#it is a mild to moderate struggle to make it day to day and i just. wanted to represent this somehow

[darubyprincx]

to be, or not to be (romanticization of the inevitable)

#ray's tag #keys' art #undescribed #skeletons #ok to reblog #the skeleton model that i traced for this was provided by the incredible kiku @kikunai whom you can find right here on tumblr! #so uh. This is a piece about chronic fatigue although the original idea i had for it drifted a bit as soon as I started coloring the linear #(i really enjoy shading and lighting things and got a bit carried away here but i stand by my choice because this is my favorite thing #that i've ever drawn) #anyways. i often feel especially lately with school being back in season that my bones are leaden with this sort of. weariness. theyre heav #it weighs on our mental health and energy a lot and although there's a couple of reasons we have been given for it #that doesn't remove the fact that this is still a thing that affects us in a very real way day to day although we are good at masking it. #often i come home to find that i do not have the physical mental or creative energy to work on things i really want to #especially project: nexus which i feel extra bad about even though i can't help it because i just started it so recently #it is a mild to moderate struggle to make it day to day and i just. wanted to represent this somehow #my original concept for this was a skeleton with some black goop gunk whatever leaking from its joints #but as i started adding the cracks and coloring them gold (a personal touch; kintsugi is a concept that is very dear to us) #i realized that the focus here was less on the condition itself and more on the body that it afflicts. #so i put it into a spotlight. #ironic i know since very little people acknowledge this irl or even know it exists at all but i added rim lighting. I added color gradients #I colored the lineart and made it all fancy and even added a flare for the head to get the point across that even at its core; disability i #a performance. this is not implying that disabilities are fake in fact this is the opposite of that. i wanted to show that with disabilitie #especially i think in my personal opinion the invisible ones #we are all masking at least a little bit during the vast majority of the day. humans are social creatures and it is only when we are alone #or with someone we deeply trust where we allow ourselves to be who we truly are without fear and even then that can be rare #so i wanted to show this bit of the soul in as broad a limelight as i could. idk this is a really abstract piece and i dont know if anyone #will even get it but it matters to me at least. and even though we've been largely bedridden for the past week i think that's okay #we will get it figured out. all of us. okay? okay. i love you. i fucking love you. we are going to fucking make it #(also the xes over the eyes are because i thought they looked cool they have no deeper meaning at least i think they dont #actually i think they do but i cant put it into words idk. Art is subjective assign your own meaning i'm gonna go get a shower)

[genshxn]

dan heng being bad at feelings, the sequel.

started writing this pre-1.3, so i am once again emphasizing that i am making shit up. (well, 1.3 dropped while still working on this and the TB mission was rather lacklustre, so i'm gonna half ignore it).

sorry for any typos/mistakes/whatever, most of this was written at dubious hours of the night.

contains. mild-moderate canon divergence, dubious jing yuan shenanigans, dh being somewhat down bad. i dropped a bit too much spice in, so it is no longer “mild”. take that as you will.

7.5K words. THIS IS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING.

here's the first part in case you haven't read it. you're still not the trailblazer.

tags: @akhiran @cypunk-0 @fiona782 @seelelovesbronya @bleakqblake @xiaos-poems

this place is not a place of honour. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here…nothing valued is here. Below 15, DNI. Go away.

the next day, you awoke to a feeling of emptiness at your side. any part of the bed that your limbs weren’t splayed upon was long cold with dan heng’s absence. you were alone, still left in the nest of sheets and pillows he arranged himself. it couldn’t have all been some kind of fever-dream, could it? 

no, any such possibility was dashed when you looked at the messages on your phone. one unread, left two hours ago. 

with the ellipsis and all. oh, the self-inflicted misery. (does he really consider every single person his enemy?) you sighed, swinging your feet off the side of the bed to get up. if you knew him well enough, then you already knew the next little while was going to be tricky, to say the least. it was obvious what his plan was from the beginning, with him abandoning your side at the sun’s first rays: avoidance. 

and avoid you, he did. in the denouement after phantylia’s attack, he still had to be around you, but the stiltedness he carried with him was palpable. he made a point to stand as socially acceptably far from you. it was almost like he was acting like a ghost solely to you. elusive, non-communicative, only seen out of the corner of your eye. perhaps leaving you with the lingering feeling of being watched, and ultimately gone before you could even call his name. in fact, he quite literally ghosted you. he wouldn’t even respond to your messages.

once the day after the final events rolled around, you thought that maybe he would have had enough time to finally be able to face you again, but no. apparently he elected to confine himself to the archives the moment he returned aboard the express. however, this didn’t deter you from going knocking on his door. 

"dan heng?" you tapped on the sealed door. your ear was right up against the frame, listening intently. 

whatever shuffling was coming from within fell still at your voice. 

"dan heng, i know you’re in there. i just heard you stop moving." 

there was more silence, then followed by a sigh. "did pom-pom not relay my one request?" 

"no, they did. told me that i’m not allowed near the archives."

"yet you’re still here…" his voice was strained, and distant from the door. he must have been sitting either at his desk or on his thin, messy futon. beyond that, it was hard to imagine what he was doing in there, or even what he looked like. it was surprising. you thought he struggled to control his form, but it seemed no problem when he wasn’t with you. so was he the regular old dan heng sitting in there? or the vidyadhara that laid next to you that night? 

"you really think i’m gonna listen? i never do." you squared yourself further towards the door. "now, c’mon. we’re already talking, so can’t you just—" 

"n-no, i can’t," he cut you off. "i… i’m sorry, but not here, and not like this." 

"can you at least tell me why you say you can’t be around m—?" almost as if on cue, in came an angry pom-pom inbound like a squishy freight train. 

"hey! what did pom-pom just say?!" they cried. "can’t you follow one simple rule for the time being?"

as pom-pom ushered you away from the archives with weak thumps to the back of your legs, you grunted to yourself. you were tempted to chuck them in the opposite direction, but alas, such a thing was not in the cards for you. after all, it would be wise to not tempt fate with the conductor. things seemed like they were going to be more difficult than you anticipated.

░░░░░░░

early the next morning, long before either march or stelle would rise, you shuffled your way into the parlor car in search of food. if it was going to be anything like yesterday, you were anticipating being the only one in the parlor car. however, to your surprise, there was another person present when you silently closed the door behind you—dan heng. he was in his regular appearance of shorter, fluffy hair and his regular attire. you sighed as quietly as you could, staring at the back of his head that leant on his wrist, propped up on the table. seeing him staring dejectedly at the food was a sorry sight.

the unspoken tradition you had with him was that when the whole express wasn’t eating together, it’d always be you two sharing your meals together. it began when you first joined the express—after dan heng himself, but before march. left adrift as a vagrant amidst the stars, you were all too familiar with the feeling of loneliness. it was always at its worst when you managed to gather together enough scraps to resemble the meals you used to eat in your old home. to you, when possible, meals were something that should be shared in the company of others. so when you first saw dan heng sat alone on your first proper morning aboard, you saw part of yourself in him. a part that you wanted gone, now that you had a new home. so you sat yourself down next to him, your own food in hand. you were met with some minor (albeit polite) resistance, but you being the stubborn ass you were, would not have it. you knew your persistence was risky, but it paid off. not long after that, he would wait until you were sitting with him. 

so to see that sight left you saddened, but also vehemently annoyed. normalcy was out the window thanks to this baffling, self-imposed restriction he had against you. as quietly as you could, you stalked up behind him. moving as lightly as possible felt like it was the only way possible to get closer to him. it wasn’t like he developed a sudden allergy to your presence or something, was it?

you were successful in thwarting his pre-occupied senses as you reached the velvet couch. but maybe you were too successful, because he almost leapt out of his skin when you planted yourself down next to him. you leaned against the table and spoke. "how about us talking if it’s over breakfast?"

he did manage to calm down, but not by a lot, and not enough to give you a reply. his expression was still frazzled as he struggled to keep himself in place. 

"can you please tell me if i’ve done something wrong? i don’t understand why we’re suddenly like strangers again," you said, reaching out to put your hand atop his one that was clenched at his side. but he snatched it away before you could feel the warmth of it.

"it’s my fault. you’ve done nothing," he said. "but please, i need some time before i can talk to you properly."

he turned to get up and leave, but you caught him by the sleeve. "w-wait, by why?" you trailed off, voiced far weaker than intended.

the look he gave you was weird. it was a jumble of confused emotions, but the most you could make out was nervousness. you had no idea what that light flush could have meant for you. his mouth parted to make some sort of reply, and you could have sworn you the glimpse of sharpened canines. "since when have you had fangs in this appearance?" you blurted out after doing a double take.

his eyes flared wide open and a hand flew over his mouth. "s-since never." with that, he slipped from your grasp. "please excuse me."

you watched incredulously as he walked out of the parlour car and back towards the archives as if he had wooden knees. you had no idea what just happened. rejection, you supposed. but considering how he was that night, it made no sense. nothing about this made any sense. 

whatever it was, it was slowly eroding your patience, leaving you biting the inside of your lips in irritation. it’s true you were doing some type of avoidance when his alternate form was finally revealed, but it was nothing of this calibre. it was almost impossible for it to be the case with dan heng, but if this really was some kind of petty revenge, he may as well have whipped out a steel chair after you knocked shoulders with him.

░░░░░░░

your shameful failure of an interaction left you in need of recuperation. you hadn’t felt that irked and downright baffled since one of herta’s curios fell on your head. so now, you were blathering a ranting tirade at stelle and march over some snacks, all in the parlour car. "i swear to whatever aeon’s listening, he’s turned emo or something." you folded your arms across your chest, sinking down in your plush chair. 

"like he wasn’t before?" stelle mumbled, not looking up from whatever gacha game she was playing on her phone. 

"eh, not really. he does have his moments, though." march shrugged, grabbing a single chip. "but yeah, i’ve never seen anything like this. it’s so weird, he almost never avoids you like this!"

"hence why i’m so confused."

"things seemed to get pretty tense between the two of you after he had his magical girl transformation," stelle added while shovelling a handful of chips into her mouth, still not looking up. "then maybe… the day after phantylia, he got even weirder."

"yeah, like, he won’t go near you for some reason, but he keeps staring at you so longingly and sighing like you’re the last cookie in the jar and he’s been told he can’t have any more!" march said with the melodramatic flourish of a swoon.

"that one sounds like it’s based on real experiences." stelle cast her a sideways glance, to which march let out a sniff and wiped away a dry tear.

"just how much has he been doing that?" you muttered, unable to comprehend. 

"a fair amount from what i’ve seen. he’s looked like a kicked puppy every single time," march said. "well, as much as dan heng can look like a kicked puppy." 

"not that he’s particularly talkative, but i’ve tried asking him about it. was only met with howling winds of jarilo-vi’s everwinter storm." stelle placed her phone down on the table and sat back with her arms crossed. "but now, he’s just being straight up weird. (y/n), what’d you do to him?"

"yeah, i mean, he won’t even eat in the mornings if you’re there!" march cried. 

your nails dug into your knees as you looked at your lap. you could feel a heat creeping onto your face as you recalled him so close to you. his words still rung in your head. if they were true, then what the fuck was he doing now? "i—i don’t really want to say, since it’s between him and i," you said. "but some pretty… significant things happened, i guess."

march suddenly drew in a comically loud gasp. "DID HE FINALLY CONFE—" she began, but you clapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish. 

"must’ve," stelle said, leaning forward with her hands on the table loosely clasped in front of her. 

"it wasn’t… exactly like that." your voice was low. your attempts to protect your dignity were feeble at best. it’s true, he never explicitly told you he has feelings for you in the classic format of ‘i like you’, but… who were kidding, it was a confession in all forms except literalness. you grabbed at your face, hiding the creeping heat behind your hands with a groan. 

"no, it was totally a love confession. he’s been head over heels for you for a while now! even when i first met you two, it was so obvious he had a big ol’ crush on you. how’d you not notice it?!" 

"cuz they’re denser than dan heng." stelle deadpanned, staring right at you.

"if you’re going to be making indirect insults about me, at least do it to my face," a familiar voice muttered from somewhere a distance behind you. in walked dan heng, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. he was once again in his normal appearance. stelle immediately squashed you down beneath the square table, leaving you only to look at everyone’s legs. 

"oh, so the elusive dan heng finally graces us with his presence, huh?" you couldn’t see march’s face, but you knew she was making a half-lidded, unimpressed frown at him—the certified march classic.

"i’ve had a lot of information to collate and put into the archives, so i’ve been busy—" his words stopped short. from around the bend of the chair’s edge, you could see him inch closer to the table. 

"been busy what? you just stopped talking." march sounded confused. 

"is that… (y/n)’s scent?" his tone was far sharper, but his wording sounded unsure. 

"are you calling them stinky? that’s kinda rude, isn’t it?" march frowned. 

"huh? no, of course not!" he sputtered. "it’s just v-vidyadhara senses. they’re quite acute." there was the shuffling of some fabric. he must have crossed his arms.

"well i say it’s cuz you’re going heehee-silly-delulu with your big fat crush on them." march chimed in. your eyes widened as you frowned. why were they both baiting the literal dragon?

the only sound that came out of dan heng was something like an indignant cry that was cut-off at its head. "i… i do not—"

"you don’t like them? alright, keep telling yourself that," stelle said. 

"…what hand does (y/n) have in this? they were just here, weren’t they?" he took a few steps towards the table. you imagined him with a strained look on his face, fighting to keep his composure like he yesterday. as he was stood right in front of you, you felt yourself shrinking back. it was maybe only seconds until ground zero—until everything hit the fan. "because that’s their scent nearby…" he changed his footing just a touch, and the second you saw the tips of his fluffy hair peak down past the table, you launched headlong into him. not by your own volition, but because a heeled boot slammed into your lower back, jetting you forward. your face collided with some part of his legs (of which was not very soft), sending you both in the same direction with simultaneous cries. there was a significant thud when dan heng hit the floor, and your head knocked into something bony.

your eyes cracked open, rubbing your forehead with a groan, but all sounds fell silent when you realized you were hovering between his knees. you stared up at him with wide eyes and a stifled breath, where he met your owlish gaze with his own. in other words, you were almost right between his legs. both of your faces lit like infernos, but neither of you moved. a grand total of two seconds passed before the vidyadhara features came out. it was quick—his horns rose from his head, and his hair spilt over his shoulders. his tail appeared behind him, laying still. even his clothes suddenly swapped out on him. his chest rose and fell as his breath seemed to quicken. 

"s-sorry," you swallowed thickly. in almost an instant, he dug one of his clawed hands into his arm. he clambered to his feet, unable to look you in the eye.

"wh-what the hell was that?" his voice cracked.

"fuck, that was my bad." stelle said from behind you. 

"ngh, you… please excuse me," he quickly turned and strode back towards the archives, still holding onto his arm. you hadn’t moved from the floor when you watched the passenger cabin’s door close behind him. 

"what the heck, stelle?!" march cried, startling you.

"holy fuck, i’m so sorry. i did not think it’d go like that," stelle said. when you looked back over, she was leaning back and had raked her bangs back, hand still on her forehead.

"how did you think it’d go?" you groaned, unsteadily raising to your feet once again.

"i dunno, but not like that."

"why’d he suddenly change like that, i wonder?" march tapped her finger to her chin, looking off to the side. 

"cuz he’s down bad." stelle looked very confident in her answer. 

you almost choked on your spit.

"he’s down bad, but then he keeps running off 'cuz refuses to let himself be so."

"what kind of a theory is that?!" march huffed.

"a simple observation. mr. yang says i’m perceptive, so i have final authority on all judgements ever made." stelle crossed her arms over her chest, face seldom making any expressions. "and i say exactly what i said."

you stood with your head hanging in your hands, burning with embarrassment. things couldn’t keep going on like this. if this was the new dynamic, then how were any of you supposed to function while you’re out trailblazing? how were any of you supposed to function even just normally? that was it. you raised your head until your eyes lifted from behind your hands, a new resolve filling your blood. maybe jing yuan might know something. 

░░░░░░░

managing to secure a time to speak to jing yuan was unbelievably easy. then again, you should gave guessed it’d be. over messages, he told you that since he’s been doing nothing but resting, he’s incredibly bored—someone to see or speak to is more than welcome. and so, it quickly was organized that you could stop by a planned location in aurum alley to see him.

the time soon rolled around, as long as it took. during the day, as expected, there was no sign of dan heng having any interest in interacting with you normally, much to your growing irritation and mild chagrin. even march and stelle were shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in disapproval. 

it didn’t take long for you to get there. you agreed to meet him in a small, secluded area, just out of the way of eyes that might seek to pry into the general’s private business. it was a bit into the early evening. it wasn’t too hard to find him sitting at his table since he wasn't exactly the most conspicuous person out there. the golden artificial sunlight poured in from an oblique angle overhead, coating the tucked-away courtyard in a honeyed light. once he saw you approaching, jing yuan cast you one of his usual sleepy, cattish smiles. 

"um, hello," you spoke, pulling out a seat next to him. 

"and to what do i owe the pleasure?" there was almost a purr in his voice. "tell me, what is it you wished to speak about?" he leaned forward, resting his head on his wrist propped up on the table. "or did you simply come here to chat with me because you felt like it?" he made a closed-eyed smile laced with mischief. 

"ah, i’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s because i’m having a bit of a dilemma." you scratched the back of your head with an awkward laugh. "please hear me out on this one, but it’s about dan heng." 

"oh, dan heng? what about him?" jing yuan tilted his head. "as it stands, i’m afraid you might know him better than i do, unfortunately. so i don’t know if i would be able to provide the best of help for you." there was a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips, making you bite your own. 

"it’s, ah, a little more about him as a vidyadhara, i suppose. i’m not sure if he has anything in common with his previous incarnation, but i thought there must be something there." 

"well, i can say his obstinance seems to have certainly survived reincarnation."

"it’s thriving," you huffed, at which jing yuan lightly laughed. 

"so is that the root of your problem? him being too stubborn on something?" 

"that’s about it, yeah." you pressed your lips into a line. "he’s been avoiding me for… reasons i won’t divulge… and i don’t what i can do to get him to talk to me again." 

"you don’t need to put it like that. i can tell he really likes you," he said, the trace of a smug grin on his face. after you coughed loudly, he continued. "he’s rather obvious if you know what you’re looking for. but anyway, what happened between you two? if i’m allowed to know, that is." 

you swallowed nervously. should you really be revealing everything like this? you did it anyway. "one night, we said a few things of… i guess questionably romantic nature to each other, and he reacted in a way that i think was influenced by some sort of… vidyadhara shenanigans."

jing yuan looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "go on." 

"he hauled me off to his bed and then got uncharacteristically affectionate. he had a back-and-forth with self-doubt once he realized i was really confused by it all, but i told him it’s fine. i mean, i even pet his horns out of my own volition and stuff." it was all coming out at this point. "then he eventually drifted off and then pretty much declared his feelings in his half-sleep. but even though i told him i’m fine with him doing whatever he was doing, he still decided to run off the next morning. i’ve tried to talk to him repeatedly, but he won’t reply to my messages and he almost freaks out every time i’m in his vicinity. i don’t get it!" 

"mm, that’s quite the situation on your hands there," jing yuan hummed. there was a mischievous spark in his eye, and you weren’t sure if you liked the look of it. "now, i couldn’t tell you the specifics, but if you say he got ’uncharacteristically affectionate’, then that’s definitely some old vidyadhara response. they can get very protective over the things they love." 

your gaze dropped somewhere in front of your as your face prickled with heat at his words. 

"but now, i’d wager he’s stuck in some sort of self-imposed battle of will against himself."

"and how would you suggest i get him out of it?" 

"i suppose there is technically the option of waiting this out," he glanced at your face. you looked embittered at such an inane suggestion, making him laugh. "or you could simply make him lose the battle, since it sounds like he’s set on taking it ad infinitum, if needed." 

"small issue… i’m now allowed near the archives," you sighed, leaning yourself back. "it’s hard to simply go there with both the conductor banning me as well as dan heng refusing to open his door." 

"hmm…" jing yuan shifted his hand beneath his chin. "might i do something a bit uncouth?" 

"uhh, okay." 

"come here for a moment." he slid himself next to you, turning to face you a little more. with a slight frown, you turned towards him as well. "now, i can’t guarantee his reaction to this, but—" he suddenly pulled you closer toward him and placed his head in the crook of your neck—the same side dan heng had his. one hand snuck its way around your neck and held the base of your neck ever so gently, while the other looped around your back. you had to fight a shudder when you could feel jing yuan’s lips ghost over your neck and shoulder. "if i do this, it may be enough to knock him from this cycle of his." 

"wh-what?" you strained out. 

"he’ll be able to tell i’ve been with you. and by the places i’ve been in contact with you…" he said, voice low. his faint breaths were cool on your shoulder. you couldn’t suppress a slight shiver. "…it should be enough to grant you access to… the archives, was it?" 

"y-yeah." you blinked a few times. your brain had been reduced to a single cell bouncing around inside your brain like a shitty maraca. 

jing yuan finally pulled back, assuming his original pose. "please forgive me for that… but you’ll likely see why i did it." he still couldn’t help but wear his usual small grin for the second part. "i’d now recommend that you find him again, and try to keep his attention long enough for him to notice you were with me. vidyadhara’s senses of smell are perceptive, so it shouldn’t be long. well now, you’d best get back then." his stupid grin was even wider and even smugger. his gaze wasn’t condescending, but read more as if he were thinking just wait and see.

"i… guess i’ll be going then. th-thank you, general." you made an awkward bow as you hustled back the way you came, hyperaware of the air brushing against your shoulder. it all felt incredibly foreboding… but that was to be expected when you were about to enter the dragon’s den. 

░░░░░░░

your plan was flawless:

1. jing yuan does his shit

2. go back to the express. 

3. bait with bubble tea to get the door open. 

4. "talk" to dan heng long enough until he notices jing yuan was up to something

5. ???

6. profit. 

just as detailed, to further your chances of getting that door cracked open, you decided to buy a bubble tea. a classic milk should have sufficed, since he tended to favour the more simple things. the chances of him actually opening the door to take it were already slim, but desperate times called for desperate measures. knowing him, he’d simply make you leave it at the door, which was a problem. so there you were, stuck on an express couch, plotting. (or, perhaps more aptly, chewing your nails in nerves). as you sat there, in waddled pom-pom, looking mighty chuffed for some unknown reason.

"hm-hm-hm! dinner of pom-pom’s own creation will be ready in just over 20 minutes!" they declared, puffing their stuffed chest. they waited for any reaction, but no one looked up at them, making them deflate with a scowl. "stelle, (y/n) you go tell everyone," they grumbled, shuffling back into the passenger cart and beyond. 

"wait, what?" you looked up—you hadn’t even noticed them. 

"we’re on messenger duty," stelle said from her seat. she was placed upside down on the couch, hair grazing the ground while she played her usual gacha games. 

"can i try and deal with dan heng?"

"i mean, sure." she looked over at you. "but what’re you plotting?"

"my entry into the archives. i come baring gifts." you motioned towards the untouched bubble tea sitting in front of you. 

"i’ll leave you to it. i’ll go tell march and the others then." she chucked her phone elsewhere on the couch and got up, wandering towards the passenger car. you followed shortly behind, offering in hand. 

it was a short walk. you knew you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous the closer you drew to the archives. you had already weathered so many rejections, so it’s not like this was going to somehow have a worse result. perhaps it was because you put too much on this. you’ve gone to a rather large effort just to have a slim chance of getting him to open the door—speaking of, you were already there. 

you raised your hand to knock on it, but before you could even lay your hand on it, dan heng spoke from inside. "what is it, (y/n)?" he was once again somewhere further off in the room, speaking with undecipherable emotions. 

"um." your voice cracked, making you cringe. "pom-pom said dinner’s ready in 20." 

"ah. thank you," he said plainly. it still kinda stung, being back at what felt like the stage where you were only acquaintances. 

"i also got you something." you tried to cast another line. 

"you can leave it at the door." 

you flopped your head against the door. of course he said it. "i’d rather give it to you now. it’s some bubble tea. the ice is melting." there was no response. you couldn’t tell what he was doing. "c’mon, it’s not like you’re sick or something." 

"hah, more like lovesick," stelle called as she walked past behind you. 

"stelle!" dan heng cried indignantly. he sounded closer to the door. "i am not—"

"if you’re not, then open the door." she simply kept walking. 

you were stood with wide, unblinking eyes and an open mouth, watching her jacket pass through the cabin door until you were left alone in the hall. the door suddenly slid open a little. you jumped, turning to stare up at him. as usual, there was a strained look on his face that he was trying to suppress. "see, i’m not—" he looked out and around for stelle, but she was nowhere to be seen. instead, he simply sighed. 

you tried to swallow your heart beating in your throat, but it still hammered away. "hi." 

he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the inner door frame. "hello," his voice sounded tired. tired with himself. "please forgive me for how i’ve been acting. i know it’s not fair to you. it’s just…" 

"i know, you need more time. you like to say it," you muttered with a slight, strained grin. "by the way, here’s your tea. it’s just your usual order." you held it out it to him, and he looked down at it with softened eyes. as he went to grab it, his fingertips brushed over yours. he seemed more startled than you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand back over top of yours.

"i haven’t been completely honest with you," he said. (that was certainly one way of putting it).

you held your breath, as if making a single noise could suddenly startle him back into the archives. 

"i… since that night, i haven’t known what to do with mysel—" he suddenly paused, frowning the tiniest bit. he leaned forward, seeming to concentrate on something with closed eyes. once they opened again, his pupils had constricted into slits, and he was staring intently at you. uh oh. 

"wh-what is it?" 

"where were you before this?" he took the tea from you and placed it somewhere next to the door frame inside the archives. 

your stomach flipped. was this really going where you thought it was? "um. i was wandering around aurum alley." it wasn't a lie. "why?" 

"that’s not all. what else?" he took you by the arm and drew you into the archives. it was an uncharacteristic mess in there. low-lit, and with clothes, books and items were strewn all over the place, perhaps as a reflection of his state. you watched the door close behind you, and when you looked back, there stood dan heng with his full vidyadhara look on display, right in front of you. uh oh. 

he stepped closer to you until you could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him, then grabbing hold of your shoulders. it was a tight grip, but not enough to hurt yet. he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and drew in a long but quiet inhale. "what were you doing with jing yuan?" his voice was low, almost with a slight growl. as he spoke, his arms had wound around shoulders, so he was holding the back of your head, just like jing yuan was. only far harsher than the other’s ghost-like touch. 

yes, this was going the direction you thought it was. "we—we only met to talk about something," you sputtered out, your heart in your throat again.

"then why do i smell him on you, as if you were doing something more than just talking?" with a free hand, he took your jaw and turned your face towards him. he was only inches away from you, gazing at you with narrowed, dimly-glowing eyes. "why go to him when you have me?" 

you frowned, eyes wide. "huh? what do you mean i have you? you’ve refused to speak to me normally ever since the morning after you hauled me to your bed. besides, i-it’s not what you think." 

but your words were lost on him. "no, this won’t do." his voice was barely a murmur. he seemed to be living in his own version of the world. dragon-brain was back, evidently a fuller force than ever. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t him drawing you even closer, placing his head in the crook of your neck and nuzzling. your face lit like an inferno as some kind of noise escaped your lips. it was really back to the nuzzling. only with surprising fervour, this time. he nestled his face into your neck, exhaling small sighs against you. his nose and lips brushing against your skin was almost ticklish, but you weren’t laughing when his tail snaked itself around your hips, twining itself down one of your legs. 

"d-dan heng?!" you cried when he suddenly lifted you with his hands clasped beneath the backs of your thighs, assisted by the tail. he had his mouth placed right over top of your collar bone, watching where he was going from over your shoulder. "dan heng, put me down!" you had to hold onto his back and shoulders for stability. 

he gave you no reply, only taking you back to his mussed futon. similar to his bed at the inn, the blanket was strewn in a way akin to the base of a nest. stray pieces of clothing made up the rest of lack-lustre structure—you could have sworn one of your own old shirts you’d forgotten somewhere was poking out from beneath a different article. dan heng sat himself down in the centre of the futon and brought you into lap. your position was a bit awkward as you sat perpendicular across from him. both your legs went one direction while your torso was turned to face him. he sunk his head into the crook of your neck again, drawing in more, shorter inhales. 

"seriously, wh—what are you doing?" 

"he’s still on you." he said against your shoulder, warmth breath making you shiver. there was a slight growl in his throat again. 

"even after that?" as you spoke, he tilted your head away, exposing more of your neck. "hey, w-wai—ah!" you made a cry of pain when a pair of fangs suddenly bit down into your shoulder. it wasn’t hard enough to draw much blood, but more than enough to hurt. you shuddered with some ungodly, almost harrowed noise when his tongue glided over what would blossom into a bruise. his arms and tail wound tighter around you, as if you might slip away at any second. he moved on, this time toward your jaw, peppering it with desperate kisses. you tried to say his name as he trailed down in between his own rapid-growing breaths. he was panting once he reached your shoulder, his kisses sloppy. in some work of miraculous dexterity, he had readjusted your seat on him until his waist was slotted between your legs. all the while, one hand was in your hair angling your head for his best reach, the other around your back. you had to hide your face in his hair when he had began making small vocalizations, something like tiny whines. 

you said his name again, this time louder when he trailed his fangs back up your shoulder. right after he left a hot kiss on your shoulder, he bit down again. you seethed in pain, trying to push his head off, but you were only met with purrs. even though he didn’t seem fully aware of what was going on, those purrs had to be weaponized against you. he shifted to another part of your shoulder, mouthing another kiss on it, but before he could bite, you grabbed his horn.

"dan heng!" you yanked his head back, surprising him. but instead of some sort of pained cry, he let out a heady moan. to your surprise, that noise slipping from his mouth seemed to restore his lucidity in an instant. his dilated eyes shot wide open and his hands flew to cover his mouth, almost sending himself backwards in the process. his face burned with embarrassment, colouring his cheeks and pointed ears in a bright crimson. you huffed, but didn’t remove yourself from your position. in fact, you anchored yourself down by locking your ankles behind his back if he were to try and push you off.

"(y/n) to dan heng, can you hear me?" you said, almost tempted to knock on his forehead. 

"i-it happened again," his voice was quiet in horror. 

"hey, i need you to listen to me before you clam up on me again." you brought one hand to the side of his face, gently making him look up at you. he jumped at the contact, sending his hands further up his face until they were covering his eyes. 

"please forgive me," he rushed out.

"look at me," you said softly, placing one hand on top of his to move it to the side—one of his faintly glowing eyes glanced at you. "i’m more happy to make out with you, but we need to talk first."

he made a strangled groan of embarrassment in answer, moving his hand back in place again. 

"are you listening?" 

he nodded.

"alright, the whole thing with jing yuan was me asking about you," you said. "i thought he might know a bit about you as a vidyadhara and your behaviour, so i went to ask what i could do to get you to let me into the archives. his idea was a less than tactful, but i guess it worked. that’s why ‘his scent was on me’, as you say. he only stuck his head on my shoulder for a bit because you’d be able to tell and then demand an explanation or something." 

his fingers had parted to show his eyes again, and they were staring in bewilderment. 

"so, i’m sorry for doing all that to you." your voice was soft. "i just wanted to see you."

"no, i should be apologizing. i have no control of myself and i haven’t been fair to you." he lowered his hands to hovering somewhere over his chest. "i was saying before… since that night, i have been an embarrassment. all i’ve wanted to do is steal you away and… smother you in affection until you returned it. the feeling was so intense that i didn’t trust myself around you, so i hid. i thought if i waited, it’d calm down, but it really only made it worse."

your heart swooned then and there, lighting a fire in your cheeks. "o-oh… so if i did return it, then you wouldn’t act like a lovesick ghost anymore?" 

"hey." he frowned, but his face soon fell back into the same flustered expression from before. "but to answer you, maybe after a while. i could also just get worse… but i really don’t want to subject you anything you don’t want." while he couldn’t meet your gaze, he still leaned his head into the palm of your hand. with a sigh, you held his jaw and angled his face to look at you again. 

"how many times do i have to say i don’t mind? you can’t seem to fit that one through that thick vidyadhara skull of yours." you did actually knock on his head this time, making him wince.

"i—i don’t know, i just get embarrassed." he hid face his face against your chest, face a shade redder and his ears drooping. "you also always look so shocked. i don’t want to do that to you." 

"that’s only because you tend to forget any kind of warning," you said with a light laugh. "truly, i like it—when you give me warning, that is—because i really like you too, stupid." 

his breath audibly hitched, and he raised his head back up. "t-too? but i’ve never said—" 

"are you kidding? you don’t need to say it when the aeons and their grandmas know. even march says it’s obvious. you’re seriously worried about that after you’ve made out with my shoulder sloppy style? by the way, what was with the bites?"

"ngh, don’t word it like that." his tail that was still tangled around you thumped against your back indignantly. "…and the bites are a weird territorial thing. i’m sorry if they hurt." he leaned his head against you, running his thumb over one of the marks.

"dragons…" you sighed with a smile. "you’re lucky you’re so cute." you pet his hair, and he leaned into your touch.

he moved his chin so it was on your collarbone, looking up at you with softened eyes. there were almost stars of reverence in them when he gazed at you. "i love you."

"wait, wha—" you began, but he swallowed the rest of your words when his lips were upon yours. he pressed himself up against you, his hands gently holding the sides of your face. as he kissed you, there was a faint rumbling and vibration coming from his chest—he was purring.  

he pulled back again, leaving you a little short of breath and a lot dazed. you’d always thought it’d be you that had to kiss him first, not the other way around. he began to leave another trail of kisses starting from your lips to your jaw, this time leading toward the other side he had already been. your hands fell from their place on him and inched onto his back while his lips were on your neck. one hand slipped into his back window, and he suddenly gasped. his back arched into you, almost knocking you over. he panicked, and his tail constricted behind you like another set of arms to catch you. 

"what was that?" you laughed, trying to re-steady yourself. 

"your hand was cold. i don’t know, i guess i have a sensitive back," he huffed. his ears were angled down and a flush was heavy on his face. you couldn’t really articulate what it was about him, but you were suddenly overcome with cuteness aggression. you leaned your weight onto him, sending him backwards onto the futon and—perhaps somewhat out of revenge—hovered yourself over top of his hips. he stared up at you with widened eyes and a held breath, frozen and waiting for your next move. 

"you said i need to return your affection, didn’t you?" 

he swallowed and nodded the tiniest bit. 

"so let me have some fun too, my beloved." you placed a hand on his cheek.

"wait, you heard—i actually said that?" it almost looked like steam would start rising from the top of his head at any point. 

"heard it loud and clear." you smiled to yourself, leaning down and managing to get your fingertips into his chest window—only for the door to slam wide open. 

"hey, it’s dinner! what’re you two even doi—!" march called, leaning her hand on the doorway. you and dan heng leapt off each other, landing on the opposite sides of his futon. march stared in silence for a long while before lolling her head back. "jeez, finally! anyway, can you two wait until after dinner? pom-pom’s ‘bouta blow a gasket waiting for you two."

"w-we’ll be there in a minute," you said, trying to readjust your collar to try and hide dan heng’s bite marks. 

"don’t be long!" march said as she strode back off down the hallway. a couple beats passed and you looked over at dan heng. by some miracle, he’d managed to swap himself back to his human look, but he still looked disheveled as he went to stand back up. 

he held a hand out to you and pulled you up, pausing for a moment. he glanced at the bite marks on your shoulder that still peaked out, made some sort of strained sound and then removed his coat. "they don’t need to see that," he said as he strung it around your shoulders, fixing the collar so it hid the marks from sight.

"i’m wearing your coat. march saw us before. if she learns something, it’s guaranteed to be said," you deadpanned. "they’ll know."

instead of giving you a direct response, he took your hand in his and lead you out of the archives, looking at you with what was probably meant to be a neutral expression. his light flush and knitted eyebrows betrayed him though. "can we at least pretend we have dignity?"

"i mean, sure, but it’s not gonna do anything, looking the way we do. now c’mon, don’t wanna keep the conductor waiting." you walked off with him in tow. 

he only made a small groan in response again. 

#sorry for the random jerma joke at the beginning #it's a moral obligation for me #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader

[tainted-liquor]

'Watch Your Fucking Mouth! ...₊˚⊹♡ Ft. 42Miles

...˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

e42!Miles Morales x Autistic!BlackFem!Reader

ingredients: Sugar, Lemon zest, n a lil bit of smiles!

TWs: 'ual harrasment, Miles choosing violence, cussing, bullying

A/N: this is designed for blackfem readers on the mild to moderate end of the autism spectrum. NOT every autistic person is the same, but this is specifically modeled based on MY experience with autism, because this is how I see the world. Enjoy

Reader has a kirby/retro games special interest btw

For the past 7 months, you've been dating your beloved boyfriend, Miles Morales! Of course, this was way easier said than done. Miles had a permanent stone face, a smooth and focused voice, and struggled to describe or depict his emotions. Regardless of that small barrier, he made every effort in the world to make sure you understood where he was coming from. By now he had a pretty good understanding of what to do and what not to do, even going so far as developing somewhat of a routine with you.

You were walking hand in hand with Miles, listening to him recall his day before you briefly paused to look at a cute little shop housing tons of adorable plushies, but most importantly Kirby plushies. Miles stopped, watching as you stared down the cute little sleeping Kirby in the window. Miles chuckled to himself, finding the whole ordeal adorable as you ripped your eyes away from the display window. "You want that plush, huh?" He asked, leading you back in the direction of the tiny store as you nodded eagerly. "Aight, c'mon. Go get it" he nodded as his heart throbbed in his chest while he watched your face light up.

You left the store with 2 new action figures that you fought to pay for and several Kirby plushies. "Happy?" he asked, smiling subtly as his hand found purchase right in yours. "Mhm! I fucking love Kirby man he's just so...cool!" you beamed, rocking your arms side to side with joy. "Aight, c'mon. I gotta get you home before your mom blow my top off" he chuckled, rolling his eyes with faux annoyance as he led you home. "'Kay. Can you walk me to school tomorrow, please?" you asked, gazing into the paper bag holding your merchandise.

"Of course, mama. You want me to bring you a croissant from that bakery?" He asked, watching your side profile with a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes please!" You beamed while rounding the corner to your house. "I think when I get home I'm gonna play with my kitchen set or something...that shit was fun" You giggled as Miles pretended to help you up the stairs like a bodyguard, pressing his imaginary earpiece and muttering an 'all clear'. You waved goodbye, peppering every inch of his face with kisses and tiny bites.

The next day rolled around within the blink of an eye, prompting you to do your daily routine of a hot shower and self-care. You quickly touched up your Fulani braids, slicking down your edges and adding pink star clips to tie the look together before throwing on your uniform, mentally cringing at how the waistband felt against your stomach. You charged down the stairs with your backpack, waiting on the couch for a couple of minutes before getting a text from Miles informing you that he was outside. You flung the front door open, immediately smiling as you caught sight of your boyfriend. "Hey Miles!"

"Hey. I gotchu your croissant, c'mon" he smiled as he gestured behind him with his head. You locked your front door, walking alongside him as he handed you your food and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You walked the entire way to school, giggling like children as you showed him some dumb 'school tea pages' on your phone. "Niggas be irritatin'...HELP LOOK AT THIS ONE!" you guffawed, tears clouding your eyes as you showed Miles a 'lala bop' video. His eyes widened, jaw hanging open as he read the caption before bursting out in laughter.

"Nah that's TRAGIC...how you 15 with 17 bodies? That's fucking CRAZY!" He gasped, shaking his head in disbelief as you made your way into school. "Aight, Imma see you during 3rd, okay?" He reassured, giving you a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of his advisory. You waved bye in between bites of your croissant as you skipped over to your advisory, ready for another boring and dull day of school. You hated the constant cycle of sad blue and white days, praying that something would spice up the day. Well, you got your wish! It just wasn't what you were expecting...at all.

Miles walked through the halls, scrolling through your Instagram on his phone before deciding to make a slight detour to the bathroom. He huffed in annoyance as he saw a small line leading out of the boy's bathroom, opting to lean on a neighboring locker while he continued to mind the business that paid him. "YEO! Miles!" Someone shouted, prompting him to snap his head towards the noise. He locked eyes with his friend Terrence, smirking slightly as he dapped him up. "What's good witchu? You trynna skip 1st period?" Miles asked as he tucked his phone in his back pocket.

"Yessir. Who the fuck bouta be up at 8 AM doing math? They must be fuckin' stupid or some shit, like. Fuck is you talkin' bout" Terrence complained, rolling his eyes with an obvious grimace. "Nah, I feel you. I just do the homework they posted cuz fuck I needa go to the class for if you post the lessons?" Miles grunted, dawning the same grimace as his homie. "Bullshit, that's what it is. But YO! I heard from niggas that you dating what's her name now?" Terrence poked, smirking slightly. "Y/N," Miles corrected "And yes, that's my girl. Why?" He asked, furrowing his brows slightly and turning his head to the side. "Okay, I see you my boy. Her shit mad yurky too I understand" Terrence joked, elbowing Miles slightly with a...disgustingly lustful expression.

"Pardon?" Miles asked, leaning his head towards the shorter boy in an attempt to make sense of his previous sentence. "I'm sayin', she got a body on her. Can't be there for the personality, that bitch a fuckin' geek, just tell her you trynna hit!" Terrence giggled. "Yo, Terrence. Watch your fucking mouth" Miles spat, feeling anger and rage bubble throughout his veins. "My bad gang, I assumed you was in it to hit it! C'mon man, don't tell me you like-"

BOOM!

There was a universal wave of "OHHHH!" and gasps. Splotches of blood littered the floor as the metal locker dented slightly. "Say it again. So I can fuck you up, c'mon" Miles grunted, delivering a disgustingly heavy kick to Terrance's head. "No te quedes callado ahora, vamos" He giggled, leaning back against the locker like nothing ever happened. The news took absolutely zero time to get to you, considering you were two rooms down from the actual fight. "Fuck" you whispered, mentally preparing yourself to have to yell at your boyfriend for two hours.

"MILES FUCKING GONZALO MORALES! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WHY WERE YOU EVEN FIGHTING THE NIGGA IN THE FIRST PLACE!" You screamed as soon as Miles showed up at your bedroom window after school. "Baby I'm not gonna subject you to the shit he was saying, but just know it was for you" He cooed, subtly ignoring the fact that you were practically berating him in real time as he mushed his cheek against yours. "DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME RIGHT NOW?" You yelled, ripping his face away from yours as you held his jaw in both hands. "Yes, 'm sorry. I swear I am, but I do not like when niggas talk about my girl" he grunted as he rolled his eyes. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you called upon your ancestors to give you the strength to deal with this boy.

"Look, I can handle myself. Don't do that shit again, aight?"

"Yes my love."

Taglist:

@ashsostrange @chessbox @faeriesoiree333 @janaeby @an1bara @fivestardior

#miles morales x reader #atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales fluff #miles molares #across the spider verse #miles morales headcanons #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x you #42 miles morales

[cccat-in-a-meat-sack]

I'M SORRY WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME THAT THESE WERE THE PAIN, FATIGUE, AND MENTAL HEALTH SCALES???

Pain Scale transcription:

10 - I am in bed and I can’t move due to my pain. I need someone to take me to the emergency room because of my pain.

9 - My pain is all that I can think about. I can barely move or talk because of my pain.

8 - My pain is so severe that it is difficult to think of anything else. Talking and listening are difficult.

7 - I am in pain all the time. It keeps me from doing most activities.

6 - I think about my pain all of the time. I give up many activities because of my pain.

5 - I think about my pain most of the time. I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of the pain.

4 - I am constantly aware of my pain but can continue most activities.

3 - My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.

2 - I have a low level of pain. I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it.

1 - My pain is hardly noticeable.

0 - I have no pain.

Fatigue scale transcription:

10: can barely move; can’t talk

9: can barely move; can talk

8: can move, but can’t do much more than watch TV

7: can watch TV and play a game on my phone simultaneously

6: can do work on my computer lying in bed

5: can get around the house, but definitely couldn’t go out

4: can run a light errand

3: can get in my 10,000 steps, making my fitbit happy

2: can do three or more activities in a single day

1: going clubbing!

Mental Health Pain Scale transcription:

MILD

1 - Everything is a-okay! There is absolutely nothing wrong. You’re probably cuddling a fluffy kitten right now. Enjoy!

2 - You’re a bit frustrated or disappointed, but you’re easily distracted and cheered up with a little effort.

3 - Things are bothering you, but you’re coping. You might be overtired or hungry. The emotional equivalent of a headache.

MODERATE

4 - Today is a bad day (or a few bad days). You still have the skills to get through it, but be gentle with yourself. Use self-care strategies.

5 - Your mental health is starting to impact on your everyday life. Easy things are becoming difficult. You should talk to your doctor.

6 - You can’t do things the way you usually do them due to your mental health. Impulsive and compulsive thoughts may be hard to cope with.

SEVERE

7 - You’re avoiding things that make you more distressed, but that will make it worse. You should definitely seek help. This is serious.

8 - You can’t hide your struggles any more. You may have issues sleeping, eating, having fun, socialising, and work/study. Your mental health is affecting almost all parts of your life.

9 - You’re at a critical point. You aren’t functioning any more. You need urgent help. You may be a risk to yourself or others if left untreated.

10 - The worst mental and emotional distress possible. You can no longer care for yourself. You can’t imagine things getting any worse. Contact a crisis line immediately.

Tag yourself I'm 4, 6, and somewhere between 1 and 10 depending on when I've last seen a chicken

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hello, I’ve been looking at ur page a bit bc I suspect that I might be autistic. I was diagnosed with ADHD as a kid, and I don’t think it was a misdiagnosis, but I struggle w/ social interactions to the point of anxiety, obsess over stuff for years, have mild audio-sensory issues, have consuming emotions, etc. I just wanted to maybe get perspective by sending you an ask.

The biggest questions I have are, if autism is a such a vast spectrum, do my symptoms ‘count’ and what makes them ‘count?’ (Sorry if this is potentially insensitive, idk how else to phrase it)

I often think I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Like I find myself sometimes heavily relating to autistic experiences I read and then sometimes totally not. I feel like I’m not ‘autistic enough’ or that it’s just ADHD. I’ve taken a few online tests, most of the time it comes back as ‘moderate’ or probable, especially on quizzes geared towards masking like the CAT-Q.

I hope this ask is well placed, sorry if it’s kinda vent-ish and long. I think what you’re doing with your blog is wonderful. Thank you for taking the time to read this, hope you have a good day/evening :)

Hi there,

That’s a very hard question to answer, due to the huge overlap between the two. Here’s a Venn diagram showing the similarities and differences:

This is from Neurodivergent Insights, which I think is a great source. I’ll leave thier article below if you want to read more:

There’s also an interesting test showing your autism symptoms. Here’s mine for example:

I know online tests can be unreliable. But I think this one is a good start if you’re suspecting you might be autistic. I’ll leave the test below:

I hope this helps. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

#inbox #inbox reply #inbox is open

[iplaywithstring]

Last year I was working 40 hours a week, sometimes 12 hour shifts.

Yesterday, I worked 8 hours. Today, 4 hours. That's all I will work this week. Some weeks i manage two 8 hour shifts, some weeks only one. The days I'm not working, I nap 2-4 hours in the afternoon.

I had ME/CFS for years before I started working. My symptoms had ranged from mild to moderate, but had been fairly stable at mild for a while before I took the job. I thought I knew how to pace. I thought I could manage.

(I thought maybe I was fine and really had just been lazy and faking the whole time)

Last spring I started to struggle with more symptoms. Last summer I talked to my Dr because things were not going well. I thought I might need to go on medical leave from work.

Thanks to a couple of new prescriptions, working part time was reasonable and I started that in August.

(As far as my coworkers know, I switched because I was starting a Masters program, not because of my health)

I'm dealing with the fact that my health is worse than it was. I am leas functional than I was. I question my choices- is this too much? Is going back to school a waste? Did I ruin my chance by pushing too much?

I love my job. I'm so glad to be taking this program so I can do more. Life is good. But it's also hard. I am always tired. I have to deal with orthoststic hypotension, nausea, and pain on a daily basis. I always feel like I'm not accomplishing enough while being terrified I'm doing too much.

My kids remember when I had to spend most of my time in bed. My daughter goes to university in the fall. I want to make the most of this time.

After trying so hard to pretend to be healthy, today I am really feeling the weight of being chronically ill.

#this is my life #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #chronic pain #me/cfs

[whumped-by-glitter]

Day 5: Scream / Captivity / “NO!” Bonus Alt Prompt: Mouth Stitched shut

⚠️ CW: Needles, Piercings, Non-Con Body Mods, Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Nudity (non sexual), Drugging, Mild-Moderate Gore/Horror, Mouth Whump.

Day 4 Here < > Day 6 Here

This is an especially TW heavy entry, feel free to skip it, I will provide a summary of the plot important parts next time we catch up with Whumpee! some of these themes even squick me out!

Story Under The Cut

Days had passed since the horrific photoshoot. Whumper was true to their word and had provided them with a little food and copious amount of water, as much as they wanted after the session.

Whumpee sat ruminating, sitting against the wall they were once again chained to. A dim spotlight above them was their only source of light. They shifted uncomfortably, trying not put pressure on any of the still healing cuts and bruises that decorated their skin.

They winced at the word ‘decorated’, now they were sounding like Whumper apparently. They had no other word for it though, Whumper had carved an intentional pattern of shallow stabs and deep slashes across their entire body, front, back sides everywhere.

They plunked their head lightly against the wall, the sound echoing through the torture chamber hidden in the darkness ahead of them.

Their stomach rumbled loudly; they had not been fed again since that day. Whumper said it was to ‘keep them pretty for the masterpiece.’ Whumpee shivered at the thought, the person who held them captive was deranged.  They desperately hoped the team would find them before it was too late. Their wounds weren’t healing right, likely due to the stress and lack of food. Many weren’t scabbing over and were oozing a clear watery liquid. If Whumper didn’t do something to kill them first, infection was likely to finish the job, they thought in despair.

All at once there was an echoing thunk-click and the room flooded with harsh light, blinding whumpee.

Whumpee knew this meant Whumper had finished the planning for their ‘masterpiece’. Whumpee cowered as best as they could in the chains, trying to make themselves small, trying to protect themselves from the inevitable pain that they knew was coming.

A knot formed in Whumpee’s stomach when they saw a bag of supplies. The knot grew tighter and tighter as Whumpee watched Whumper unpack the bag. NEEDLES! SO MANY NEEDLES!!! Whumpee started to hyperventilate. They were terrified of needles and there was a table full of the me being unpacked.

“NO! NO! NONONONONO!” whumpee wailed, visibly trembling. Fear was threatening to drown them.

“Oh, come now, sweetheart, we haven’t even started yet,” Whumper chuckled. He finished setting up some paints and strode over to their prisoner. Whumper stroked Whumpee’s face, running his thumb under Whumpee’s eye, across their cheekbone. “before any of that, you need some color,” Whumper said softly, almost lovingly, a tone that made Whumpee feel physically sick.

Whumper proceeded to unchain Whumpee from the wall, not even bothering to handcuff them, they were too weak to fight in any meaningful way. He led them to a St. Andrew’s cross in the corner. Once Whumpee’s hands and feet were secured, they could hear Whumper skipping across the room for a moment before, skipping back to them, humming.

Whumpee craned their neck but before they could look…

Crack!

The noise split their ears seconds before their brain registered the searing pain. Whumpee cried, jerking in their bonds.

More and more lashes came.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The noise, the fear from the needles, the pain, it all got too much for Whumpee. They soon passed out.

When Whumpee came too, they felt a strange coolness being smeared on their back. It wasn’t unpleasant at first. It soon started to register that It was burning in the fresh whip wounds. Then the smell hit them, paint.

Whumpee tried to weakly struggle, to no avail.

“shhh, shhh,” Whumper crooned, “I’m almost done laying the background, blue looks gorgeous on you sweetheart.” Whumper wiped the access paint off, leaving the pigment just in the wounds, “now baby, its time for the real art.”

Whumpee started to feel panic welling up as they thought of the needles. Their breath quickened as they heard the table be drug closer to the cross. When Whumper unwrapped a needle and brought it to their back, Whumpee lost it.

Everything went black, their body burned, the burning soon became a feeling of being enveloped by white and it traveled up their body, centering at their throat. Whumpee gave a scream, an unnatural scream that shook the room.

Whumper crumpled in pain for a moment, trying to shake the ringing from his ears.

It took what felt like a lifetime to Whumpee for time to move again. ‘what had just happened?’

“My information said you didn’t have any powers!” Whumper growled angerly, storming to the table, grabbing a syringe. “No matter, you won’t be doing that again.” Before Whumpee could react, they felt a stab in their neck and a cool liquid flow into them. It only took a few minutes before they basically collapsed in the restraints.

To Whumpee’s horror, they realized they couldn’t move, at all, they couldn’t talk, they couldn’t even move their head. They started to completely lose their mind; fear coursed through them like a tidal wave. Every cell of their lizard brain was telling them to run, urging them to run, but they couldn’t move. Their tear ducts worked and that’s about it. They wanted to scream again but couldn’t. for the first time in their life Whumpee felt true Terror.

Whumpee felt themselves be detached from the cross and lifted. They were laid across the bench, the same one Whumper had drawn on them with a knife with. Whumpee would have winced if they could, the leather material touching their freshly wounded back stung.

“Now let’s fix that mouth of yours before the drugs wear off,” Wumper almost gleemed. “I wasn’t planning on this, but now the thought is there, this is going to add so much extra dimension!” Whumper was positively giddy. He disappeared for a moment but soon returned, standing over them.

Whumpee expected a gag, or tape, or….. they didn’t exactly know what they expected, but nothing could compare to the horror of what they saw…..

WHUMPER WAS STANDING OVER THEM WITH A NEEDLE AND FUCKING THREAD!!!!

“hold still,” Whumper gave a deranged smile.

The tears flowed freely from Whumpee’s eyes, as they tried to mentally brace them self for what was coming. They could do nothing but watch as Whumper threaded the thick purple thread onto the needle, inches from their face.

Whumper pinched Whumpee’s lips together and in one smooth motion pierced through both their top and bottom lip. Whumpee’s mind was screaming in terror, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be real. Maybe this was just one of those sleep paralysis episodes they read about. they tried desperately to think about something else, of Caretaker. Trying to picture every detail of their face, of leader, of everyone.

Pain continued to prick across their lips, the thread burning as it was pulled through. The pulling sensation was causing waves of nausea and despair to wash over them.

They again tried to distract them self. ‘what was youngest doing right now?’ They wondered to them self. It was no use though; the fear gripped their chest hard. Darkness edged their vision then, mercifully took over.

When Whumpee came to again they were on their stomach, they were immediately hit by sharp piercing pains. ‘the needles’ they realized in horror. They felt the skin on their shoulder blades be pinched then pierced through, again and again. Each time it pulled and agitated their lashes. They tried to move but still couldn’t.

“Almost done, my beautiful fallen angel,” Whumper sung. This lunatic was singing!

Whumpee felt more and more needles go into their shoulder blades, being pressed under the skin and out the other side. They started crying again, their lips were throbbing, their back was burning, stinging, and throbbing. ‘this can’t be real.’ They thought weakly, as the prolonged panic was beginning to shift to mental and physical exhaustion.

Whumpee felt themselves be lifted once again. This time they were being carried up the stairs, to their surprise and dread. What was going to happen to them now?

On the way up Whumpee’s head lulled and they were horrified to see rough, distressed feathers sticking out of their back like wings. They began shedding fresh tears anew. They were terrified the team would never find them and that they would just die here with Whumper.

Whumper carried Whumpee through what appeared to be a twisted art museum. He brough them to a huge glass case in the middle of the room. There were cables with hooks hanging from the ceiling, ‘sharp hooks’ Whumpee observed fearfully.

Whumper stripped them of the rest of their clothes then placed their limp, still paralyzed body on the floor in the center of the glass chamber. Whumpee looked on in helpless horror as Whumper lowered the hooks with a button.

The panic whumpee felt as the first hook pierced through the upper right part of their skin was indescribable. The pain was horrible but the fear, the horror, being unable to do anything but watch, that was so much worse.

A second matching hook went in and out of their skin. They could feel blood trickle across their bare skin. Then whumper got another deranged grin.

“we should get the difficult ones; the succinylcholine will be wearing off soon doll.” Whumper was still humming that sickening tune.

He brought two hooks to his face and put the first one through the skin on their cheek bone, just inches below their eye. Whumpee’s fight or flight instincts once again started to uselessly kick in, serving only to heighten their terror. They could hear the gross sound of the skin being pierced.

“so gorgeous,” Whumper whispered softly, stroking Whumpee’s hair before placing the next hook in the same place on the other side of their face.

This processed over and over again, two through their chest, two more on either side of their lower stomach. The final 2 went through the skin just above their knees.

If Whumpee had had anything in their stomach they would have vomited.

“Now the final touch!” Whumper exclaimed exuberantly.

Again, terror flew through Whumpee as Whumper pressed a button and they felt themselves lifted by the hooks.

Again, merciful darkness overtook Whumpee, it was all too much.

Event Prompt

My Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds, @pigeonwhumps, @whumpsandbumps

#tw noncon bodymod #tw beating #tw needles #tw syringe #tw drugging #whump #whump community #wow birthday whump day 5 #wow birthday whump #scream #captivity whump #no! #creepy/intimate whumper #tw body horror

[writethrough]

Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.

Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.

I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.

Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.

To Make It Through

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.

Word Count: 1203

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.

I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.

And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.

National Eating Disorders Association

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

The Trevor Project

National Institute of Mental Health

Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.

It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.

You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.

First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.

He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.

It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.

He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.

He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.

After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched. 

He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.

He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.

You were also very good at hiding it.

About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He whispered your name. You didn’t move.

He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”

You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.

“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.

The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.

He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.

He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.

“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.

You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.

“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”

You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.

“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.

You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.

Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.

He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.

You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.

You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.

He sat beside you.

Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.

It hadn’t gotten that bad.

He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.

“Why are you friends with me?”

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Because I need you,” he said.

It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.

You shook your head. “You deserve better.”

He wanted to shield you from your own words. 

“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”

You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.

“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”

You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.

Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.

You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.

Whatever you needed from him, he would give.

“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.

Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.

“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.

“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.

“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”

It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.

And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.

“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.

Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.

“Okay.”

Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.

The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird

If anyone would like to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me and tell me which character you'd like to receive updates on.

#Malcolm bright #Malcom bright angst #Malcolm bright fluff #Malcolm bright x reader #Malcolm bright x gender neutral reader #Malcolm bright x gn!reader #Malcolm bright imagine #Malcolm bright oneshot #Malcolm bright fanfic #Malcolm bright imagines #prodigal son imagine #prodigal son imagines #prodigal son oneshot #prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son #prodigal son angst #prodigal son fluff #prodigal son x reader #prodigal son x gender neutral reader #prodigal son x gn!reader

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

jotting down a couple of my solaris post death engine headcanons. hospitalization and mental decline is discussed, although not in all too thorough detail, so i suppose that's a cw?

saying that the medical team didn't consider solaris worth saving wouldn't exactly be accurate. but her condition seemed bleak, and her survival chance was incredibly slim

physical injuries aside, her radiation poisoning was the worst of it. when she was initially brought in after the crash, she wasn't expected to last even a handful of hours as a result of her exposure

said radiation also got all over her clothes, which- when you factor in that patches of them were melded onto her skin due to the sheer heat of the crash- certainly did not help matters much when it came to mitigating further exposure.

thankfully she survived the three hour grace period for severe radiation poisoning. then the three day grace period for moderate radiation poisoning. and then the two week grace period for 'mild' radiation poisoning… the treatments helped, of course, but her immune system hardly escaped unscathed. nor did her stamina, pain tolerance, hair, or the majority of her muscle mass

getting such a traumatic injury immediately after spending an extended amount of time in zero gravity wasn't exactly great for solaris' physical strength. once she was allowed to leave her cot she found it very difficult to support herself without the temporary use of axillary crutches.

she… did not like them. and accidentally made herself worse for a time by purposefully forgoing them. but it didn't take her too long to learn it was less miserable to use them than it was to collapse in the hallway in front of her coworkers.

the fabricator's company especially helped during that period… having designed her own prosthetic after losing her arm, there was little concern fabby would think her any weaker for relying on a mobility aid

the incident… really changed solaris' perspective on a lot of things. grappling with your potentially-rapidly-approaching death will do that to you. she was always a bit of a perfectionist, but going forward she started to cling to her mistakes with a lot more self-directed hostility. after all, it was, ultimately, her fault the death engine project failed to begin with

she also struggles with regret a lot more- mainly in regards to time, and the ways in which she 'wastes' it. another consequence of watching it slip between her fingers, half certain she would be spending the remainder of her life in a hospital cot.

she tries not to make either of these facts too obvious to her coworkers. the fabricator can tell rather easily, though. but that isn't the worst thing in the world. at least she won't weaponize any of it.

the day after she was let out of the hospital was the day she drafted her resignation letter from zoraxis. but she was too scared to do anything with it, or act on the urge to quit beyond that… it was a miracle she even survived to begin with. zor could kill her with a flick of their wrist if they wanted to. and it isn't as if she and the doctor were ever on the best of terms- especially not after her catastrophic failure. she… didn't want to tempt fate until it proved absolutely necessary.

she threw herself into building her imposing figure and nature back up almost as soon as she physically could. and while she inevitably became just as powerful as she was before the incident strength wise, her constitution leaves much to be desired. functionally, she's a glass canon. thankfully, she doesn't look like one- which is a fact that she uses to her advantage when necessary.

#ieytd #commander solaris #headcanons #it messed her up thoroughly and irrevocably i think #she tried very very hard to put her old self back together. and in some regard succeeded. #but she will never be the same person she was before the death engine blew up. and that's scary to #well. its scary to her. it's also scary to everyone around her. #including fabby. #excluding zor. #i like to think solaris enjoys having some command over the room due to her imposing figure and personality #so there's always a little part of her deeply paranoid that no one can take her seriously or see her as imposing after the incident #which further festers into imposter syndrome and deep embarrassment and unidentified self loathing #its a lot. her issues are so plentiful. i didn't even mention all of them. just like a moderate assortment. #i didn't even talk about the chronic pain... sad.

[kanguin]

On my way to work today, I spent some time reflecting on my experience with autism growing up after listening to a video talking about neurodivergence in general. And it really hit me just how frustrated I am with the limitations that are placed upon me with autism. While my stunted social capabilities is frustrating in its own right, the thing that makes me feel the most helpless and aimless is my flat affect and muted emotional spectrum. I used to think that I'm just not really very emotionally impacted by things that happen to me, but in reality I feel the feelings, but just, cannot express them in a way that I or others understand. And because some feelings like fear, anger, sadness, and joy, are self-feeding emotions that react to your own expression of them, the fact that I often don't express an emotion or am even aware it is affecting me until I assess the symptoms afterwards, means that my emotional reactions rarely "bloom" for lack of a better word. This also means that a lot of my emotional reactions to things that happen to me go completely unnoticed by myself and others around me, meaning my emotional needs often go by the wayside and get buried as more things happen. I should point out this does apply to all emotions; I've been questioned on my level of interest in the past when the idea of going to Disney World was discussed as a kid, despite the fact that heck yeah I was excited! But it came out as "Yeah I'd love to!" in a flat pleasant voice that reads to allistics as meager enthusiasm.

My emotions do get loud and pronounced sometimes, but I've found usually only when overwhelmed, or when the circumstances are JUST right for me to express Big Joy (genuine excitement). Hell I still to this day have trouble relating to people defined by big emotions. Anger is one I definitely struggle to relate to, because it's a lot easier to keep a cap on your anger when you don't always notice frustration at first, so things rarely have a chance to boil because the fire isn't fed. Even for things I really SHOULD get angry about, I get mildly indignant or frustrated, and I sometimes feel like voicing my frustrations then make me sound impotent and pathetic. Probably because I was bullied in a way where people tried getting a rise out of me to see my reaction, but yeah. People who explode with righteous fury scare the living daylights out of me, even though I know they're right. It's just so alien, to me. I honestly feel weak-willed sometimes, and get frustrated with the fact that I don't pursue my interests or dreams with any more than moderate passion. I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could gather my finances, find the right, well paying job, and move out within a year, but because my mental disress at being confined to my mother's home simmers barely above lukewarm until it errupts so big that I can't think clearly, before going back to tepid… I just make no progress.

The fact that it took me so long to realize that I'm not cis, and then when I realized that, it took me so many years to accept that I wasn't just "neutral" but wanted to start HRT and wanted to be outwardly perceived as a girl, is all entirely due to how muted my experience of my emotions is. I've debated for a while on whether or not I experience dysphoria about my appearance, and I've come to the conclusion "yeah, I do and I have for a long time going back to early high school". It's kind of obvious in retrospect that not wanting to dress out around boys and starting to prefer to wear a swim shirt with the convenient excuse of being pale/fat, were forms of not wanting to be perceived by others for how my body was. It's so painfully obvious now that the disress that my voice dropping brought me was not just because it was sudden, but because it was dysphoric, not me. But it took so long to even realize that because my emotions are so muted that extreme discomfort is hard to tell apart from mild discomfort unless analyzed in retrospect.

The school psychologist for the early college entrance program I attended my junior year of high school once told me that the thing that sets me apart from my peers is that while most of them had strong dissatisfactions with their life as it was, I was just extraordinarily content with whatever life gave me. And for years, I believed that, becasue yeah, I generally just accept whatever happens to me without much fuss, I don't fight for anything, even if I want it. But hindsight has proven her so, so very wrong about that. And I don't really blame her, she was making the best of what I presented with her and the accounts I gave. I didn't have an official diagnosis of Autism or anything so there was nothing really signalling that my mild, placid demeanor was the combined effort of severely stunted emotional expression and complexity and the early signs of depression. So now I just have to look back, and wonder how differently I would have developed as a kid were my convictions just a little stronger, were my emotions just a little louder. It's not much use looking back and wondering, but it's hard not to when you feel that a defect in your brain has basically held you back from achieving what you want for most of your life.

I'm extremely thankful to the friends I have in my life today. I've learned so much about recognizing my own emotions and my emotional needs from people around me that care so deeply for me. I don't talk to my friends as much as I should, but the past week I've been putting in a concerted effort to talk more, about anything. Just more time with these people who mean so much to me but I give so little of myself to. And I haven't gotten to prioritizing all of the people I consider the most important to me just yet; I have about two or three friends I still want to make sure I set aside time and energy for, but I'll get there in time. My mental health hasn't been great for a long while, for a combined number of reasons, but I want so badly to have quality time with my favorite people, and I think it's finally spurring me into doing something about it. I can only hope that from here on I get better at recognizing the things I want, need, and feel on a daily basis, and not just write everything off as being mildly interested.

#kanguin original #autism #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #trans

[faerunsbest]

2nd trimester

guilt and satisfaction

on ao3

In side the shop Rolan stands beside a stack of new inventory with Cal, they sort and alphabetize various scrolls books and other things. As they do they chatter about idle things but the conversation fills the air and keeps them moderately amused.

Until it doesn’t.

Cal leans back on the ladder looking down at Rolan who is now standing beside the inventory crates, stock still with his chin raised.

“Ro?”

A sniff, then another. Rolan looks around bewildered, then up to Cal.

“What is that?”

“Uh, whats what?”

“That smell?”

Cal frowned as he watched Rolan begin to curl his hands into fists, squeezing tightly then releasing. He walked around the room searching for something, though he didn’t know what. It wasn’t a moment later that Dwylla walked in carrying a tray, two bowls of stew and two tall drinks. Seeing it Cal hopped down, excited to eat. Dwylla didn’t cook often and it was almost always something stewed or roasted but always so tasty.

As Cal hurried over to grab a bowl he watched Rolan find his way back from from some other section of the place. Immediately Rolan froze and Cal saw his pupils dilate.

“Oh no, we haven’t finished inventory…”

Cal sighed heavily as he poured the second bowl into his own and looked at Dwylla with mild amusement.

“You better hurry, try and make it to the room this time huh- no one needs to see that again.”

She turned to look and saw Rolan with his eyes shut, counting to try and focus, it never worked so she waddled off as fast as she could, her hands holding the lower part of her stomach. Cal snorted to himself watching his brother fight with himself to behave, hands curled over his face while grimaced trying to turn away.

Then from across the entire shop floor, midway up the steps she shouted

“Rolannn!!!”

There wasn’t a damn thing for it, Rolan darted across the place and met his wife on the second landing, she kept one hand on the railing, trying to make it up the last leg of stairs. Nope. Rolan reached out and scooped her up in deceitfully strong arms before rushing all the way up the stairs and to their room. It was in moments like this that she was reminded that he was unlike other wizards in a few aspects. He was strong enough to lift her even with the extra carry weight of her swollen belly, something that never failed to send a thrill all through her.

He kicked the door shut behind them, refusing to put her down until he was setting her gently on the edge of the bed. She knew very well how much he wanted to do more, but no matter how much his mind wanted to unravel and have his unruly way with her soft plush form he held back. At no point in time would any pleasurable goal let him harm her, she didn’t like pain.

And she’d suffered enough.

She leaned back and let him strip her bare, then peeled away every offensive layer that would have stood between their bodies. At times like this, his mind a foggy muddy mess there wasn’t much foreplay. Rolan pressed his forehead down against her chest, his whole body pressed over hers as he struggled to try and calm himself down.

Dwylla placed her hands on his face, lifting his guilty gaze to meet eyes. She smiled, pulling him close to kiss his lower lip then across his face.

“I love you, so do as you like- be greedy.”

His mouth tilted to a lopsided smirk, quickly melting as he felt her soft thigh glide over his hip. Rolan quickly pressed his mouth to hers in a desperate needy kiss, shamelessly moaning against her as the ridges of his aching arousal pressed up against her. She’s told him a million times, how much that noise does her in. Her hands glide over his body, one up to tangle in his hair, the other down his spine. He rolls his hips at the feeling of her fingers curling around the base of his tail.

By the time the store had closed up, Rolan found himself trudging through the kitchen. Cal and Lia caught a look at him, looking a ragged mess- they couldn’t help but laugh.

“So hows your day been? Busy?”

Lia asked through a face splitting grin while Rolan accepted the bowl Cal handed over, with the last bit of the stew made earlier.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“So are you gonna sleep in the guest room again?”

Cal asked while he polished an apple with his sleeve. Rolan chewed slowly, squinting across the bowl. Unsure if he was being teased or not.

“No, its too close I need a further room.”

Lia looked at him a little taken aback, she crossed her arms over chest.

“I don’t under stand- why do you have to go to another room? Danis said its just something that happens right? So its gotta be serving some kind of purpose- right?”

Rolan leaned his back to the wall and slid down til he was sitting on the floor, he took another bite and thought about it. After a moment he looked down at the bowl poking around with the spoon.

“It’s chicken this time?”

The pair watched as he seemed to forcing gummed up gears to work into a coherent thought.

“...she hasn’t been eating any red meat in like a month.”

Rolan sat on the floor, still eating while he thought about it. He wrinkled his nose and curled his lip before blurting

“protein?”

“What?”

He looked up to see Lia stealing Cal’s apple, Cal gave a sour look before going to grab another one.

“I still … I still eat the same but shes eating so much weird stuff lately I don’t think shes getting right amount of protein or something…”

Rolan glowered when the spoon smacked again the empty bowl, Cal snorted as he went to take the bowl and pull him up off the floor.

“Why don’t you think about that while you go take a bath.”

#tiny update #fic #bg3 #rolan #tiefling

[narconfessions]

I get so angry when people who just have depression or anxiety, especially white people, talk about how hard it is. I know it's shitty, and I shouldn't be upset that there are people with mild to moderate mental health issues, but when you've grown up your whole life with horribly debilitating mental health issues and trauma, it's so fucking hard to feel sympathy for people who struggle so much less but get so upset about it. When people say that they feel like they're going insane because the days blend together and they can't focus, it makes me so full of rage because they don't get it! They don't fucking get it, to know what's its like to feel like you're going insane. Or people who say they are psycho for getting really angry sometimes, it's like no! No, your fucking not and don't use that word that you have no fucking right to reclaim. I just hate it, it feels like they are hijacking language and space that they shouldn't hijack because it's meant for people who are struggling with things they couldn't even fathom. I know it's shitty to feel this way but I can't help it, I try so hard to just acknowledge that people who don't have severe mental illness can struggle and it is a big deal to them and that's okay, but I can't help feeling so angry.

let me tell you something right now- you do not have to apologize for feeling like this. your anger is always valid, even if it feels irrational and unfair, you’re still feeling it so it matters. two things that seem opposed Can be true at the same time. do those peoples struggles matter? Do they deserve to be supported? Yes. Are you angry because they have it better than you, and is that valid? Also yes! Anger, jealousy, they’re both neutral emotions. You being angry at people with just anxiety or depression isn’t a sign that they’re not valid, it’s a sign that you’re struggling with things too and it would actually be strange if you didn’t feel angry or some way about it because were all human, emotions happen and we don’t have to apologize for them. You can recognize that they’re not bad people for struggling or having issues while also being angry. What matters is your actions- if you remain respectful of their experiences, and if you apologize and learn when you mess up at it, that is what defines you. You never have to apologize for the emotions you feel. And maybe this doesn’t mean much coming from a white person, but you have every right to be angry when it comes to the racial aspect of this as well. You don’t have to hide your true feelings or anger for fear of offending a fragile white person. Your trauma is real, and white people can have trauma without it invalidating your right to be angry with us. Overall, just know that you’re not morally bad for feeling this way. You have a right to your struggles just like they do. If you ever need to vent or talk I’m always here for you.

#NPD safe #actually npd #aspd safe #actually aspd

[symptoms-syndrome]

I think people often misjudge how autistic I am because I went through so much training (especially with etiquette specifically) that I have a larger pool of scripts than the average autistic person of my "level" or whatever. I do have moderate level autism and not mild by any means, it just looks milder because of all the training. I'm still extremely lost when I don't have my scripts to follow, which is unfortunate because the scripts I was trained into cover a lot of practical things but not things like making friends or how to react to people caring about me. Like the other day my adoptive grandmother asked my brother and I what we've been up to, and my brother answered first to talk about what he's been doing, and then I felt really lost because the script/rules I have for answering a question like that is to not talk about yourself but instead another person in your company (as in group, not business.) So I really floundered in trying to find something to say even though a lot has happened with me personally (good things even!) And later on I was talking about it and my brother was like "no, when people ask that they are asking specifically about you." But I don't really have scripts for talking about me because talking about myself is self-centered in my brain, outside of very specific contexts (mostly psychiatric.) So I tried to ask him to explain what makes something bragging vs just talking about yourself but I didn't really understand his explanation because it just feels very nuanced and very like. Reading the other person heavy which I really really really struggle with. I have a really hard time knowing if someone is uncomfortable or not interested or whatever and I've sort of just overcompensated for that I think by staying in my really safe zone of letting others talk about themselves and asking questions about them and stuff.

I really really just struggle with reading and connecting with other people outside of specific contexts and scripts and it really sucks and effects me a lot. I want to be friends with my coworkers outside of work (and a lot of them seem to have made friendships with each other outside of work) but I don't know how to initiate that. Same with online stuff honestly. I need people to very clearly outline stuff for me (i.e. I won't really know how to process "we should hang out more!" From a coworker, it'll just sort of be put in the "pleasantries" category, like how when people say "nice to see you, how are you/how have you been" the correct answer is "nice to see you too, I've been well how about you?" Even if that's not true. In order for me to know for sure that someone wants to spend time with me I need something like "hey, do you want to [go see a movie with me/come over for a brunch/etc] [this weekend/specific date/etc] or I'll assume it's just being nice/small talk.) but I really do WANT to do these things. I just don't know when it's appropriate, and I've been told I'm being inappropriate so often for things that I had no idea were inappropriate and could not have possibly guessed were inappropriate that I just stay on the cautious side. Like. I used to just stick my hands into my pants all the way up to double digits because I liked the way my waistband felt and didn't even consider that was inappropriate until it sort of just got trained out of me.

I think it also adds to all this that when given these scripts I have, I was often given specific, logical reasons and rules. Using the earlier example, talking about yourself is not good because it's self centered, and people don't want to just hear someone talk about themselves. Makes sense, I don't like when people just talk about themselves either. But apparently that rule is not entirely correct. My brother sorta tried to edit it to be "talking about yourself excessively is not good," but that has that subjective "excessively" which I don't know how to define. Or "talking about yourself is okay if the other person wants to hear it" is not helpful at all because I can never tell if the other person wants to hear it even if these things are obvious to a neurotypical or even just less autistic person.

It's just really really hard to be like this. I don't want to be. I wish I could understand things like other people do. Sometimes I feel like all my interactions are like those AI generated writings, just a collection of approximates that look enough like regular writing if it's small and simple. In a way I sort of am like an AI. Just sort of calculating the best way to act instead of just doing things. I need really clear and specific rules and logic in order to do things. I feel like I'm just pretending to be human.

[tainted-liquor]

'Watch Your Fucking Mouth! ...₊˚⊹♡ Ft. 42Miles

...˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

e42!Miles Morales x Autistic!BlackFem!Reader

ingredients: Sugar, Lemon zest, n a lil bit of smiles!

TWs: 'ual harrasment, Miles choosing violence, cussing, bullying

A/N: this is designed for blackfem readers on the mild to moderate end of the autism spectrum. NOT every autistic person is the same, but this is specifically modeled based on MY experience with autism, because this is how I see the world. Enjoy

Reader has a kirby/retro games special interest btw

For the past 7 months, you've been dating your beloved boyfriend, Miles Morales! Of course, this was way easier said than done. Miles had a permanent stone face, a smooth and focused voice, and struggled to describe or depict his emotions. Regardless of that small barrier, he made every effort in the world to make sure you understood where he was coming from. By now he had a pretty good understanding of what to do and what not to do, even going so far as developing somewhat of a routine with you.

You were walking hand in hand with Miles, listening to him recall his day before you briefly paused to look at a cute little shop housing tons of adorable plushies, but most importantly Kirby plushies. Miles stopped, watching as you stared down the cute little sleeping Kirby in the window. Miles chuckled to himself, finding the whole ordeal adorable as you ripped your eyes away from the display window. "You want that plush, huh?" He asked, leading you back in the direction of the tiny store as you nodded eagerly. "Aight, c'mon. Go get it" he nodded as his heart throbbed in his chest while he watched your face light up.

You left the store with 2 new action figures that you fought to pay for and several Kirby plushies. "Happy?" he asked, smiling subtly as his hand found purchase right in yours. "Mhm! I fucking love Kirby man he's just so...cool!" you beamed, rocking your arms side to side with joy. "Aight, c'mon. I gotta get you home before your mom blow my top off" he chuckled, rolling his eyes with faux annoyance as he led you home. "'Kay. Can you walk me to school tomorrow, please?" you asked, gazing into the paper bag holding your merchandise.

"Of course, mama. You want me to bring you a croissant from that bakery?" He asked, watching your side profile with a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes please!" You beamed while rounding the corner to your house. "I think when I get home I'm gonna play with my kitchen set or something...that shit was fun" You giggled as Miles pretended to help you up the stairs like a bodyguard, pressing his imaginary earpiece and muttering an 'all clear'. You waved goodbye, peppering every inch of his face with kisses and tiny bites.

The next day rolled around within the blink of an eye, prompting you to do your daily routine of a hot shower and self-care. You quickly touched up your Fulani braids, slicking down your edges and adding pink star clips to tie the look together before throwing on your uniform, mentally cringing at how the waistband felt against your stomach. You charged down the stairs with your backpack, waiting on the couch for a couple of minutes before getting a text from Miles informing you that he was outside. You flung the front door open, immediately smiling as you caught sight of your boyfriend. "Hey Miles!"

"Hey. I gotchu your croissant, c'mon" he smiled as he gestured behind him with his head. You locked your front door, walking alongside him as he handed you your food and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You walked the entire way to school, giggling like children as you showed him some dumb 'school tea pages' on your phone. "Niggas be irritatin'...HELP LOOK AT THIS ONE!" you guffawed, tears clouding your eyes as you showed Miles a 'lala bop' video. His eyes widened, jaw hanging open as he read the caption before bursting out in laughter.

"Nah that's TRAGIC...how you 15 with 17 bodies? That's fucking CRAZY!" He gasped, shaking his head in disbelief as you made your way into school. "Aight, Imma see you during 3rd, okay?" He reassured, giving you a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of his advisory. You waved bye in between bites of your croissant as you skipped over to your advisory, ready for another boring and dull day of school. You hated the constant cycle of sad blue and white days, praying that something would spice up the day. Well, you got your wish! It just wasn't what you were expecting...at all.

Miles walked through the halls, scrolling through your Instagram on his phone before deciding to make a slight detour to the bathroom. He huffed in annoyance as he saw a small line leading out of the boy's bathroom, opting to lean on a neighboring locker while he continued to mind the business that paid him. "YEO! Miles!" Someone shouted, prompting him to snap his head towards the noise. He locked eyes with his friend Terrence, smirking slightly as he dapped him up. "What's good witchu? You trynna skip 1st period?" Miles asked as he tucked his phone in his back pocket.

"Yessir. Who the fuck bouta be up at 8 AM doing math? They must be fuckin' stupid or some shit, like. Fuck is you talkin' bout" Terrence complained, rolling his eyes with an obvious grimace. "Nah, I feel you. I just do the homework they posted cuz fuck I needa go to the class for if you post the lessons?" Miles grunted, dawning the same grimace as his homie. "Bullshit, that's what it is. But YO! I heard from niggas that you dating what's her name now?" Terrence poked, smirking slightly. "Y/N," Miles corrected "And yes, that's my girl. Why?" He asked, furrowing his brows slightly and turning his head to the side. "Okay, I see you my boy. Her shit mad yurky too I understand" Terrence joked, elbowing Miles slightly with a...disgustingly lustful expression.

"Pardon?" Miles asked, leaning his head towards the shorter boy in an attempt to make sense of his previous sentence. "I'm sayin', she got a body on her. Can't be there for the personality, that bitch a fuckin' geek, just tell her you trynna hit!" Terrence giggled. "Yo, Terrence. Watch your fucking mouth" Miles spat, feeling anger and rage bubble throughout his veins. "My bad gang, I assumed you was in it to hit it! C'mon man, don't tell me you like-"

BOOM!

There was a universal wave of "OHHHH!" and gasps. Splotches of blood littered the floor as the metal locker dented slightly. "Say it again. So I can fuck you up, c'mon" Miles grunted, delivering a disgustingly heavy kick to Terrance's head. "No te quedes callado ahora, vamos" He giggled, leaning back against the locker like nothing ever happened. The news took absolutely zero time to get to you, considering you were two rooms down from the actual fight. "Fuck" you whispered, mentally preparing yourself to have to yell at your boyfriend for two hours.

"MILES FUCKING GONZALO MORALES! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WHY WERE YOU EVEN FIGHTING THE NIGGA IN THE FIRST PLACE!" You screamed as soon as Miles showed up at your bedroom window after school. "Baby I'm not gonna subject you to the shit he was saying, but just know it was for you" He cooed, subtly ignoring the fact that you were practically berating him in real time as he mushed his cheek against yours. "DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME RIGHT NOW?" You yelled, ripping his face away from yours as you held his jaw in both hands. "Yes, 'm sorry. I swear I am, but I do not like when niggas talk about my girl" he grunted as he rolled his eyes. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you called upon your ancestors to give you the strength to deal with this boy.

"Look, I can handle myself. Don't do that shit again, aight?"

"Yes my love."

Taglist:

@ashsostrange @chessbox @faeriesoiree333 @janaeby @kxllanxtdoor @an1bara @fivestardior

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales x reader

[emilemily]

I broke my sobriety last week, and I didn’t lose control. I got lightly tipsy while on vacation and I enjoyed it for what it was, but I didn’t go until I was blacked out as I used to do.

I honored my two drink limit and stopped there. I promised so many people in my life that I would never drink again, and that’s where I made a mistake. But I also made a mistake reducing myself to a permanent fuck-up. I messed up by underestimating myself so much.

I’m so capable of doing whatever I want to do, yet I hit road blocks because I struggle to actually do it. I’m perpetually bored, unfulfilled, and struggling to see the road ahead and what sort of debris is on it.

For three years I abstained from drinking, told myself that if I had one drink I’d go right back down into hell. Rehab programmed into my brain that if I were to relapse, I’d easily end up back in those chairs of the meeting rooms.

But I didn’t. I drank last Tuesday and Wednesday and flew home on Thursday. Had a 20 hour layover in Denver where I could have continued the party and really fucked my life up in numerous ways. But I didn’t. It has been a week and I haven’t had a drink again since.

My therapist believes that some people can become alcoholics completely by circumstance. Enough factors existing at once can create the perfect storm. I do believe he’s right to a degree, but I’m also confused.

When I was at the height of my drinking I would walk into my apartment and take three shots just to warm up from getting off work. I’d go on to easily take 10+ shots during the night, even if I was alone. It became my routine and way of life. A habit I needed to go to rehab for because if I hadn’t I would be dead.

I always bargained with myself by saying I would maybe drink again one day. That helped me feel more in control. It helped me reassure myself that it was all temporary. My therapist said that many people get into the swing of dependency and after a prolonged period of abstinence, they’re able to one day drink again. That’s the mindset I tried to take, even if I didn’t fully believe it.

But why was I so easily able to do so and stick to moderation? Was I ever really an alcoholic, or was I in a routine? What was the meaning of it all?

I’ve been battling some pretty tough cravings today, and realized yesterday what it really is. Thank god for therapy, because I don’t know how I’d cope feeling all of this and not knowing why.

He says that based on what I’ve told him, I spent a high percentage of my life in survival mode. Pretty constant chaos. Because of that, my normal is existing in an environment where people fight constantly, where I’m scared about where my rent money will come from, where I’m constantly unsure of what the next day will bring.

Though he advises against being hyper-vigilant, he recommended that I use my hyper-vigilance to maintain a consistent inventory of what I’m feeling. Because my life is so stable currently and I’m making better money than I ever have, I’m not existing in the chaos to which I am accustomed.

Boredom is and always has been my biggest trigger. Feeling aimless and restless. When things aren’t imploding around me, I don’t know how to relax and enjoy it… so I self-sabotage.

I pick fights with those I love in an “I hate you, please don’t leave me” kind of way. I get cravings to go out and do impulsive things. I start spending in a way that is not sustainable. I shake up my world to create the chaos I don’t even need.

I’m making good money, I’m starting college next month, my bills are paid, I have everything I need. Why is it that the home in which I was raised affects me to the degree that it does? Why couldn’t my parents have been mild-mannered and boring? Why couldn’t I have experienced a normal existence?

And why did that lead me to getting into awful relationships which furthered the extent of the damage? You would think that trauma would lead one to never want to replicate it. But when I’m sitting in a clean house with the bills paid, silently hanging out with my dogs, I get so anxious that my leg involuntarily shakes. I stim and fidget and drive myself insane.

I should be grateful for this stability I have created for myself, for my own drive to get myself out of hell. Why am I instead just as bored as I could possibly be?

Once I drank again, it’s as if I ripped off a bandaid. No more intense cravings and no real interest in doing it again. Until today. Now I’m just thinking and thinking and thinking about how I could really use a fucking drink.

I don’t intend to be sober anymore, but I don’t intend to drink consistently either. Maybe a few times a year. But how do I make that work for my clearly unhinged brain?

I told my therapist that I’m suddenly realizing that I’m not this failure I have seen myself as for years. I can moderate and I can do the right things when I have a mind to.

But what if I don’t have a mind to? Will I ever? It’s hard to say.

I’m feeling extremely heavy with emotion today. The gabapentin is no longer covering everything I’d normally feel, so here I am feeling all of it in abundance. Very tough. I just want to go wild and do tons of things I shouldn’t. I want to cry and scream. I want to run away and join a weird commune.

What direction is my life going in? Where will all of this lead?

If I could just make the shit stop for a few hours I’d be the happiest girl in the world. The anxiety is almost unbearable.

But I won’t go back on more meds. I need to see this through and get through it. I’d rather feel life, the good and the bad, than cruise by with little to no emotion about anything.

Until I adjust, though, ouch.

Refraining from drinking again until I’m in a better frame of mind. Craving that release and giving in is what got me into all this in the first place.

Feelings. Lots of feelings.

I just want to be a normal woman, with the ability to give and receive love normally. With dreams and goals that I take steps to accomplish. With a happy relationship with my family. With a pretty okay mindset most of the time.

Instead, here I am blowing off work that I need to be doing. Agonizing over SOMETHING but being unsure of what that is. Thinking about people and situations that dwelling on doesn’t serve me. Feeling so uncomfortable that I want to crawl out of my own skin.

How am I so confident and aware of my own potential, but so fucking lost at the same time?

Who am I? I used to be pretty sure.

I guess I have to find her again.

Wish me luck as I ride this stupid rollercoaster.

#personal #alcoholism #recovery #sobriety #selfie #me #anxiety

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hey there. I've heard some people mention different levels of autism, and my mom describes some of the kids she teaches (she's SpEd) as having 'mild' or 'moderate' autism.

I was wondering how does this categorization system work? What qualifies one for mild vs moderate? What are the levels? (and how do I level up my autism)

Thank you for your time :))

Hi there,

The levels of autism were added to the DSM-V to describe the needs of autistic individuals. Here’s a visual provided by Very Well Health:

According to Very Well Health:

A person with ASD level 1 usually is able to speak in full sentences and communicate, but has trouble engaging in back-and-forth conversation with others. They may try to make friends, but not be very successful.

A person diagnosed with ASD level 2 tends to speak in simple sentences and also struggles with nonverbal forms of communication.

A person with ASD level 3 will have a very limited ability to speak clearly and will rarely start interactions with other people. When they do, they will do so awkwardly. Someone with level 3 will also respond only to very direct social approaches from other people.

The full article will be below of you want to read through it.

I hope this answers your question. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ❤️

#inbox #inbox reply #inbox is open #levels of autism