#duchii talks

[dukeoftheblackstar]

CasDuch by YUE

@eyecandyeoz. I think I can absolutely die now, bestie. Just. I can't. You know? I just. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. LOOK AT THE DETAIL ON THAT MTHRFKER.

That one office affair I'm just dying over in my head — in the shadows, repeatedly.

Sure. Sure. Sure. Sure. Sure. Probably gonna post the thing. Idk. Maybe after PK appreciation week because .. reasons.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

I wonder if Castis often stops in whatever the fuck he's doing and gets reminded that he help made god gift's to mankind, Garrus Vakarian.

I hope he gets the best 8-hour fictional sleep he deserves.

I also hope he materializes in my dreams and ruin me senseless while discussing C-SEC protocols.

Thank you.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Moots,

There was one of you who had an OC Kel Dor who I had the wonderful time of discussing Plo AU of coming in contact with this child. I can't remember who it is.

DM me if you know?

[dukeoftheblackstar]

“And I’m not one to chase whimsy or flirtation. But you… you’re not a distraction. You’re clarity. You’re fire where I thought only embers remained. So I’ll say this plainly, as I’ve said things on battlefields and courtrooms alike—direct, honest, and without pretense.”

“I want to take you to dinner, -insertnamehere-. A real one. Not protocol. Not duty. Just... you and me.”

“Let me show you that even someone as bound by order as I am can choose something… someone… for no other reason than they make the galaxy feel alive again.”

“Say yes, Duchii. Not out of politeness. But because maybe, just maybe, you're curious what it would feel like to be desired not in spite of your strength, but because of it.”

***

Well. My hand slipped on equal parts Turian and Kel Dor dick. I'm mustering the courage to read that your Castis fic bestie. Am die. Am die rn ;---;

@eyecandyeoz

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Don't forget to be extra gay today ♥.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

I'm suddenly reminded of that time that I told someone I thought I was having a panic attack.

Note that upon careful research, it is said to be easily misconstrued for anxiety attack with distinct differences that may or may not overlap. And as much as I have read about this, I don't think my brain gives a shit when the "feeling" strikes.

And so I have that "feeling" again.

My chest doesn't hurt nor does it feel tight, but it has that same vibe of two walls closing in ever so slowly that perhaps it's just "mildly" inconvenient. I feel like I want to cry — and for someone who is usually just soft and "fragile" upon waking up from naps or sleeps, I feel like death looms ever so tauntingly.

I feel like I want to vomit but my stomach doesn't hurt. I feel like there's a thin metal pipe in my throat that fits the length of my neck. I feel like I'm going to choke on it but I also know that it's not real.

And then I recall that one time I told someone that I might be having a 'panic' attack.

Note that I am not one who enjoys or find comfort in telling people my problems, even the lightest ones. I don't talk about heartaches or personal matters but only to a very, very select few — two people.

I remember that we got into a fight because they were so heavily focused on the difference between panic and anxiety. I remember them listing me symptoms and proving why I used the incorrect term as if that's where my headspace was at.

I didn't have any expectations of them comforting me, but it makes me question when people say "you can talk to me about anything" — mainly because anyone can talk to me about anything and I won't be a dick about it.

Sure, I will take eons to respond because of the plethora of bullshit I have to deal with and how easy my social battery depletes as I constantly counter the will to die, but you can talk to me about anything.

So I sat there waiting for them to finish and counter every response I have as I tried to explain what I'm feeling. Doing my very best to answer as they interrogate my emotions so we can come to a conclusion whether it's a panic attack or anxiety attack.

I still didn't care.

But the "feeling" was heavy. And it's the only way I can describe it — "heavy".

With all that said, I couldn't help but be reminded as to why I simply don't like telling people my problems or how I feel about a certain way. My brain rewires itself to "just tell them your thoughts about the movie or a certain activity" — never anything personal.

And even on times I want to spill my heart out to that person, there's some form of gate within me that just automatically barricades the way out. It's not closed or anything and it is generous enough to let me through the gaps if I want to. And I should think of it in a way of protecting me from that unexpected pain of reaching out only to be swatted down for not 'correctly' doing so. But that isn't the case it seems.

Predominantly, it makes me feel like the gate is there so I won't have to disturb their peace and rile them up. That it is there enough for them to stick their hand in and tell me 'it's okay' to tell them things just as it is wide enough to do the same and strangle me from the other side.

So the brain simply does what it has done best for me. We push these emotions away, schedule them on weekends such as this so it won't affect my work days. But I guess I'm getting too old and tired to keep at it.

I feel broken.

I love myself without a doubt and I know my limits. I know I can do this and as unhealthy as it is to reschedule your emotions, it is MY form of regulation.

I suppose it's just messy now because I thought it was okay to try again this time. To let the words swirling in my head trickle down senses low enough to the point of vulnerability so my mouth can spit them out.

They're everywhere now and I feel icky. I do not like this mess. And so, like an adult I suppose, I would just cry about it for a few minutes and hope the 'feeling' fades so I can get off my desk, will myself to walk out of my apartment and maybe treat myself to a nice meal.

A meal that will take me hours to decide.

I feel like I need to drown.

I feel like I need to feel submerged so heavily underwater to an extent of feeling that I am alive through the form of a near-death experience. To remind myself that I have some form of autonomy than just feeling like I'm on autopilot.

I feel like I need to disappear for a little bit.

Disappear back here — not die. I cannot afford to. And my cat needs me.

But I feel like I need to just not exist for a moment and think.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Sigh.

Sometimes I feel like my life would have been a world of betters and bests if Castis Vakarian side-eyed glared at me for being a sssssluuuuuuuuuuuuuutt for him and later decides to viciously make out with me the same evening.

That is all.

[Working with a new artist because we need to repopulate that Castis Vakarian tag now that the Plo Koon tag has steady traffic.]

Y'all can have Garrus, precious pure baby angel. I'm out here respectfully disrespecting his dad.

Thank you.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

I will die on the hill that there came a time that Plo has firmly contemplated on replacing the medical kit contents of his belt pouch with snacks.

He's probably sat somewhere all serious — steepling and shit, contours if his beautiful head slightly knotted and obviously deep in thought.

Passerby's chattering respectfully and admiring how Plo's so deep into meditation or worried that maybe the war has brought upon a deeper plight on beloved Plo.

But no.

No, you guys.

NO.

There probably was that day where he had to make the toughest decision in his life — definitely not the med kit situation.

I bet he was like

I bet you he was so disgruntled that the belt pouch can only fit so much snacks.

I'm also pretty sure Mace has called him out on stuffing his robes with more snacks when "not at work" — or "AT work".

I'm fairly sure he's responsible for that one incident where the younglings were too high on sugar that training was a little .. different that day. [ Mind you, Yoda probably didn't mind ].

I need more grandpa Plo.

I swear. If this new artist of mine learns to draw Plo perfectly, Grandpa Plo will finally materialize.