in your so-far very peaceful day.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be one hundred percent pissed off about it. There was something irritatingly melodic about the way Jake Seresin spoke. His voice was neither too hard nor too soft; pitch neither too high nor too low. His words strung together in such a seamless way that you couldn’t help but be drawn in. His voice was a call to beckon you closer, with defining notes you could pick up on if in relatively the same space as you. But that didn’t mean you found him any less annoying than he consistently proved himself to be, and his question, which threw the pebble that cracked your expert concentration, only solidified that.

You didn’t look up from the tenth lime you were cutting into wedges from behind the bar as he waited patiently for your response. You only sighed, accepting that your last few moments of peace before the bar’s doors opened were going to be snatched up by the blond pilot.

“Hangma—”

“No, no, I get it,” he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the bar top directly in front of you, “everyone loves when a hot guy suffers; puts us in our place and reminds the world we’re just like everybody else.”

Your eyes rolled before you could hold back the reaction, but you could see his smile in your peripherals, it bright and unnaturally mesmerizing. Which was exactly why you didn’t glance up. That smile had been a problem from the very second he first flashed it your way. Your knees had nearly buckled that night, heartbeat sputtering uncomfortably behind the wall of your chest. But that feeling immediately defused when he flashed it again at the next nearest woman.

“You don’t have to keep turning me down to make a point, gorgeous.”

Blowing out a deep breath, you grabbed another lime and began slicing. “Wow.”

As if he couldn’t pick up on your obvious distaste for the conversation, he continued. “So, what was it, huh? What brought about this general hostility towards ridiculously attractive men? Did the buff, popular boy ignore the awkward, little wallflower in high school?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you using me as a stand-in to get back at him in sort of twisted, subconscious way?”

You looked up, and you could instantly see his satisfaction at getting you to finally pay him an ounce of attention. “That’s not even remotely close to accurate.”

“Then why not just go out with me? If you do, I’ll make sure to broadcast that you made me work for it and had me on my knees before you agreed. So, you know,” he smirked and lightly slapped the top of bar as he straightened his spine, “everybody wins.”

That forced you to put your knife down, knowing very well that not doing so would have likely placed you in a prison cell for a good long while. “How exactly does everybody win?”

He gave you a look that said nothing short of I’m so glad you asked before he said, “Well, I get to be with you and you get to tell people I’m a beggar and not nearly as charming as I think I am, even though we both know that’s not true.”

“Those are not equal in value. Why would I willingly go out with you, which heavily requires my emotional investment, when I don’t even have feelings for you?”

“That’s a small detail.”

“Oh, is it?”

“It is when it’s a lie, beautiful,” he said with a smile, “One I’m sure you continuously repeat before you tuck yourself into bed at night as well as when you pour your morning coffee, so that when I walk in here, you don’t slip up from the uncontrollable desire to attack my mouth with yours or rip my clothes off.” Pearly whites continued to shine through curved parted lips. “Either of those I would find acceptable, by the way.”

An irritating shock of panic licked up your spine, traveling throughout your limbs before it settled. His words were too perfect, too correct. Within them contained a daydream you’d given up on long ago. But you knew how he was. You weren’t stupid, and having Jake Seresin’s attention on you didn’t turn you so.

Why that attention was on you, why he bothered to look a little harder at the girl behind the bar after the drinks were already in his hands, was beyond you. Out of anyone else, you seemed to be the person he felt the need to annoy. You knew Jake only wanted one thing from you, and you also knew if you allowed him in, you’d get attached. So you learned to keep him at arms-length, trying not to let his teasing get to you.

You were growing tired of it, really, the shameless flirting. Had it been genuine perhaps you would feel different, but this was not that, and day after day he played this game. However, it didn’t go over your head that you could be as sly as he was if you decided to exercise that skill. You could play the teasing game too, so why not?

Filling your hands with the lime wedges, you turned to place them in their clear plastic container. “You know what, Hangman,” you said, securing the lid tight, “you’re right.”

You smiled to yourself and walked around the bar towards him, only stopping when barely a foot stood between you. That unshakable smirk was still perfectly in place, but his eyes held a little less of that confidence. As they scanned over your face you could tell he was quickly trying to understand your next move before you made it.

You brushed your fingers against his in a feather-light touch making each of his long digits twitch in response. Like magnets, when you moved your hand a millimeter away, his followed, chasing. But it was the moment when he attempted to intertwine your fingers that damned him. He wanted more, and you knew you had him wrapped around your pinky.

A sweet sigh passed your lips as you leaned into him, chests matching from the rise and fall of inhales and exhales, body heats forming a warm haze around you both. Other than your playful fingertips, no other part of your skin connected with his, despite his clear desire to have it be otherwise.

“I am so…desperate for you,” you spoke slowly. His fiery gaze snapped to your lips as you licked them then gently nibbled on the bottom one before releasing it. “You couldn’t even begin to understand what I go through to keep myself in control.”

You dared to run an index finger up the length of his bare forearm, tracing the pulsing vein. Your heartbeat mimicked the rapid thumping under his skin.

His adam's apple bobbed harshly in his throat. “Y/N—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head. “Just listen.”

That finger moved to fiddle with one of the buttons of his shirt, then continued up the line of his neck, along the curve of his jaw, until you reached his mouth. You slowly swiped the pad of your finger over his lips. The heat of his hand echoed at your waist, not quite making it through the fabric of your blouse from him not quite touching you.

“I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel,” you continued, “but I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t think you would take me seriously.” You turned your head away in false shyness before letting the confidence overtake you. “Now though…now I know I can tell you what I want.”

You took your hand away and inched your body to his until the space that lived between you suffocated into nonexistence. Your chin lifted as his face tilted down towards yours.

“Jake, I want…” you swallowed.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

Your lips were so close to his. So close you couldn’t tell how much you would need to move to actually connect them. You could forget your plan now, kiss him if wanted to. He’d never have to know your original intentions.

“I want you to…to…” Your eyelashes fluttered.

His lips parted, ready to accept yours as you planted your hands on his chest, fingers splaying across the span of muscle. One of his palms landed on top of yours.

“…to go fuck yourself,” you said, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled back a bit.

Your laugh bounced around the empty space. You were nearly doubled over, so much in a fit of giggles that you didn’t notice the fallen expression on his face.

“That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“Oh, come on, Hangman. You’re always messing with me.”

“Yea,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “sure.”

His voice coated you in discomfort. You’d never heard that tone from him. Cockiness, arrogance, pure sex—that often spilled from his mouth like some creamy, velvety dream, despite whatever irritating words he actually spoke. But pain was what was before you now, unmistakable as it slipped through the narrow space between his downturned lips. It completely froze you through and through, and you couldn’t move to be able to stop him from walking out the front door of the bar.

-----

“And she finally joins!”

You half-heartedly chuckled at Rooster’s shouting as he raised his glass in the air, amber-colored alcohol sloshing over the rim onto Coyote’s lap, who angrily shoved his tipsy teammate in the shoulder.

Your shift at the bar felt agonizingly long, longer knowing how Jake had reacted to your teasing only hours before. You hoped he would’ve gotten over it by the time you were off and come into the bar with everyone else as always, but as you quickly scanned the area for the blond, you couldn’t deny the disappointment that sank into your gut at his absence.

“Where’s Hangman?” you asked, awkwardly shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans.

“Probably trying to glue the pieces of his heart back together.”

Your head shot to Fanboy in time to see Phoenix elbow him hard in the side and mutter some curses that had the man shrinking slightly in his seat.

“What!” You snapped.

Payback took a sip of his beer then said, “You did a real number on him, sweetheart. We don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it hit him where it hurt.”

Your jaw slackened and you felt your knees go weak. Your ass would have hit the floor had Coyote not pulled out a chair for you to plop down into. Arms overlapping on the table in front of you, you dropped your head to rest on the backs of your stacked wrists, and a groan pushed up your throat and out of your mouth.

“Hon, it’s ok,” Phoenix cooed as she rubbed back and forth across the width of your back. “Hard as it may be for him to accept, you can’t control how you feel.”

Your head rose, eyebrows scrunched in pure confusion. “I don’t get it. I mean…since…when? How long has he felt like this?”

“Well, it’s been a while,” Rooster began, “I mean, I don’t remember the exact night he got hammered and spilled his undying love for you in a drunken slur, but it certainly wasn’t yesterday.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yea. You’re lovely, kid; Smart, funny, beautiful—all that good stuff, but you’re as dense as an overbaked cake.”

Phoenix sighed. “Rooster.”

“I say it with love.”

“You really had no idea?” Coyote asked.

“No!” You let out a huff as you slouched back in your chair. “He hasn’t acted the slightest bit different from the day we met. How was I supposed to know he was serious?”

Even with that justification, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any better about what had happened between you and Jake earlier. Something about the way he looked before walking out the door only served to reassure you that, despite not knowing how he felt, you were in the wrong here. Even had he only wanted to get you into bed, did that mean your attempt at such a joke was actually humorous in any way? Did you really expect him to shrug it off without an emotional response? Or worse, did you think he would laugh along with you?

Not a single one of those questions had a realistic answer that would satisfy you and curb your guilt.

Your hand ran down your face. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Bob shrugged his shoulders. “You could talk to him,” he returned, lips around the straw sticking out from his glass soda bottle.

“There’s no way he wants to see me.”

“Of course, he does,” Rooster said, leaning forward. “I mean, he may not admit it to anyone, because, you know, pride and all. But he wants to see you every second of every day. This won’t change that.”

“That can’t be true.”

Coyote snorted and threw an arm around your shoulders. “Honey, we live with him. He says your name eighteen times a day—”

“Minimum,” Phoenix mumbled.

“—And,” Coyote continued, shooting Phoenix a look at the interruption, which she chuckled off, “Not only is he saying your name, but if you’re unlucky enough to walk by his room at night he’s moaning it, too.”

The rest of the team groaned in unison as Coyote smirked at you.

“God, that I am getting sick of,” Payback added, shaking his head.

Fanboy slammed his empty glass down on the table. “Oh, you’re getting sick of it? I’m the one who shares a wall with him!”

Rooster tilted his head side to side in consideration. “That’s fair.”

“True,” Phoenix answered.

Bob snickered. “I forgot about that.”

“Because you’re all the way down the hall, Bobby,” Fanboy snapped.

“Hey, I share his wall, too,” Coyote said, “Although I don’t really hear him anymore. I’ve learned to block it out.” He looked to you and patted your shoulder. “No offense to you of course, sweetheart. I love you as much as the rest of us—well, excluding Hangman. He’s got us all beat there."

-----

“Which door?”

“That one.” Rooster pointed at one of the gray slabs in the center of the wall on your left. “Now listen here, young lady, you tell anyone—”

“I know, I know,” you held up your hands in mock surrender. “If anyone asks, I’ve never been here before in my life. I got lost somehow. I’m drunk and I stumbled upon this base.”

“Good girl.”

You smiled at the praise and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Roose.”

“No problem, kid.”

Then he was gone. Likely back to the bar with the rest of them, as he should be. Your friends’ jobs were no joke, and they needed the break after work. The opportunity to unwind was well owed.

Stepping forward, you took a deep breath. Your fingers anxiously pulled at the hem of your t-shirt, then they curled into a fist and you rose your hand to knock. And knock. And knock again without answer.

“Jake,” you whispered through the barrier keeping you from him. But nothing.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against the door. A piece of you—a sliver, really—wondered what the hell you were doing, why you were bothering when without a doubt in your mind Jake would turn you away, if he spoke a word to you at all. But the rest of you knew exactly why you were here, waiting for any hint or whisper of a sound on the other side of that door.

Suddenly, your weight fell forward, nothing but the dry, thin air to hold you up. Or so you thought, until your body was smacking into a wall of muscle. You cursed as strong arms wrapped around your form.

“What the hell?”

“Jake!”

He stood you up straight. Rough palms cupping your cheeks forced your eyes to meet. He blinked hard a few times, shook his head a little, and blinked again. His index finger and thumb cautiously grabbed a small section of your hair and rubbed it between the pads before brushing those loose strands behind your ear.

“Ok,” he said, a bit of curiosity in his tone, “you’re really here.”

Nodding, you replied, “I’m here.”

Jake stared with suspicion. You couldn’t blame him. Had he shown up at your door an hour before what started the next day you’d have been just as confused, likely a little pissed.

“Can I come in?”

Without response or hesitation, he moved to the side, allowing you to brush against tanned, bare skin before taking in your surroundings. There wasn’t much to the room. Plain furniture, dull lighting, a few books on the nightstand. It was simply there to serve one purpose. But the pale color of the walls and the dark, laminate flooring birthed a chill that a dozen blankets couldn’t shield you from. Jake deserved more. He deserved warmth and a body in his bed to wrap his arms around, and something to call home, which, according to your friends, Jake had sworn he found in you.

You turned and faced him. “Jake, I—”

“How did you get in here?”

Your airway seized at the dryness of his tone. “Um…Rooster,” you squeezed out. A dead beat passed, but receiving no reaction, you continued. “Jake, I’m sorry.”

Large arms crossed in front of a larger chest, a slight pout forming on those lips; a petulant child in the form of the man you were so desperate to have forgive you. “I don’t care.”

“I care.”

“You’re only sorry because you think you hurt me, and your conscience can’t take it. You’re not sorry because you didn’t mean it.”

That deflated any optimism left in your body and you resisted the will of your shoulders slumping. If he truly believed you didn’t care then maybe you were fucked. Maybe you missed your opportunity to not just apologize but to have him as your own the way you knew he had wanted you.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Again, he didn’t respond. He didn’t react anywhere except in the eyes which shown in a quick flash of protest, but it was gone within the half-second, concealed by a practiced expression of military sternness. He clearly wasn’t begging you to stay, but neither was he shoving you out the door. Ok, baby steps.

“I never thought you were serious,” you said, debating whether to take a step toward him, but the fear of him backing further away from you squashed the impulse. “I thought you only wanted to sleep with me.”

“Who says that isn’t the case?”

“Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, Coyote, Phoe—”

He groaned, running his hand down his face. His other hand rested on his hip. “I’m surrounded by fucking traitors. I swear, if I wasn’t forced to work with them—”

You kissed him then, lips meeting in a soft press, because Fuck baby steps.

“Do you love me?” you asked the moment you pulled away for a breath.

His irritation dissipated and he almost looked…shy, though you could hardly believe it. His head turned as if to avoid your stare, then he swallowed hard and nodded.

“Then show me,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to his jawline. You continued those kisses slowly, gently down to his neck. “Show me, Jake.” You licked the words into his skin.

You sensed the slightest hesitation. Brief, but there. Then you sucked a little at sensitive skin and a strangled moan tumbled forth. Vice-like fingers firmly grasped your waist, twisted you in place, and pushed you onto the bed.

-----

“What do you want from this?” he asked as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Your head rested on his chest, but you rose to look at him, lifting your body with a hand pushing down on his pec. The fingers in your hair moved to your spine in a barely tamed motion, keeping your form against his as if you might be rising to leave his bed. But unless he kicked you out of it, not a chance would you untangle yourself from his sheets.

Y/E/C eyes met his green, both sets of eyebrows scrunching a bit at the center. He had no idea what you would say and you could see it plastered across his face. You hadn’t proven to be trustworthy, and clearly your actions and thoughts didn’t aid in showing how you felt, so with conviction you said, “You.”

He shook his head, brushing his hair back with his free hand. “I meant after tonight.”

“Still you, Jake.”

“How?”

“Huh?”

“In what way?”

Rapid-fire questions. Not everyone’s favorite type of interrogation, or no, not interrogation you realized, drilling. He was drilling you like a sergeant with a softer voice, but you supposed it was fair enough.

Leaning down, you kissed him, your hand resting on his cheek, his holding onto the back of your head. Jake had told you he loved you, five times by your count while he had been inside of you, perhaps more, but every thrust—sharp, deep, shallow, or soft—fuzzed your brain far too much to remember accurately. From that, you knew the truth. Despite the twisted game you played, which, for other men that might have been enough to drop all intentions of a future together, Jake still wanted you, and you were willing to give that man everything.

He chuckled deeply at the little nip you gave his bottom lip, and when you separated he pressed a long kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not going to break your heart, Jake,” you swore. “You’re mine now.”

He reached over and grabbed the back of your thigh to pull over his waist. Your body followed until you were straddling him, your breasts smushed against his chest. As he had when you first stepped into his room, Jake tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been yours, honey,” he said.

“And now I’m yours, Jake.”

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41

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episodeoftv · 5 months

Text

Prelims, Vote 8 of 8

The top 5 finales will move on to be included in the main bracket

Propaganda is under the cut, may include spoilers

Brooklyn Nine-Nine - 8.09 / 8.10 The Last Day

It just... season 8 had been so bad as a whole, it attempted to touch on the blm movement and did it in an okay at best way and in the wake of it all, i think a lot of people just weren't here for cop shows. The finale tried to bring the magic back with one last heist and it did pull out all the stops but I don't know, it just left me feeling really cold. And the ending being that even though the main character wasn't a cop anymore, that he would return to the station every year for the heist... it just never escapes the cop narrative even after he's left.

Chén Qíng Lìng/The Untamed - Episode 50

I nominate this final on grounds of CCP information control, censorship and homophobia. They were so scared of the power of wangxian that they ended up banning ao3 in china and in the show they have to inexplicably have them part ways just to hammer home the no-homo. Plus the show is just kind of objectively bad.... but it rewires your brain all the same

Community - 6.13 Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television

ok i haven’t watched it in a while but it wasn’t the episode’s fault this show had been going downhill for a while. The finale put it out of its misery mostly.

Kyle XY - 3.10 Bringing Down the House

The writers knew they were getting canceled and chose to raise more questions than answers and set up cliffhangers, rather than have a satisfying end. I'm sure it was a last ditch effort to save the show, but it didn't work and now it's just a bad finale.

Northern Exposure - 6.22 Let's Dance / 6.23 Tranquility Base

No propaganda submitted

Ozark - 4.14 A Hard Way to Go

No propaganda submitted

Soul Eater - 1.51 The Word Is Bravery!

ugh god it just gave up on any attempt at character development or the ending of the story in any meaningful way. instead of a complex universe journey exploring her bond with soul, and death the kid becoming the new god of death, maka just...wins the day by 'being brave', extremely underwhelming and borderline nonsensical

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - 7.25 / 7.26 What You Leave Behind

Man so okay like it’s not the worst worst one out there but man they really just fuckikg did that. Found family all went and spread themselves across the quadrant with the head of the show the leader, Captain Benjamin Sisko who really just wanted to live on Bajor, got turned into an incorporeal being who could no longer live a linear life while his wife and unborn child had to go on without him. They didn’t even have him saying goodbye to his actual son. His literal son did not get a goodbye, they only gave that to Kasidy, and no hate to Kasidy, she’s my girl, but she’s only been there for three year while his actual son Jake sisko was still basically a kid. He was like 19, 20 and no goodbye fork his dad he’s lost time and time again. Some characters got a satisfying ending but then Julian Bashir is left to stay on deep space nine supposedly still in love with Ezri Dax and together (but let’s be honest, it was a terrible forced decision. They made no sense, and had no chemistry) and still stuck without moving forward or changing. Like what a cop out. Not to mention the terrible cgi fire caves where literally gods got thrown into a fire pit and that was the big climax

#prelim #wfprelim #wfpoll #poll #polls #brooklyn nine nine #the untamed #chen qing ling #community #kyle xy #northern exposure #ozark #soul eater #star trek #star trek deep space nine #ok glad people are saying the untamed was good bc I only watched like ten minutes of it so idk but I really did think you guys liked it.#good to see I’m not fully in a bubble.

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succulent-ghoul · 9 months

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Swiss ghoul X Aether ghoul x rain ghoul x ghoul reader

Hurt comfort, cause writing hurt comfort fixes my hurt. No beta I'm out of my mind exhausted and sad.

It's been a long day, a long terrible day that feels like it's never gonna end. One moment your feeling better but a new wave of misery over something else hits and the water works start up again. It's been like this all day, sobbing in your room in the ghouls den unable to truly soothe the grief your mind is forcing you through.

You've thought about seeking help from the other ghouls but the idea sent another whirling pile of misery over you. Fortunately your distress was well broadcasted through out the den, and Swiss, Aether, and Rain were determined to help. The first of the three to slowly creep through your door was rain, his gentle demeanor immediately setting you at some partial ease.

Rain sits down on your bed it slowly dipping to accommodate him. His hands travel to your hair and slowly brush unruly strands out of your face, revealing watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. Softly rain speaks, "do you want to be alone right now, love?" Gently cupping your cheek as you shake your head and croak out a quiet "no.". Rain smiles gently at your response and kisses your forehead before quickly telling you "I'll be right back, dear." And with that he peaks out from your room to signal to Swiss and Aether that they can come in.

Aether and swiss rush into your room and clamber on to your bed to comfort you and dry your tears. Swiss gently pulls you into a warm hug, while aether is sitting up and playing with your hair, as rain gently picks up a book you were quite vocally fond of and started reading it to you. All the attention was at first overwhelming but soon you aren't thinking much, desiring more to shove your face into the crook of swiss's neck as Rain's voice fills your head.

Aether gently covers you with your blanket before you roll around to face him. His smile is warm and safe as he looks down at you and you can't help but feel so flustered by his unabashed care. Softly aether cups your cheek and leans down to give you a soft peck on the forehead, before softly murmuring gentle 'i love you's. Before you know it the four of you are all cuddled up in your bed your misery long subsided and replaced with the warmth of everyone else's care.

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hellishrp · 24 days

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prev part. ( this is part 3 )

— A tainted laugh broadcasted from all corners of the room like a siren warning. Alastor's eyes glowing in blood - crimson which immediately alerted the actors like the call for an execution. The players took heavy - but - rushed steps back behind. The killer's anatomy faded in black and appeared closer to the media - operating demon and the crew.

" Hiding now, aɍɇ wɇ?? I thought you were going to stand up for føɍ ɏøᵾ anđ ɏøᵾɍ łɨŧŧłɇ fɍɨɇnđs. Backing out wħɇn ŧħɇ fɨnał waɍnɨnǥ wȺs ałɍɇađɏ đᵾɇ? "

— Lucifer snatched the humans out off the area in an immediate response, all their eyes hazed in a bright neon glow of hypnosis. The following noise of the door slamming with clang only registered as white noise for the radio demon. The air crackled with burdening tension as his eyes ticked blood - thirsty, a sneer twisting his lips into a malevolent grin.

" It looks like you're finally aware of your wɍɇŧȼħɇđ ɇxɨsŧɇnȼɇ, Vox! Hopefully this time, I won't have to remind you ɇvɇɍ aǥain łɨꝁɇ Ɨ ħavɇ ŧħɇ ᵽasŧ 7 ɏɇaɍs. But knowing your penchant for desperate self - destruction, I highly doubt it ĦȺĦȺĦȺĦȺ! I'm not responsible for your perpetual state of misery. That burden lies squarely on your frail shoulders. So go ahead, blame me all you want! It only serves as further proof of your ᵽaŧħɇŧɨȼ nɇɇđ for validation, does it not? Because while you wallow in self - pity, I'll be busy living my life, not ǥɨvɨnǥ a đamn. "

— Obsidian limbs swung with ferocity, a shockwave of neon green hanging from it. Though what he had attacked was not his opponent, but a electrical box that had been fixed behind a set of props. Sparks flew as the shadows returned to the attacker's side. By this point, Alastor's anatomy had been stretched in warp. His antlers branching into edges that could stab, and a red marked his forehead.

" Let this be a proper goodbye . Au revoir, Vox! Until your next inevitable life đøwn ɨn Ħɇłł, where you belong. "

— Alastor fixed his stance and the tentacles once again darted itself in brisk motion, but this time, towards the individual in front.

@hhactorauofficial @voxasks and so it begins.

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anaalnathrakhs · 1 year

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For posterity, Tumblr’s April Fools 2023

- You can add little emoji reactions to posts!

[ID: Screenshot of the bottom of a tumblr post, to show the interactive button present. At the start of the row for the “sharing”, “reply”, “reblog”, and “like” buttons, there is a new button shaped like a simple smiley face in the monochrome tumblr style. End ID]

Complete overview with screenshots under the cut! Everything saved except moving visuals and audio elements (they’re described though!)

- There’s 7 base reactions: bug, cheese, crab, four (this one’s noisy), ghost, horse (this one’s noisy), and socks

[ID: Screenshot of the bottom of a tumblr post. The smiley face is clicked on and a small menu showing the described emojis is attached under it. End ID.]

(Hovering over them causes a small black speech bubble to appear above them, saying the words transcripted above, in lowercase. The parenthesis for horse and four are included in their respective bubbles.)

- You can add them to the post in whichever order you’d like (reblogs seem to reorganize them though, in another order than the one shown above), and they’ll appear without any number on them. Once you’ve clicked on them once, they’ll count two clicks.

[ID: Screenshot of a tumblr post by yours truly saying “test”. It shows under the row of notes and “reblog”, “like”, etc buttons a row of the described emojis in simple oval delimitations. They’re in a different order than the one used for the menu. The bubble for the bug emoji includes the number 64 and the bubble for the crab includes the number 2. End ID.]

- Clicking on a reaction multiple times in a row makes a black circle appear above it with the number of clicks written on it. The number progresses as you click more as long as there's not significant interruption and the bubble grows with each click. I can only assume it has a maximum size and it unlocks something, but i've gone up to roughly 1700 in one go and i don't want to figure out autoclickers so somebody else is gonna have to find that out.

[ID: Screenshot of a post saying “test”. Some emojis reaction are shown under it, and a black circle with the number 62 in it, large enough to reach the top of the usual buttons row, is shown above the bug emoji. End ID.]

- It also activates the effects of each reaction.

- Bug does nothing but backflips, and stops at 70 458, the amount of votes it got in the original bug race poll

- Crab dances side to side and stops at 1000

- 4 makes speech bubbles written 4 appear. Various voices saying the word four in different languages play after about a dozen clicks, all of them very whispery, except one, saying four in a very casual tone. It stops at 444

[ID: Another test post showing the emoji 4 with the number 367 in its button. Blue speech bubbles with the number 4 written in it are shown clustered all over the post interface, blocking it from view. End ID.]

- Ghost makes post go progressively transparent and stops at 666

[ID: Screenshot of a post by yours truly saying “emoji reactions” with several interrogation points, showing multiple emoji reactions at the bottom, including the ghost one with the number 272 next to it. The whole post, including the user’s icon, is lower opacity than other screenshots and looks greyed out in comparison. End ID.]

- Cheese makes melted cheese appear on the top and bottom of your post and stops at 100 000

[ID: The same post, showing multiple emoji reactions, including the cheese one with the number 132 next to it. On the top and bottom edge of the post, varying drawings of melting yellow cheese are clustered, probably around 130 though they overlap too much to count. End ID.]

- Horse makes the horsie go (circular motion as a running horse would move) and plays galloping sounds. It stops at 500

- Sock makes green stink lines appear on your post and rise up until they fade away, stops at 1000

[ID: The same post, showing reactions including the sock emoji one. Squiggly green vertical lines in various opacities are shown over the post’s interface and text. End ID.]

- Maxing out a reaction or using it a certain number of times makes bonus reactions appear. Here’s all of them in one picture, all of them maxed out (at least the humanly possible ones)

[ID: A screenshot of the used reactions interface that shows up under a post. The crab emoji shows the number 1000. The ghost emoji shows 666. The cheese emoji shows 1228. The 4 emoji shows 444. The socks emoji shows 1000. Horse shows 500. Bug shows 3334. The next emoji is a picture of a bottle of vanilla extract, and shows 999. The next emoji is a drawing that ressembles a Pikachu with somewhat human proportions and glasses, it shows 19. The next emoji is a unicorn emoji showing 7. The next emoji shows the moon in its “new” phase, darked out, with the number 223. The next emoji is a cookie, showing 999. The next emoji is a drawing of a bust wearing a business suit and having a brick for a head. It shows no number. In two similar bubbles after that, the usual “share” button and the universal “no” red sign are shown. End ID.]

- Moon appears when you max out 4 and stops at 223

- Vanilla appears when clicking a lot on the crab (over 100 times?) and stops at 999

- Pikaman appears for some mysterious reason idk, jump and loops when you hover over it, stops at 19. After further investigation, it seems to either have multiple different but very convoluted ways to summon it, or to simply be on a randomizer. I still don’t have autoclick, sue me. After further explaining from the brick himself, Pikaman allgedly appears after a certain number of bug reactions. Either this number is inconsistent or another randomized action/combination of factors is needed to activate Pikaman.

- Unicorn appears when you max out the horse reaction, jumps and loops like pikaman, and stops at 7

- Cookie appears when you click a lot (over 100?) on the vanilla and stops at 999

- Brick appears either when everything is maxed out and both bug and cheese have hit 1000 or when you combo 1000 clicks in a row (on bug or cheese likely but might be achievable on crab or sock), is unclickable

- When you hit the maximum of a reaction on a streak, a message signed by Brick appears to tell you you can't go further

[ID: A screenshot of several popup messages on tumblr. All of them say “REACTION OVERLOAD! Unfortunately, you’re hit the max of reactions you can give. Loving the enthusiasm, though! - Brick”. End ID.]

- I have somehow gotten an error message signed by Brick. No idea how to replicate it. Editing after further testing, it seems to appear when the movement of the emoji makes clicking it impossible (the no symbol being visible) despite the maximum number not being reached.

[ID: An error popup message from tumblr, saying “Oh no. This is not working! But hey, I’m working on it! -Brick”. End ID.]

- The share button gives you a reblogging page with a generated image representing the reactions used on it and their corresponding numbers over a rainbow gradient background, as well as a little flavor text tagging @brickwhartley and two automatic tags. You’re free to modify this reblog though, and you can back out of the page.

[ID: A screenshot of a reblog by myself. Text reads: “REACT COLLECTION” in bigger letters, as a title. Next paragraph reads: “What a gorgeous flock of reactions I saw on this post! I simply have to share it with the world:”. Under it is a picture of several emojis from the available reactions of various sizes in random places of the image, floating next to numbers over a rainbow gradient background. Text under the image reads: “I am please. Thank you @brickwhartley!”. Under it, two tags are show, “#post reactions” and “#birck’s latest great idea”. End ID.]

- The no symbol only appears on your own posts and allows you to disable reactions. It will appear next to the usual “share” “reply” “reblog” “like” icons and you can click on it to reverse it.

TL;DR this was made up by manufacturers to sell more computer mouses. Hope you don’t have completionist tendencies. My hand hurts.

#post reactions #brick's latest great idea #april fools #tumblr's april fools 2023 #april fools 2023 #i don't know why but this thing triggered both the need to 100% it #and the archivist panic to make sure i recorded everything and nobody will miss out any information #10/10 experience i had a stressful morning and i needed to count some stuff to feel better #broadcasting my misery #sorry the image ID was a little late i thought i'd try editing it in with the new interface to make it less clunky #since the legacy editor isn't great at effects #but it doesn't work on my post so fuck it it's gonna be clunky #also put back an image i forgot

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1000sunnygo · 3 months

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(1.6.2024) Mugiwara space vol. 17 feat. Kazuya Nakai and Kamiya Hiroshi highlights! I don't promise accuracy

Source (give it a listen if you have time! it has teasers to the new opening and ending)

Kazuya Nakai - Zoro || Kamiya Hiroshi - Law

-It's Kamiya's second time in Twitter Space, previously he was with Mayumi Tanaka (Luffy). He says that last time he babbled a lot thanks to Mayumi san's presence, even though he forgot most of it by now (hmm how convenient that you forgot this, kamiya san 🤨)

-Anytime One Piece (the 24/7 YouTube broadcast of the episodes) has 150M views and already in its 4th lap having completed broadcasting all episodes 3 times.

-The entire Space focused on the two voice actors reading out a heap of letters from the animation staffs about the Zoro vs King and Kid-Law vs Big Mom episodes.

-Kamiya jokes about being slightly younger than Nakai and calling him "Nakai-kun" instead of "Nakai san". Funny that Kamiya's career as a voice actor is actually longer than Nakai's.

-The Zoro vs King finale had 20000 frames in the episode which set a record. The movements were a lot more fluid and film-level. After all, often it's considered overwork if it crosses 5000 frames in a TV episode.

- The animators themselves tried out new things. It seems in one of the shots, Wado ichimonji's direction was reversed from the manga's direction as a realistic correction. Cue jokes about Zoro (and King's) long (long) attack names. Also, anticipation for legendary Mihawk vs Zoro to match the quality.

- Cutting to Kid-Law vs BM, Kamiya commented that it was scary that the fluidity of movements was so good that it made him wonder if that level of effort was necessary at all (he said it's like a Disney movie).

(in case you didn't know, this scene was indeed animated by an animator who worked in Disney.)

- Kamiya says it was both fortunate and unfortunate that Mami Koyama (Big Mom) wasn't there with them in the booth (she recorded her part separately). Both Kamiya and Nakai agreed that they'd give up immediately if they were to confront against Mami Koyama somehow.

- Kamiya also noted that Big Mom used "ore" to call herself in the final scene ("I am Big Mom") - exerting dominance 💪 her falling scene was intentionally animated beautifully.

- 1066 was animated by people all over the world, so the time adjustments and language barrier was a challenge. Episode director Henry thurlow balanced it well. In his letter, Henry credited the animation director for adjusting a variety of art styles from all participating animators. It was his first time directing a One piece episode, in fact it's the first time a foreigner has directed an anime episode. He thinks the episode was successful.

- Kamiya was calling Kidd "the extra budget man" for having his complicated-to-animate attacks costing extra budget 💸

-In the final scene vs Misery, Kamiya was asked to ad-lib breathing sound for Law. Kamiya immediately said "sure, got it". Regarding this, Kamiya said he loves doing ad-libs, it adds a little more life to the characters.

- Finally, announcement for the upcoming Egghead arc debut in anime (Nakai was exhausted of reading letters so Kamiya took over to read director Nagamine's final letter lol)

- The Egghead arc would appear in a new artstyle. Unlike the serious WCI and Wano, there's a more relaxed, "fun adventure" vibe for the future adventure island. And the animators are finally free from the torture of drawing Kaido's scales (and the kimono design patterns) so they're in a relaxed mood having escaped wano 🌞 and entering "the cool future where zoro has long legs and wears dove shoes" 👢✨

-(letter cont.) "..Also, about a certain change in Law! What will happen to his voice? It's an interesting future!"

Kamiya: Well, I just finished recording that. My voice is still cracking 😎 *nonchalantly continues reading*

Nakai: is it okay to spoil like that??

(fr Kamiya would not share Law's role with ANYONE even if he turns into a woman huh)

And that's it for the highlight!

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harrisonarchive · 1 year

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The Beatles, London, April 9, 1969; photo by Bruce McBroom.

“Well, I suppose officially it was about ‘69, but we were splitting up for years before that, since we left touring really. […] Being together for so long, one of the problems became that we pigeon-holed each other, we had preconceived ideas what each other wants and we limited each other too much. And it had to happen.” - George Harrison, BBC Radio, February 1977

“Well, it was mainly the sadness because we’d been so close for so long, I mean, as Mick Jagger said at the Hall of Fame, ‘the four-headed monster.’ We never went anywhere without each other. We shared all the miseries and the isolation of being in limos and hotels and planes and concert halls, which is all we ever saw really. And that was the saddest thing, it was actually getting fed up with each other.” - George Harrison, Off The Record, February 12, 1988

“For years after The Beatles I didn’t want to talk about it. It was all too close, the pain and the suffering, ‘cos that was what was in my mind at the time. Then after the years away from it, I thought ‘no — we had fun, and had a good little band, and had more laughs than misery.’ It’s just that the misery got broadcast more than the fun.” - George Harrison, The Guardian, November 5, 1988

“There’s some little magic chemistry that happened between us, and somehow it got in the grooves of those records. And not every song we ever did was brilliant but there’s a lot of them that are just timeless, they’re great songs, and they just happen to have in the grooves that chemistry that I think seems to appeal to each generation as it comes up.” - George Harrison, Off The Record, February 12, 1988

“I’d like to think that the old Beatle fans have grown up and they’ve got married and they’ve all got kids and they’re all more responsible, but they still have a space in their hearts for us.” - The Beatles Anthology (2000) (x)

#George Harrison #Ringo Starr #Paul McCartney #John Lennon #quote #quotes by George #The Beatles #George and Paul #George and John #george and ringo #1960s #1970s #1980s #1990s #George and fame #fits queue like a glove

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celira · 6 months

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day 31(!!!!!!!!!!)

Camilla stares at the wall. She’s probably memorized its contours at this point, if she’s actually been looking at it all the times she’s been looking at it, but it’s just as likely that she’s been seeing through it. Pyrrha hasn’t clocked the difference between her one, five, and thousand-yard stares yet.

Pyrrha eyes it briefly, herself. Standard-issue shitty drywall. The splotch at the top right looks like a shuttle, kind of, and looks like water damage, definitely, and either way, this is a waste of time.

“Hect.”

Camilla doesn't flinch, exactly, but she gives the barest impression of a start, and the cold-earth eyes slant toward her.

"Take it easy. It can't hurt you."

The joke lands about as well as she'd expected and worse than she'd hoped, but it had been worth a shot. Camilla looks unimpressed – still, that's an improvement over the leashed misery broadcasting from behind an almost convincing layer of holding it together.

Almost. It's hard to convince someone who's had thousands of years to perfect what this kid has been working on for months at best. Pyrrha can't even bother pretending she doesn't feel an affinity for the untethered cavalier who she's been unlikely roommates with for a week.

She decides to deploy her second favorite tactic, which is to recommend that people do as she says and not as she does. "You're going to snap if you keep whatever you're chewing on bottled in, you know. It's not going to leave you better off – it just means you'll have less control of when and how it comes out."

Camilla says nothing for a long moment, and just when Pyrrha starts to wonder how stubbornly the younger woman can wait her out, she says, “I thought that I was getting better.”

Pyrrha doesn't ask what she's getting better about. She's seen the roughspun canvas pouch, has enough necromantic familiarity kicking around – doesn't even strictly need necromantic familiarity – to know that some kind of unfinished business around her and her necro is looming over her. She knows that feeling all too well, too.

"Well," Pyrrha says, "it can take more time. What do you need to get better for? Is it a problem I've got intel on?"

Camilla's eyes fix on her more firmly, and she gives her a measuring glance in the truest sense. Pyrrha can all but feel it, smothers her surprise at its intensity; if this is what it feels like to have Camilla Hect's full attention, after all, that means she hasn't truly had it before this moment, and she wonders again what kind of necro she had, to warrant such laser focus.

Apparently she's found adequate, and Camilla squares her shoulders with the affect of a person making a decision, and upends Pyrrha's day with her next question. "What can you tell me," she says, "about the River?"

What in-fucking-deed. Pyrrha has a familiar feeling – the swoop of adrenaline that feels like her stomach sinking and her spirits lifting at the same time; the tone of voice with which some people say interesting, when it sure isn't healthy but it'll sure be a trip.

"Well. What are you trying to do?"

"Bring back someone who kept himself from going in."

Pyrrha thinks cold eyes, thinks landmines, and squares her own shoulders. Sooner or later, there's going to be an impact.

For now, she dives.

(a/n: holy shit! this is my first time participating in and completing a month-long fanworks prompt exercise. thanks to those of you who have read along for any part of it! now, onto endless editing November...)

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #lyric #“I thought that I was getting better.”#quote #“Take it easy.”#the locked tomb #fanfic #fanfiction #tlt fanfic #tlt fanfiction #the locked tomb fanfiction #lira does a thing #camilla hect #pyrrha dve #nona the ninth #i am sad and so is camilla hect #palamedes haunts the narrative

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anditwentlikethis · 6 months

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if I was a f1 driver, crashed into the wall during the formation lap and then had someone put a camera on my face to broadcast my misery on live tv to the world I would just start hysterically crying and screaming and throwing up tbh

#brazil gp 2023 #charles leclerc

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mbti-notes · 18 hours

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Anon wrote: Hi, I'm a troubled INFJ asking on how to find an answer for a dilemma I'm having w my family members. I don't truly hate, but I lack affection for my father and sister; caring for them doesn't bring me comfort.

I grew up in a poor family. From a young age, I witnessed my father indulging in gambling and abusing my mother. Our conversations at home were often filled with yelling and swearing. My mother, despite her kindness and sacrifice, couldn't restrain my father's behavior (I believe my mom is ISFJ). We endured many nights of fear and tears as my father gambled away our livelihood. My father never cared about our education or well-being; his selfish pursuits always came first. He never provided for us financially, spending all his earnings on gambling and accumulating debt.

My sister dropped out of school early and never held a stable job. She is stubborn and refuses to listen to advice. Despite my mother's efforts to support her, my sister remains dependent and directionless. As for me, I finally completed university and secured a stable job despite tons of obstacles that could have made me give up halfway. I contribute financially to support my family, paying off debts and even purchasing land and building a house for my sister. However, the lack of love and warmth in my family has left me feeling lonely and disconnected.

I fear marrying someone like my father and becoming trapped in a cycle of misery. At home, I fulfill my responsibilities but keep my distance emotionally. I provide for my family's needs, but I find myself only caring for my mother, not my father or sister. I wonder if I'm selfish or afraid of responsibility for feeling this way. How do I find an answer to this question myself?

---------------------

Growing up in a poor family isn't the issue. The real issue is that you grew up in an abusive environment and thus haven't learned what healthy relationships should look like.

What exactly do you mean when you use the word "responsibility"? Okay, common sense dictates that you are responsible for yourself and the choices you make. But are you responsible for your father or sister and the choices they have made? Do you have a responsibility to fix their mistakes and compensate for their bad behavior? Are you solely responsible for keeping the family together when half of the members don't care?

Yes, it's important to be a responsible person if you want to feel like you have good moral character. However, taking on more responsibility than is reasonable for a single person to shoulder is a serious problem in several ways:

1) It is damaging to your well-being. Responsibility comes with stress, and stress has a deleterious effect on both physical and mental health. Taking on the responsibilities of others compounds stress dramatically. Your capacity to handle stress is finite, which means that you will eventually feel burn-out or experience a mental breakdown or lash out destructively (Se grip).

2) It makes you ripe for mistreatment. Lack of healthy boundaries is a common symptom of Fe overindulgence in INFJs, i.e., it is a problem that needs to be remedied as part of your type development. Taking responsibility for someone else's decisions means that their problems become your problems. If you allow this to happen again and again, you are broadcasting to the world that you are an easy target for manipulation and exploitation. All they have to do is activate your guilt and you'll take care of whatever they throw at you. You'll become a doormat at best and a victim at worst.

3) It rewards other people's bad behavior. Facing up to negative consequences is essential for human learning and improvement. When you take responsibility that should rightfully belong to someone else, you are essentially shielding them from the consequences of their behavior. When there is always someone else to clean up messes for them, what incentive do they have to clean it up themselves? If anything, they are incentivized to make even bigger messes. This makes you complicit in their bad behavior because you are enabling it. When you or your mother are excessively "supportive", you might actually be making this unhealthy family dynamic worse.

Your question implies that you have a duty to always be caring and loving to everyone in your family no matter what. Why do you hold this belief? Do you come from a culture that tells you family is everything and going against them is always a betrayal? There's nothing I can say to help if this is truly what you want to believe.

A healthy family should have a sense of equality and equity. Every member of the family should contribute a fair share. Every member of the family should care enough to only take what is needed (as opposed to take advantage of kindness). Every member of the family should get enough love and support.

When one member of the family behaves in a way that is harmful to the other members, they no longer deserve the privileges of membership. Social "responsibility" shouldn't be one-sided. A relationship is like a social contract where both parties agree to terms and conditions that aim to keep the relationship healthy and thriving. When one party intentionally breaks the contract over and over again, you no longer owe them the duty of carrying out your portion of the contract. Is it reasonable to force yourself to like/love someone who has repeatedly shown that they don't like/love you? Wouldn't this amount to torturing yourself?

Perhaps you think it makes you a bad person for turning on family. Nobody is saying that you have to do bad things to your father and sister or treat them cruelly. The point being made here is that you have a right to be treated with respect and you deserve care as well. And when people don't treat you with respect and care, you have a right to protect yourself from their harmful behavior by pulling away from them physically and emotionally. In other words, you have a right to your personal space, you have a right to set rules of social engagement, and you have a right to end any interaction/relationship that hurts you. Having healthy boundaries means being assertive in advocating for your own needs and well-being.

If you don't learn to set healthy boundaries in your family, this problem is very likely to carry over into your friendships and romantic relationships. Do you want this feeling of loneliness to come up again and again? If not, what you need to do is learn to seek love from the right sources. Family or not, do not hope or beg for a person to reciprocate your love when they have shown you that they are not capable of love. This is part of what it means to have self-respect.

#infj #infj relationships #auxiliary fe #self respect #boundaries #assertiveness #responsibility #ask

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