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dalliancekay · 2 months

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.

Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spent the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. He was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, I' sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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seraphiism · 4 months

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𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ┊ 𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝

( i'm a fool, but i'll love you dear. )

chara : zayne fandom : love & deepspace quote cr : bill trader a/n : ive known this man for a few hours but Let Me Tell You ...... let me tell you .....

"so it appears you've failed to learn your lesson."

you'd probably be more annoyed-- scratch that, much more annoyed at zayne's words had you not been freezing and fighting for your life in this unexpected cold front. it's just like last time-- the cancelled concert date, the cruel rain that betrayed news of seemingly decent weather. you know the weather isn't foolproof-- the words, his words, specifically, will haunt you until the end of time, and they continue to do so in this moment. what is there to trust if you cannot trust the weather report? where is the hope in humanity if you cannot rely on such a thing? you're not being dramatic. you are simply suffering in the cold. that's all.

much to his amusement, zayne watches as you absentmindedly grumble to yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets in futile attempt to stay warm. you throw him a half-hearted glare, though his lack of reaction indicates that it fails to make any impact.

"in my defense," you start, not having one at all, "i, at the very least, tried to come prepared." you take a hand out of your pocket, gesturing dramatically to your beanie and coat. an attempt to stay warm, perhaps-- a sad one, really, especially when the temperatures are so excruciatingly low. then again, how were you supposed to know?

"a poor attempt." zayne responds, and you swear you see his lips curve just the smallest bit. "but one i'll acknowledge. maybe you'll take this as another lesson to realize--"

"-- that the weather is foolproof, yeah, yeah."

his smile grows a bit more as he takes a step, closes the distance between you as he removes his scarf. you pick up all too easily on his intentions, but before you can protest, he's leaning down, face only inches from yours as he gently wraps the scarf around you. it's a few moments of careful consideration as he adjusts it, hoping to conserve some of your body heat. once he's done, he pauses, gaze meeting yours.

he doesn't pull back-- just studies you carefully, expression thoughtful, gentle. you feel your face heat up, murmuring a small word of thanks as your fingers nervously mess with the fabric, pulling it just a little closer to you in means of distraction. he really doesn't mind the lack of space -- in fact, he finds it too amusing with the way you react, always so shy.

it's only when you shiver again that he realizes you truly are ill prepared for this weather. he lets out a soft chuckle, hands grabbing yours, resting them gently against his face. your eyes widen the slightest bit, but you don't move away, your touch gentle in the way they seek warmth from the contact.

"--what are you doing?"

"my gloves are too large for you." he answers nonchalantly, though his hands still rest over yours, thumb ghosting over your skin in quiet reverence. "so maybe my body temperature will suffice for now."

you swallow hard, realize that you are, in fact, getting a little warmer, but only because you're flustered by his affection. he doesn't need to know that, though. but before you can thank him, he speaks once more, and you notice the pure mirth that lingers in his eyes.

"actually," he says, smiling ever so faintly, "it seems like your own embarrassment will be the one to warm you."

you've decided that you're suddenly not thankful anymore.

"...please be quiet, zayne."

he hums in amusement, presses a kiss to your forehead.

"only if you promise that you'll learn your lesson this time."

"what am i gonna do? ask the weather myself if the forecast is accurate?"

another chuckle, then another kiss to your nose, then your lips.

"of course. how else would anyone do it?"

#love & deepspace #zayne x reader #love & deepspace x reader #li shen x reader #i would do anything . i would marry you doctor . kiss me #.: writing

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callofdudes · 1 year

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✨GhostSoap incorrect quotes✨

With 141 chaos included.

Soap: Oops, got your mental illness 😊

Ghost: You give that back.

Ghost, pulling out a knife: That was a gift from my father!

-------

Ghost: I'm sorry for being mentally ill.

Soap: ...

Ghost: And a bit messed up in the head.

Ghost: The sex will be good though.

-------

Ghost: Johnny, this place is fancy and I don't know which fork to kill myself with.

-------

Soap: Simon, you're late for date night again, what was it this time?

Ghost, standing in the living room covered in blood: Well...

Soap, sighing: Baby I want to go out for dinner!!

Ghost: I know but just one more time love- next week we can go on a proper date but-

Soap: Hiding a body isn't a date!!

-------

Ghost: I don't want you talking at my funeral!

Soap: What?

Ghost: You can go to my funeral but you can't talk-

Soap: Why??

Ghost: My funeral is my time to shine!

-------

Soap: I don't know what the big deal is

Gaz, sighing: Ok, let's break this down. First of all, you don't fix any of the appliances in your apartment.

Soap: Yeah, it's too hard.

Gaz: You don't fix up your apartment in general.

Soap: Couldn't be bothered.

Gaz: Dude, you can't even fix up a decent meal for yourself.

Soap: What even is a stove. I mean...

Gaz: Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you??

Ghost: Hey, can I have 40 bucks real quick?

Soap, leaning in to whisper: I still think I can fix him.

Gaz: For fucks sake-

-------

Soap: Ghost, what's like a word your parents wouldn't let you use growing up. Like they said it was a curse word but it really wasn't.

Ghost: No, I can't say that, it's too embarrassing.

Soap: Oh come on I'll go first, my parents told us 'shut up' was like a curse. Like it was a terrible phrase we couldn't use.

Ghost: What? My parents said that to me all the time.

Soap: Really?

Ghost: Ok, this is a word we literally never used in our house. I don't even know if I'm pronouncing it right... Uh, love?

Soap: What?

Ghost: Oh I am pronouncing it wrong. Uh, luvé?

Soap: Uh no, it's pronounced love.

Ghost: Oh, yeah, well we never said that.

Soap: Ghost, you- you know I'm here for you right?

Ghost: That's so kind of you Johnny. You know what, I tolerate you.

Soap: What... What?? Tolerate? That's mean

Ghost: What, no it's not! That's like the deepest form of affection you can show somebody!

-------

Soap: Have you seen a person named 'Ghost' around here?

Gaz: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Price: It looks fine to me?

Gaz: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

-------

Ghost: *Screams*

Soap: *Screams louder to assert dominance*

Gaz: Should we do something?!

Price, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

-------

Gaz: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Soap: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

-------

Ghost: I think Price was right.

Soap: I'm surprised he haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Gaz: He wouldn't do that.

Price: You're right, Gaz. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

Price: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Price Told You So' on the back*

-------

Ghost: I just ended a four year relationship.

Soap: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

Ghost: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship.

*Gaz and Price fighting from across the room*

-------

Ghost: This is bothering me.

Soap: Well, you are digging up a corpse.

Ghost: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.

-------

Ghost: Can you please be serious for five minutes?

Soap: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

-------

Ghost: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside

Soap:

Soap: Ghost, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...

Ghost: *Sips tea from bowl*

-------

Ghost: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Soap: Twelve, actually.

Ghost: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Soap: Yours!

Ghost: That's right: no one's.

-------

Ghost: Soap was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.

Soap: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.

Ghost: Soap, you ate a chair

--------

Ghost: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? like how many times have you passed Something on the street and you just didn’t Notice It?

Soap: Stay woke monsterfuckers ur love is out there!!!!!

Ghost: Yknow what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration.

-------

Ghost: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail

Soap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

-------

Ghost: What is your biggest weakness?

Soap: I can be uncooperative.

Ghost: Okay, can you give me an example?

Soap: No.

-------

Ghost: It’s dark in here

Soap: Don’t worry dude I got this

Soap: *Stomps his feet*

Soap: *Skechers light up*

-------

Ghost: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you

Soap: 10 times 0 is still 0 though

Ghost: Jokes on you, I can't do math

-------

Ghost, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Soap: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Ghost, with the tone of someone who is used to Soap: Outstanding.

Ghost: This is what I’m talking about people.

-------

Ghost: You saved me. I owe you my life.

Soap: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

-------

Ghost: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Soap: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

-------

Soap: Am I in trouble?

Ghost: Take a guess.

Soap: No?

Ghost: Take another guess.

-------

Soap: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

Ghost: Stop romanticizing the past.

-------

Ghost: I'm a reverse necromancer.

Soap: Isn't that just killing people?

Ghost: Ah, technicality.

-------

Soap: I can explain.

Ghost: Can you?

Soap: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

-------

Ghost: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Soap: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Price: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghoap #ghostsoap #im having writers block so take this brainrot in my momentary abscence #call of duty incorrect quotes #cod incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #ghost x soap

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loversj0y · 11 months

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this is me trying

coming back to london and being away from wilbur was hard. fighting your own coping methods and trying is harder.

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

angst, hurt/comfort

TRIGGER WARNINGS: fighting, yelling, broken bottles, lots of tears, and alcoholism, plus the briefest (one line) insinuation of suicidal thoughts.

note: this is part of the 'tis the damn season universe, but doesn't particularly have to be read alongside it (though you'd probably be very confused if you didnt read it). this part is pretty heavy. not even going to lie, i had to stop writing a few times to keep myself from getting too stressed, really heed the warnings. at least im getting better at writing fights? ao3 version

word count: 5.7k

You and Wilbur hadn’t seen each other in months. It was May, and the warm air was making the days feel a bit more pleasant if it weren’t for the glaring guilt in your chest.

The last time you and Wilbur had seen each other was Valentine’s Day, when he’d taken a train up to London to visit you and surprise you with some takeout and roof access to your apartment — you didn’t actually know you could get up there. He wasn’t able to spend too much time with you, mostly due to your own time constraints, but it was a nice trip nonetheless. When he left, you’d promised you’d come down to Brighton to visit him soon.

That didn’t quite work out. You were going to visit for a full week at the end of the second term, however, once you’d met with your advisor, you learned just how behind you were on your final dissertation. It was incredulous because you had thought you were on track with it, but regardless you had to spend break trapped in the library, trying desperately to catch up on writing your paper on Lord Byron’s work. Then, you were supposed to visit during the Easter weekend, but you were given a paper, due in a week, that blocked any opportunities for travel.

But you were determined this time. You had to do this. You devised a plan, and you found a perfect weekend where you would be completely free of assignments if you hustled. You even got Tommy in on it.

“Hey, Tommy, sorry to call you like this, do you have a moment to chat?”

You heard a laugh through the phone, “Yeah, hold on,” he mumbled something off the phone, and you could make out the sounds of him walking to another room.

“What’s up?”

“I want to surprise Wilbur, and I need your help.” You smiled as you started launching into the details of your plan, each piece meticulously planned out for a wonderful weekend.

He grinned, “Aw, he would love that. Why d’ya need my help though?”

“Well,” you faltered a bit, “there’s a flaw in my plan, and it’s that I don’t know where Wilbur’s apartment is, and I especially don’t know how to get there from the station. So, I was wondering if you’d be able to pick me up and take me to Will’s?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, plus it’ll allow me to annoy him a bit as well, so yeah, sounds good.”

You cheered a bit, “Thank you so much, Tommy, you’re the best. I’ll text you all the other details, yeah?”

“Aw, I am the best, thank you. And yeah, that works.”

“Perfect, bye, Tommy!”

He responded with a quick bye in return, and you felt yourself grin. You had been trying so hard to find time to be able to go see him, and this was it!

You got a call a few minutes later from Wilbur himself, and you worried immediately that Tommy may have spilled something accidentally. You didn’t even have a chance to speak before he questioned you.

“Why did you call Tommy with something he will only describe as being ‘important’ and ‘for cool people only’?”

You snorted out a laugh, rolling your eyes a bit, “Well, hello, to you, too, Wilbur.”

“Hi, darling, I hope your classes went well today,” he rushed out, “Now answer my question.”

“I just had a question for him, Will.”

“One that you couldn’t ask me?” You could hear the pout in his voice.

“Nope. As he mentioned, it's for cool people only.”

He let out a gasp, indignation clear in his voice, “Darling, how could you? I am much cooler than Tommyinnit.”

You could faintly make out the sound of Tommy yelling at Wilbur in the background.

“Don’t worry, alright?” You laughed, “It was just something only he could really answer.”

“Are there questions that exist that only that gremlin child can answer?”

“Believe it or not, yes.”

Wilbur whined on the other side of the phone, “Love, you know he’s going to hold this over me for months, right?”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“So, why?”

“Well, if I’m going to ask a Minecraft-related question,” you lied cooly, “it’s better to ask a professional, isn’t it?”

He was silent for a long moment. “...I am a professional.”

“Will, we’ve played Minecraft together for years. You’re good, but even I could beat you at PVP.”

He groaned, “Is this some ploy? Are you messing with me?”

“Is it wrong for me to try and get closer to your best friend by asking him questions about his interests?” Okay, truthfully, that was a low blow. But the surprise would make it worth it.

“I guess not.” He chuckled, “Sorry, I’m just annoyed about how smug he’s going to be about this.”

“Don’t apologize. You know I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to chat with you, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t either, love,” you could hear the smile in his voice, and the vague sound of Tommy speaking to someone. From over the phone, the room sounded louder than before.

“Is… something going on over there?” You chuckled, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. You didn’t even know why you were nervous. Something was just gnawing at the back of your brain, and for some reason, you just felt… tense now.

“Oh, uh,” he paused, and you could hear more people talking now, “sort of. It’s nothing big or anything just, uh, Tommy’s having some friends over is all. He and I have been hanging out for a bit today, but we’re just at his now, so he invited a few people over and stuff.”

You nodded quietly. You couldn’t help the sadness you felt fill your chest. You were trying to be there, but it was still hard to hear about all the things you were missing out on, all the times you missed him, and stories and inside jokes you would never truly understand.

“Right, okay. Well, I-I’ve got to get back to studying, anyway, so.”

“Darling, it’s nothing, really-” “No, it’s not an excuse or anything,” It was, “I-I just… ‘m busy, is all, so I’ll let you hang out.”

You were both silent. He knew you were lying, and you could tell. But he wouldn’t call you on it. Not now. Not when you hadn’t seen each other in months and every slight felt like a balancing act, trying to keep the other from pulling away. You were so excited a moment ago, and you didn’t mean for the sadness to overtake your entire conversation. You just couldn’t help sometimes how every conversation, every time you heard him talk about the things he was doing, cut you open more and more. He didn’t mean to, and you would never hold it against it but almost every conversation opened the wound a bit further.

He spoke up after a minute, “Okay, well… good luck studying, and text me when you’re done,” he paused, voice softer, “I love you.”

You bit your lip, unable to hide the guilt bubbling in your chest at his solemn tone, “I will. I love you too.”

You hung up quickly, setting your phone down on your desk. You placed your head in your hands, taking a shaky breath and fighting off the tears in your eyes. It would be easier, soon. You’d see him in a week. You tried to console yourself.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud to Wilbur, no matter how much he asked, but you weren’t entirely adjusting well to being back here, without him. The first week, you could only fall asleep if he was on the phone with you. Then, there was one night where he fell asleep before you could call. You ended up turning to an older sleep method, knowing that you needed to get to bed in order to be able to make it to classes. Before you knew it, your room became littered with empty bottles you barely had the energy to clean up. It was an interesting dichotomy, the clear vodka bottles piling on your nightstand and the white Panadol bottles piling on your sink and in your backpack. You were mostly lucky the weekend he came for Valentine’s Day, because you had forced yourself to clean up your room a few days before, meaning there was only one half-empty bottle of vodka on your shelf, and a single bottle of Panadol left on your sink (though there were numerous more inside your school bag).

You weren’t completely lucky, though. Your weekend with Wilbur was almost entirely perfect. Until the end. Every time you thought back to the end, you watched the memory as if it wasn’t you, as if you were a watcher, not the one actually there.

You’d walked back in with Wilbur, around midnight. The apartment was mostly quiet, except for one of your roommates who was standing in the kitchen, fixing themselves a drink. When they heard you enter, they turned, perking up a bit.

“Y/N, hey, could I borrow some vodka? I ran out.”

You’d nodded, “Yeah, I’ll grab it, hold on.”

While you’d gone to grab the bottle, Wilbur took his coat off, your roommate lightly chatting with Wilbur while you walked to your room and back. You’d only caught the ending of their brief conversation, listening in as you walked slowly from the hallway back to the kitchen, trying to not wake up your other roommates.

“-mean, seriously, Wilbur, they can even drink me under the table. Every week, they come in with a new bottle.”

“Wait, every week?”

“Yeah!” Your roommate was laughing, and it hadn’t even crossed your mind yet that they were talking about you, “I mean, seriously, once a week, they walk in and one hand has a bag with vodka from Tesco, and the other hand has a bag from the chemist’s.”

You walked back over by the time your roommate finished speaking, placing the bottle in front of them. Wilbur gave you a strange look as you did, going uncharacteristically quiet as you said a quick goodnight to your roommate, bringing Wilbur, and the bottle, back to your room.

You placed the bottle back on the shelf while Wilbur closed the door. With your back turned, he spoke up finally.

“Darling…” he seemed to struggle to find the words, “Are you… okay?”

You’d chuckled, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” he spoke, and you turned to face him. He had a sad look on his face, almost pitiful, and in the moment, it made you feel sick. “You’ve apparently been going through a bottle a week.”

Your entire body had gone rigid, eyes had gone fearful for a moment before you’d defaulted to being defensive. “That doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Wilbur. It just helps me relax, and you know that I can handle my alcohol.”

“Love, you can’t seriously expect me to just accept that answer,” he scoffed, and he almost looked mad. Looking back, you knew he wasn’t mad at you, more just concerned that you were trying to hide this from him. Even so, in the moment, you thought he was mad. While you couldn’t really place why he would’ve been mad, you knew that it made your own blood heat up.

“Well, it’s- the fucking truth, okay? So just- leave it.”

“How many bottles?”

“Wilbur, what-”

“How. Many.” He looked tense, walking to your bathroom and grabbing the bottle of Panadol, “How many weeks has this been going on? How many bottles have you gotten? If you’re struggling, you should–”

“I’m not fucking struggling, you’re reading into this!”

“Oh, am I? Really?”

“Yes, Wilbur! I am fine, better than fine, in fact, and don’t act like you haven’t been drinking too. You always text me when you do!”

“I’m not against you drinking, but you know how insane going through a fifth a week is. I know that’s not normal for you.”

“How the fuck do you know that? Hm?” You’d practically yelled out before you spoke out again, each word spitting venom at him, “You haven’t been here, Wilbur, you don’t know anything about the way I am when I’m here! Please stop fucking acting like you know everything about me.” You’d gestured with your hands while you spoke, eyebrows raising as you looked at him incredulously, “Yes, okay, fine, you win! I have been drinking more! Basically every night, but that doesn’t mean that something is wrong with me, Wilbur. I am trying my hardest just to fucking exist enough to finish the school year, I am allowed to have vices without it being some big, stupid conversion. Now, let’s just drop it, we’re both exhausted. It’s not going to help to just stand here and argue, okay?”

You’d panted softly as you’d finished. You watched as waves of hurt appeared on Wilbur’s face, and now that the moment had passed, you’d felt just complete, immediate regret as you watched his face fall, staring down at the floorboards.

“Yeah. Fine.” He spoke out flatly.

You two went to bed that night next to each other, still sharing a kiss and exchanging “I love you”s, but feeling tenser than ever before.

In the morning, you two had been able to patch things up, but not before Wilbur made you agree to just call him anytime you needed to relax instead of immediately turning to alcohol. You agreed, and you’d been doing a pretty good job of it, even if you still drink sometimes. But ever since the fight, there’d been this tense air in your relationship, lingering in each conversation, both too scared to overstep and lose the other all over again.

You stared at the bottle on your desk as if it was taunting you. You couldn’t call him, so it was that or sleeplessness. You sat up, shaking your head slightly and wiping the tears from your face, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t. Wilbur would call before bed, he always did now. Instead, you distracted yourself, pulling up your laptop and writing out your list of due dates for this week and the next two weeks, albeit the tears in your eyes made it a bit harder than usual. You wrote the list on a sticky note, placing it on your laptop. Some of these things were easier to knock out than others, for sure. Three big assignments and three small ones, plus whatever reading you had to do in between. Thankfully, only two of the big assignments were due this week, the last one could be left for after you came back from visiting him.

You got started, working on a poem analysis for your Romantic Poetry class and letting your own thoughts fade in the noise of Wordsworth and Keats.

You’d started working on your second small assignment when he’d called later that night. You set your phone up against your laptop, accepting the video call with a gentle smile on your face.

“Hi, darling,” he grinned, and with a quick listen to his voice, you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober. You didn’t bring it up.

“Hi, Will. Did you have fun at Tommy’s?”

He nodded quickly, turning to get comfortable in his bed, “Kid’s a menace, for sure, but yes,” he frowned, getting a better look at you, “Babe, are you still studying?”

You sighed, “Yes, Will, I am.” “It’s been like three hours, how dare they? How could they possibly assign you so much?”

“God, I wish I knew. It’s like they all just decided that everything would be due this week. I might not be able to do our video chat dinner this Friday. I have a huge project due on the 21st.” In reality, you would be taking an hour train to his place and having real-life dinner, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

“That’s not for so long though,” he whined out, pouting.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes a bit, “Yes, but it’s Professor Brian. He makes us all come to his office hours, so he can make sure we’re on the right track, and I need to go in early before the other students can take up all the timeslots. I need to make sure I have everything prepared for that.”

He sighed, relinquishing, “Okay. I know how important all this is, anyways. Plus, graduation isn’t too far now, so you need to finish strong.” He smiled, nothing but supportive towards your academic goals.

“Graduation will be here before we know it. Still gonna host me that party?”

You both laughed, and he nodded, “Oh, absolutely. We’ll have two parties, a moving party and a graduation party all in one.”

You smiled fondly at him, nodding, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

He gave you a look, eyes full of love and adoration, “I miss you so much, love.”

You sighed wistfully, “I miss you too. We’ll see each other soon enough, I’m sure. We’ve waited years, we can do months.”

He grinned, repeating your words, “We can do months.”

The rest of the conversation was standard, asking “How’s your day”s and sharing loving words. He tried to convince you to sleep once more, but you told him how important your work was, and he eventually gave up the topic. You wished each other a goodnight, saying “I love you”, before he eventually headed to bed fully. After you hung up, you looked back up at the bottle. The urge to drink was gone now. And if you weren’t going to get any sleep, you may as well continue working.

The rest of the week went by smoothly. The stress and weight of assignments and your plans for Friday kept you from sleeping properly, which at least gave you more time to work on your assignments.

Friday approached quickly, and you couldn’t sit still in a single class the entire day, let alone Professor Brian’s class. He taught your Victorian Literature class, and he was a genuinely caring professor, despite being a bit intimidating. You could barely focus throughout class, far too excited. When it was time for class to be dismissed, you stood eagerly, but Professor Brian stood in the way for you to leave.

“Do you mind staying a few minutes?” He asked, a kind smile on his face.

As much as you didn’t want to, you really liked this professor, and his opinion of you meant a lot to you. So you nodded, following him to pull a chair up to the other side of his desk.

He sat down, giving you a gentle smile, “I wanted to ask how your paper is going. You haven’t come in for office hours yet.”

Wow, and you thought you were the early prepper. “Well, I was planning to come in on Wednesday since it would give me a week until the project was actually due.”

He frowned, “What day is the paper due?”

You gave him a confused look, responding simply, “The 21st.”

His head tilted back, and he nodded slowly, “Right, I’ve found the problem then. The paper is due the 12th, not the 21st.”

You felt your heart stop. You pulled out your laptop, looking at the sticky note you had taped to it. You had certainly written the 21st. Fuck, you thought, realizing quickly that it must’ve been a consequence of your own mental state since you’d been crying when you wrote the list.

“Oh. Oh, god, I’m-” You struggled to continue your sentence, too distraught. The paper was due in three days, not twelve like you’d thought.

“Hey, don’t fret,” he pulled out his calendar, humming for a moment, “It’s an honest mistake, and you’ve always been on top of your classwork. I can’t offer a major extension, but I can give you until Wednesday the 14th, but that’s only if you come to office hours first thing on Monday. I can help out with some more of the editing work for the paper, but only on that day, and you’ll need to have at least most of it worked out. I trust in your abilities to create a well-thought-out thesis, especially given your passion in previous classes when we’ve discussed Wilde. Does that work?”

You nodded quickly, fighting tears as your entire plan crumbled around you. “Yeah, yes. I-I can do that.”

“Alright.” He offered you another kind smile, though it did nothing to stop the feeling of the world-shattering around you, “And are you alright? You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t wish to, but you were much more quiet in class today than usual.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing now, anyway.” You sighed, biting your lip to keep it from quivering too much. You stood, pulling your bag on while he nodded slowly.

“Keep your head up, alright? You’re a brilliant student. I don’t like to see you falling behind.”

You knew he meant no harm with his words, but it added to the pit of self-hatred that you were slowly sinking into.

You just nodded, turning and heading towards the door, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” you spoke, trying to put more enthusiasm into your words than you actually felt.

You practically ran out of the hallway, the air feeling like it was choking you. You walked to a random bench outside, on the edge of campus, unable to stop yourself from completely breaking down. You’d been planning this for weeks, how could you have fucked up this bad? You sobbed, head in your hands.

The tears didn’t stop. The sun was starting to set, and all of a sudden it felt like there were too many eyes on you, so you stood and ran. You ran all the way to the water, panting heavily as you stared out at the river, standing on the old bridge that was always abandoned this time of night. You stared at the water as you sobbed, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

Fuck.

You had to call Tommy. You already felt like enough of a fuck-up, you could at least prevent him from wasting his time picking you up.

With shaky hands, you took out your phone, dialing Tommy.

It rang once before he picked up, your sobs immediately carrying over the phone.

“Y/N?” He asked, panicked, “Are you crying, did something happen?”

You heard some arguing over the phone, but you could barely hear it over the sounds of your own crying as you began to speak, “Tommy, don’t- I-” your voice quivered, biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

There was still some arguing happening on his side, but you paid it no mind.

He tried to say something, but you cut him off before he could as the words broke through your sobs.

“Don’t- don’t bother p-picking me up,” you sobbed out, “I f-fucked it. I fucked it all up.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s- it’s stupid, I- I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t come anymore. I fucked up,” there was sarcastic laughter behind your words as you continued speaking, tears streaming down your face, “I can’t, fuck, I- I fucking ruined everything, I- I was trying, I am trying, but I-” you gasped for breath, one hand clutching your chest weakly as you sat at the edge of the bridge.

“Take a deep breath, come on. What are you talking about?” It almost sounded like he was pleading.

“I just-” you sobbed, trying to muffle your cries to get your words out, “Tell Wilbur I’m sorry.” You pulled your phone away from your ear, ending the call despite hearing his panicked voice through the phone. You shoved your phone in your bag, curling up into a tight ball as you sobbed until you could barely think.

Unfortunately for you, you could still think. Your sobbing had been reduced to slow tears and the occasional hitch in your breath. As the sunset faded into the night sky, you became so acutely aware of how you’d fucked up your relationship. The one you’d spent years pining for, that you wanted to work so hard for. You let all of it fall apart. Even when trying so hard, your trying just wasn’t enough. You stood up, walking to the railing and staring down at the water.

The rushing water felt like it stared back at you.

You gripped the railing tightly, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe all over again. You slowly backed away, letting go of the railing and trying to collect yourself.

Once you were calm enough, you turned, walking the slow trek back to your apartment. Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and it’d be impossible to hide that you’d been crying even if you tried. You realized off-handedly that you had no clue how long you’d been there sobbing. The sky was your only reminder that time had even passed.

You walked to the apartment slowly, body feeling drained. When you opened the door, you were met with all three of your roommates in the living room, staring at you with concern. One of your roommates, Jayden, sighed softly, speaking into the phone and looking away.

“What’s going on?” You asked softly, voice cracking. You didn’t have the heart to be embarrassed.

“Wilbur called,” your other roommate, Quinn, spoke up softly.

You didn’t bother responding, just nodding and walking to your room. They didn’t fight it, watching you quietly.

You grabbed the bottle, laying down in your bed, and staring at it. There was barely anything left, probably about a shot’s worth. Your hands shook as you stared, mentally waging a war over whether or not you’d take that final sip. A sob wracked your body, and instead of drinking it, you threw the bottle against the opposite wall, watching it shatter and spill over the floor. You couldn’t be bothered, turning away from the door and curling up into a tight ball. You heard movement outside your door, but you didn’t move, and eventually, the footsteps departed. You closed your eyes, lying drained on your bed and letting yourself drift in and out of restless sleep.

When you came to at one point, you could make out the sound of someone picking up the pieces of glass you’d shattered. You wanted to turn, to mumble a thank you to whichever roommate had cleaned it for you, but you felt frozen in your own sadness. You listened, though, keeping your eyes closed. The sounds of each shard falling into a bag, the sound of a towel wiping at the wet spot left by the vodka. Then, there was a pause before you heard the gentle sound of footsteps moving toward your bed. You felt the bed dip, and you couldn’t fight the confusion that creased into your brow. An arm slowly wrapped around you, and you let your eyes open, taking a moment to process. You thought you must be dreaming.

Your voice sounded weaker than you’d hoped it would as you spoke.

“Wilbur?” You turned, looking up and seeing the face of your lover staring back at you. He looked as exhausted as you felt, and it looked like he’d been crying as well.

You sat up slowly, and he did the same, brushing back some of your hair.

“Hi,” He sighed softly, sitting across from you, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and your hands reached for him as if to make sure he was actually, really there in front of you. He held onto your arms gently as well.

“What- what are you doing here?” “You were on speaker when you called Tommy.” He sighed softly, “We could only come for tonight, but we really need to talk. We could wait til the morning if you’d prefer.”

As much as you’d like to have one last good night in his arms, you’d rather rip the bandaid off now.

“No, let’s talk now.” You sighed.

He nodded, watching you quietly, “Can you tell me what happened, then?”

You took a shaky breath, nodding softly. “I was going to come down this weekend. I spent weeks planning it, making sure I could get everything done in perfect timing. But that night I called Tommy, after you called me, I started crying, and I wrote down one of my due dates wrong,” you sniffled, chuckling sardonically at yourself. “God, it’s so stupid. But my professor stopped me after class, and he extended the due date, but he could only extend it by two days. So, I couldn’t come to surprise you anymore, and,” you sobbed, biting your lip and trying to hold yourself together, “I called Tommy and let him know that he didn’t- he didn’t have to pick me up anymore.”

Wilbur nodded as he listened to you explain. He knew you better than you ever wanted to admit. “On the phone, you said… you ruined everything. You weren’t just talking about the plans, were you?”

You shook your head, moving your hands to hide your face behind them, “No.”

“Did you… think that I would stop talking to you because of this?”

You took a shaky breath. It felt like your last chance to be honest while you still could. So, you let the words spill from your mouth in endless streams.

“I just- I haven’t been doing well, Wilbur, ever since I got back here. I was drinking every night, really heavily, and I know it wasn’t good. And I’m sorry for how I talked to you that night, I was just scared and defensive, and,” you took a shaky breath, “every time we’ve talked after that fight, everything would feel different, and I was just getting terrified that my time was running out, that you were going to finally decide that you’ve had enough of the fucking mess that I am. Every time you would tell me about the cool things you were doing, I just couldn’t help but feel like it was cutting me open, no matter how happy I was for you, and now, I just I feel like I’m an open wound that can’t close no matter how much I try. And I am trying. You have to believe me, really, I am trying. I didn’t,” You cried softly, head still in your hands, “I didn’t drink it. The rest of the bottle, I-I didn’t drink it. I am trying.” You felt like you were pleading for him to believe you.

“Hey, hey” he spoke softly, gently holding onto your forearms, “Let me see your face. Please.”

You let your hands fall, looking up at him. You never felt smaller than in that brief moment where you could feel him seeing you in your entirety.

He gently moved a hand to your cheek, wiping at your eyes softly.

“I know you’re trying. I’m proud of you for not drinking it. Really, I’m insanely proud of you. I can see that you’re trying. I’m not going to leave you or stop talking to you because you’re struggling. That doesn’t mean what happened is okay, but darling, you need to communicate with me. Neither of us are going to be perfect about anything, and I know I’m not perfect with it either, but when you start having these thoughts and ideas that I’m going to leave you? That’s when you need to come to me and talk to me. I know it’s hard, and I’m not expecting it to be an easy or quick fix, but I need to know that you know that you can come to me. That I’m someone you truly trust. Because if not, it will just hurt us both.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into his touch, “I’m sorry. I’m going to try, I just- I get so in my head sometimes, I just-” You took a shaky breath, and he carefully moved forward, pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back just as tightly, burying your face into his chest.

“I do trust you,” you whispered, “I’m just scared you’re going to see me the way I see me.”

He took a shaky breath, kissing the top of your head. “And I’m just trying to get you to see yourself the way I see you.”

You sobbed softly, clinging onto him tightly. He held you just as desperately, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you spoke softly once you’d calmed down enough, “so much.” “I love you so much too.” He pulled away, only to pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The kiss felt like breathing, a strong sense of relief in the physical confirmation that despite everything, you didn’t lose him.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, and you both sat like that quietly for a few minutes.

“I missed you,” You spoke softly, looking up at him. “You said you’re only here for tonight?”

“I missed you too. Even if it didn’t go as planned, at least we still got to see each other this weekend,” he lightly joked before nodding, “We are only here for tonight.”

“Wilbur, I can’t go to Brighton anymore, I have to write my paper,” you sighed.

“Oh, no, I know. I wasn’t talking about you.” “What?” “Tommy insisted on coming with. He was really worried too. He’s currently sleeping on your couch.”

You chuckled, your chuckle soon turning into full laughter as you imagined Tommy’s lanky limbs leaning off your cheap couch. Wilbur started laughing as well, arms still wrapped around you, slowly rubbing up and down your back.

Once you stopped laughing, you leaned into him, relaxing against his chest. He moved both of you into laying down.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. Today’s been exhausting. Can we just sleep?” Wilbur nodded, kissing the top of your head once more. “I would love nothing more than to sleep with you right now.”

You groaned, lightly hitting his chest, but you couldn’t deny the laughter that bubbled up in your chest.��

“Goodnight, love.” He grinned.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

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lynzishell · 5 months

Text

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m glad you came out with me today. Dawn: Me too. Phoenix: It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Dawn: Yeah, it has.

Phoenix: Do you wanna talk about it? Dawn: No. Probably should, though. Phoenix: It might help. Dawn: I’m just… heartbroken. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself. Phoenix: Dawn, it’s not your –

Dawn: Don’t. Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know how you can believe it.

Phoenix: Okay, I’ll tell you what, if it’s your fault, then it’s mine too. And Atlas’s, for that matter. We were all up there together, and we all pushed each other to keep going when we felt like we couldn’t.

Dawn: But you kept trying to get me to stop.

Phoenix: Only for a few hours, for a night at most. And only to ensure you stayed well enough to keep going. So, you don’t get to keep all the blame for yourself. If it’s your fault, then it’s mine too, and we’ll share that burden.

Dawn: I could never let you do that. Phoenix: Why not? Dawn: Because you didn’t know. Phoenix: And neither did you.

Dawn: I feel like I should’ve though. I was just being stubborn, and I ignored everything my body was telling me because I hated being the one that was struggling.

Phoenix: I’m sorry, Dawn, I love you, but you’re just not that special. Dawn: Excuse me?

Phoenix: For one, you weren’t the only one struggling. You were just the only one puking. We were all struggling in our own ways. For two, of all the things that can go wrong on that mountain, there’s no way pregnancy was on anyone’s mind. You weren’t ignoring anything. You thought the same thing we all thought – altitude sickness. Because that was the most logical possibility for that situation. There’s no way you could’ve known more than any of us what was really going on. You’re just not that special.

Dawn: … I’m not that special? Phoenix: ‘fraid not. Dawn: I feel like that shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. Phoenix: [laughs] Well, if you ever need anyone to remind you how not special you are, I’m here for you. Dawn: [smiles] I may not be special, but I am very lucky. Phoenix: Aha, we’re getting cheesy now, are we? Dawn: Mhm

Dawn: [laughing] Alright, calm down, this is a family park.

Phoenix: Sorry, just missed you, I guess. Dawn: I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I shut you out. Phoenix: Yeah, that was hard. Dawn: I know. I won’t do it again. Phoenix: I hope not.

Dawn: Speaking of… You’ve been taking such good care of me, and I feel like I haven’t been there for you at all. How are you doing? Phoenix: I’m okay. Dawn: No. Honest answer. Phoenix: Honest answer? Dawn: Yes.

Phoenix: Okay… I am… really fucking sad. Dawn: Yeah. Me too.

Phoenix: I didn’t know this was what I wanted until it was real. And then it was taken away, just like that, leaving this big, gaping hole in my chest. And then for a minute there, it felt like I was losing you too. For the first time in a long time, I wished I could just pick up the phone and call my mom, but of course, I couldn’t do that either. I’ve never felt so helpless.

Dawn: I’m so sorry. Phoenix: It’s okay. I’ll be alright. Mostly, I’ve been afraid that this has been too hard on you, and you won’t want to try again.

Dawn: You want to try again? Like actually try? Phoenix: [nods] Dawn: Me too. Phoenix: Really? Dawn: I mean, maybe not right now. I don’t know what we’ll have to do to make it happen, or how long it will take, but I know it won’t be easy. And I think I need some time before diving into all that. Phoenix: Of course, whatever you need, you just let me know when you’re ready.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens

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mimisempai · 8 months

Text

To protect

Summary

After an incident with an intruder who wanted to hang a poster on Aziraphale's bookshop, the Angel discovers that Crowley's protective instinct goes further than he thought, and wonders if the demon sees him as weak.

Notes

About the source of Crowley's protection instinct…

On Ao3

Rating G - 1657 words

As Crowley set his mug back on the table, his eyes were drawn to something unusual in the street. He saw a man trying to hang a poster on one of the bookshop's doorposts. He was about to stand up and shoo the shameless intruder away when he suddenly saw Aziraphale emerge from the bookshop and walk toward the man.

The demon was at first a little amused by Aziraphale's offended expression. The angel was probably outraged that someone would even think of sticking a poster on the stylish front of his bookshop. But it seemed that the fellow refused to take down his poster, so Aziraphale set about removing it himself.

Crowley then saw the guy start to get a little too close to Aziraphale and was ready to intervene again, but this time Aziraphale managed to get him to leave.

Crowley continued to watch the street until he was sure that Aziraphale was in the bookshop, and when he turned his head, he saw that the guy was still watching the bookshop with a vicious eye.

The demon made a small gesture with his hand, and from across the street, people watched in astonishment and some even amusement as the poster man stumbled, sending his posters flying in all directions.

Crowley couldn't suppress a mocking chuckle before picking up his mug and taking another sip.

"Still playing protector?"

Crowley looked up at Nina, who had come to set a plate of Eccles cakes on his table, and replied, "What do you expect, Nina, you can't just go against millennia of protective instinct.

Nina replied, "When you answer like that, I can't help but wonder if you're speaking literally or figuratively, and the worst part is, after all we've seen, I'm pretty sure it's literal."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, grinned, and replied, "Trust me, Nina, you really don't want to know."

He took a last sip of coffee and set the empty mug back on the table before getting up. He picked up the plate of cake, winked at Nina, and headed for the bookstore.

By the time he reached the store, the nuisance was gone.

Crowley entered the store and saw Aziraphale in the process of tearing the poster that had been taped to the doorpost into tiny pieces before it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Seeing this, Crowley couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

Aziraphale turned briskly toward him and exclaimed, "Oh, Crowley, my dear, there you are!"

The angel's gaze fell on the plate of cake in Crowley's hand, and the demon watched in amusement as Aziraphale's eyes lit up.

He handed the plate to Aziraphale and said softly, "I think a little treat will help after what you've just been through, don't you?"

Aziraphale's expression turned angry as he muttered, "Did you see that troublemaker? He dared to do this to my bookshop!"

The angel greedily grabbed one of the cakes and bit into it, obviously still irritated by the situation.

Then, as if the sweet pastry had already softened his mood, he continued in a satisfied tone, "Anyway, he's been well punished, all his posters... pfft... gone."

Crowley could neither hold back a chuckle nor hide his proud smile...

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and asked suspiciously, "Crowley... are you by any chance responsible for what happened to him?"

Crowley looked right and then left and said in a nonchalant tone, "I may have had a little something to do with... the posters flying off..."

Aziraphale pout a little and asked, "You don't think I am strong enough to defend myself?"

Crowley sighed and replied, "I'll give you the same answer I gave Nina, it's hard to fight millennia of protective instinct."

Aziraphale didn't react, grabbed the plate of cake and sat down at his desk, saying nothing more.

Crowley, confused, figured he must have said something wrong, but the problem was, he had absolutely no idea what.

Knowing his angel when he was in that state, he figured he'd give it some time and come back to it a little later.

He went to make him a cup of tea and a few moments later placed it next to him on his desk. The angel looked up at him and said, "Thank you," and nothing else.

His expression was the same as before. Crowley didn't insist and sat down on the sofa. He began to read his newspaper, waiting until the angel was ready to talk to him.

When he reached the last page, nothing had changed, which meant the problem was obviously more serious than he thought.

He folded the paper and placed it on the small table.

He said quietly, "Angel, would you mind telling me what I said wrong, because right now I really don't know."

Aziraphale turned to him and seemed to start a sentence several times, stopping each time.

Crowley sat up a little on the sofa and patted the spot next to him. He asked softly, "Why don't you come sit next to me, maybe it'll be easier that way."

Aziraphale nodded, stood up, and came to sit beside him.

Crowley noticed that his fingers were fidgeting in his lap, so he gently placed his hand on the angel's nervous hands and said softly, "Angel, we said we wouldn't lie to each other anymore, so tell me what's on your mind without hesitation. I promise I won't get mad." Aziraphale looked up at him and asked, "Crowley, do you think I am incapable of protecting myself?"

Crowley replied directly, without thinking, "That is the last thing I think of you! You recently vanquished an army of demons with your halo, the two of us performed a miracle of awesome power, not to mention everything else I've seen you do over the millennia."

Aziraphale nodded and continued, "Then why are you talking about a protective instinct?"

Crowley raised his hand and laid it flat on the angel's chest, "Well, I've seen this angel who had a heart so big it drove him to go against God's orders to save children."

Gabriel looked him in the eye and asked gravely, "Aziraphale, who are they?"

Aziraphale hesitated slightly, his gaze shifting from Gabriel to Crowley, and he said, "They are..."

He looked at Sitis, Job and the children and continued, "His new children."

Gabriel looked at him sharply and Aziraphale added, "I... You have my word as an angel."

"When I witnessed you lie to Gabriel's face about Job's children, I was proud of you for having the courage to do it. But I also saw the sadness you felt when you thought you were damned for what you'd done, and how you were ready to face the consequences. When I caught the look on your face at the other end of the stone bench, that's when that instinct was born."

He raised his hand and gently caressed the angel's face before continuing, "Not because you're weak, on the contrary, it took incredible strength for you to do what you did. But I knew that this decision would hurt you until you had gone as far as you could along with Heaven."

Aziraphale nodded and replied, "I think I understand. Is that why you were so upset when I decided to help Gabriel?"

Crowley grumbled, "Why else would you think? It wasn't a homeless man you took in, it was the fucking Archangel Gabriel who tried to kill you the last time he saw you! So forgive me for not reacting rationally."

Aziraphale replied softly, "Don't be mad," he took Crowley's hand, still on his face, and kissed it tenderly before continuing, "And thank you."

Then he frowned and asked, "Tell me, was it also protective instinct, that scene you made with Mr. Brown in the pub?"

Crowley blushed slightly before replying, "He was sitting in my seat."

"So?" Aziraphale asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crowley grumbled, "It was my seat."

"Oh, we're territorial, I see."

The demon replied, "As far as you're concerned, always have been."

Aziraphale replied, "You know you'll never have to worry about that. I'll never let anyone take your place. Literally and figuratively."

Crowley replied in a determined tone, "And that's fine."

Aziraphale chuckled slightly and said, "You're too cute for words sometimes."

"Angel, I forbid you. I'm a demon, I'm not cu-"

"Yes, you are. Tell yourself whatever you want, but I know."

"No, you don't--"

"Crowley."

"What?!

"Shut up."

Crowley gave a mischievous little smile and replied, "Make me."

Aziraphale was no angel to turn down a challenge, so he smiled and leaned over the demon, his expression turning serious again as he murmured against his lips, "Thanks for always having my back. I love you."

That was enough to silence the demon, as it did every time the angel spoke those three words to him.

But Aziraphale still leaned over him and pressed his lips to the demon's. The long, tender kiss they shared expressed better than words what they both felt at that moment.

A little later, Azirapahle was reading on the sofa, one hand buried in Crowley's hair, the demon's head resting in his lap.

He looked down at him and said softly, "Will you let me protect you, too?"

Crowley caught the angel's hand in his hair, pressed it to his chest, and said, "You've done this before. More than once, instinctively. And the first time was on a wall, above a garden. You spread your wing to protect me from the rain."

Aziraphale chuckled slightly, "That hardly counts."

"To me it still and always will count more than anything, Angel."

The tone was unmistakable, so Aziraphale resumed his reading, burying his hand in the red strands again.

Whether it was him or Crowley, it seemed they were both wrong in their definition of their own nature.

Their nature was not that of angel or demon.

Their nature was to protect one another.

Since the beginning of time.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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shiftingparadise · 7 months

Note

Hey, I’m unsure if you still write for MHA but I’d love a comfort fic/drabble about a reader who’s struggling with guilt and bad thoughts, to eventually get some support from Dabi? I’ve been struggling a lot so much lmao

I'm so sorry to hear you've been struggling. It's been a long time since I've written anything. So forgive me if it's not as good but I hope you like it. I'm here if you want to talk.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1776

“It’s my fault”, your voice shaking. “It’s my fault, right?”, your head now resting against the wall behind you. “It’s my fault that they’re-“. A sentence you fail to say out loud. A stinging sensation greeted your eyes. You were sitting in an ally, your hands resting on your knees as little clouds left your lips. It was a cold night and even though your mind failed to notice the cold, your body did. Leaving you shaking, your teeth grinding on each other. Were you angry or sad? Probably both. It was unfair. The way Deku didn’t flinch, the way Bakugo grinned, … All why you were frozen in place. Too scared to save the lives of innocent people. What kind of hero were you? A joke. That’s what you are. “I hate them”, tears now flooded your eyes. “I hate the way things are so easy for them, the way they always seem to save everyone while I’ve worked so hard for this. I’m not a pro hero. I’m a joke, a coward-“.

He knew you hadn’t noticed. His staring eyes. The way he was leaning against the wall just a little bit further. If it were someone else, he’d probably would’ve laughed, or done something to upset them even more. Probably killed them eventually if they’d dare to talk back to him but… You looked so ‘good’. So, innocent. As if you hadn’t done anything wrong in your entire life. And the way your tears were dripping down your cute nose, the way you cutely rubbed the palm of your hand on your eyelids… Not to mention your voice. So soft, so ‘good’. There wasn’t any other way he could put it. You seemed ‘good’ and here you were, talking down on yourself like that just because you couldn’t be like them. A feeling he understood all too well. The feeling of not being good enough.

“Why? Why am I like this?”, your eyes darted to the sky. Desperately searching for an answer. “If I just swooped in, if I just managed to move my feet they would’ve been saved. They would’ve been able to return to their families, their loved ones… I hate myself”, your sobs getting louder, not caring about your surrounding anymore. Because it hurt. The feeling in your chest, the way you could hardly breathe anymore. “I hate myself and everyone else does too, right?”, your eyes still looking at the sky, hoping someone would talk back. “That’s why I’m always alone. Why I don’t have any friends”. Right, this wasn’t just about the lost lives. It was about your hurt. About everything that you tried to bury in your past.

Alone. He was always alone. He never had anyone. He knew the way you felt. The desperation, the sense of hopelessness.

“You’re not alone”, a raspy voice travelled through the air and startling you.

“Creep”, the word flashed before his eyes. You were crying about being alone, thinking you were alone in that ally. Probably one of the times you even wanted to be alone, and this is what he chose to say? Not even a hello? Or a dry cough to let you know someone was there.

“W-who are you?”, you narrowed your eyes, not bothering to wipe your tears. The darkness around you made it hard for you to see. “No one”, the voice replied.

He already regretted this. That he let you know someone was there. That he was there.

“If you’re too scared to speak, then don’t bother letting me know you’re here”, you turned your head to the side.

Scared? He wasn’t scared, right?

“Then don’t cry in the middle of an ally”, a snappy remark that he immediately regretted. “Well, I’m sorry that I bothered you”, you quietly replied. Your heart felt heavy. The last thing you needed was a stranger that made you feel even worse.

“You didn’t bother me”, the voice sounded almost desperate. “I-I guess I’m… sorry?”.

Did he just apologize? Or tried to anyway.

“Who are you?”, you knew that voice. You heard it on the TV once, right? But if you were right then… “No one”, he repeated himself.

He noticed the way your breathing got heavier. The way you tensed your entire body.

“No one you should be scared off”, his hands now in his pockets, his eyes closed.

Hate. Once again, the word flashed before his eyes. He hated himself.

“I know who you are”, you tried to relax your body. For some reason you believed him. Even though a murderer was standing practically next to you. But you were one too, right? You didn’t hurt people on purpose, but you failed to save them while you were standing so close. Wasn’t that even worse?

“Then why don’t you kill me?”, his voice sounded cold.

“I don’t know”, your teeth digging into the soft skin of your lips. “I don’t know”, tears once again streaming down your cheeks. “Probably because I’m scared, right? I’m a failure”.

“H-huh?”, your breath stopped, your eyes wide open as rough digits stroked over your cheek. His eyes now staring directly into yours as he squatted before you.

This wasn’t like him. He was never like this, or not that he could remember anyways.

“You must be freezing”, he sighed as he let his head fall back. “Here”, his hands wrapped around yours. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to burn you”, he coldly looked into your eyes again. Your heart was racing as you could feel his hands getting hotter, causing a nice sensation against your skin. Like holding them in front of a fireplace. “Feels nice”, you softly whispered.

His eyes unwillingly widened at your small praise. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone said something similar to him.

“It’s fine if you’re not like them”, his gaze now fixed on your hands. They fitted perfectly in his. Your skin felt so soft against his scars… He could stay like this for hours. “It’s fine if you’re scared”, his eyes found yours again. “I don’t need life lessons from someone like you”, you suddenly pulled your hands away, leaving an empty feeling behind. What were you doing? He was a villain. He couldn’t be trusted. “Right”, a painful look in his eyes. “I’m sorry”, he lowered his eyes as he stood back up. “So, you want to fight me or are you going to let me go without a hassle?”, his voice cold again. You stayed quiet for a second as you looked up at him. He looked handsome. Painfully handsome. Even with all of his scars, even with his messy hair… but most of all, he looked lonely.

“Cold”, you turned your head to the side, “My hands”. “Huh?”, his brows pulled together. “Could you please do that thing again?”, your cheeks red as you held out your hands, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Even if this was a trap, even if you were going to capture him… He couldn’t refuse when you looked like that.

“Tsk”, an unexpected smile on his face, “Come here”. He lifted you from the ground with your arm. “I’m not going to sit on the ground like an idiot. Let’s go to my place, it’s warm. I promise”, he already started walking. For some reason he didn’t doubt you’d follow him. And you did. Without saying anything. If this was wrong, then why did it feel so right?

It was only a five-minute walk and for some reason it made him sad. He could’ve walked through entire countries with you walking beside him.

“We’re here”, he stopped in front of a tall building. To be honest, it looked like it was going to fall apart any minute. “Know it’s not much”, he scratched the back of his head, “But it’s warm… and safe”.

He knew he was a hypocrite. How could he say something like that when he killed people for fun?

“Hm”, you softly smiled. “Y-you still want to come in?”, he now sounded nervous. He couldn’t believe you actually trusted him enough to follow him like this. “Yeah”, your arms wrapped around your body, trying to keep the cold away.

How could he forget? You probably didn’t have a quirk like his, that kept him warm. He should’ve offered you his coat, or at least try to keep you warm.

“Let’s go inside. You must be cold”, he opened the door for you. It. Was a quiet walk to his apartment. Your mind and heart fighting against each other. “So”, he awkwardly kicked some boxes of fast food to the side as you entered his apartment. “Like I said, I know it’s not much but it’s warm”.

He felt embarrassed. He only had a small TV and a bed. Not even a chair or a couch to sit on.

“It’s enough”, you smiled. “Here, sit down please”, he quickly straightened his pillows. “You can sit here. I know it’s probably not comfortable to sit like this-“. “It’s perfect”, you sat down while leaning with your back against the wooden frame of his bed. “H-here’s a blanket”, he grabbed one from a box. You thanked him once again.

“Why are you doing this?”.

Your question pierced through his chest. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t like this. He never was kind to anyone.

“I don’t know”, he awkwardly sat down beside you. “I guess I understand the way you feel. That’s why I said it’s fine if you’re not like them. You don’t have to pretend all the time”. “Pretend?”, you pulled the blanket over your legs. “They’re scared too, you know? Everyone is. They just pretend they aren’t. It’s fine to be scared, to not show up sometimes. It’s fine if you can’t fake being happy, or brave, or …”, he hesitated for a second. “All I’m saying is, it’s fine if you’re you”. “But I-“, your eyes already glossy. “Don’t cry”, he turned to look at you. “You can’t cry. You can’t show them you’re weak-“.

What was he doing? He cried all the time, or he used to anyway. And yes, he felt weak because he did so, but when he saw you cry earlier… All he saw was a girl who was tired of being strong.

“You don’t need this, right? A lecture”, he shook his head, unsure of what was happening to him. “Cry your heart out”, he wrapped your arms around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Cry. Let it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you. It’s brave to cry”, he tightened his grip as he heard your sobs. “You’ll never be alone again”.

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drdemonprince · 6 months

Note

Thank you for talking about the ills of isolation and withdrawing during a moment where we need collective action, whatever that may look like for each one of us.

I have been thinking a lot about how I want to belong to groups who are doing things I care about and what gets in the way of that goal. A huge difficulty I have as an autistic woman and a woc in a small town in a white majority country is that often even with people whose politics I broadly agree with, there is a lot of interpersonal unease and irritation to get through. This is probably sometimes as much my fault as theirs. But sometimes it's stuff like people openly rolling their eyes at my name (too foreign and hard apparently) or me finding some of the things they say awful (a queer rights group still being racist for example) or just finding people annoying to be around at times.

How do I show up in these spaces and create a community without burning out from annoyance/disappointment/the everyday alienation of it all? Surely moving to a big city cannot be a practical answer when it's not affordable? And surely there must be a way to be honest about my politics and stand up for myself and still be in halfway progressive spaces that are doing good work and are best options right now in terms of proximity and impact? My parents' answer (different generation, country, culture) was always keep your head down and stay out of difficult things like organizing. I am tired of living like that. But I also feel I am too angry and too unfit to deal with the everyday reality of what people are like to be able to part of movements. The alternative though is to having a panic attack while reading the news and sink into despair and helplessness which sucks. Am I missing an obvious way out here? As always, very grateful to you for your wisdom and clarity on living uncowered.

Thank you so much for your wonderful message and question. I am admittedly a little out of my depth in some ways in answering this, I feel, as a white person and a man who people don't tend to subject to the worst of the kind of treatment that you're speaking to. (What I do get is people thinking that expressing the prejudices will be acceptable to me, which I have the responsibility to shut down as often as humanly possible, so that spaces don't have a such a dogshit culture and alienate tons of people like you).

I think you do really have to look over your own bandwidth, and determine for you what is tolerable and what isn't. As a trans person, there are slightly "off" little comments that I'll accept from someone who isn't well versed in the topic, and differences in how elders talk and think about gender that I'll tolerate bemusedly, but if it ventures into any area that makes the space explicitly hostile to trans people who are more vulnerable than me, then it's something I need to fight about or I need to abandon the space.

For a woman of color like yourself, I think that kind of decision making is a lot more fraught, because frankly I never have to worry about anybody really escalating their bullshit with me too badly, and they'll want to forget it pretty quickly after the conflict even if I do challenge them.

(This propensity towards midwest nicey-ness / white person fake nicey-ness can sometimes be leveraged to win a battle or two -- when I have obviously, unquestionably shut down someone's ignorance or read them for filth diplomatically for making a really dumb point, often the other person's impulse is to backtrack and make nice or pretend that what they said never happened, while also never doing it again in my presence, and in plenty of situations, that's plenty good enough. I have seen this kind of maneuvering work for people of color too, especially in groups like churches, volunteer organizations, cultural affinity groups, and the like, where there is a strong bias towards everybody getting along...sometimes that awful cultural norm can be shifted to your advantage if you Make the Person Saying the Fucked Up Thing the Awkward One.)

I think a lot of what you'll have to do is discern between the groups where you can push back against the remarks and policies that are unacceptable to you but basically get along with well-enough intentioned people, and the groups where you will be singled out and treated poorly for speaking up or ever asserting yourself. It also really helps to befriend all the other people of color & neurodivergent people in the space early on into joining a group, so you have people to lean on and you can get their lay of the land.

I wish I had advice that was more targeted and immediately actionable, but I think a lot of this is a very subtle dance based on the community spaces you move within, your political goals, the people within the space, the norms within that space surrounding conflict, how many other poc are there, etc etc. You will probably have to try a couple of groups before you find one that is tolerable enough for you because a) the people arent That Fucked Up, and b) they can kind of handle conflict some of the time at least. Please don't be disheartened if things feel awkward or a few of your first tries have rancid vibes. You can also take steps to build the very community spaces that you want -- by reaching out to other people of color in the area and forming your own groups that can then partner with these kind of annoying white majority organizations. The autonomy is useful and may preserve some social and emotional spoons, but at the cost of having to do a lot of organizing work. So, tradeoffs.

Would love to hear in the comments from people of color who do organizing in non-urban areas and have to deal with a lot of white people nonsense.

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john-laurens · 1 year

Text

I have been thinking about a line that John Laurens wrote to Francis Kinloch on August 23, 1774:

it grows so late that I must bid you Adieu, kiss all the pretty Genevoises for me, and dont delay to write to your affectionate John Laurens_

I don't speak French, but my understanding is that "Genevoises" is feminine plural and would translate to "Genevan women." So my question is - why did John ask Francis to kiss all of the pretty Genevan women for him?

This is the first letter John wrote to Francis after John arrived in London. He had just left Francis and their other friends behind in Geneva, a transition that was surely hard on him, as evidenced by an earlier line in the letter:

If my Letter is a little confused, dont be surpriz'd at it, for I am quite like a Creature in a new World, and shall be for some time in an unsettled State_ I am glad however to inform you that I shall not have Lodgings in the Temple as I at first thought_ but in some genteel private Family_ the Noise, the Cries the Smoak and Dust of this vast City, make me sometimes wish myself back at Paquis, I have another Reason too, for wishing myself there, I dont know when I shall get into such a valuable Set of Acquaintance as I have left_

I am of the opinion that John and Francis had a deeply romantic relationship - you can explore previous discussions about this in my Francis Kinloch tag. So what is the purpose of John asking his closest friend/lover, whom he only recently left, to kiss some pretty ladies on his behalf?

Was John being facetious? This seems like the most obvious answer, considering John rarely ever mentioned women in his other surviving writings and barely in any romantic context. Was he simply trying to make light of an emotionally trying time in his life?

Was there a hidden implication behind the words? The phrase conjures intimate images of Francis kissing people he finds attractive. Perhaps John was making a reference to kisses they'd shared in the past but veiled in a way that would not be so easily understood by other readers of the letter.

Was it performative? Was John feeling fear or uncertainty regarding his likely attraction toward men? Was he trying to make himself out to be something else?

Was John teasing Francis? Francis seems to have experienced attraction to women. A "Miss Stephens" that Francis appeared to seriously court is mentioned in a September 30, 1776 letter from John to Francis. Were there certain women in Geneva that Francis found attractive, and was John encouraging him to explore those attractions?

Or is there no hidden meaning? Did John think of the Genevan women as pretty and genuinely wish to kiss them?

A final note - I also find it interesting that the final "-es" in "Genevoises" is written detached from the rest of the word:

Is it possible that John originally wrote the word as "Genevois" (Genevan men, to my understanding) and then added the "-es" to alter the meaning? Probably not, as there is evidence that this was simply John's style of handwriting (as seen below in the word "present"), but it is something to consider.

#I rambled about this to ciceroprofacto like 2 months ago and I'm sure I'm not being as eloquent now #But it still occupies my mind every second of every day #John Laurens #Francis Kinloch #Laureloch #Someone who actually knows French can also contribute

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straynstay · 1 year

Text

When you start feeling your body get colder, you open your eyes and sigh. Chan isn't there in bed by your side. He usually wraps himself around you like a human comforter and you don't even feel the need to use blankets, his body warmth being enough for you to sleep soundly. But it sucks when he gets up first and leaves you exposed to the coldness of the room.

"Channie" you whine, but it isn't loud enough for him to hear, you realize after he doesn't show up like he always does, grinning from ear to ear and asking if you slept well.

You decide to get up and drag yourself to where he is, not wanting to be apart from his presence any longer, so you wrap yourself in the blanket he uses and goes on a mission to find Chan.

Lucky for you, the first place you decide to check is the bathroom, and ta-da, there he is in all his nakedness glory staring at his reflection on the mirror above the sink.

You wanted to enjoy the view a bit more, but his glare at himself makes you worry. He's probably having a hard time because things aren't easy lately. Chan has been getting a lot of unnecessary comments and you wish you could stop them from reaching him somehow, but that's out of your hands.

But you know you can support him whenever times like this come, so you wrap yourself around him, pulling the blanket too, and pepper his back with tiny kisses. Chan jumps a little from the surprise, but relaxes while holding your arms that are circling his waist and chest.

"Mhm" he hums and you feel the vibration on his chest "Morning to you too" his voice is so sexy, especially after waking up. "Slept well?"

"Uhmm" you answer him, moving your kisses to his nape and then finally the side of his neck. Chan lets out a small laugh saying that it was tickling him. You smile at his reflection, holding him tighter against your body, basking in his warmth and safe presence. You both stay like this, in silence, for quite some time, until you finally speak, voice almost like a whisper.

"Let's do it today" Chan's face drops hearing your proposition, but you squeeze him and speak again, more assertively. "C'mon, I know you can do it".

"Do we really…?"

"Yep" you nod your head and stare at him through the mirror. Chan whines a little, complaining about it being stupid, but he knows there's nothing he can do or say to make you change your mind, so after mustering up some courage, he takes a deep breath and stares at himself again, this time with a much more softer expression on his face.

"I am a valuable person. My emotions are valid. My intrusive thoughts or other people's opinions don't define who I am or what I'm worth. I deserve to be happy. I deserve good things. I appreciate my dedication and hard work towards my job, but I also deserve to relax. I am at peace with myself" Chan said calmly, breathing slowly between each sentence, and for his awesome work you reward him with a kiss on his cheek.

"Ready for round two?" you ask, lazily running your fingers on his abs. Chan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, opening them once he starts exhaling.

"I am grateful for my body. I accept myself as I am today. I am choosing to do kind things for myself. I am learning to be comfortable in my own skin. I will only welcome positive thoughts about my body today. It's okay for me to love myself, and today I will love myself." Chan continues. "And today I am also grateful for my nose. I like my nose, even though I can't properly breathe with it, but it's my nose and I appreciate it and we'll have an amazing day together today" Chan's sentence makes you laugh a little. "Wow, well done, Channie" he says to his own reflection and gives it a thumbs up while smiling.

You melt a little at the sight, and kiss his shoulders. Chan turns his head to you, pecking you on the lips as a small thank you for supporting him. You know how hard it is for him to accept himself sometimes, so you came up with this idea to hype him up before starting his day. At first you would say whatever positive thought came to your mind that would show your love and affection for him, and Chan would repeat. After a few months he started feeling more confident and began talking to himself, and you couldn't be happier at his personal growth.

"Great job, love. I'm really proud of you" you also decide to speak your mind while looking him in the eyes. "Never forget that your very existence makes the world a better place and that I love you a lot, alright?" you smile, letting Chan kiss you again.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz scenarios

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circular-bircular · 4 months

Note

I hope it's alright to ask a question like this! As a system who hopes to work with children in the future, I'd like to ask if you've found that having childhood trauma affects how you work with kids or how it feels to work with them. We get scared a lot that working with kids might somehow trigger us or make us feel unhappy just because we had a bad childhood, and while I know you and I do not have the same childhood and probably won't have the exact same experiences I think asking someone about this could give us some good insight :) However I know that this could be maybe an uncomfy question? so please don't feel like you're under any obligation to answer!!! I hope you have an amazing day!!!! - Sleepy of @endless-hourglass

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I joined a group blog recently and my inbox got absolutely buried!

Childhood trauma has absolutely impacted my ability to teach kids. It's been... so terrifying and so interesting and so useful, being the way I am. I'm actually going to plug this under the cut, because it can be intense, looking into all this, and I'm also about to RAMBLE. Teaching and how trauma impacts people are the two biggest passions of mine to discuss.

Trauma has impacted how I teach massively. I will say, teaching is absolutely my passion, and I adore my job. I'm so happy I get to be there for these kids, that I get to take care of them and help them grow and become better people.

Note: TW for trigger talk, trauma mentions, and mentions of depression, sui, and sh.

It is also hard as shit and I amaze myself each day for being able to handle this garbage.

Teaching in a school is absolutely triggering. You have to deal with ableism constantly, reminders of your past that you'd rather forget about, and kids being kids. Sometimes, it's not even shit you can help. I've had students who share the name of one of my abusers, many times, and just seeing that name was enough to make me dissociate horribly.

... However.

That does not make it inaccessible. It just means you have to adapt.

At work, the majority of staff (and by that I mean, those who speak with me and the relevant administration) know that I have "memory problems" and need "additional reminders." If ever asked, or if I felt the need to share, I've mentioned that I have a "mental disorder that impacts memory acquisition." I've been incredibly upfront about having autism, and I've shared with a handful of teachers that I have "an incredibly severe/what is considered one of the most severe trauma disorders." One teacher knows I have dissociative identity disorder -- she's a bestie of mine.

The reason I shared these things? Accommodations. My work has been incredibly happy to work with me, particularly because it's obvious I'm willing to do what needs to get done to not only appease the standards, but do my best for the students. I take this shit seriously, I get good results, and so they need me to stay. If that means sending a few more reminder emails than is usually expected, all the better.

This, obviously, doesn't cover for everything. I can call my administrator to get 5 minutes out of class because, "I'm triggered right now and need a breather," but that doesn't negate the effects of the trigger on me, and I still need to handle it. So I do. That's the beautiful thing about teaching for me: I can not only learn to handle my shit, but I can teach the kids how to handle theirs.

For instance: The student I had with my abusers name. I saw it and I immediately dissociated pretty harshly. I couldn't handle seeing her name. It hurt too badly and brought out our protector (who, funny enough, hates teaching. He deals with it since we all enjoy it, though).

So, here's what I did: I got good. No, literally. I mean, it would've been horrific for that poor child if I asked her to use a nickname in my class, or if I avoided her name entirely. People deserve to be called by their names. So I worked on overcoming that trigger. I meditated, I spoke with my parts, I spoke with my therapist, and I internalized, processed, and compartmentalized the shit I'd been through.

This doesn't mean the trigger doesn't affect me anymore. It sometimes still does. But I got good enough at taking a breath and saying, "She isn't her, and she will never be here, and it'll be okay" that I can now handle seeing the name on my roster.

This goes for all of my school based triggers. They still affect me -- I'm still healing, after all, and that'll be a lifelong process -- but I don't let them impact my value.

The thing is, even when I was dissociative, I could manage that. I might not be the Best Teacher Ever, I might not do everything correctly, but I do know one thing well: emotional regulation and how to display that.

I have a lot of stress toys in my room, and I let my students use them. I let them know I use them myself. I show the kids how many grades I have at any given moment, to remind them that I am only human and can only do so many at a time. I have a flip-plush octopus that goes from sleepy to angry, and I use that to show the students MY mood -- "No, this doesn't necessarily mean I'm angry, but it does mean I'm having a ROUGH day, and so I want you to know that if I'm snappy or mean, it's because my octopus is flipped and I need to calm down." The kids can see instantly that I"m not at my best, *I* can see I'm not at my best, and by the end of one class period, it usually ends up being flipped back, because (and never let yourself forget this fact)... the kids care.

They care so damn much about you. A lot of them try not to show it, or will actively rail against it, but when you treat them like the people -- not children -- that they are? They will give that back to you. And the thing is, as much as it sucks to admit, these kids are absolutely going through trauma. These are students who have come to me about self harm. About depression. About being a DID system due to child abuse. They are eleven and they write me poetry about death. I've had to mandatory report numerous times, helping a child escape horrific domestic violence because of it.

It's triggering, yes. But I also know what to do. I've studied trauma and I've learned how to regulate myself, because I'm an adult and I can do that. These kids can't. Nobody is there to teach them, because the ones hurting them are the ones who are supposed to be teaching them those regulation skills. it sucks, the world sucks, their parents suck--

But you have the opportunity to make it better.

My trauma is a burden. It hurts and is heavy and I'm tired of carrying it. But I will always value the lessons and the teaching I have wrung from it. I am grateful that I can help traumatized students. I am grateful that my trauma-based learning sessions are boring for me, because I know all of it already. I am grateful that I can provide standard practice suggestions for troubled students, that I can say, "Actually, I've noticed that so and so seems to be triggered by being seated with their back to the door," and see the neurotypical eyes light up in shock at that revelation.

You have the power to be someone so special for these kids: you could be the person who understands them.

That's why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place.

HOOOOOO Boy sorry for the ramble!! I just... I have spent so long hating being disabled. Recently, I've found joy in what I"ve learned, at least. I hope things go well for you, anon. <3

#teacher talk #teaching rant #did #osdd #system #actually dissociative #actually did #dissociative identity disorder #other specified dissociative disorder #cdd #complex dissociative disorder #armageddon comes while i’m sleeping #teaching with DID

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coyoteprince · 9 months

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Hi! If I may, this is not about Widderwood, but the way you talked about witchcraft in a recent answer, "Real world witchcraft is literally just moving with intention and cause & effect" and "it helps with being delibreate with my life": seems quite interesting, but would you care to elaborate, if you wish and have time? Or is there a previous post here or somewhere else where you already talked about your view on witch spirituality? Sorry if I bother, obviously you're free to not answer and ignore this message if it's too personal or annoying. Thank you for sharing your art and world!

Yeah I'll try to explain. Unfortunately when people hear magic or witchcraft they of the media fantasy version of witchcraft or whatever when that's not what it is at all. It's just like any religion in that it focuses on cultivating life morals, cause & effect (praying to a God for blessings is similar!), and can be utilized by less than great people for power and control over others.

Witchcraft varies greatly by culture and even the person, but I can only speak from European centric stuff and my own practice. For background, I've followed my own path since I was around 12 with no guidance from others.

Spells work by focusing intention. You want x, so you create a small ritual that helps to focus on the task and what you really want and how to get to that point, like any goal setting. Often rituals are repeated for greater power to achieve a result- just like a habit. Spiritually speaking, the reasoning is often considered that everything has an energy, and this energy can be manipulated, or that there are God(s) at work. Psychology speaking, these rituals simply help you realize what you actually want to work toward and give you the gumption to go for it. For both, it's commonly believed that spells won't work unless you put in the actual, real effort to work toward a goal- and that is part of the magic. It is the act of creation. And failure is just as likely, especially if you don't plan for it or are unrealistic. You can't make someone love you or win 1 mil, but you do have the power to be kind to others and better your finances by education or similar opportunities... and even if you fail anyway, there is always something you learn from it. You just have to be intentional.

I fully believe you don't have to believe in God's or ghosts or anything to do witchcraft. The fact it works to better our lives- even if it really is just in our brains at the end of the day- is enough. And just like how people has historically leaned on a Christian God to get through times of hardship- that's what I use it for. To better myself, to realize what I want to work toward in life, and to make a conscious effort toward it. It isn't a replacement for professional help, but the addition of witchcraft has significantly helped me in my own mental health, continued betterment as a person, and appreciate living.

Tarot cards are similar. They assume fortune telling = fate, which imo is wrong. Some people think theyre demonic, some think theyre "stupid" because of the connection to spirituality, and some people consider them too serious and scary, but like all tools you have to use them right, and by God do they work when you do! Tarot cards are absolutely amazing as prompts. Ask a reasonable question, get a card, and notice what emotions and thoughts come to mind immediately- you have all the answers within you, you just might not be paying attention... and Tarot works as a surrogate third party to reflect and help you pay attention to what you really feel. Witchcraft rituals all work essentially the same way.

There's also more woo-woo centric things like ghosts and fae and such. I personally am on the fence on it all but "believe just in case" lol. I've experienced many paranormal things but also know it could be caused by my autism, trauma, or whatever else. But it isn't hurting me or anyone else.. so it doesn't matter!

This is all a ramble and probably hard to understand if you aren't already very familiar with these kind of eccentric things. I work with a lot of chemistry so I've personally noticed how close witchcraft things are to science and even therapy- and likewise how a lot of past beliefs of magic were actually just yet unexplained science & medicine.

At the end of the day, I know everything may be an illusion from my various ailments and perspective. But that's perfectly okay, because it has done nothing but make me happier, more emotionally strong, and helped me focus to better my life and relationships. It's made me a much better, intelligent person and is the perfect fit for my life, though it may not be for everyone. Our variance, weirdness, and mysteries are the beauty of being alive.

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doomed-era · 4 months

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writing advice from a pantser with a poor attention span, aka: how to convince yourself to write

I'm not doing this for any particular reason. I swear

So if anyone was wondering how I manage to get myself to write sometimes, which I don't think anyone was, I am here to offer some answers to that question which no one was asking

Which is, essentially, "Okay, I'm sitting here looking at this blank word document, but for some reason my fingers aren't moving. what next?"

That weird...writer's inertia is no laughing matter, for sure. The good thing about it is that, well, it's inertia - an object at rest will stay at rest, and an object in motion will stay in motion unless an outside force acts on it. These are things that have helped me get the ball rolling, so to speak, and I can't guarantee they'll work for everyone, but I think in theory they could help someone.

Ramble

Before you sit down to write take some time to start rambling about whatever it is you're working on. Do it in a notebook, at your friends, on a blogging website, whatever you feel most comfortable with. If you don't know what to ramble about, try looking up one of those character ask lists and answer the ones you feel confident about answering first, then move on to the hard ones. Then maybe make up some of your own. Often the act of just thinking about your characters will get you into the right headspace.

2. Walk, Pace, Take a Shower

Basically any activity that allows your mind to start wandering. You don't have to do it for long, just enough to get the brain juices flowing. This usually works, but it's a bit finicky-- you don't really want to force yourself to think about your project with this, you just want to kind of slide into it, which can be tricky if you're already frustrated.

3. Do a Little Pavlovian Conditioning

Not in the sense of giving yourself a reward, though I think that's probably a good idea too. Basically, whenever you write, put on a particular track of music or maybe a playlist, if you don't listen to the same song for hours and hours, and get into a comfortable position. After enough time you'll probably start to associate that track or playlist and making yourself comfortable with writing.

4. Find a (good) Writing Circle

Preferably ones that don't just smile and nod when you tell them something about your story. Look for people who are at about your writing level or above it and are interested in what you're writing. Exchange ideas, communicate, etc etc. A group of writers to share stuff with has been invaluable to me.

5. Do a Related Activity

Drawing has always helped me brainstorm for some reason, and roleplay has helped me to flesh out and make much more robust characters as well as just improving my writing in general. There's plenty of things to do that could be related out there, but those are my go-tos.

6. Procrastinate

If writing is the only task I need to be doing then I won't do it. Give yourself a comfortable amount of busywork and then start writing. You don't want to overwhelm yourself, but you do want some amount of pressure.

Again, I certainly can't promise these will work for everyone, but I think going with the flow and sticking to the general principle of these tips may help! I'm still kind of a slow writer despite all this, but when I actually sit down I can usually crank out a few hundred words all the same, so...yeah

#i also happen to be procrastinating on writing rn #i guess tagging this won't hurt #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 3 months

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Oh no I am an anxious wreck once again. What now?

Here are a few tipps and tricks that help me personally to deal with anxiety (plus some I know work for others). Please feel free to add your own coping mechanisms in the notes!!!! Even though I technically know means to calm myself down, I always forget everything when I'm in the thick of it, so while this is mainly a reminder for myself I hope this list can help at least one other person as well :)

First of all: emotions are hard, and they are overwhelming, and shaming yourself will not make it better. Chances are it will make everything worse, actually. So don't you dare feel bad for needing help even with the "easy" stuff, or for not being able to endure as much as your peers, or even for half-assing stuff sometimes. It's fine. Like, for real. I promise it's okay. You don't need to always be at your best. You don't even need to be at your best most of the time.

What helps me personally is imagining that these struggles are affecting another person close to me. If my best friend were to call me because she needs help answering an E-Mail, or even to cancel last minute because she feels too overwhelmed to leave her house right now, I would never make her feel like crap because of it or talk about her behind her back or anything else your brain may be trying to convince you of. I know that she is at least as good a person as me (probably better tbh), so if I wouldn't do any of that, she certainly would never. In fact, believing these thoughts is actually a disservice to her, who did nothing to deserve these mean remarks (quite the opposite actually). Basically, try to twist and out-logic your own brain into being less of a cunt to you. Try guilt-tripping yourself into being kinder. The bad emotions are there anyways, might as well use them to your advantage. I can speak from experience that being anxious is a bit less unbearable if you aren't being a self-obsessed asshole on top of everything else

JUST FUCKING DO IT

If the source of your anxiety isn't a particular task you have been procrastinating on, or is something you can't just do whenever (f. ex. a job interview that's two days away), feel free to skip this part ^^

If you are still here: I know it can feel like actual hell to just do the thing. If you immediately want to click away after seeing this title I don't blame you. I mean, I am currently writing a huge ass post about anxiety instead of answering the two (2) E-Mails literally making my hands tremble. But the truth is, doing the thing is actually never as bad as it seems. Here's some stuff that maybe can help:

-> Remember that it's never been the end of the world before, so surely it won't start being it now. If you've already been through a similar situation: remember that it isn't the first time you've felt this way; remember that doing the thing wasn't as bad as you'd feared and, most importantly; remember how you felt after doing it. If this is the first time you feel like that, I'm sorry. I promise you aren't stupid for "overreacting", and I promise it will feel at least a little bit better if you just get it over with. And when you've managed the first time, you can now use that as an example instead of taking some stranger on the internet on his word. Worst comes to worst, you can still anon hate me (jk please don't)

-> Rewarding yourself. Remember that putting yourself down tends to make things worse. Allow yourself to be proud for your achievements, yes even the small ones that most people barely even think about. Because sometimes shit is just hard, but you still did it, and that's fucking awesome !!! For me personally just the knowledge that my anxiety will lessen (and I will probably get some good sleep - emotions are so fucking exhausting) is enough most of the time, but you can also give yourself a little treat afterwards. You've earned it!

-> Hide it in between chill tasks. Like right now, I'm writing this instead of my fucking E-Mail. I am a bit calmer since this is distracting myself from the daunting task of typing a few words. So I am now going to open my mails on another tab, type this shit, and send it. And I know that when I did that I will feel better about myself. And even if I fuck up somehow (how you ask? i don't fucking know), I will immediately have this task to come back to so I don't have the chance to overthink it. I FUCKING DID IT I AM THE CHAMPION OF THE WORLD

-> If you have a bunch of stuff you swore yourself you would do (a bunch can also mean like 2 btw) starting can seem even more daunting (even if it is, as aforementioned, "only" two). So I am very happy to present written lists my absolute beloved. In my experience, stuff is a lot less overwhelming if it isn't only living inside your head. You get a feeling of accomplishment when you can cross something off your list. You don't have to keep panicking about forgetting something (since everything is already written down on your list.) You can even break down bigger tasks into smaller more manegeable ones (f. ex. instead of "clean your room" -> "1. do your bed; 2. fold your clothes; 3. etc etc".) It's great because even if you don't manage the entire big task you still feel less like a failure since you've got proof of all the small accomplishments you did manage. Plus it's easier to continue on another day since you know exactly what you have to do and have proof of everything you already managed as a motivator.

-> Accept help. Be on the phone with a friend while doing the thing (if possible, of course). Ask your friends to be your hypeman before and after doing the thing. Get reassurance from other people. Go to your friend's house to ask them to read your E-Mails, summarize them verbally, and then type an appropriate answer for you (can you already tell me and electronic mail aren't in the best of terms?) Making things harder on yourself on purpose isn't being strong it's being stupid

-> already mentioned it a bunch of times, I know, but the thing that really helps for me is comparing with past experiences. I know I will feel better after I do it because that's always what happens when my brain blows things out of proportion. I know I can do this because I did even scarier stuff and it went well. Or even: if I manage to do this seemingly super scary thing, I will be able to use it as a motivator for smaller stuff in the future. I mean, what even is a fucking E-Mail in comparison to going to a social event on your own ??! (seriously, do it. in my experience it's surprisingly easy to find friends if you look pathetic enough, plus a lot of things seem a bit less paralyzing in comparison)

-> I turn it into a competition, or a game. If I do the thing I win. If I don't do the thing the anxiety wins. And I refuse to let that happen because I'm competitive AND a sore loser <3 so I do the thing. and then I feel a bit better

JUST DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. THINKING IS THE ANTITHESIS OF DOING. (which you can also use to your advantage, à la better to think about that unhealthy coping mechanism and why you shouldn't do it than to stop thinking about it and actually doing it instead. But that isn't the point right now)

DISTRACTIONS

Sometimes there just isn't anything you can do. Sometimes all you can do is wait. Sometimes you don't even know why the fuck you're feeling like that. And that fucking sucks.

I know there are some people who need an absence of stimuli in order to calm down. (If that's you, please leave some of your own pointers in the notes! I don't really have any ideas for that one tbh)

For me, the opposite is the case. I can't count the times my mom has told me to "try meditating!" or "don't do more than one thing at the same time it'll only stress you out even more!", unaware that giving my thoughts free reign would make everything so much worse.

I need to overwhelm myself in order to be able to forget about my anxiety for a while. Sometimes doing a task I've been dreading is easier after distracting myself for a few hours (being anxious is very tiring so if you let it run its course in the back of your mind for a while you'll have less energy for it later ^^). Here's some stuff that could help (though it should be noted that a) not everything will work on everyone and b) sometimes it just doesn't work. even if it worked the last five times. Don't ask me why it is what it is):

-> Do something (really anything) while listening to a video essay/podcast/audiobook. That's my go-to classic. Feel your mind slipping away from whatever you're doing? Force yourself to really listen to what is being said. Sometimes it helps to mouth the words along to my audio of choice (while still doing your thing at the same time!!) Speed it up (I've usually got my stuff at 1.75x or 2x). Assume that pretty much everything listed below can be done while having this as a second layer of distraction

-> Learn something new. I was literally just teaching myself the tabs for Every Breath You Take by The Police and 26 by Paramore on the guitar before starting this. I tried learning finnish and irish for a while there (learning vocabulary, trying to translate sth, learning grammar, etc.). Sometimes it can take a bit of time to get into it, but once you're there it's easy to lose yourself in it (in my experience at least.) And you can always start another video essay in the background!

-> Baking. I usually do half or fourth the recipe to a.) waste less ingredients; b.) have less stuff to eat so you can go bake more stuff sooner; and c.) feel less bad if it doesn't turn out how you hoped. Plus you can also make yourself more likeable by giving some to your neighbours ;)

-> Comfort book/series/movie/etc. I'll be honest, this one almost never works for me, but I know that for some people it does so on the list it goes

-> Take a walk. Touch some grass. Go outside. Personally have very mixed feelings towards this one. Used to do it all the time during lockdown (walking nowhere for literal hours while listening to music), but when it doesn't help it makes things much much worse (in my experience) So maybe be a bit careful? If you want to get away from your thoughts this is...bad. But otherwise (like if you just have the feeling of anxiety without a specific reason) it's worth a try

-> Do maths. I'm serious. For a while there I couldn't sleep, so I'd go on the net, search for equasion exercises, and just go wild. Don't look at the answer: this isn't the point. It's something with a fixed procedure and no consequences if you mess up (you won't even know if you mess up). Maybe instead of equations you find long division more relaxing. Just try not to think of school, put the pressure away, and give it a go.

-> Go to your comfort place. This is also a bit of a tricky one. First of all, not everyone has one of those. Or maybe you can't really go there (like, I always calm down when I'm at the beach. I adore the ocean. But I don't have sea anywhere near me, so sucks to be me i guess). But if you do have a place near you it's worth a try. Sometimes after a particular stressful therapy session i just...go chill at the library for a while. It helps :)

-> Blorbo scrolling. I personally prefer looking at a bunch of art and comics (visual stuff) since i don't really have the concentration to read when I'm anxious, but see what works best for you <3

-> Menial tasks. I love them. Sorting stuff that actually doesn't really matter (like taking all your books from your shelves and trying a new way to organize them). The already mentioned maths exercises. Washing the dishes/putting them back in their place (you can combine that one with the baking hehe). Volunteering work can also be pretty helpful: they often need help with menial tasks plus you can feel good about yourself for helping. Recently started helping at my local animal shelter and it's actually pretty great !

-> Sports. I personally hate sports and always feel worse afterwards, but so many people talk about it that it must be of help to someone out there. What I used to do when I got suddenly overrun by emotions is taking my skipping rope and jumping as fast as I physically could til I felt a bit better (and sweaty ew)

-> Sometimes I like starting a small project; depending on the mood either with no pressure to finish (or intention to show anyone ever because eww), or posting it in hope for praise that'll make me feel a bit better about myself heh. Just something else I can focus on. (ex. g. I've got a meeting I'm nervous about tomorrow so I started writing this huge-ass post) Just remember: IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE GOOD!! JUST CREATE! I PROMISE BEING CREATIVE AND/OR DOING STUFF IS AWESOME!! (or if nothing else at least frustrating enough to overshadow the anxiety lol)

-> In the wise words of mother mother: Dance and cry, and cry and dance and cry. (And sing. And scream. Or get out that skipping rope. Just let it out my dude.)

-> Watch a show in a foreign language faster (like 2x speed) and with subtitles (less time to read, more required focus, less brain power to panic)

-> immersive reading (audio + text); especially effective if you do it in a language you are currently learning or one that is similar (but not the same!) to your native tongue (f. ex. portuguese and spanish)

-> Try sleeping. Doesn't always work, but at least it wastes time.

I THINK I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACK

-> Strong sudden stimulant. Like smelling a very strong perfume or taking a freezing shower.

-> Just. Let it wash over you. It sucks, yes, but it'll be over. Try keeping calm. I know, easy to say when you yourself aren't currently going through it, but anxiety about a future attack will not, in fact, make things less worse. Once again, remembering past attacks can help as well? It didn't kill you then, it won't kill you now. (My therapist suggested using a mental image, like huge waves or something. I personally don't do that but maybe it'll help)

-> Cover your ears and listen to your heart. Key point: this is NOT aiming to drown out noise, but to ground yourself by listening to your own body (bloodstream and creaking bones etc) (ty anon <3)

-> I'm not sure whether this'll work with panic attacks as well (according to google one of the key differences is that these don't really have a trigger and just....happen) and it probably won't be viable in every situation. But just. Be enough of a spiteful little shit to turn your breakdown into a powermove. (The distressing emotions are there anyways might as well make use of them). You told your teacher you get extreme anxiety when you have to speak in public and they ignored you because the school system actually hates kids? Look them right in the eyes as you start hysterically sobbing so they feel really bad, maybe be extra subdued the next few lessons. As far as you know it'll get you a few pity points that'll make a difference in your overall grade! (Pretty sure I got a better grade in my arts finals than i deserved) Someone knowingly breaks a boundary you set because "oh you've been doing so well" and "it's an irrational fear so it isn't real anyways" or whatever they tell themselves to justify it? This is your chance to make them really see how what they did is wrong (and hopefully will make them think twice before pulling shit like that again). If you warned them, they are literally asking for it. And it'll seem that much more impressive when you are having a good day for once and manage to get through it without one (you've earned that extra credit). Maybe I'm just a bit of a vindictive person, but reframing the narrative like that in my head gives me some semblance of control, which makes it all a bit less scary.

IT DIDN'T FIT ANYWHERE ELSE BUT IS STILL IMPORTAT

This is mostly me reminding myself that it's fine tbh. Because it is.

-> Remember that you can just do shit. I don't know how else to say this, but sometimes my anxiety makes it feel like hiding away in my room is my only option. But that's not true! There is so much stuff you can do, I'm always in awe for a while when I get this through my thick skull once again. Like, you can just go to places. You can just write to your friends. You can just start a chat with that cool mutual you're too nervous to directly interact with. You can move. You can change jobs. You can redecorate your house. You can get into a random train and only get out at the last station, wherever that may be. YOU CAN JUST DO SHIT?!?!?! ISN'T THAT FUCKING AWESOME?!!!!!!!!

-> Extreme emotions can have unpleasant physical side effects. Sweating. Body odor. No appetite and/or extreme hunger cravings (sometimes at the same time??). Diarrhea. It sucks (especially when it continues on for multiple days and your oh so kind peers make sure to constantly remind you of those physical symptoms you are already overly aware of). But it's normal and it's fine. It doesn't make you gross, I promise.

-> THIS TOO SHALL PASS (that's it. Sometimes it's good to remind yourself. This too shall pass.)

-> Sometimes I just do small harmless shit to prove my anxious lizard brain wrong. Randomly say hi on that group chat you haven't entered for months. Create something you aren't really happy with and post it anyways, just cuz you can. Go do something on your own. The more you prove your fears wrong with little things like that, the easier it gets (especially if you have to do bigger scary stuff). Spite can be your best friend. (Plus easy way to gain more points in my mental competition hehehe)

-> Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you will fuck up. You will barely be able to say a word in the social event you forced yourself to go in order to meet cool people. You will be so obviously anxious at your friend's birthday that she will still remember that over a year later (despite your best efforts to hide it at the time). You will get an anxiety attack because of something you thought you had already gotten over months ago. And it sucks, but more importantly, it's fine. This too shall pass. This is another reason why the previous point is so important: it's harder to hold these incidents over your head if you have so many other experiences where you managed to prove yourself.

-> YOU get to decide when you want to try confronting a fear. Nobody else can do that for you, no matter how often they mention "exposure therapy" and shit (it's about the control once again. in my experience it's important for it to be your choice). Occasionally hiding away doesn't make you a failure. There are always more chances, it's never too late to start. Already mentioned it a bazillion times, but this shit is exhausting and you are well within your right to stay in your comfort zone and rest.

-> I don't know if it's just a me thing but self reminder to avoid lactose and gluten when overly anxious. (i never do but i am aware of it that should count for something)

-> gender-affirming stuff can help ^^

-> Not viable to everybody, but sometimes I just delete all social media from my phone. You can still go there through browser of course (that's where I'm actually currently writing this) but just not having the icon on the phone can already feel somewhat of a relief (social media in this case also including messaging apps like discord or WhatsApp or fucking electronic mail my beloathed). That's actually what I am planning to do immediately after posting this thing that came out a bit more personal and stream-of-conscousness than initially planned. You won't even be able to tell cuz I never tag my queues hehehe

-> mentally dunking my stupid anxious lizard brain into salt water rn. Fuck you. I'm posting this. I'm leaving my house tomorrow instead of calling in sick. I'm winning.

#i apologize if there are spelling errors or sentences that dont make sense (my focus is a bit shit rn lol)#once again hope this can help someone? plus always open to more suggestions etc etc #it feels a bit hypocritical to be posting this rn tbh since i am not dealing with my anxiety that well atm tbh #but then i look back to how it was like two years ago and actually i *did* improve even if only a bit so like fuck you too lizard brain #i hope you get to look out of your window and realize that you too have come far <3 #i love being a lil cheeseball hehehehe #anxiety #actually anxious #actually anxiety #uhm idk how else to tag this i guess ill rely on rbgs lol

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