#like when it came out I was still struggling with the worst burnout of my life

[leciraofthewilderness]

So, despite some faults, I really enjoyed totk, and on its anniversary I want to say something about it. Other people have said similar things before but it’s really important to me and actually a big part of why the story of totk was meaningful to me, so I want to also say it:

Zelda needed to come back from draconification. The story needed that. It wasn’t lazy and just ignoring “consequences” because (imo) that was the *point*

The point is to feel like there are going to be terrible consequences and then say actually, no. You can come back from this, with the help of other people.

To me at least, that was the theme of the whole story.

If botw was about how the world goes on past loss and grief and starts to heal (how flowers grow in the ruins and the world can be beautiful again, be worth saving, even if it has changed)…then totk was about a more personal kind of healing.

The weight of the world should not be on your shoulders alone…you, alone, should not have to fix everything…you should not have to sacrifice yourself, but when you do, someone will be there to save you from it.

This turned into a really long ramble so:

You (Link) gained so much and now it’s gone. It feels like you’re back to where you started and yet you know you have to do it all again…you were weak and you failed and you’re weaker now…but

You go down to the surface. Monsters swarm across it once again. Other people are fighting them too though. You help, but it’s not just you…

You go to the Rito, the Gorons, the Zora, the Gerudo…just like with the divine beasts, there are friends who help you save each region. But this time, part of them comes along with you when you leave. It’s nice, you realize, the first time one of them protects you from a monster you weren’t prepared for. You’re still weaker than you were before, but someone has your back…

When you go up to the sky you see a strange new dragon there. There’s something about them that feels familiar. You try not to think about it.

You go down to the depths too. It’s terrifying at first. You hate it. You only want to get what you came for and get out of the dark….but slowly, the light grows. You get stronger. The dark feels like a challenge you can face (and someone has your back).

There are spirits down there. You don’t know when they’re from, but some part of you wonders…are these all the people you let die in the Calamity? (You help them find rest from their wandering. The weight on your shoulders feels a little less heavy).

There’s so much gloom. The first few times the sky turns red and hands chase you (a reminder of what you’ve lost, how you failed) you just run. Eventually though, you have to fight. It feels like the (second) worst day of your life again. But you manage to get free of the grasping gloom and stand and fight, as wild and desperate as it is. Beneath the manifestation of your worst fears, there’s another thing to fight, but this time it has a face (a voice in the back of your head says…you know this isn’t all on you and your failure…it’s really Ganon’s fault right?). You get through it.

At every turn in your travels, it seems like something reminds you of Zelda. Her passion, her curiosity, her kindness. You miss her.

At first, the tears you find reassure you. She may be in the past, but she’s safe. She’ll come back somehow…but then you hear the word draconification for the first time. You want to believe she wouldn’t do it but you know her and the fear sits cold inside you. (Zelda is a lot of things. She’s been allowed to be more of them, since she was freed from her hundred year battle, without her father holding her back. But deep down inside her, there’s a vein of self-sacrifice that still runs strong. It’s what saved the world before, after all).

She did it. She really did it. She’s gone from you (from Hyrule) forever, and it’s all your fault. If only you hadn’t failed so utterly in the battle (you can hardly even call it that) under the castle. If only you’d caught her. If only you hadn’t let the sword break. You should have protected her you should have been better it’s all your fault and now she has to live with the consequences, forever. Everything really is on you, you should have been better.

(Zelda POV: you couldn’t call upon Hylia’s power in time, you were too content to let it wither and fade away from you, ready to be free of it. You shouldn’t have. He got hurt, the sword got hurt, it’s your fault…Sonia and Rauru help you channel it again, Sonia helps you learn how to turn back time…but you don’t save her. She dies because you couldn’t save her. Rauru dies not long after. There is no one left to guide you, once again. You could spend years trying to figure it out on your own. But you did that last time. It didn’t work. Self-sacrifice, stepping in front of someone you love, that worked. (You do what you can, to call upon the sages, to help Link in the future, first). And then you swallow the stone. You’ve come a long way, in the past five years, allowing yourself to exist. But in the end, self-sacrifice worked last time. It’ll work this time too.)

You (Link) go down beneath the castle. You were supposed to bring the sages but you didn’t. It’s nice, for someone to have your back. But no one else should get hurt to fix your mistakes.

They follow you anyway. They fight with you, against the hordes, against the greatest enemies you defeated together, along the way. They’ll have your back, even if you don’t think you deserve it.

You fight Ganondorf, and then the demon king, in the hardest battle of your life. You think it’s over and then the demon king decides it’s better to lose himself completely than let you win. You’re exhausted and afraid of yet another battle, but up there in the sky, when you’re falling, the Light Dragon catches you (you wonder why she changed her path to catch you, you wonder if there’s still something of Zelda left in there to save). With her help, you win.

And then you’re in some other realm. The spirits of Sonia and Rauru are there. You remember how the two of them and Zelda channeled such incredible power together. You think about Recall. Turning something back to the memory of what it was before, like Sonia said. You stand with them and you allow yourself to hope. Maybe the Light Dragon can remember the form she took so long ago, the person that she was.

And then you’re falling, and Zelda is falling, but this time you catch her. You catch her. She’s back home with you, finally, finally.

And maybe, one mistake doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes, someone else can stand with you, and it’ll all turn out alright. (You can put the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can sacrifice yourself, but someone will be there to catch you, someone will be there to pull you back to yourself, when all is said and done).

#loz #tears of the kingdom #Link #Zelda #I will say also that I think part of the reason totk is special to me is very personal #like when it came out I was still struggling with the worst burnout of my life #I had had a few months of exhaustion between January and March and in May that exhaustion was still sticking to me #it was hard to get out of bed hard to do anything I felt so tired that I almost felt sick but I wasn’t sick #and the thing is Zelda games are my biggest special interest #and having a new one to play like genuinely I’m not joking it gave me bsck so much energy #I was doing really badly but when totk came out I played it for an entire weekend straight basically #and like my mom came to visit me and help me out with basic life stuff #and like sit with me while I played just like enjoying being together #and that was really nice #over that summer and the fall after I started getting to know someone I work with better #largely over conversations about totk at first #and they’ve become a good friend #(and become someone that I feel safe to be fully myself around) #and so I just have this really strong personal connection to totk #like I will not claim to be impartial about it #there are definitely criticisms that I can acknowledge #in particular I don’t like that they un-amputeed Link let Link be disabled #and also ganondorf’s characterization was shallow and one dimensional #and I’m sure there’s other things I could think of #but the overall narrative #including Zelda becoming the light dragon and then turning back in the end #I really like that #it felt like a narrative of healing to me #and playing it at the time that I did felt really healing to me too

[anabdaniels]

A cozy little life

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Summary: You're enjoying your housewife life and your happiness makes Jack happy too.

Word counting: 920

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: Domestic bliss, domestic fluff, reader is enjoying her domestic life, Jake being the amazing husband we know he is.

A/N: I had a little epiphany while baking a cake, so here we are.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Even though most times you didn’t see anything spectacular about your cooking experiments, that time you were slightly proud of the results. As if the incredible smell of freshly baked cake wasn’t enough, you had successfully unmolded the cake without the caramel remaining glued on the mold.

If a year ago you were told that you would be that happy about a cake with caramelized bananas on top of it, you would have been in total disbelief. Still, on that afternoon, seeing yourself so excited about choosing the right temperature of the oven, so the cake could bake properly without the bananas and caramel at the bottom of the mold getting burned during the process, you couldn’t help but laugh at how much life can change on the space of a year.

Your old corporate job used to be pretty okay and you had no intention to quit after marrying Jack, until your previous boss retired from work and her son assumed the management and converted the work environment to the worst possible: work overload, accumulation of functions, work at weekends and holidays every time it was possible. Every day you went home frustrated, mad, or upset, Jack was always the most comprehensible someone could, comforting and taking care of you while you vented about everything until the day you came back home crying and shaking at the edge of a burnout.

“Sugar, you’re quitting that job.” Jack spoke firmly after pondering everything you told him.

“What? No, I can’t simply quit.” You said with your voice still husky from the time crying.

“Oh no? And may I know why?” Jack raised his eyebrows with both hands lying on his hips.

“I haven’t planned it; my finances are quite messed up at the moment and…”

“Honey, stop.” He sighed frustrated and approached you, resting his hands on your upper arms “I thought I’ve made it clear to you that money ain’t a problem here and that you’re more than welcome to rely on my finances that, by the way, are half yours since we got married. We have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of our lives, you don’t even have to work. I got it if you want to do it, but I’ll not let you do it at the price of your sanity”

You planned to get a new job as fast as possible when you quit, but then you decided to get some rest before start working again. After a few days, you started to feel like you were wasting time, and then you decided to test some of the hundreds of recipes you had saved and never had the chance to do. When the first couple of months passed, you realized you were concerningly happy with your new lifestyle. After six months you just accepted that you were happier than ever daily trying new recipes and doing flower arrangements around the house, even having to remind Jack to take off his muddy boots for the 100th time wasn’t a bothering task anymore.

Jack would never say it out loud, fearing to sound like those weirdos a lot of ladies complained about, but he loved to have you home full-time, knowing that, no matter what hour he came back home, he would find you there in one of those gracious dresses you wore daily and no longer struggling to keep your peace of mind as it used to be when you had your corporative job.

That afternoon wasn’t any different, after a long workday with the livestock, Jack came back home, almost entering home with his dirty boots, but stopping the moment he saw the freshly mopped floor shining like glass. He knew moping it again would solve any footprints left, but Jack would never have the nerve to ruin something you had done, so he was more than happy to let his muddy boots rest next to the door as he entered home. Based on that sweet smell of something recently taken out of the oven, Jack followed to the kitchen, smiling widely when he found you there, looking like a proud mother while taking a picture of the warm cake in front of you.

Calmly, Jack approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder. You smiled and let yourself relax between his arms, leaning your head back to rest against his chest.

“What’s my pretty wife inventing today?” Jack asked in a warm tone, kissing the top of your head.

“Well, I successfully made a caramelized banana cake, and I’m very proud of it if you ask me.” You answered happily, melting a bit between his arms.

“As you should. Just the smell of it by the door was enough to make me hungry.” He answered sincerely and moved to sit in one of the chairs next to the table, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“I make no compromise about it being eatable, but at least looks good.”

“Y’wouldn’t cook anything bad even if you tried hard, honeybee.” He assured while squeezing you between his arms, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“What’s the matter?” You asked sinking both of your hands on his hair.

“Is invigorating to see you happy, makes me happy either.” Jack admitted sincerely, planting a kiss on your neck “I love you so much, sugar.”

“I love you too, cowboy.” You answered quietly, closing your eyes and resting your head against his, simply enjoying the comfortable embrace of your loving husband.

Tagging: @missladym1981

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

[n7punk]

“Make Me a Monster” Fic Notes

MMaM was pretty short and this will be too but this fic has some Backstory and I wanna talk about it lmao.

Playlist:

Warriors (AJ Michalka version)

heavy. — Au/Ra

The Creeps — Garbage

LIFE AFTER SALEM — Lil Nas X

The Heartless (original rock version) — PVRIS (kind of hard to get. Was only available on their PARIS EP which isn’t available for streaming last I checked)

Waking Up (Acoustic) — PVRIS (from the acoustic version of the PARIS EP, which is available on youtube)

chaotic — Tate McRae

Hate myself — Tate McRae

R.E.M. — Mothica

Shatter — Against The Current

Frankenstein — Rina Sawayama

My Limb — Hayley Williams

Epilogue Life:

It takes awhile and I could never write this fic in a timespan where it’s complete, but Adora does come to accept her new prosthetics. After the revelations about She-ra and the Heart, she comes to realize this version of them is the most ideal she could get purely because they don’t need maintenance, removal, cleaning etc and she can care for them the exact way she can the rest of her body, which makes them feel a lot more like her body. Her sense of touch isn’t 100%, still losing some texture differentiation and the ability to really feel light touches (she wouldn’t feel a bug walking on her arm for example), but as shown in the epilogue she learns to adapt, and eventually she stops covering up so much either. When she starts to wear her jacket less is when Catra knows she has made real progress. Her prosthetics are magic and never need intervention, which helps.

On Catra’s part, her guilt also takes a lot to process, as does her trauma from her time chipped, which only feeds into her guilt because she feels like she inflicted that same dehumanization on Adora. She comes to focus her energy on “fixing” things instead though, which does lead to some unhealthy burnout, but the worry her friends show for her then does a lot to help her internalize that no, they really don’t hate her.

It’s one of those cases where they take longer to get to a healthy place than in canon, but they do eventually reach it. They get through the worst of it early on, but those effects echo for a long time.

Chapter 1:

⦁ I was pretty worried going into this how people would feel about this, mostly because it’s an incredibly complex situation. Prosthetics are often helpful, but they tend to not be as effective as people hope and even when they are, that still doesn’t mean people don’t look at them and see what they lost sometimes. This situation in particular, where the prosthetics were largely unnecessary and completely forced on her, was painful. Adora is struggling not just with that, but with the very familiar process of trying to get back where she was before an injury/disability, but sometimes that’s just not possible. She’s seeking every piece of functionality and feeling she gets with her prosthetics, but that doesn’t mean she is less for having lost something either. I was worried about people thinking that attitude she has is ableist, when it’s really just a part of the disabled experience. Some people never have it, but I’m definitely someone who has struggled with trying to get things back while knowing I’ll never get it all. It… really sucks, and even when things seem good, there can be a bittersweetness to them. That’s the kind of attitude I was approaching this fic with. There was also the medical abuse angle with her prosthetics. Despite her impossibly advanced prosthetics, this is a very real thing I actually saw conversations about when TotK came out, which is what gave me of the exact phrase for that trigger because I was having trouble naming/describing it in the content warning before that.

⦁ Hordak was working on prosthetic limbs in the event that his deteriorating state made it impossible for him to keep working, using Adora as his guinea pig to test their effectiveness. Shadow Weaver kind of thought there was a chance She-ra could regrow them entirely even if that wasn’t what she was banking on. She actually thought the second accident was a mercy, because Hordak already wanted to test out the set on Adora at that point, so making it “necessary” was supposed to be easier on Adora. Her empathy meter is broken.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra just can’t “get” why Adora stayed, but it was kind of impossible for her to leave before that. Part of her already knew Shadow Weaver would be back for more, but she couldn’t let herself do it because it was the “wrong” thing to leave Etheria to the princesses. When she realized the Rebellion wasn’t actually monsters, it was all so much worse because she realized everything — her arms, Catra’s punishments, the horrible way they grew up that she didn’t even really have perspective for — had been for nothing. Catra was right all along. They should have runaway. So she did

⦁ I didn’t intend to title the chapters of this fic since it was so short, but then the “You promise?” line came up and I wanted to make that the chapter title for clarification purposes if nothing else, so I added them in.

Chapter 3:

⦁ I know I’m kind of the “let’s talk about traumatized Catra” person but tbh I still don’t think we give enough weight to having your body literally puppeted while you watch and undergo nightmare hallucinations. Like how the fuck was she functioning after that. So yeah on top of Adora being extra traumatized in this (and Catra additionally having extra trauma from watching that happen), I wanted to go a bit into the echoes of having been under Horde Prime’s control for Catra too. (Other members of the Princess Alliance who were chipped definitely deal with nightmares from this too, but I have a feeling the nightmare scenarios were mostly unique to Catra, especially considering the green pool wasn’t used on the others and by the time Prime had the others under his control he was dealing with a lot of chips and conjuring up nightmare scenarios for them all doesn’t make sense.)

⦁ In this AU there was a lot more immediately obvious awfulness from Shadow Weaver, so even after the portal Glimmer did keep her confined to her room, not that it helped Adora’s mental state much. She was a lot more hated and shunned in Bright Moon and when they were on the run. Catra and Adora still cried watching her die, but after the fact their general attitude is a mixture of “good riddance” and “how could she do all that to us and then just die without ever acknowledging it?” They take her sacrifice as the closest thing they’ll ever guilt to an admission of feeling guilt.

⦁ The thing about Adora never being able to tell if her sensation is back to “normal” is a very real thing when it comes to disability. I remember at one point telling a friend that I couldn’t tell if I wasn’t in pain or was just shouldering it because I didn’t remember what not being in pain felt like anymore.

⦁ If you know my poll, this was “in the engine room.”

Chapter 4:

⦁ In this AU, they have no idea the First Ones Virus could infect She-ra with just the sword since it seemed “obvious” it spread from the robots, to the sword, to her prosthetics, which somehow caused everything to go haywire. Because she was working with her original set that was less advanced, the virus was legitimately latched onto She-ra itself, which also explains why it went away with she reverted the transformation. They just thought changing “bodies” let her purge the virus when she transformed back. The corruption from the First Ones… worm, thing, corrupted Adora’s limbs similarly to how the virus took over her, only with green instead of red, completely changing the colors of her arms and legs and then slowly creeping up her veins. It was gnarly.

⦁ Entrapta just has a better connection with Catra and was looking to her for an answer, but a small incline of the head was their signal back in the Horde that she should really just agree with whoever she’s talking with. She almost never paused to notice it, but Catra was trying her best (and failing) to keep her out of trouble.

Original Outline:

Originally this AU was supposed to be longer, starting when Adora first lost her limbs, then skimming through scenes throughout the series, until finally landing on Darla. That was just an extra 2-3 chapters probably, but 1) god that’s too much angst. It kept me from writing it for like 9 months because I didn’t want to do it, 2) the balance just wasn’t there? Everything got “minute-to-minute” once they were on Darla, with entire chapters dedicated to it, where as the previous chapters were scattered moments taking place over literal years. This did mean I lost some ideas that were supposed to take place in the war and such (the princess prom scene, for example), but it’s still better for it.

I started to write that longer version of it back in 2022(!) but only worked on it for two days to about 2k before I was like this is not vibing and dropped it. When I picked it back up with the shorter timeline in mind, I wrote 70% of this fic in one sitting back in September, but then I got kind of stuck on their reconciling conversation and I think it was just a little too much angst for me then so I didn’t come back to it the next day. I’ve opened it occasionally since then to glance over but it just wasn’t clicking until this week. I edited what I had and wrote the rest of the fic in two days once I was there, though. I am proud of this fic but it’s definitely a very emotional one so it kind of has to happen in bursts like that. I’m glad to have finally gotten it out now, as rocky as getting from idea to completion was. I had the idea November 14th 2022, wrote most of it September 4th 2023, and finally finished it March 9th 2024.

Upcoming:

Start Your Engine ;)

#MMaM #fic notes #ficmeta

[fandom-imagines-stories]

All For One

Musketeers Comfort Imagine

Words: 3525

Summary: In preparing for her trials to become a Musketeer, the reader’s anxiety begins to get the better of her. Luckily, she has the four best friends anyone could ask for. 

Notes: Another comfort imagine dealing with anxiety and burnout because *mental illness* I needed this haha. Thank you end of the semester struggles. Like my Pogues imagine, this doesn’t have any specific ships, but since Aramis and D’Artagnan are my favorites, I may or may not show a little bias. I also really wanted to capture the feeling of them riding off together at the end of the season because that’s one of my favorite parts of the show, so hopefully that came across. 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

They all knew something was off. Though it was early and most were still half asleep, exhausted by the night before’s activities, they saw with enough clarity to know that you were not yourself. 

You ate your breakfast swiftly- though, poking at your bread could hardly be considered eating- and in silence. You hardly responded to Aramis’s daily teasing, something that had become like a ritual for the two of you, or to Porthos’s suggestion of close combat training later in the day. Worst of all, your eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, though you kept them downcast to try and hide them. 

Once you’d hurried off, the four men at the table exchanged worried looks. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Porthos asked. 

“Nerves maybe,” D’Artagnan observed. “She’s going before Treville next week. I know I was terrified when it was my turn to prove myself.” 

“And especially difficult for her,” Aramis added. He gazed after you and shook his head. “But there’s something else. I don’t think it’s just nerves.” The way you’d looked at him just moments before, with eyes both pleading and yet… empty. It worried him. “We should do something.” 

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Athos said. He stood from the table and put on his hat. “We should let her come to us. If we try to force her, well-” he blew out a breath. “We all know how that’s gone in the past.” 

The other three nodded mournfully. 

It was odd. You were one of the more open of the group, but all of them could agree, when something was truly and deeply wrong, you always tried to keep it to yourself, though none could understand why. 

“We can’t just leave her like that,” D’Artagnan said. “There must be something we can do.”

“Just be patient,” Athos nodded. “She knows we’re here for her.” 

Does she? Aramis couldn’t help but think. While they’d made it clear that you were a part of their group and they all cared for you very deeply, he’d picked up hints that you didn’t quite believe it. Whether or not this was just your mind playing tricks on you, he was determined to show it to you. He turned to the others and a wordless understanding passed between them. They nodded, all feeling the same as he did. 

They’d make sure you knew you were one of them, even if they spent all day proving it. 

-

You started the day with close combat, asking Porthos to help as usual, since he was the very best. You hoped the physicalness of the exercise would help wake up your tired senses and give your on-edge body something to fight. Your limbs pleaded for a distraction from their tension while your head desperately tried to focus. 

How could you be so exhausted and so unstable at the same time? 

“You sure you’re ready?” Porthos asked. When he’d agreed to train, he hadn’t noticed just how tense you were. You paced in front of him like a street cat afraid of its own shadow. While he never used the full of his strength when sparring with you, he feared more than usual he might hurt you if this were to go on. 

“I’m always ready,” you said with a little more venom than you’d intended. He narrowed his eyes and you ignored the concern you could see in his gaze. “I don’t have all day, let us begin.” You ran at him before he could object. 

Porthos braced for your first hit- a punch toward his shoulder and counter-attacked with a swing at your legs. You jumped and kicked his knee while propelling yourself upward for another hit to his chest, launching away from the impact. You both fell back into the dirt but were on your feet in seconds. 

Porthos raised a brow. “Alright, love. That’s how we’re playing it.” 

You took a deep breath and went again. 

The fight was fiercer than you’d ever done before. Porthos seemed to struggle to keep up with you. He may have his strength, but your agility proved vital. At one point, you were able to climb onto his back, arm around his neck. Your body locked up and all you could focus on was the pounding of adrenaline in your head. 

“Y/N!” Athos shouted. 

The other three rushed over to the two of you and you suddenly realized that Porthos had hit his knees and was smacking at your legs to let him go. You gasped and jumped off of him. 

“Porthos, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t even realize- are you hurt?” You stammered. 

He coughed, breathing in with deep, hurried breaths to take in as much air as he could. Aramis knelt in front of him, dark eyes flicking over to you with more questions than you gave him time to ask. 

You brushed off and tried to hide the rising panic in your voice as it squeezed at your chest. “Guess I got carried away, huh?” 

“Only a little,” Porthos wheezed. 

You feigned a smile, turning to Athos. “I’ll go easier on you later, I promise.” It was meant to be a jest, but neither of you laughed. 

With your body locking up again, you got away before any of them could see the weakness threatening to overtake you. Once out of view, your fist flew, striking the wall and scraping your knuckles. 

“I wouldn’t give her a weapon,” Porthos shuddered as Aramis helped him to his feet. 

“She doesn’t seem like she’s going to take no for an answer,” Athos said. 

Aramis sighed. “This is worse than I thought.” 

���I’ll say,” Porthos grunted. 

“She needs to get out of here.” D’Artagnan stared after you with a pained expression. “All of this practice is getting to her. She’s pushed herself too far.” He swung his sword in front of him in frustration. “But how do we get her to take a break? She’s far too stubborn and worried about Treville.”

The four of them pondered this problem for a moment, eventually hearing you start up again, practicing with your sword with barely a minute’s rest. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Aramis sighed. “The three of you come up with something.” 

“And how do you propose we do that?” Athos asked. 

Aramis shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

-

You loaded the musket with relative ease, but he could see how your hands were shaking. Of all of the skills you had to master before facing Treville’s scrutiny, your marksmanship was by far your weakest, despite Aramis assuring you otherwise. Why else would he have suggested you practice it now, rather than after your duel with D’Artagnan and Athos? He didn’t believe you were good enough, you could feel it. 

“Take a deep breath and relax your body just like I showed you,” he instructed. 

“I know, I know,” you said. 

Aramis stood behind you as you aimed at an empty wine bottle at the other end of the field. He wasn’t used to you being so closed off to him. In truth, he’d brought you out here with the hope of helping you clear your head, but he seemed to only have made it worse. At least this way, you weren’t directly aiming a weapon at anyone. Given what happened with you and Porthos, he doubted giving you a sword would end well for anyone. 

“Alright, ready?” He stepped just enough into your line of vision. 

You ignored him and took the shot. 

The bottle remained standing, mocking you from afar. 

“Damn,” you muttered, already loading the musket again before he could say anything. 

“Y/N, perhaps-”

“I can get it.” You took aim and fired. A tree trunk several yards from the bottle splintered from the impact. A frustrated growl tore through your chest. What was wrong with you? 

You forcefully set the musket back down, readying to load it for another try. Aramis’s hand covered yours before you could. 

“Y/N, wait,” he said softly. “I think I know what’s happening.” 

“What’s happening is that I’m not ready,” you snapped, more at yourself than at him. “And I only have a few more days to get it right or else I’ll never be a musketeer and all of this would be for nothing and-” Your words caught in your throat even before he held up a hand to stop you. 

Aramis laid his hand on your cheek. 

“You’ve worked yourself to the bone for weeks, darling.” He gave you a small smile. “You’re so exhausted you can hardly see straight. Am I correct?” 

There was still a part of you that wanted to fight him. To deny everything he’d said. Tired meant weakness and you couldn’t bear it if any of them saw you that way. But with his dark, caring eyes looking into yours, there was nothing you could say. 

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling. 

He pulled you into his arms. 

“There,” he sighed, running a soothing hand up and down your spine. “It’s alright. You’re just working too hard, that’s all. It’s alright.” He pulled back, kissed your forehead, and looked down at you. “Better?” 

You shrugged, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Maybe you’re right.” 

He smirked. “I’m always right, darling.” 

With an arm slung around your shoulders, he led you back to the courtyard of the garrison where your other three friends stood next to their horses. Aramis and your horses had been saddled and awaited their riders. 

“What’s this?” You asked, Aramis handing your musket off to one of the stableboys to put away. 

“You are leaving,” D’Artagnan grinned. “Well, all of us are leaving, of course. We’ve all decided that we could all use a break from Paris. You, especially, Y/N.” 

“I can’t leave,” you scoffed. “There’s so much to do still! I need to stay and practice and…” You trailed off, as Aramis gave your hand a gentle tug toward the others. 

“Paris will still be here tomorrow,” Athos said. He watched you with a raised brow. “As will Treville and all of your training. One of the things you need to learn about being a soldier is knowing your limits, Y/N. You cannot help anyone if you can no longer help yourself. Besides-” He held up a bulging saddlebag which clinked as it moved. “I already bought the wine.” 

“I for one think it’s a magnificent idea,” Aramis beamed. “I’m jealous I hadn’t thought of it before. We could all use a day away, don’t you think, Y/N?” 

You took a deep breath. There was so much left to be done. You still needed to perfect your marksmanship, ready your fencing strategy, and work on hand-to-hand without strangling your sparring partner this time. The pressure of it all lingered in your chest as you gazed at the four wonderful men who’d helped you this far. 

But they were right. How could you possibly hope to achieve your goals if you overworked your body to the point of disaster? 

“Alright, I’ll go.” 

All four erupted in cheers. Porthos even lifted you up, tossed you over his shoulder, and spun around, eliciting a squealing laugh from your lips. When he set you down again, he kissed your cheek and gave you the biggest smile you’d ever seen. 

“It’s been far too long since I’ve heard that sound,” he said. 

The others all grinned in agreement and your group of five mounted your horses. You looked back at the garrison as the city passed by and spotted the field where you'd been practicing with the musket. The mocking bottle remained in its spot, untouched. 

Aramis followed your gaze and chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” he nodded. “Just not today.” Aramis reached over and put a hand on your shoulder. “And that’s perfectly fine.”

You nodded in return and urged your horse forward, away from Paris and your responsibilities and your anxieties. You let them fall away with the pounding of hooves against the road and the laughter of your friends in the air. 

-

The sweet summer air filled your lungs, banishing the lingering scent of the city. Wildflowers lined the path, the soft earth shifting under your feet as you leaned down into a starting position. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get away from training,” D’Artagnan teased, taking the same stance beside you. Aramis stood in between, arms raised for the signal. 

“Ready?” He glanced excitedly at both of you. “Set.”

“This isn’t training, D’Artagnan,” you laughed. “This is fun!” 

“Go!” 

You flew down the path, your legs sprinting as fast as they could carry you while D’Artagnan raced next to you. He started in the lead, but as you neared the tree at the end of the lane- your predetermined finish line- you began to gain on him. Your hair whipped around your face but you kept your eyes open and focused on that tree. 

The three cheered both of you on, all favoring you for the victory. Their hollering only increased when you finally surpassed your opponent, keeping just a step ahead of him all the way to the end. 

When you turned to gloat in your victory, however, you failed to see one of the tree’s roots stretched out in front of you. Your foot caught and, in your attempt to save yourself, your hand latched onto your competitor’s arm and dragged him down with you. 

D’Artagnan tumbled, the two of you rolling down the small hill behind the tree. Grass and flower petals broke your fall and burst up into the air as you landed with you on top and D’Artagnan sprawled out beneath you, both of your cackling filling the air.

“I’m-” You snorted. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Your words were hardly understandable between your snickers. 

“I’m fine, are you?” His heaving laughs lifted your head which laid on his chest. You peered up at him, taking in his sparkling eyes and bright smile. You couldn’t help but feel all of your worries from before fade away. 

After a moment, the other three appeared over you, looking down and shaking their heads. 

“I would say Y/N is the winner, but seeing as she’s also the one that caused this unfortunate spell…” Porthos started. He helped you up with a smirk and you playfully punched his arm. 

“I agree with Porthos,” D’Artagnan said, brushing himself off. 

“Clumsy or not, I’m still faster,” you fired back. 

“Perhaps a rematch is in order.” 

“You should know by now, D’Artagnan.” You stepped toward him so that you were only inches apart. “I never back down from a challenge.” 

Aramis put a hand in between you two. “Alright, I think that’s quite enough competition for the day.” His deep laugh brought more warmth to your chest. “We should make camp soon anyway before the sun sets.” 

You pointed a finger at the youngest musketeer and smirked. “This isn’t over.” 

He bowed dramatically. “I look forward to it.” D’Artagnan hurried ahead to start the fire, his laughter still ringing through the air, and you strolled alongside the other three. 

Aramis removed a leaf from your hair and tucked the strand behind your ear. He held up a hand to his ear. 

“Listen,” he said. “Do you hear that?” 

“I hear nothing,” you shrugged. 

“Exactly.” He breathed in deeply with a content smile. “Isn’t it wonderful?” 

You scoffed. “Aramis, I give us all two days before we’re begging to get back to the noise and excitement of Paris.” You poked a finger at his chest. “You especially.” 

He opened his mouth to argue but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he chuckled and held out his arm. 

“Fair enough. But it is a break well deserved nonetheless.” 

You beamed, taking his arm. “That it is.” 

You all sat around the fire, eating rabbit that Aramis had shot earlier and Porthos roasted over the flames with a bottle of wine for each of you. D’Artagnan and Aramis sat across from you while you and Porthos spent dinner discussing your technique in sparring earlier in the day. 

“I am sorry again,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “I hope I didn’t injure you too badly.”

“Just his pride!” Aramis chimed from across the fire. 

Porthos tossed a pebble at his head. 

This, of course, prompted a small battle between the three of them, picking up various projectiles from the forest floor and trying to hit each other. In the midst of their antics, you saw Athos from his place leaning against a far tree. He motioned for you to follow him. 

Having always been a little frightened of the leader of the group, you gulped, believing to be in some kind of trouble with him. Athos’s intensity was known throughout the musketeers, along with his skill with a sword and leadership. 

He led you in a perimeter around the small camp you’d made without saying anything at first, which of course only increased your returning anxiety. 

“I know you believe that you don’t belong here,” he finally said. His words were so blunt, you didn’t know how to respond and he continued. “I wanted to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, which I know isn’t very helpful given how you’re feeling.” 

“Unfortunately, it isn’t,” you sighed. “Though I appreciate your encouragement.”

“It isn’t merely encouragement, Y/N.” He stopped walking to look at you with that same intensity. “I believe it. I’ve never seen someone work with as much passion as you do. With as much tenacity and willingness to learn. Half of the men in the musketeers think they already know everything about the world, but you-” An impressed laugh made his blue eyes shine. “You have done more to learn and to improve than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder you’ve exhausted yourself so much. It’s remarkable it hasn’t happened sooner.” 

You opened your mouth to rebuke his claims, to deny your skills and deprecate the work you’d done, but he put a hand on your shoulder that silenced you. 

“I would be honored to serve alongside you.” 

“Athos I-” You blinked back tears. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Just promise me you won’t end our practices the way you ended with Porthos and I’ll be content with that,” he teased. “Let’s get back before they cause any trouble, hm?” 

As the two of you returned to the group, you felt so overwhelmed by the feelings stirring in your chest. But this wasn’t from anxiety or overworking yourself. You were just so grateful, gazing over the crowd of your four closest friends, that you couldn’t contain it. It spilled out onto your cheeks with joyous tears. 

Aramis noticed you first and his face immediately morphed with concern. 

“What have you done, Athos?” He leaped to his feet, soon joined by the other three as they scrambled to your side. “What’s the matter, Y/N, my dear?” 

“Nothing,” you laughed through your crying. “Athos has been nothing but kind, I promise. I just…” You took a deep breath. In one hand, you took Aramis’s, intertwining your fingers, and with your other, you took Athos’s. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” 

“You would do the same for any of us,” D’Artagnan said. “It’s the least we can do after all of the work you’ve put in.”

“Work that has not been ignored by Treville,” Athos added. “I believe he admires you even more than we do.” 

“If that’s even possible,” Aramis said with a wink. 

“Well, I can’t thank you all enough for taking care of me like this.”

Aramis glanced around the others with a mischievous twitch of his mustache. 

“All for one,” he said, twirling you around so that you landed in Porthos’s arms. 

���And one for all,” Porthos finished, lowering you into a dip. 

“You are all imbeciles. Now let me go,” you squealed merrily as they spun you around again. By the time you’d danced with all four of them, you were all dizzy enough that you collapsed beside each other in a heap of laughter.

My musketeers. You couldn’t help but think with your head on Aramis’s shoulder and your legs stretched out over D’Artagnan’s. You remembered why you were so adamant to join the regiment in the first place. To be one of them. You knew now that, no matter what happened in the coming weeks, you always would be. 

The stars twinkled over your heads as the fire died down. You let out a sigh and felt content. 

“I love you all,” you whispered into the night. “Even if you are idiots.” 

Aramis chuckled beneath you. “And we you.” He kissed the top of your head. 

D’Artagnan poked at your calf. “Even if you are stubborn.” 

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Porthos whined, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You settled again and heard Athos sit up. He placed his cloak over you as a blanket. 

“Rest well, Y/N.” 

And you did.

#the musketeers #bbc musketeers #comfort imagine #luke pasqualino #howard charles #santiago cabrera #tom burke #the musketeers comfort imagine #burnout #all for one and one for all

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Okay, Bizzaro boys rambling time:

All of this information and headcanon formation comes from a lot for different sources. Primarily late-night Ao3 readings and one image set that I can't get out of my head but have NO CLUE where it is or who made it.

I'm putting it under a cut, this shit will get lengthy.

So, in terms of HOW the Bizzaros are and came to be, this goes heavily on an AU that I don't remember who created it, but pretty much the Bizzaros are a counter-universe to the Ninja. (Credit due, it was a Tumblr user)

I'm taking in on that, but also adding a few things: -They have their own memories and past life. -They have their own family and relations to each other. -They're almost the exact opposite of the ninjas.

Now, here's it laid out in terms of each character: We'll go from A to Z:

--

Bizzaro Cole starts off as much as Cole is but more: Very cocky, very stubborn, and very destructive. As time goes on, away from the ninja, he becomes less of a follower and more of a leader. Turning stoic, easily annoyed, but very stratigic and smart. He keeps a monitor on his fellow Bizzaros' health (physical), goes headfirst into combat strategy, and knows how to push buttons to get on people's nerves. In other words: A humanized bastard cat. Him and Cole would not get along too well, given for how protective B!Cole is and how laid back Cole is, they're two bulls ready to butt heads at times.

-

Bizzaro Jay starts off very flirty and very destructive craving, with hints of emotional instability. With time passing, a lot comes out about Jay. Primarily, a large regard of health issues. Muscle spasms, absence seizures, POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome)- This comes with a large regard of worry for Jay's health, despite how many times he'll dismiss it. He turns very closed off and calculated, barely giving any emotional regard. Jay and him would NOT get along. With Jay's excitable nature mixing with B!Jay's Not Impressed nature, they'd struggle.

-

B!Kai starts with a very leadership, very protective nature towards the others, cocky about their abilities. With time, however, Kai practically caves in on himself. Emotional, anxiety ridden, and a people pleaser. It doesn't matter who it is or what they want, he'll do it. But, with the twist of a dime, with the right buttons pushed, he turns into a pyromatic and destructive being with fire abilities. This is where Cole's button pushing comes in handy, being able to get Kai to that destructive point and beyond. This does lead to an overcharged burnout afterwards. Him and Kai.. Oddly work together. Given that B!Kai is very quiet and will listen to what other's say, Kai doesn't find him a bother. Still, Kai would get jumpscared by how quiet B!Kai is.

-

Bizzaro Zane is.. Well, he starts off crazy and reckless, and that only amps up the less his spent and compared to Zane. One of his catchphrases being "Logic? What's the point in logic?!". Yes, Cole has a child leash. Yes, Zane is more often the one to have it on. Yes, Zane is very irritated by this. To put it lightly: Zane goes headfirst into battle without knowing what the battle is. He is a nindroid, yes, but treats himself like he's a human being rather than a killer robot. Him and Zane, they.. Uh.. Well, it's not the worst friendship ever? I mean, if you ask B!Zane, you'd get a bit of chaotic high praise. If you Zane, you're met with the most annoyed and exhausted expression that could be displayed on any living thing.

-

Their powers are darkened/purple versions, aside from Cole, his still being rocks and whatnot, but more of gems and geodes rather than pure earth.

Asking about a Bizzaro Nya is met with a lot of stilled silence and a solid threat of 'Never mention her', along with Kai stowing away for a couple of hours.

They tend to listen more to Sensei Gamardon more than Sensei Wu.

When I tell you that these boys can and will be traumatized by living in good Ninjago AND from a made-up past, they are.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #bizzaro ninja #bizzaro kai #bizzaro cole #bizzaro zane #bizzaro jay #jay walker #kai smith #zane julien #cole brookstone #sensei garmadon #sensei wu #nya smith #whosh alright thats that uh.. havs fun with it! #if you cant tell i love the bizzaro boys because they were a missed opportunity #bizzaro verse #ninjago au

[rosemaryandarsenic]

Mine

pairing| Gareth Emerson x female reader

readersynopsis| Gareth has an important question to ask you, but you almost spoil it because of a misunderstanding. (Happy ending, DW) Based on Mine by Taylor Swift

warnings|SMUT! 18+ only as always, minors DNI. Also, the reader struggles with symptoms of burnout and overreacting, self-doubt, intense emotions, and insecurity. Parental trauma. Alcohol. Oral sex, daddy kink.

AN: This is not my finest work, honestly I've been feeling shitty so I wrote this for myself lmao. Mental illness sucks, and I don't see it often in fics bc it's depressing so I wanted the reader to struggle a little. I have Bipolar and it makes relationships stressful sometimes, but it doesn't make them impossible. This one is for my fellow mentally ill friends, ily <3 Also, Gareth and the reader are in their early twenties! The reader is in college and waitresses for work. Her roommates are Robin and Vicki! Everyone is happy and nothing unusual exists in this universe anymore.

You’re staring at the worn-down tiles in the classroom, your professor drawling on about the upcoming final you have next week. It’s hard to concentrate, and your anxiety makes you agitated. Between finals and work, you have already been stressed the hell out, on top of both your boyfriend was practically nowhere to be found. You’d called Gareth three times this week, with no answer, which was abnormal. He usually called you every day, especially when you were too busy to be together in person, but this whole week had been radio silence. The two of you had been fine, to your knowledge, except for a small spat a few weeks before. You tried not to think about it, wincing. Because of your parents, even little fights felt ginormous, weighing down on you like a pile of bricks from the quarry. He wouldn’t leave? Right? Your stomach turned, and you tried to quell the fears in your mind. Instead, you pictured the worst possible cases - anxiety fuels delusions splashing across your vision. Gareth never gave you a reason to feel jealous or insecure, but you’d never really gotten over knowing his ex in high school. You’d been there for ground zero, and despite his insistence over the years that their 3-month long relationship meant nothing in comparison to how he felt about you, it clouded your mind. Relationships were something you avoided after your parent's divorce. They were messy, even the best ones. It felt like too much was on the line when it came to trusting people. You chided yourself - you knew better than this. You are safe, you’re loved, and all is well. But the feeling stayed with you all day, growing worse as you still didn’t hear from him. 

Slinging your bag into the passenger side of your car, you sighed heavily and rummaged around for a tape to fill the silence. You needed a distraction, something that wasn’t bussing tables or writing papers. A movie maybe? Your Roommates wouldn’t be home till late tonight, both working the closing shift at the diner. You started the car in frustration, feeling hopeless. Maybe a movie AND alcohol would be better. Your thoughts trailed again as you drive home, feeling genuinely down in the dumps. When it got this bad you usually called Gareth, something about his voice calmed the nervousness in your mind. It hurt worse, feeling like he wasn’t there, but it wouldn’t last forever. He was probably busy, also with work and school, and the band. You perked up, changing direction from your apartment towards Eddie’s. Eddie was one of your oldest friends, and he always seemed to know what to say when you needed to vent. Maybe he’d be home, it was Friday after all. You pulled into the entrance to the trailer park, feeling slightly better at the idea of not being alone when you noticed that another car was parked next to Eddie’s van. Gareths car. 

You groaned, pulling into the spot next to him and parking, questioning your options. Go inside? Leave? They all felt bad, so you opted for the what was hopefully the most sane - go inside. As you neared the trailer, you could hear music coming from Eddie’s window, a small waft of smoke sneaking out his cracked window and trailing upwards to the sky. You knocked rather loudly, and heard the music stop as Eddie’s footsteps sounded inside. 

“Who in gods name-“ he started, as he swung the door open and saw your face. Your expression must have been more obvious than you thought, because his brows immediately furrowed together. 

“Hi sweetheart.” He smiled, tone completely changed. “Cmon in.” 

You smiled at him, trying to shake off your anxiety. 

“Sorry to bug you, Ed’s. Got out of class and was feeling restless.” You say, pushing hair behind your ear. 

“You can never bug me.” He chuckled, looking at the ground like he was thinking too hard. 

“I didn’t realize you and Gareth were hanging out.” You nod towards the cars outside. “I uh, I can leave if you want!”

He looks confused, “We weren’t planning on it,” he looks down again, “Um, he’s actually not here anyways so you’re fine.” 

You feel a jolt in your spine at his words, the anxiety flooding back in. You don’t want to show it on your face but you’re not sure what reaction would be better. 

“Oh. Okay.” Your palms are sweaty. 

“Wh-where is he?” You mumble. 

Eddie looks like he’d like to crawl under the table, his eyes still directed at the ground. He shakes his head, a small smirk on his face. 

You’re absolutely falling off the deep end mentally, your anxious mind going a thousand places at once. You can feel tears burning behind your eyes and will them not to fall. What is it with the men in your life? Why can’t they just say what they’re thinking? 

“Eddie.” Your voice quivers more than you mean it to and he quickly looks up at you, the smirk disappearing. 

“Are you crying?” He looks shocked, and walks over to you with a worried expression. 

“No.” You sniff, “no. Actually yknow, I think I probably should go. Um.” You avoid his reaching toward you and bolt towards the door, trying to keep your composure. This is silly. This is so silly. You wanna go home, just take a shot and go to sleep. Eddie is following after you as you swing the door open and walk directly into the person on the other side of the door. 

Gareth, despite his arms already being full, catches you as you ram into him, nearly pushing the both of you off the front steps. 

“Whoa there,” he says, stopping you as you push past him now, desperately wanting to be in your car and away from this mess. The sound of his voice sends you over the edge and you let out a choked sob. Jesus Christ this is embarrassing. 

“Honey, hey, whoa.” He says, dropping serval bags on the ground as he sees the tears streaming down your face. 

“What the fuck, Munson?” He’s red in the face, grabbing you to him as he looks back at Eddie, who’s just as confused as he is. “What is going on?”

“Wasn’t me man,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Y/n, hey.” Gareth is clinging to you now as you wipe your face, cheeks burning. 

“It’s fine! I’m fine!” You stutter, “Eddie didn’t -“ you gasp, trying to catch your breath, “he didn’t do anything. I’m fine! Okay?! I’m fine!” You push him back, stepping towards your car. “I gotta - I…” you manage to get out before turning and bolting. Absolutely not. This is too much. 

Gareth and Eddie watch, both looking totally lost as you sprint back to your car and nearly eat shit on the muddy ground. 

“What the hell did you do?” Eddie says Gareth. 

He just shakes his head. “I don’t know but I think I gotta go.” He replies, leaning down. “I got it though.” He whispers and hands a small bag to Eddie. 

“Can you hold onto this please?” He asks, and Eddie nods. 

“Go get her man.” Eddie nudges him, looking back towards your car as you drive away. 

Gareth does. 

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

You slam your keys on the counter in your kitchen, tears rolling freely down your cheeks now. Nothing sensible is going through your brain, so you let it out, sliding down onto the floor and letting your head fall into your hands. There will be an explanation but it’s not right now, and you feel terrible. Where had Gareth been? Why was he being so sneaky and quiet? And Eddie, was Eddie in on it? It felt like you were thirteen again, crying on the kitchen floor as your parents screaming sounded through the house. A door bangs as your mom storms out, your dad watching from the front window. 

“Go to your room.” 

“Daddy?”

“Now.”

You bawl harder, the loneliness crawling into your gut, a familiar feeling after all these years. You don’t want to lose Gareth. You can’t bare the thought. 

Trying to compose yourself you gingerly stand, your knees wobbly from the rush of emotions. It didn’t matter, you would make it. You just needed to stop crying. Maybe a shower would help? You stand there, shaking a bit and holding your arms close to yourself. It’s fine. Everything is fine. 

You jump at the sound of knocking on the front door and feel your heart leap a little. Stop hoping, you mumble to yourself, it’s probably just the neighbors wanting to know if someone is dying. You cry louder than you mean to sometimes. Irritated, you swing the door open and feel a rush as you see the dark blond ringlets you know so well. 

Gareth is standing at the door, clearly flustered from rushing to follow you, a concerned look on his face. He hadn’t expected you to answer on the first knock. Silently he reaches out to you and you give in, crawling into his arms and burying your face in his shirt. You both stand like that for a minute, without speaking. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. 

“You don’t need to be.” He whispers back. 

Gently, he pulls away and lifts your face towards him, wiping off excess tears. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, my love?”

The pet name elicits more tears from you and he pulls you back into his arms. 

“Is it me?” He asks, bluntly but softly. “Did I cause this?” 

Your heart aches, and you try to find the words to explain. It feels stupid, how upset you are. 

“I…where were you?” You ask, deciding to start there. 

He tenses and you feel your gut drop again. Here it comes. 

“I was looking for a surprise for you.” He says, turning slightly red. 

“What?” You say, pulling away.

“A surprise,” he holds your eye contact, running a hand through his hair. 

“What kind of surprise takes all week?!” You blurt out, more confused than before. 

He looks stressed, like he’s trying to find a way to tell you without telling you everything. 

“Can we sit?” He asks, gesturing inside. 

You move, letting him inside, and he sits down on the sofa with his legs criss-crossed underneath him. You didn’t sit, so he taps the sofa next to him. 

“Baby, please.” 

You sit down with a huff and raise an eyebrow. This better be good. 

He can see the irritation on your face and groans internally. He’s not gonna let you in on what it is, he’s worked too hard, but he needs to calm you down. 

“Listen I’m not ruining your surprise, but I can tell something’s bothering you.” He starts, wringing his hands together. “I didn’t realize I’ve been so distracted and I’m so sorry, honey.” He leans in and puts a hand on your leg. 

“Why not just answer the phone?” You groan, letting him touch you. It helped, but you were stubborn. 

“The phone?” He asks. 

“I’ve called you three times this week!” You snap. 

He groans, “shit. Jeff forgot to pay the bill. It was disconnected till last night. I thought I left you a message?”

You turn red. “Our answering machine is broken.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m so sorry.” He says again, “I should’ve just come over.” 

Your resolve is starting to crumble, as you lean into him. You missed him. 

“You know I'd never ignore you, right?” He says as he strokes your hair. “I could never forget about my sweet girl.” 

You nod, trying not to cry again. 

“I just…I get scared sometimes.” You let it out. “I don’t want -“

“We aren’t your parents.” He says adamantly. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

The two of you stay cuddled together on the sofa for a while, until you drift off. Gareth chides himself as you sleep in his arms, working through the rest of his plan. He needed to be more careful, it would only take a few more days and he didn’t want you to feel like this. He watched as your chest rose and fell, still stroking your hair. Just a few more days. He hoped his plan would make up for this week. 

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

The next few days progress more normally, your anxiety lifting as you finish most of your finals for the semester. It’s Monday, only one test left this afternoon and then you have no school and two full days off of work. You were in between classes, eating lunch outside as the late spring sun shone through the clouds. Rainy days were your favorite, and today had been no exception, though you appreciated the chance to eat outside. Gareth still seemed jittery, but you brushed it off. You knew now that he was planning something, but you also know better than to push it. He’d get ideas and be stuck on them for weeks sometimes, unable to focus on anything else. Your concerns about his attention being directed elsewhere were no longer plaguing your mind because you knew he’d tell you eventually, so you focused on the tasks at hand. Stretching, you took in the humid air and smiled. Just a few more hours and you’d be curled up on the sofa with your friends and your favorite snacks. The whole summer was ahead of you, with only work to deal with before your senior year of college came around. Sliding off the bench, you pulled your bag to your shoulder and threw away your garbage as you waltzed inside. Just a few more hours. 

While you finished your exams, you had no idea about the commotion happening at Eddie’s. Your roommates, Robin and Vicki, were hauling ass as Eddie followed them around bossily. Gareth had finished his finals that morning and was sweating his ass off trying to stay calm. Dustin and Jeff argued in the kitchen. Steve and Max were supposed to be arranging flowers around the living room but were instead arguing as well.

“It should go here!” Max insisted, pointing at a pile of roses that had been prodded the point of wilting. 

“No way, those are supposed to be over there.” Steve flung back, stabbing himself on a thorn and wincing. 

Lucas sighed, moving the bouquet around for the third time in the last 5 minutes as the two of them continued to argue. 

“I need to leave to get her in like ten minutes, can you just DECIDE.” Gareth pleaded, his cheeks red as a tomato.

“You need to cool down, man.” Dustin said, handing him a bag of frozen peas and earning a glare. 

Wayne walked through the door with boxes of pizza, chuckling at the chaos. 

“Where is the man of the hour?” Eddie called from out front, struggling to fit through the door as he carried in another bouquet of flowers. 

“Don’t crush them again Eddie, I swear to god.” Robin yelled behind him. Vicki and her had been moving flowers all day from the flower shop where Vicki worked, and she was covered in scratches, a bit of mud on her knee. 

Will was leaning on the counter, observing the chaos, and he moved to grab the flowers from Eddie before he suffocated them into a second death. 

“You have the ring?” Eddie asked, sending Gareth into a spiral as he laughed, pulling it out of his pocket. 

“Eddie, stop it.” Nancy swatted him as she came from the bathroom, rolling her eyes. “You’re gonna give him a heart attack.” 

“Man, don’t stress, half the town is here to help.” Jonathan said, following Nancy in and giving Gareth a sympathetic smile. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Gareth gave a half hearted nod, he’d barely made it through his exams this morning because of the anxiety. What if she said no? Even more terrifying, what if she said yes? Y/N was his dream girl, they’d been together for almost five years and he still got butterflies. What if he threw up? What if he passed out? He started to sweat again and pulled the bag of frozen peas to his face. Wayne smiled and patted his back, giving Eddie a solemn look. 

“Everyone out!” Gareth's mom hollered from the doorway, “out.” 

The group finished their tasks and trailed out, moving to their assigned positions as Gareth's mom wandered to him with a smile. 

“Hi,” he mumbled, still holding the frozen peas to his cheek. 

“Hi.” She whispered back, putting an arm around him. “How are we doing?” 

She always talked like this when things were stressful. In his entire life he’d never heard his mom speak of his problems with a “you” instead of a “we”. It was always them together, never him alone. He wanted that for him and y/n. Always together, a team.

He sighed. “Im fucking nervous.” 

“You should be,” she laughed, rubbing circles on his back. “She’s a good girl, it’s been a long time coming.” 

“What if she says no?”

“She won’t.” 

“But-“

“Gareth Emerson, remember who you’re talking about.” She said, smiling again. “I have seen the way she looks at you, since the day she stumbled onto our porch with that bloody lip.” She laughs, and he laughs with her. The day they met, she’d just moved in next door, and had gotten the houses wrong in a panic from falling off her bike. He’d opened the door to a furious girl, hands cradling her mouth and eyes wide as she realized she’d almost walked into the wrong house. 

“Oh my god I’m sorry.” She sputtered, blood dripping out of her mouth. He’d fallen head over heels immediately, and they’d been tied at the hip since. 

“She won’t say no.” His mom whispered again. “Now, let’s get your ass moving, lover boy. Her parents will be here in five.”She poked him, and shoved him out the door. “Time to go get the girl.” She winked. 

Over the moon, Y/N turned her face towards the sky, admiring the clouds forming overhead as she waited for her ride. Gareth would be there any minute and she didn’t want to wait any longer. All day she’d been dreaming of the sound of the rain on top of Eddie’s trailer as they celebrated the end of the school semester and relaxed. The sound of Van Halen blaring from a beat up sedan drew her attention with a grin. Gareth is always so loud, you can hear him coming from a mile away. He parked and she slipped towards the car happily. 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” He smiled, opening the passenger door from the front seat. She slid in and pulled his face in for a kiss, lingering an extra minute to appreciate the softness of his lips against her own. 

“Someone stole my cherry chapstick again.” She laughed, pulling away. Gareth blushed. 

“I keep loosing mine.” He grins. 

The drive to Eddie’s is calm, Gareth breathing intentionally slow to calm himself and smiling as he watched Y/N lean back in her seat. Her eyes were closed, the wind blowing through her hair as a small smile spread across her face. He loved her so much it felt a bit like he could explode. 

“Do you think the boys will let me get away with watching Ferris Buellers Day Off again?” She mumbles. 

He laughes, “not on your life.” 

She giggles and pouts, opening her eyes. 

“It’s a great movie, okay?”

“You just have a crush on Cameron.”

“I do not!”

“Sure, sugar.”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Maybe I just like grumpy boys, is that a crime?” 

“Are you calling me grumpy?” He feigns offense. 

“Absolutely, gare. What’re you gonna do about it?” You retort, grinning and batting your lashes at him. “My grumpy boy.” 

He chuckles, pulling into a spot behind the trailer to park and trying not to give away the excitement that’s buzzing around in his head. 

“Listen,” he says quietly, “before we go in, I want to give you that surprise I’ve been working on.” 

You nod, smiling at him. “Okay! Are you sure you wanna do that now?” 

“It’ll only take a second.” He nods. “Hop out, and then close your eyes. I gotta get it from the trunk.”

You raise your eyebrow but comply, getting out and closing the door. Your brow furrows as you wait, not hearing the sound of the trunk at all, only the breeze around you. 

“Gareth?” You ask. Silence. Slowly you open one eye and nearly jump out of your skin. “Dustin! What the hell are you doing?” He’s in front of you with a huge smile, Gareth nowhere in sight. “What-“

“No questions, m’lady. Follow me please.” Dustin says, gesturing broadly as he leads the way. As they walk towards the trailer, Will and Mike are waiting, also smiling. 

“You guys are creeping me out.” You laugh, “what is happening?”

“No questions!” Max says, as she, Lucas, and El also join the group that’s leading you inside. In front of the trailer, Steve, Vicki, Nancy, Jonathan, Jeff and Grant are all waiting. Each of them holds a single rose, which they hand to you as you walk towards the door. The realization of what’s happening is kicking in as you see the cars out front. Your parents, hopper, Gareth's parents. Everyone is here - which means…which means. 

“Makeup check.” Robin says, stopping her at the door with a huge grin and fussing with your hair. 

“Rob-“ you start to ask.

Robin cuts you off, “listen to me, pretty girl. I know you well enough to know you probably know what’s behind that door, right?” 

You nod. 

“Good. Now get your ass in there before I start crying.”

You nod again, hugging her aggressively as she tries to fix your hair again. 

She opens the trailer door and you can hear guitar, softly playing. You know it’s Eddie but you can’t see him, instead all you see is wall to wall flowers and candles. The inside of the trailer has never looked like this before, or smelled so sweet. Gareth is standing in front of you now, in the center of the room, a sloppy grin on his face. 

“Hi” you whisper shyly, reaching out for him. 

“Hi.” He whispers back, pulling you in. 

“You ready?” He whispers in your ear as he holds you close, and you nod. 

Carefully pulling away from you, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little black box before he shuffles down onto one knee. 

You’re trying incredibly hard not to cry, and shockingly, so is he. You wipe a tear off his cheek with your thumb as he stumbles out a few words before clearing his throat. 

“Will you - will you marry me?” He gets out, eyes watery as they look up at you longingly. 

“YES.” You shriek, toppling into him as he laughs. You hear the guitar squeak as Eddie throws it off and bounds out from the kitchen. 

“SHE SAID YES.” He yells, slamming the door open. “YES!” 

Chaos is erupting around you as everyone floods in, the room filling with your friends and family. You stay wrapped around Gareth as choruses of congratulations and “finally!” surround the both of you. This is the best day ever. 

—- 

Hours later, well into the night, you’re back at your apartment with Gareth. At midnight, Wayne had ushered everyone out, sneaking the both of you out first with a box of pizza and some champagne so you could escape the clean up. You’d barely made it inside the car before Gareth had you smashed up against the door, hungrily attacking your mouth with passion that could only come from being pent up for weeks about the day. You leaned into it, rolling your tongue along his teeth as he moaned into your mouth. He only pulled back when Eddie slapped the passenger window and yelled , “get a room.” 

You flipped him off as Gareth rolled the windows down and started the car. 

He visibly was in a rush as he drove back to your apartment, glancing at you every few minutes with a huge smile on his face. 

“Someone’s happy.” You teased, giggling as he shook his head and laughed at you. 

“I’m marrying the prettiest girl in the world, can you blame me?” 

You blushed, and leaned over, sliding your (now ring-laden) hand across his denim-covered crotch.

“Prettiest girl in the world, huh?” 

He groaned, leaning back to give you room. 

“Don’t tease me, baby.”

“I’m not!” You say innocently, running your hand over his growing erection. 

His face was all red again, eyes locked on the road as you reached for his zipper and slid out of your seat. 

“How could I possibly tease the cutest boy in the world?” You say slowly, nuzzling your face into his stomach as he drives, his cock pressing out of his boxers underneath you. 

He moans again as you slide your hand up his clothed shaft and press kisses to his tip. 

“You’re gonna kill us both,” he whines, one hand flying to your hair as you start to pump him with your hands. 

“So pull over then.” You say, pawing at his boxers until his cock is free. 

He’s panting, cock leaking precum as he pulls off to the side of the road. Your hands are fully wrapped around his length, pumping away, and you lean in and take him in your mouth as he parks.  

You can hear him letting out the most guttural noises as you suck, letting drool slide out of your mouth and onto his legs as he ruts into your mouth. 

“S-so good.” He stutters, pulling your hair away from your face as you bob up and down, your own whining echoing through the car as you feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you run it up the underside of his shaft while looking up at him, eyes begging him to cum on you. It sends him over the edge, as he grunts, cum splattering across your face and the steering wheel. 

You giggle, straightening up. “See, not dead!” 

His cheeks are bright red, eyes locked on you as wipe your face with one finger and pop it into your mouth, savoring the salty taste. 

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna cum again.” He mutters, reaching around you for something to wipe off the rest of your face. Finding nothing, he pulls off his shirt and delicately wipes away the mess from your face, then the car. You plop happily back in the passenger seat, snuggling in as he gives you a confused look. 

“My turn when we get home.” You wink and he grins, starting the car again. 

The best part of giving him head in the car is getting to watch him after, cheeks glowing and hair tussled as the music blares. You also know you’re in for it when you get home. 

As the two of you pull into the apartment complex, you fumble for your keys, not bothering to get your book bag out of the back. Gareth barely lets you out of the car before picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He’s short, but he’s strong as hell, which comes in handy when you like to be man handled. You walk inside, and he tosses you onto the sofa and slams the door shut behind him. 

“Mine.” He mumbles, not bothering to undress himself before diving between your legs. You’d worn a skirt today, and he thanked Ozzy for the easy access. Ripping your panties off, he slides both hands under your ass and licks at your wet folds, making you cry out. 

He hums into your cunt, lapping away as your hands run through his hair and tug him closer to you. When Gareth eats pussy it’s like the rest of the world stands still. He always starts hungrily, like he’s starving and then get slower, letting you wind up before sending you crashing down again. He angles your hips up with his hands still grabbing onto the flesh of your butt, tongue circling around your clit as you start to beg. 

“Gare-“ you cry out, writhing as he pulls his face away. Your juices cover his chin, and gloss his lips. 

“Yes honey?”

You giggle. “I wanna ride your face.” 

His eyes get wider and he practically throws you off the couch to make room.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he grins, “have a seat, princess.” 

You straddle his face, his hands greedily pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he laps at you again, soliciting another moan. 

You whine, arching your hips onto his face, falling apart as you feel his tongue along your clit again. He slides a finger into and starts pumping as you ride his face into the cushion. 

“P-please daddy.” You moan, grabbing onto the sofa for support as your legs start to shake. He slaps your ass and you start to see white light spiraling across your vision. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ you moan, panting.

He slides in another finger and it sends you over the edge, crying out as your legs tremble. He slides you down onto his chest as you come down from your high, curls plastered to his forehead and the chain around his neck hanging haphazardly. 

“I got to K.” He chuckles, and you smack him lightly. You’re both a mess but you lean in for a kiss anyway. 

“I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you more.” You whisper back. 

With a wink, he says. “I love you most.” 

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson x reader #gareth smut #stranger things #rosemaryandarsenic rants #gareth emerson x y/n

[leggyre]

You got any adivce for someone who's considering dropping drawing completely since they don't like what they're making at all?

honestly i've been in the same struggle recently bc it just hasn't been a good year for me. i haven't been drawing a lot bc most of the time i'm either sick or i just.. can't. I've been picking myself up as of late and it's a really difficult grind, but honestly the fact i've been able to actually start this grind is already good for now. I guess that counts as advice; be patient with yourself. Self-esteem doesn't come easy and the little steps are worth so much more than you think.

ok so uh,

-if you just started, don't think about it too much. we all start with the weird scribbles. if you stop now you might never get back to it -if you've been trying to doodle often and always end up hating the result, just take a break. art block is seasoning for burnout and you might just be tired. a lot of times i've felt bad about my art i kinda "gave up" for a while and when i came back to it it was like "wtf this easy what was my issue (it was burnout)". so take a break, play some videogames or hang out with your friends for a week. idk write essays about the media you like? it feels like you're being unproductive but resting IS part of productive because just pushing yourself will just result in nothing being done at the end of the day. -look at your favorite work! im not quite out of my latest artblock yet because its a tough one(it's been teaming up with depression caused by health problems it suuuuucks :/), but when i went long enough without being able to draw I kinda started feeling like I can't do shit and can't call myself an illustrator at all specially bc what i do isnt that big of a deal compared to others(<- comparison also big mistake remember youre the only one who can make YOUR art), going through my folders and seeing the stuff I like the most gave me a LOT of motivation to keep going, even if I was still unable to start drawing right away. not giving up is so important. -so yeah love your art. focus on drawing things you like because it's a gift from you to you, and you should treat it as such. i know it's really hard to be positive about it all the time but it can be really good to go through all your artwork at the end of a day and look at the things you like about it, even if it isn't much. -on that note, find something you really like drawing!!! back in high school i had massive periods of depression that kept me from drawing but i occasionally found sort of a 'life hack' for myself which were things i was always able to work with even during the worst times. one of them was just.. bees. i just doodled random characters as these bees and made og designs too and it was fun. the other one was using colored pencils instead of a regular one bc i just like colors and it made me happy :] it didnt matter that they always had the same overall shape or if i couldnt erase when i messed up, i was just feeling good being able to draw something that i liked. -experiment more!! expand your palettes and download some new brushes. i even change from my newest to my old busted tablet that still sorta works occasionally because using a tool that feels different is.. refreshing somehow? idk -when you need to get yourself back up, do the little steps at your own pace. do a little doodle every day. it's okay if it's always the same thing. the same character. the exact same idea. it's okay if it sucks or if it's unfinished because you struggled. Just give it little pushes. What matters is to try. and it's okay if you can't do it every day. maybe every other day if you need a slower pace. -and remember. engagement doesn't measure your skill. art is subjective anyways!!!!! i spent YEARS doodling and posting only my ocs and getting little to no notes. i think one of my favorite artworks from the time i had ~100 followers had like 0 notes for the longest time. to be honest i don't even know if it has any likes at all nowadays i'd have to look it up bc it's a bit buried

#ask the leg

[coyoxxtl]

i feel like i have been struggling with burnout since i failed my last art class when i was still actively in college. (i didnt even fail it i was passed bc my prof at the time liked me but it was independent study and i didnt complete a single thing) i dont think i ever recovered from that. even when i was semi active when it came to making fanart in the beginning of my arcana phase it was so restrained and i didn’t do as much as i wanted, completed the pieces i kept dreaming about. its even worse now that i only post incomplete sketches once every few months Maybe, and i only ever finish something when im commissioned to do so. i guess its nice i can still finish artwork when its my job, but when it comes to works that I Want to do, artwork for ME, the energy just isnt there. the worst part about this is that i take out this anger and frustration out on others, well, not directly but mentally i attack everyone who i believe is handling this sorta thing better than me, my friends become enemies in my mind. it’s not fair to anyone involved. idk how i’m supposed to continue healing from this, but i know i want to keep trying even harder this new year, bc what else am i supposed to do

#txt

[scatterpatter]

Mnnngh art vent under the cut

I really miss when art was easy for me. It used to come so, so easy, even though I'd say my art wasn't as good as it is now. Like I'd def say I've improved, but its so much harder to get art out now than it used to be

I look back at the art I used to make and I seriously lament how easy it was. Even if it was just doodles, I could get so many out, I remember back in like 2019 i could often get at least one doodle out a day and it felt great. It was my outlet, my way I connected with others, the way I shared ideas and made stories, and now I feel that outlet has been practically severed and it really, really hurts

Artfight def hurts the worst. I was so excited for this year, so ready to reconnect with a lot of my friends and bond over silly AF attacks, and it was genuine! I didnt have any big plans this month other than just doing my job so I was so happy to do this. July last year was awful, I was in a horrifically abusive situation and that abuse reached its peak last July, I was in a bad bad place. But I've completely cut that abuser from my life and I'm in a much better space, so I really thought this July would be me turning things around

But as soon as I got a lot of attacks, I just- fucking shut down. I kept thinking on how much "make up revenges" I'd have to do and it got to the point where I'd get overwhelmed every time I picked up my tablet. What became "Hehe can't wait to make art for my friends!" Quickly spiralled into "Oh god I need to do so many revenges I cant keep up", and it just made me catatonic and I hate that. And the worst is that I know no one's exepcting me of anything, I dont have to revenge everyone, its all for fun- I know its just this expectation im putting on myself and im the only one disappointed in myself but I just cant stop how catatonic its left me and its really tough to deal with because ive only done 1 attack so far. Ive spent the entirety of July going "shit i need to work on attacks. Its ok ill do it later." And now its July 31 and ive only done one. I set a goal of doing at least ten. I thought ten wouldve been manageable, but I just cant do what I used to do and it really really hurts

And I keep being told that Im having a hard month. That works been stressful and working 40hr a week leaves me with significantly less free time than I had back in college, so of course i have less time/energy for art, but it still hurts because I dont. Feel like work has been that bad. Yeah its been bad but ive dealt with horrific stress before and ive handled it fine. I feel like if I go "its been a rough month" ill be saying that every month. And i dont want that. Im really healing and im getting in better places, I feel like still struggling this much doesnt feel "right". Hell my therapist just told me that i might be in remission or partial remission for my major depressive disorder. Like I have a professional telling me im getting better but I still struggle to do something that came so easily and it hurts really really badly.

Im gonna see what i can do for last minute attacks. Might not be great attacks, but i want to see if i can get something, anything out. It just hurts because i had so many ideas for my friends and I dont know what Ill be able to do for them and I feel horrible. I feel severed from them and from my main outlet of connecting with others.

And i know its just a sign of burnout or art block or mental illness or what the fuck ever. But I feel like ive been making too much progress in myental health to be struggling this hard. I love making art and i love artfight and sharing art with my friends but as soon as I try, I go completely catatonic and its really really hard because i used to be able to do this so easily and i want it to be easy again but I dont know what im doing wrong to still be struggling this hard

Idk bottom text

#vent #feel free to keep scrolling its nothing inportant just lamenting my lack of AF attavks this year

[drea-exclusives]

Week 5 — You're On Your Own, Kid

Yesterday during class, the topic of MCO and the pandemic in general was brought up. We were asked about our experiences studying during the pandemic, and for the first time in a while the memories of that time which I had stored in the back of my mind came flooding back to me. And just like that, the decision for the topic of this week's entry was settled. So, here is the story of the highs and lows I experienced with my studies and mental health during the pandemic, as well as how I've forged ahead since then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

I'll go ahead and say that 2021 was one of, if not the worst year of my life so far. A harsh emphasis on "so far" as I know that I have barely even lived this life and there is so much more I have yet to face. But of the most painful moments I've endured so far, 2021 was filled with many heart-wrenching memories that still affect me to this day when I reflect on it.

I was 17 then, a high school student going through the motions of life during the pandemic with online classes, while simultaneously preparing for SPM. Though this lifestyle had been going on since 2020, it never got easier but instead led to burnout in majority of my batchmates and other students. Despite not being one of the highest achievers prior to the pandemic, my teachers and the people around me had high expectations for me, not knowing that I was in one of the lowest points of my life.

I have never felt so hopeless and unmotivated for such a long period of time. Stuck in what felt like a never-ending rut with my life going downhill but having no desire or energy to get out of it. Fearless, even though I was completely unprepared for the biggest exam of my life because I had already lost all hope, yet the anxiety was eating at me every single day. Feeling so directionless in life because there was nothing I wanted to pursue or dreams I wanted to achieve post-SPM. And on top of all that, bearing this guilt of being a disappointment to everyone in my life; I can't begin to describe how lonely and trapped I felt inside my own head at that point.

It went on like this until SPM was around the corner. The only ways I managed to cope were through seeking comfort from my closest friends, writing words of encouragement in sticky notes and pasting them into my planner, creating a gratitude journal of all the things I was grateful for, and writing a letter to my future self that I would read at the end of that year. In other words, showing myself lots of kindness, forgiveness, and empathy; being mindful and acknowledging my situation was the most crucial practice for my mental health at the time. And in the end, although my SPM results were nothing extraordinary compared to my peers, yet I was beyond proud of myself for making it through the most difficult patch in my life.

Fast forward to 2 years later, I managed to achieve a CGPA of 3.93 for foundation as well as acquire the Dean's List award. The bittersweetness I felt on the day of the Foundation Award Ceremony is still so fresh in my mind. "I should been ecstatic" I thought, but in reality I spent more of that day re-reading the letter my 17-year old self wrote about her struggles, sympathising as I recalled how much she went through. Nevertheless, I took it as a reminder of my capabilities, and to trust that everything in my life would fall into place; I was exactly where I needed to be back then in order to be where I am today.

As of now, degree has been a little stressful and anxiety-inducing so far. At times I found myself doubting my abilities and questioning if I will return to how well I performed during foundation. Hence, this topic seemed fitting to write on while I attempt to start having faith in myself once again. There are many other obstacles that I will have to face, and the idea of being knocked down or facing the unknown can be discouraging and scary sometimes. But this experience in itself has given me hope, for I have faced and conquered all that was in my path previously, and therefore I know that I can do it again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Song of the Week! As the title suggests, this was the song that represented how I felt throughout my journey with my studies and my mental health. Considering the fact that it was my most played song last year, it has definitely gotten me through many instances when it was tough to persevere and serves as a reminder of my resilience. The lyrics "you've got no reason to be afraid" have particularly stuck with me, being a source of encouragement and strength to believe in myself every time I encounter a rough patch. In other words, a song incredibly dear to me.

[thomsong93]

Living or just dying?

2023 proved to be one for my worst years for mental health. I did hope that turning 30 this year would inspire me to live life to the fullest, now that my youth is going to start disappearing.

It's now the end of the year and all I experienced was constant pain. And I'm still trying to figure out why.

I did this thing again, where I search for happiness. Or I suppose you could also call it 'trying new things' but basically as usual, I was unhappy with the status quo.

I did a vocational course which proved to be difficult and taxing. Perhaps it was what I needed to see that I'm not doing so well. Very quickly, I just deteriorated. Though I'm unsure how much of this deterioration was situational.

I wanted

... to change my antidepressant, as I began to feel more conflict within. This was a risky thing to do when I was already struggling. Quitting an antidepressant is difficult enough. Now I'm on a new one and it's hard to tell if it's working. I need to endure another month or two before I make a decision. And I use the word endure because that's what every waking minute as been like.

I'm almost finished with the course, almost done with the year and hopefully get to visit my family soon.

But this year has felt like more than just total burnout. It's felt like a year of the worst depression I've ever experienced. I feel like I realised something and my mind is having trouble coming to terms with it.

I realised

I lost hope of one day becoming somebody. Of talent. It was always a dream. Not necessarily famous but leaving a mark in someway. Through music or acting. I gave up on music long ago. I lost that talent. And I've lost my confidence with acting. And I'm starting to lose my self worth.

I've realised that I can't be happy chasing a dream because I'll forever move the goal posts. And now I'm left thinking 'now what do I do?'. I began to self harm again, I needed to keep a 'worthiness diary' because suicidal thoughts were daily and at times my partner held me as I fell apart in his arms.

I think I'm struggling to be okay with being nothing. And I want so badly to be okay with just nothing. I came from nothing and I'll go back to nothing. Nothing is just nothing and it shouldn't be scary. I want to do a full 180 and focus on 'nothing' over something.

But it feels impossible to do this safely, without seeing the logic of suicide. I don't feel joy with nothing. Maybe contentment. Maybe relief. But there is no joy.

So here I am.

Alive. But not living. And I can actually feel my brain and my heart dying. My brain seems to not be sharp anymore. I'm slow, stupid and losing my memory. And my heart has this constant pain, it is a physical pain stemming from an emotional pain. And there's not much of my heart left.

I am leaning more towards suicide as an option every day and feel anger that it is unacceptable. I want nothing more than some way for this pain to end.

I am weak. The weak perish and that's life. I can't survive on my own.

So what now?

I can't die. I have to live.

So I must find a new medication, therapy or way to feel joy again. That's all I know. It's hopeless. I'm hopeless.

This all feels true, I don't care if it is or isn't in actuality. I should at least be allowed to admit what feels true to me.

I don't know how I'll recover from this.

I don't know how long it will take. Or if a full recovery will even happen. If I'm making a mistake not cutting things short.

For now, I'm in limbo trying to count my blessings.

Trying to make sense of all that does not make sense. Trying to see fairness in all that isn't fair. Trying to find myself when I'm lost.

Trying to live while I'm dying.

[philosophicalkrow]

Back in my spring semester of sophomore year, when I was still going to North American Mental Health Services for therapy, I got asked one question: "Do you want to get better?"

It seems like an easy question, yes? "Of course I want to get better. Anything but this." Yet back then, this stumped me. Being in the worst slump that I had experienced, I didn't know if I was even going to live long enough to get better. I told him that I didn't know.

The way he explained healing to me was simple to understand. "Right now, you are at the bottom of the sea. It's not great in the slightest, but it's familiar. To go up will make your life better, but there's always a chance you'll sink back down. Do you want to go to the surface? Even with the risk of sinking back in?" Still stumped, I asked my English teacher the same thing the next morning. "Would you stay in a familiar place even though it hurts you?" He said no. We talked about my health after, until the bell rang to start class.

The rest of the year was chaotic. My former therapist referred me to the county for more intensive services, and I became worse during that gap of treatment. June was rough, but I started to heal during July. That is when I learned the one thing that no one told me, not my therapists, not my elders, not my peers. No one told me that Depression never leaves you.

The first day I noticed that I was feeling better was 6/18. I was laying down, and for once, my head was empty. And it was nice. No suicidal urges, no worthlessness, nothing. Little by little, things got better. I ate 3 meals, I felt good enough to brush my teeth and wash my face, I even felt fine going out, even if it was just a cousin's house. I thought that everything was getting better. I thought that it would be the start of a new chapter. I thought that finally, the Prozac and daily therapy was working. Yet I was wrong.

Reality quickly set in. Who was I, without my illness? For so long, I let it reign over my being, puppeteering my body for whatever it needed. Sleeping, cutting, crying, ruminating, rotting. I had no real life outside my mental illness. In those past two years, I was depression. That wasn't the only thing. As the rainy skies cleared from my life, light shone down on the reality of living. I thought that everyone would be happy 24/7, you'd have enough energy to do things all the time, life would be perfect. Yet I found myself still struggling to do things most people could do with ease. Assignments piled up, and burnout was all that was waiting for me under it all. I felt nothing most of the time, finding myself neutral rather than numb. I quickly learned that life was not all it was made up to be. Because why would I want to feel nothing? Better to feel something than this.

It all really came into culmination when summer break ended. I left as a horrible mess who's humanity could be put to question, only to come back as a hastily put together person. People who supported me were happy that I was doing better. Things felt different walking around campus, like the suffocating weight that once encapsulated my being left, the air around me just a little bit more accepting. Yet it still didn't feel right. I was normal. So why? Why did I feel so different? Was it the restrictions still placed on me for safety? The raised scars on my left arm? The concern teachers still had for me? I had no clue.

That was until one day. I was just innocently scrolling through TikTok until I stumbled across one post. "Trying to heal Pt. 5". It talked about how they weren't ok, even in early life. How they hated how they felt, but not being able to do anything. How they have all these horrible habits from their repetitive depressive past that cling to them, like seaweed that wraps around your leg. And something clicked. I will never truly be "cured". Depression will never not be a part of my life. Every single day, every single moment, I am still "depressed". Even if I feel better with meds, with therapy, with support, I will always be different. I will never be able to wash away the past.

So to Aaron, who told me that healing was merely swimming up from the deep end of the ocean, you were wrong. Even if I make it to the surface, the seaweed will still desperately cling around my ankles, and I will always be drenched in the sea water that once held me back. Even if I don't sink back to the bottom of the sea, it will always stick with me. Even if I reach the shore, I will still walk the earth, dripping with my past. Even if I get better, I will never be cured.

#vent #depression #mental health #personal essay #writing #healing #mental health matters #my writing #my thoughts #philosophicalkrow

[lunaartgallery]

3/9/2022 [Updates]

TLDR: Mental Health Babble and new start.

I’m going to try to keep this short, hopefully my story can help others going through the same creative drought as me. The start of this year has been rough for me. Career wise, I’m doing great! I’m employed and will be for the rest of the year, financially I’m not struggling either.

So why did I have the worst mental break of my life last month?

Well I had a realization that came outta nowhere and hit my like a ton of bricks. I’m a pretty bottled up person, stubborn as mule. So I’m not surprised I did this to myself, but it still hurts. That realization was that I had lost passion for my stories, and thus had completely neglected my artistic soul in favor of my career for 1.5 years. As you guys know at the end of 2020 I suffered through an extensive burnout that took up the beginning months of 2021. Overworking, stress and exhaustion left a mark on me. And in 2021 I thought I had fixed it! Well...sort of. I got my career stuff in order, and managed the business side really well and dandy. Compared to 2020, I had my shit together. But I completely neglected my creative personal side, my stories, concepts and creativity. It wasn’t an artblock per say, I still drew a lot, but I drew for my DND campaign, which at the time I used heavily as a crutch for emotional mental support. In a sense I took the burden of having to be creative and dumped it on someone else, and just rode the wave. I couldn’t be bothered to be creative myself, not anymore.

That combine with working/sleeping/eating in an enclosed space for months on end, and not being able to go out due to covid, made everything just blur together in a grey mush. To be frank, I don’t remember 2021 at all, and the whole year just seems like a blur of time and work.

So what happened? I’ve been mentioning non-stop that I’m working on my storyboard portfolio and animatic for SKZ etc. In 2021 I had skillfully grown as an artist, so I knew this would be easy. I already know how to do it just had to actually do it....but I couldn’t. Everyday felt like a slog, things that would be easy and simple were taking forever. I restarted the animatic like 3 different times, nothing felt right. I had no motivation to be at my desk after hours. I didn’t have any ideas, and I hadn’t actually given thought to my stuff in a very long time. I found myself wondering what happened to the passion and drive I had not too long ago for my old portfolio in college. And it spiraled from there as I realized I had completely lost it, I had no more ideas left, I hadn’t actually written anything in a long time.

The artist soul is like a well, you take water out and then the rain replenishes the well. My well had completely dried out, It hadn’t rained in forever and I just kept taking water out till nothing was left. This combined with the other event going on Twitter with overworked storyboard artists all over the country crying in outrage for their mistreatment, going through extensive creative drought for years. This is a field I wanted to get into, and in the end the dream looked like a nightmare. I completely broke in a fit of rage and deep sadness. In the end I’ve never felt so hollow in my life. My friend likened it to heartbreak, I’ve never experienced heartbreak, but this must be what it felt like. I went through wicked mood-swings, and other irrational behavior.

So what now?

In general, I’m done. I’ve cancelled the animatic and portfolio plans. There’s no point in trying to scrap the bottom of the well. I’m going through self-therapy. I know what I need to do to get better, it’s going to take months. I’ve been through a similar journey when I first entered college, but damn does it feel like a tough and endless road is ahead of me. I have to go through everything all over again! I’m not giving up on SKZ, quite the opposite actually. But I’m taking things back to the writing room. I can safely say my other projects are done though, CHL and CUPP were always suppose to be one-shots, they have served me well. Bonafide is going to be a more a casual fun thing rather than my main focus. I want to start separating myself from DND and putting my own creative projects first. That being said HA, I have a shit ton of DND work from 2021 in my queue so yeah you guys won’t see much of a difference on a surface level. I need to start posting more! I’ve started to replenish my well by re-watching the things that have inspired me. I have gotten writing journals, and a new sketchbook to start doodling stuff again. I’m letting loose, and letting the “business” chains on my personal work go. I used to worry a lot about marketing, views and audience tastes, eh not anymore. I’m just going to be doing whatever I like, as long as it makes me happy.

Thanks for reading <3

#personal #updates

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Brought Back to Me (FULL)

(I meant to release it yesterday, but with burnout coming at me from all angles, I needed to take an extra day to breathe)

Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Childhood Friend Reader

(Warm Bodies AU where they're less like zombies, but they're more mindless breeding machines and the only way to bring them back is by giving them intensely positive emotions.)

It's been months since the outbreak started.

One little quirk is all it took for all of Japan to fall into shambles. Curiously enough, only the men were affected by it, turning into insatiable beasts, searching endlessly for someone to breed mindlessly. Not really the undead, but not entirely human either.

Somehow, those who were able to escape from the clutches of such a dangerous quirk were only the men who already had partners, lovers. In some cases, those who were not sexually attracted to anyone-- and/or those who had impossibly strong bonds to their friends-- could also scrape by unaffected.

Unfortunately, the Safe Zone only allowed people in if they contributed to the saving of another.

—————————

He wanders about aimlessly, not remembering a single thing. Where he came from, who he was. His head felt like it was in a cloud, body heavy.

Though he doesn’t think much of it. This is all he’s known, after all. ‘Breed, breed, breed.’ echoes inside his head, eyes scanning the baren wasteland. The sound of quick shambling and panicked breaths hit his ears; ‘a chase’, he thinks, ‘follow.’

He finds his way towards the sound of aggravated groaning and hissing, careless fists slamming against doors. Locked in, it seems. Something tells him to put his hand on it, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know why he expected anything to happen.

The door flexes when a loud thud rams against it, and a tiny yelp behind the flipped dumpsters. The groans grow more aggressive, more hungry. ‘Breed breed breed breed breed breed breed—‘ bounces around more fiercely in his skull; he shuffles quietly over to the dumpster.

He can feel himself starting to salivate, the idea of finally being able to achieve his purpose growing more and more prominent. Peeking over the bags of trash, everything in him halts; big doe eyes stare up at him, afraid. Trembling, eyes leaking... water? ‘Tears,’ his brain supplies. Tears.

He doesn’t like them.

He watches for a moment; eyes scanning her trembling form. Another loud bang and the shriek of metal starting to give snaps him out of it. He takes her arm and yanks, dragging her out of the alley, sprinting passed the door just as the hinges burst.

He doesn’t need to breathe, heart doesn’t pump, yet his chest grows tight from the sound of her struggling to keep up. ‘Go slow. Slower.’ he complies, falling into stride. He feels something starting at him, so he turns back to look at her, grumbling, glaring.

Suddenly, he’s running into a building. She titters excitedly, too frantic to understand before she’s pulling away. Slamming the door shut and locking it. He’s a little confused; surely, she hasn’t forgotten what he is.

For a moment, she does. Her chest heaves with relief, sliding down before plopping in front of the door. He carries himself into the corner of the room, gurgling to himself.

She tenses, eyes darting to him; he squints back. ‘Now she remembers.’ he grunts.

He doesn’t know why the echo in his head went silent. The usual monotony of ‘breed’ long gone, ever since he laid eyes on her; replaced by ‘protect’ and it baffles him. Though, at the same time, it feels right.

She snivels, and his eyes latch back onto her. Still sitting by the cold door, staying away from him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, stuffing himself into the corner.

Some time goes by, how long he doesn’t know. Though he doesn’t need to know such irrelevant things. He gurgles in surprise when he feels something warm fall over him. He turns slowly, eyes meeting her curious ones.

“You’re strange, you know that?” She whispers; her eyes more curious than afraid. He only gurgles, letting the warmth of the blanket encompass him.

‘Warm is nice,’ he decides.

--

She rambles on about ‘no circulation’, or something like that. He doesn’t quite get it, but he doesn’t fight her when she insists he stand out in the sun, absorbing more of this ‘warmth’ thing he’s gotten addicted to.

He follows her around as she needs supplies, gurgling along quietly to her aimless conversations. He knows she’s only talking to fill the silence void (‘maybe she’s gone crazy,’ he thinks, ‘talking to someone who might not even understand.’) but somehow he appreciates it. Gives him something to think about.

Overtime, he finds himself enjoying her company. Mindless babble filling the everyday droning of grumbling footsteps passing by.

One day, she yelps in excitement over a can, startling him and every other mindless dolt in the area. He hisses in irritation, dragging her back to the safe house as quickly as he can. Despite the harrowing situation, she smiles, giggling with childlike glee.

He glares at her once they make it to safety, yet she hardly notices when she’s shoving the can into his face.

“Peaches! It’s canned peaches!” she cheers, prying the lid off with a can opener. The smell is sweet, unlike the usual foods she would find. He’s surprised when he feels his stomach growl instead of twist.

“Did.... did your stomach just growl?” she whispers, baffled. He shrugs, opting to pretend it never happened when it growls again. Her eyes light up.

“It did! It growled!” she laughs, then hands him a peach. He twists his face up, remembering the first time she had him try food. “C’mon, try! Maybe it’ll be different.”

He takes the peach from her hand, eyeing it distastefully before licking it. To his surprise, he didn’t feel sick. He stares at it for a moment before dropping it in his mouth. He feels satisfied rather than sick when he swallows.

“Fascinating...” she whispers, slowly approaching when he doesn’t immediately retch it back up. He eyes the can without realizing it, pouting when she offers him another peach with a coy smile. “See? Good thing I had you try.”

He takes it with a huff, grinning wryly.

--

That night, he dreams for the first time.

“Tenko...!” Echoes inside his ears. He feels his heart beat, and it nearly sends him stumbling from the shock.

“Tenko..!” Closer this time, but even as he spins endlessly to look, he doesn’t see anything.

“Tenko! Wake up, Tenko!” Its right next to him now, and it has him jolting awake

He sits up, but it’s still dark when he opens his eyes. He looks around frantically for her, finally calming when he sees her curled up on the sleeping mat. He scoots closer, putting a hand on her back, just enough to feel it rise and fall with each breath.

He settles.

--

He starts to realize he’s capable of doing more with each new event, and with each new event, he dreams.

The worst nights are when he can hear the voice screaming in agony:

“Tenko!! No!! TENKO!! STOP IT!” “GET AWAY! TENKO!”

The eventual sobbing that grows quieter and quieter, leaving him feeling colder and colder. He hates those nights.

Even when his heart isn’t beating, it still feels painful. His mind races with questions and anxiety (a feeling he wish he didn’t know).

He wonders if his name is— was— Tenko, or maybe someone he used to know? He’s not sure, but he’s afraid to find out.

Afraid.

Another emotion he was starting to know well. He finds himself afraid a lot more often too.

He’s afraid of waking up one night to find her gone. He’s afraid of losing her to some other mindless victim (if he could call them that. Men fallen to the quirk; victims). He’s afraid of watching her find companionship with another human.

He knows it’s selfish, but a part of him wants to stay just like this, with her.

Without knowing who he is.

--

Life is the sweetest when she’s sharing her canned peaches (the only thing his body cares to let him eat). Two unlikely friends, making the best of what they got, but then she starts telling him about her past.

“There used to be someone very important to me.” She said one restless night,

“He and I only ever had each other. Two peas in our own little pod.”

“We didn’t get along at first, but only because we were scared. Just the two of us, living on the street. He had the strangest way of holding things too, but I guess that was just because of his quirk.” Her eyes seemed so glassy, yet so clear. So far away, yet here all the same.

“We uh... used to huddle under the same blankets, just like this.” she slides next to him; she’s warm, yet somehow still so cold, “we even shared peaches too. He never admitted it, but they were his favorite. It’s a shame we couldn’t get them often.”

“Just us against the world...” he doesn’t like the sound her voice makes when it cracks, words turning into a strained whimper. He nudges himself closer to her hoping it’s of some comfort.

“Then some weird man came and took him away, and I never saw him since.” she sniffles and rubs at her eyes, “My Tenko.”

He goes completely stiff. He can tell she’s talking to him, but it’s drowned out by the sound of something rushing through his ears.

‘Tenko! Over here! Hurry!’ his body is so much smaller than he’s used to. He feels the pounding of his heart. It hurts. It hurts.

‘Tenko! No!! TENKO!!’ the agonized screams, and a little girl who looks a lot like her is reaching out through the fog towards him, eyes shining with desperate tears.

There’s the feeling of something grabbing him by the shirt, dragging him away. He knows he’s screaming, his throat burns with the force of his cry, but he can’t hear.

As quickly as it begins, it ends.

“Hey, are you ok?” She’s peering into his face, concern written all over hers. He gurgles, fighting with his own vocal chords.

“I-I-I’mmmm ssso-o-orrrry...” it’s gravelly and slurred, almost incomprehensible, yet she seems to know what he’d been trying to say, seeing as her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You... you talked. You actually talked!” She seems so excited for him, but then she frowns, worried.

“‘Sorry’? What for?? There’s no need to be sorry!” she rubs his back. Warm. He feels his chest squeeze.

He wants to try to talk again, even if to just make her smile, but his throat aches far too much, so he just gurgles softly, nudging his head onto her shoulder.

He practices his speech at night when she’s asleep. Quietly, of course, as to not disturb her, but it’s frustrating. Trying to sound out words messily.

“Mmmm-my nnnnnname....” his voice gives away to a wet growl, and he wheezes out a cough, “my nnname issss... Tennnko. Ten...ko. Tenko.”

--

He’s remembered a lot more after the first memory.

Rainy nights under the bridge, hushed giggles over a can of peaches.

Hard winters when all they had were a pile of blankets and each other.

The... THING that stole him away, abandoning her.

Quiet fury burns in him, but it fizzles out soon after when he hears her mumble in her sleep. It’s inaudible, and probably complete nonsense, but he likes to think that maybe she was dreaming of the good ol’ days too.

But only the good days, he hopes. Before ‘THAT’ day.

He whispers her name, stroking her back gently when she starts to fuss. ‘A nightmare,’ he muses, watching as she quickly settles back into a peaceful dream. She has them a lot, but he likes to think that they end as soon as he soothes her.

‘You’ve suffered enough.’

Thoughts come easier now as his memories come. Things that he isn’t proud of, things that makes him wonder if she’d hate him.

He remembers becoming ‘Shigaraki Tomura’, a name he thinks of in disdain.

He much prefers Tenko now.

--

“You know, you’ve been pretty warm lately. I guess sunning yourself every day does help.” She muses out loud, and he grumbles, pleased.

“Mmmaybe.”

“Hey! No stuttering this time! You’re getting better!” She smiles at him. He grunts, leaning against her.

“Oof— hey, easy there champ. You may not eat much, but you’re still heavy compared to me.” He hears her, smirking, but opts to lay more of his weight onto her.

“Hey! Come on!” She laughs, his gurgled wheeze of a laugh only making her laugh that much harder,

He thinks he feels his chest growing lighter in moments like these, wishing desperately that he could have been left unaffected.

He knows there’s no reason to worry about the past in his current state, but he still finds himself wishing.

--

“Hey, that’s weird,” She says to him one morning, ruffling his hair, “your hair is getting darker somehow.”

She shows him in the mirror what she’s talking about, and sure enough, there it is.

A tuft of black hair poking through the sea of pastel blue.

“How funny is that.” she grins. It’s lopsided and curious, but she just muses his hair one more time before going back to her morning routine.

Overtime, he notices more and more sprout in, and she always laughs at the bewildered look he always seems to have.

--

The first time he felt his heart beat was during one of those nights when you couldn’t sleep, so you would tell him about Tenko.

“I thought it could just be the two of us forever... In the same way kids feel when they ask each other to get married when they’re older.” Her words are melancholy, but her smile is peaceful, happy.

“I wanted it to just be the two of us against the world. All we needed was each other, maybe we could have been adopted by a nice couple or something, but still inseparable.”

He doesn’t say anything or make any sounds, so she continues.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe we could have fallen in love.” He sputters then, heart thudding once, twice, then falling still. His hand smacks over his chest in shock, and for a moment, he wondered if that’s what it felt like to be alive.

“Is that really so ridiculous??” she snorts, not really offended, but not really as happy as he would like.

He shakes his head aggressively, and she laughs. Her smile is so genuine he almost misses out on the sweet kiss on the cheek she gives him.

“Thanks for always listening to me ramble. Actually—“ she sits up, and he watches her from his spot on the floor, “thanks for staying, even though you didn’t have to.”

He puts his hand over hers wordlessly, patting it gently.

“Always.”

--

He wonders if it’s possible to die without being alive.

He hopes it is.

When he wakes up, she’s gone. Nothing more than a note left behind.

‘Need food. Be back soon.’

A simple food run shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it’s climbed to be the most dangerous thing to do over the last 10 months (Has it really been that long?) and losing her so soon after getting her back is the last thing he wants.

He goes barreling out the door just in time to hear her scream.

His heart leaps into his throat. He feels sick, but the adrenaline pumps into his veins, and suddenly he’s running.

Heart racing, sweat dripping, lungs aching. His ears ring with the sound of her scream.

He stops, stomach acid rising into his throat. He feels far too sick. He runs his hands through his hair, he doesn’t even notice the light blue strands that fall away.

He hears her scream again, closer this time. He starts running again despite his shaking legs.

He barely makes it in time to see her get surrounded. The roar he lets out is nothing less than ground shaking, and it’s certainly enough to catch the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

He doesn’t remember what happened next. Colors and sound blend together to make a symphony of tragedy.

Memories and reality all blend until they start and end with her. Her.

“Tenko, my Tenko... you’re okay.” Sound re-emerges from the depths.

Warm. Warm. Warm.

She’s in his arms; so small in comparison to him. He remembers when she was the same size as him.

And, god, she’s so warm.

“Tenko.” His eyes open to meet hers. They’re glassy, but relieved. He whispers her name like it’s a prayer.

“Who would have thought this is how we meet after all these years, huh?” Her voice is soft. He finally realizes her hair is covered in dust. Dust. His dust.

He jumps back in a panic, afraid. He hadn’t been careful with his hands, hands.

“Tenko. It’s okay! It’s okay!” she soothes and grabs his hands freely, pressing his palms to her face.

She doesn’t decay like she should.

“Remember, Tenko? We practiced.”

Yes. Practiced. You helped stabilize his quirk long before he came. Promised to keep it between the two of them.

“Yes... yes... I remember...” he mumbles, and she places her hand over his chest.

“Your heart!” He nods,

“Yeah...”

“Does that mean—“

“Yeah...” he nuzzles his face against her shoulder.

“Warm...” she laughs gently,

“Yeah... you’ve always liked warm things.”

“Mm...” he stands, picking her up in the process, walking back in the direction of the safe house.

“We’ll head to the city zone tomorrow.”

“Okay... Tenko?”

“Mmh?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

He smiles; he’s glad he’s back too.

#Crow Patreon #BNHA #BNHA Shigaraki #BNHA Shigaraki Tomura #Full Release #Female Reader #SFW #Shigaraki x reader #Warm Bodies AU

[theyscreamjade]

hi!! i binged ur bakugo oneshots and headcanons and absolutely fell in love with your writing style!!

i have a kinda specific request, and if you don’t want to do it that’s totally fine!! Whatever makes you most comfortable :)

So, a oneshot where reader has the “gifted kid burnout” syndrome?? like she used to be good at everything, it came naturally to her, and she was always praised for being amazing, yadda yadda yadda. But when she hit highschool, nothing came naturally, she couldn’t do it all perfectly, so she just. loses motivation. to do everything. she either sleeps all the time or barely, and she’s been lectured by Aizawa for her grades slipping more times than she can count. Bakugo is kinda like her pining bestie??and he notices and asks her about it and she just kinda breaks down?? and they cuddle?? i’m rambling here, again if this is too specific or you just don’t want to do that’s totally fine!! Thank you for writing such amazing works tho!! (●’◡’●)ﾉ

Slipped

I CAN RELATE TO THIS SHIT ON A THOUSAND LEVELS BECAUSE...high school was when I started self-harming and everything just crumbled after that. Trust me honey, it may seem hard now but it’ll get better. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, I’m still trying to break that habit. Thank you for being a Peep! The overwhelming support and everything, I never ever expected this. Thank you so much and I hope this helps!

————————————————————————————————————————

“You’re failing.” Your teacher said to you bluntly as he stood in front of you. The afternoon sun shines through the halfway closed blinds in the empty classroom.

You couldn’t lift your head to answer, your mind was focused on the words he said without a hesitation. You exceeded everyone’s expectations, you were your parents golden child. You were going to do the one thing that your parents gave up to do. You were going to become the best Pro-Hero out there and give your all.

“I-....I-I’ll do better next time.” You spoke to the older adult as he sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of you. “Listen, You’re at risk of being removed from my class. I’ve given and done the best I could to keep you here.” He explained softly while looking towards your hanging head. “You started off great and now you can’t seem to keep up with your peers..or even in training. Is everything okay?” He asked, showing a bit of concern for you.

Time to put those professional acting skills, you sat up and smiled, scratching the back of your head. “I’m okay! I’ve just been busy, that’s all!” You explained as he frowned a bit. “Y/N, You don’t have to be afraid to tal-“

“I’m sorry, Sensei! Trust me, don’t worry! I’ll be fine okay?” You reassured before standing up. “Those grades will be back to normal and everything will be fine.” You explained, waving his worries away before you made your way to the doors. The raven haired teacher followed and handed you your make-up work. You gathered the items needed before you left in a quick hurry. You just wanted to be alone.

Your feet tapped against the ground as the pressure was intense, your mind ran rapid while you prayed that they didn’t contact your parents. That was the last thing you needed. You sat in the common room’s dinning table and began doing your work. You grabbed your pencils and looked at the rows and rows of work as your grip became tighter.

“Heya Nuggs!” Denki said, sitting down in the chair in front of you. “Whatcha doing?” He asked, leaning over in curiosity. You and Denki were friends since elementary school, it’s crazy how retrieving a dime from his nose made you two the best of friends. “Not now, Denki.” You responded, trying to stay focused.

The overwhelming depression weighed down on your chest as everything seemed to be smaller. “Why are you doing work? I didn’t know we had homework.” Denki questioned, while looking over the paperwork. “Denki, Please.” You said, your voice at the urge of snapping as he chuckled. “Typical, Y/N. Always trying to be the best, ever since we were kids you always was the greatest.” He said as your blood began to boil.

“I guess that’s why you’re at the t-“ “IM NOT AT THE TOP DAMNIT!” You screamed, slamming your pencil on the paper, snapping it in half. “IM NOT THE BEST! IM NOT THE GREATEST! I CANT DO EVERYTHING IM FUCKING FAILING!!” You screamed as your friend looked at you, worried. You slapped your hands over your mouth, gathering everyone’s attention who was inside. “Y-Y-Y/N?” Denki started to say while you gathered the papers.

“Y/N! Wait!” Denki tried to call out while you ran out of the room, shaking as your body collided with someone else’s. You glanced at the person before you continued running. You could feel your body shaking as your worst nightmare was becoming a reality. Your shoulder touched the wall as you fought to keep yourself calm. The panic in your heart was rushing while everything felt a thousand times heavier. Your heart was slamming against your chest before you felt a hand lift you up. His head slipped underneath your arm as he swiftly lifted you to bridal style. It honestly surprised you to see your peer, Bakugo carrying you as if you were a princess.

The sheer randomness, somehow calmed your edging panic attack as you sat on your bed. “You okay?” He asked softly as you looked up at him. You nodded softly and sat your books on the seat beside your bed. “What the hell’s going on with you?” He’d ask afterwards. Though he only knew you for the two years of you two being in school after you transferred before your sophomore year. He’s worked with you and knew how you normally were, the sudden change made him worry, but he refused to let you know that.

“Nothing..” you quickly responded as he scoffed. “Don’t lie, What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asked, annoyance starting to show as he sat on your desk chair. You couldn’t lie to him, even if you tried. Denki, Deku and Bakugo were the only ones who could crack you open like a walnuts.

“.....I-I’m failing class.” You stated softly. “I-..I’ve worked so hard, I’ve done my best, gave everything my all and I’m fucking failing.” You continued as tears started to flow from your eyes, your hand gripped your scalp while you sat up. “How fucking pathetic of me, I-I went from flying through every test, being at the top with you guys and I’m failing. I-I can’t call myself a hero when I can’t save people! I can’t call myself the best when I’ve failed my tests! I can’t call myself anything! I-I can’t sleep! I-I barely eat or drink! I-“

“Shut up, Dumbass!” He snapped, looking at you. “You’re failing, so what? You’ll make it up won’t you?” He questioned as you looked down. “Oi! You said you wanted to be a hero, you said you wanted to save people just how your parent did, right?!” He asked as you nodded. “It’s a small drop, you should stop holding back your feelings and pushing yourself and relax for once.” He stated, crossing his arms. “When you fall down...I want to be there to pick you back up, just don’t give up Dumbass.” He said while blush covered his cheeks. His sudden wave of affection was way out his normal personality.

You couldn’t help but smile, wiping your tears away. “Thank you, Bakugo.” You replied softly as he scoffed again, making you laugh. Once your anxiety and mind was back in order, you continued on your work. Bakugo stayed and helped you completed it, helping you with every question. Nearing completion, your eyes began to droop. Your vision struggled to stay clear as your mind declared that it needs to rest. “Oi, Dumbass?” He called while you struggled. Considering it was nearly one the morning, who could stay awake after the day you had?

Your head fell at his shoulders as he smiled softly, watching you finally close your eyes. It was sudden instinct and he just wanted to make sure you actually slept for the whole night, your head laid on your pillow while he laid beside you, his back facing the edge of the bed and the door. While he stared, his vision stayed on you while he admired how cute you were in such a peaceful manner. This was something he looked for, the person you originally were. His mind began to drift onto dream world while you were found in his arms, your breathing moving in perfect harmony.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki #i hope you like this #my hero academia scenarios #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x reader

[adl-reborn]

I just realized I forgot to post this here...

Tales of Metroville: Thought Experiments

Aston hadn't slept in 3 days. He had been researching non-stop to discover the ailment from which his friend, Phoenix, was currently suffering. You see, they both were invited to dinner by the president. In theory they both were to be debriefed about current affairs and of any unusual goings on that the two most powerful known mutants on the planet might be needed for. Aston, however, had no need of it - his clairvoyance had alerted him both to the topics of discussion and of all such events including many not on the agenda. Meanwhile, the normally quite outgoing Phoenix barely ate and didn't speak at all, and when they both returned home he locked himself in the master bedroom to do who knows what.

If ever there was a good time for Aston's comprehensive ability to read peoples' minds, this would be a good one, but it isn't so simple with Phoenix. Try as he might, Aston could never do this with Phoenix. Even after years of trying, Aston could only ever manage to read vague emotional states, but that only told him the obvious. Distracted by this, so too was he unable to clearly see the path ahead. And so his research continued. Depression, Anxiety, MPD, and many others. He read through the DSM5 until he reached the chapter on autism.

At this point he paused as his sleep deprived mind called back to his childhood. His odd behavior as a preteen had prompted a visit to the psychiatrist - a visit which he left with a diagnosis of "Asperger's Syndrome". It was described as a milder form of Autism - one which could lie undetected in many. Needless to say he was familiar with it and had recognized much of himself deep within Phoenix's personality, but ultimately the DSM did not help beyond providing a starting point...

Luckily Aston did not need to look far to find his answers. Where official medical documentation failed actually autistic people filled the void, and crucially the true nature of a meltdown and a new concept - burnout, were introduced to him. Additionally, Aston found himself unable to read many of the individuals presenting their point - a correlation which Aston surmised was due to a radically different mind, but finding that out for sure wouldn't be easy...

The only way Aston knew to read minds of a type he had never read before was through a technique he dubbed a "mental fusion". It's theory of operation was similar in principle to what many Trekkies call a mind meld. This was a technique Aston had only ever done once - by accident, he did this to his father on the day he ran away - a fight had broken out between the two and they had inadvertently fused for but a few seconds. In that time they could feel each other's thoughts as one, and Aston gained a roadmap of the human mind, but Aston was overwhelmed by this and ran off into the forest. It was an ability he had sworn to never use again...but his friend was in danger and he knew it.

Slowly Aston opened the door - inside was Phoenix, sitting in the fetal position rocking to soothe his frayed nerves. He held his legs tight against his belly and did not speak to greet Aston. Where Phoenix once stood a timid child remained. As Aston approached Phoenix turned and looked apprehensively in his direction. Aston could see in Phoenix's eyes that his distress was great. As Aston sat down close to Phoenix he was apprehensive at first, but a calming touch from Aston soothed him enough to stay. They sat like this for a while - Aston holding an obviously distressed Phoenix, but he knew what he must do and that it would be uncomfortable.

Slowly Aston moved his right hand to Phoenix's right temple. Phoenix became agitated for a moment and started shaking his arms but Aston calmed him with the left. Once positioned, he waited for Phoenix to calm down and gently positioned his left hand. With his hands in position a faint blue glow began to appear, glowing brighter with every second. Phoenix let out a yell..."I'm sorry..." Said Aston. They both yelled in unison as their minds became one. In an instant they both found themselves unconscious

One hour later...

Aston awoke but not in reality. His fusion was more complete than he had anticipated - he surmised he must be in a shared dream as they both were extremely exhausted. Aston, being a proficient lucid dreamer realized this straight away, but he knew if he could recognize this that the dream is important in some way. In the distance he hears a cry.

It is Phoenix - crying out for help. Alone in the distance. In this dark void he can see nothing, and conjuring a flashlight nor a vehicle has no effect. He continues to run in the direction of the yelling but to no avail - Phoenix remains out of reach. Aston calls out to Phoenix but there was no response........

2 hours later

Aston awakens once again - this time in the house but in his bedroom. Objects are not in their designated places so here too this is a dream. Aston proceeds to navigate to Phoenix's room. He lies on the bed staring at the ceiling unresponsive. As Aston approaches Phoenix apparates into a standing position and then runs up to Aston crying to which they both share embraces...

2 hours later

The sound of screaming pierces in Aaron's ear once again waking him. Again he is in Phoenix's dream - the same one as the first time. Aston remembered well how he failed to handle this dream the last time so he tries a different tactic. He calms his mind and senses Phoenix's precise location. Though they can not see each other, Aston knows he and him are now together. Aston sits down next to Phoenix.

"It's alright...I am here to comfort you." Stated Aston. What was once a cry became a whimper, and the once dark void is now illuminated by a dim yellow radiance. "I am here for you Phoenix, no matter your darkest hour nor your worst fears." The yellow radiance grows in illumination from Phoenix's chest. The two mutants once again embrace one another, and the once dark void is now pierced by a blinding light. "Do you mean it?" Replied Phoenix. "I'll let the actions do the talking..." Aston returned...

2 hours later

"So you finally found it"

Aston awoke once again - this time in a peaceful garden surrounded by a lake with small gentle waves. A fog obscures any view beyond.

"Welcome to my world" stated Phoenix to the now slowly arousing Aston. "I never thought I would see you here, but I figured one day you might show up." "What...is this place?" replied Aston, "it seems peaceful, relaxing even."

"This is my comfort zone" replied Phoenix, "I come here to escape the demands of the world when they become too much to bear." "I couldn't come here for far too long - we were too busy saving the world." continued Phoenix, "I thought I had lost it forever - in its place I only found darkness."

"That was your first dream, and the third. What about the second?" Replied Aston. "The house is where we always go when we're done for the day." Phoenix stated, "I thought maybe I could relax there." "It didn't work out as I had hoped...but at least you were there." Phoenix continued, "If I had been alone in there I don't think it would have done anything. I was just laying there, worrying about all of the drone strikes, supervillains, contingencies, space nukes. You know, all that crazy stuff they brought up at the meeting."

"It's all so stressful you know! And, it's kind of hard to explain, but the lights...they felt blinding, and the klinking of so much silverware on porcelain didn't help either. It felt like I was expending every last drop of my being to not explode from all of the stress!" "I...had no idea." Replied Aston, "I was just sitting next to you. I already knew everything they had to say but since you had said nothing I didn't know what to expect! Even now after fusing I still struggle to comprehend the sheer depth of your thoughts. To be honest the buzz from the busted TV was starting to get on my nerves though...you don't think..."

"I know what you're going to say - I was diagnosed with ADHD, not Asperger's." quipped Phoenix. "Since when have I ever lied to anyone let alone you?" Replied Aston. "I just spent 72 hours straight tearing the internet apart to figure out why you locked yourself in a room. Not because I wanted to get back to saving the world - we both know it doesn't need saving right now. I did that because I knew you were deeply distressed...but I couldn't understand why until now." "This is not a place for argument." Aston continued, "This is a place to escape to when the going gets tough. Just as I can sort of read your thoughts now you should be able to read mine. Look, and see I am not wrong. All you need to do is look at me, focus, and visualize my mind inside yours."

Phoenix was skeptical, but did as asked. To his surprise it worked - all of the research Aston had done up until the point of fusion was laid plain to see. Every disorder in the DSM5. All of the documentaries, YouTube videos, and articles read. So too was Aston's past - all of the struggle he had to endure. He had a fake ID in high school - not so he could drink, but to rent an apartment of his own away from his father's prying eyes in Metroville - far from anywhere he would think to look. His Asperger's was plain to see - a similar but less intense mirror of Phoenix's own past.

As he came out of the vision Phoenix embraced Aston. "Thank you, Aston..." He finally said, "I think you saved me...from my own mind." "It's no sweat, that's what friends do am I right? Sometimes the heroes of the story need saving too." They both stood up, and the dream ended.

Aston awoke holding Phoenix in his embrace. So too did Phoenix not long after. Aston now could see some of Phoenix's thoughts, but Phoenix still remained an enigma - further refinement would be needed to fully understand his mind. "Did you sleep well?" Aston inquired? "Yes...or at least better than I have in the past few months." Replied Phoenix. "I'm glad...seems you needed it." Aston stated. "No kidding...I guess I needed to not feel completely alone for once." Said Phoenix, "Say...that technique you used to get inside my head...I thought you couldn't get inside my head." "That's what I thought too...until I figured out just how different your mind is wired compared to the norm." Replied Aston, "I took an educated guess that you were Autistic - that led me to find out that your brain is almost 100x more complicated than a normal human, and I daresay probably more complicated than mine." "Does that mean I have the same abilities you do then?" Phoenix inquired, now intrigued. "Maybe..." Replied Aston, "You want to find out?" "Sure, but I bought pizza the last time we trained so it's on you this time." Stated Phoenix. "Gladly!" Replied Aston, "I think this will be fun!"