#99% of the anxiety comes from my feeling Not Enough when trying to talk

[leadendeath]

WAT DO U MEEEAN “unfortunately” THIS IS A MASSIVE RELIEF

[elly99]

Cool With You

Contains swearing and revolves around anxiety.

Kim Minji for Vogue Korea. She glowed through your screen, as she did in real life, in stark contrast to the shadows rippling on your walls as you scrolled through the article. Her new song was on repeat. Quiet, but enough to fill the emptiness of the room. She was beautiful, you thought.

"My grandma always asks if I'm having a hard time and if I'm having fun. I didn't think much of it before. It just seemed like a normal way to ask how I was doing. But now, whenever I hear it, I reflect on myself a little more and my heart warms up, too. So I also try to ask the important people in my life the same thing. 'Have you been having a hard time? Are you happy?'"

You hear the words in her voice. She was so sweet, you thought.

Then the end of the song. A brief moment of complete silence before it repeats. A brief window for another voice to cut through.

Have you been having a hard time? Are you happy?

Your own. In your head.

Yes, you are having a hard time. You haven't been happy in months.

"Not again! I was just reading a fucking interview! What the fuck is wrong?"

If you're so important to her, why hasn't she asked you the same thing?

"Just stop. Just stop."

You're losing it. I know you are. I know you.

The song starts back up. It goes, "You know me like no other," but you didn't know who was talking anymore.

"No, I'm fine! I'm fine. I swear I'm..."

Suddenly the darkness of your room felt suffocating. You stand up quickly to turn on the light. But when you do the clarity is equally uncomfortable. All your insecurities, your fears, your worries in plain sight. You just want to hide. Turn off the light again. Sit back down.

"Ok, this is fine! I know how to deal with this. Just breathe slowly. Deep breaths through the nose. And count. One. Two."

Three. Four. Five. All this counting but when will you get your life together?

"Three. F-f-our..."

You try to get the words out but your lips won't cooperate. You can't feel them anymore. Just a tingling over your face. So instead you scream. In anger. Where is this coming from? Why couldn't you stop it? This didn't make sense. Stop feeling this way. This is stupid. Just be normal, you thought.

Of course it doesn't make sense. You're fucked up. You know that. Everybody does. Don't try to rationalize it because you won't be able to. You're not good enough for that.

You can't feel your legs. You can't feel your hands struggle to pick up your phone.

Wow. Are you really going to ask her to come over now? She's busy. Probably exhausted. The album is coming out tomorrow. Why the fuck would you bother her?

"Hey, babe! What's up?" The sound of her voice tethers you to the ground for a moment. Holds you close in the dark room.

"Minji, I... Hi!" You feign composure. But your chest was aching. "I-I'm good! I just wanted to hear your voice. H-How are you? Are you busy?"

"Well, I just got back from work..." she trails off. "Are you ok, baby?"

You're suddenly aware of your breath hitching. And you know she hears it, too. There was no point pretending. You needed her right now.

"Min... could you come over, please? I... can't..."

"Ok, I'm on my way." You hear her voice jump. Then her footsteps. She's running. "Baby, listen to me, ok? I'm on my way. Count down from 100 very slowly. And breathe deeply. If I'm not there yet, just count down again but I promise I'm coming. I love you."

She was so sweet, you thought, as your hands lost their grip on the phone. You smiled with tears running down your face.

"100. 99. 98. 97."

You know that's pointless right? The more techniques you use to try and stop it, the more you'll just remind yourself that you're a mess.

"96. 95. 94. 93."

Look at you go.

You clench your fists. Then your teeth. You still couldn't feel either of them.

"92. 91. 90. 89. 88."

You focus on breathing. Slowly. Lie down on the sofa and stare at the ceiling.

"59. 58. 57. I like 57."

You heard no reply. You felt calm. But you could never be too sure.

"17. 16. 15. 14."

Almost there. Where is she?

Shit. Focus. You shut your eyes and start whispering forcefully.

"She'll be here. 13. 12. 11. 10. 9. 8."

You hear your door unlock. Open your eyes and quickly stand up. A little too quickly. Your legs are still numb and you stumble. But she's there to catch you.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here. I brought our bear, too. Look!"

You look up and there she was. Your girlfriend and your bear. And the stuffed toy you both loved. She was smiling but her eyes were drowning in concern. She was so beautiful, you thought. She came all this way, carrying a huge toy, in the rain, after a very busy and tiring day, just for you. She was so sweet. She was so good to you.

She's too good to you. She's too good for you. You don't deserve this. You're not beautiful like her. You're not kind like her. You'll wear her out.

You couldn't take it anymore. You burst into tears in her arms. Breathing short and shallow.

She wraps one arm around you to pat your back and uses her other hand to pull your head towards her, stroking your hair softly.

"Baby, it's ok! I'm here now. I'm here. You're going to be ok."

You feel the warmth of her words penetrate the chaos of your mind. But there was still so much to get through. So much you were still feeling. Still so far from the ground. You cling to her tightly in desperation.

"Just hold on to me, ok? I'll take you to the couch. Let's go. Take your time."

She lifts you slightly. Not enough to carry you but enough to aid your trembling legs. She lies down first and beckons you to stay next to her.

"Come here. Let me spoon you, baby."

You do as you're told. Anything to keep you grounded. You knew her arms were the safest place in the world.

"Let's look at the ceiling together, ok? We've done this before. Tell me five things you can see in the room."

"Well... there's the ceiling... and the walls..."

"Mmhmm..."

"The door..."

"Yeah... that's three."

"I see your hands."

"Ok. One last thing."

"But you have two hands."

You can't see her face but you could tell she was smiling. She kisses your cheek.

"One more thing, babe."

"I see... your music video still playing on my laptop."

"Great. Ok. How about four things you can feel?"

"I can feel your hands. Your breathing. Your voice when you speak. And your warmth."

"I'll always keep you warm, babe." She kisses your cheek again. "Ok, now tell me three things you can hear."

"I can hear you. I can still hear Cool With You. And the rain outside."

"Now two things you can smell."

"Umm... I can smell your perfume." You pull a bunch of her hair close to your nose. "And your shampoo."

"Do you like the scent?"

"I do. I thought you didn't usually wear perfume, though."

"I felt like it today." Another kiss on the cheek. "Ok, for the last step, I came prepared. I brought chocolate. It's my superpower after all." She takes a small bar of chocolate out of her pocket and puts it in your hand. "What's one thing you can taste?"

"I taste this magic chocolate bar made by my Powerpuff Girl. This is really good actually."

"You must be hungry, baby. Want me to order food?"

"Yes, please."

After all that you're gonna make her order food?

You flinch. She knew what that meant. She holds you tighter.

"Hey, you're ok. Nothing to worry about. Just your girlfriend buying her favorite bunny some dinner."

She holds her phone in front of both of you. "What do you wanna eat, bunny?"

Even making simple decisions was hard. You flinch again. She holds you steady.

"Ok, ok. I'll choose for you." A kiss on the other cheek. "Done."

You feel yourself melting into her. Her warm embrace calming the storm in your mind just a little.

"Minji... thank you so much for this. For everything. For just being you. I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"Anything for you, baby. You know I love you, right?"

"I do. It's just I... Sometimes I don't believe it. Like, I'm just..."

She sits up and turns you towards her.

"Shhh. I know what you're going to say. Don't let that part of you even have a voice, babe. It doesn't deserve any space in your beautiful brain. We need to shut it out. Whenever it gets in the way, just listen to my voice. And even when I'm not around, I'm right here in your heart. Remember my words. You just have to listen."

"Minji..."

"And remember, when you feel that anxiety building, find where it is, grab it and throw it away. Just the act of physically trying to pull that anxiety out of your body can help. Even if it's not something you can really feel with your hands, the effect is real. You learned this, remember? You can do it. I love you so much. Ok?"

"Ok..."

She hugs you tight again.

"Let's talk about something else! Did you like Cool With You?"

The shift in her tone briefly lifts your mood.

"I loved it! It was soooo good. So cool. You're so cool, babe!"

"Aw, thanks, honey! We worked really hard on it. Glad you enjoyed!"

"You always work so hard..."

The way you trail off lets her know what you're really thinking. What you were about to say. Again she knows just what to do and cuts you off with another question.

"Are you excited for the rest?"

"Of course! I'm excited for anything you do."

"And I'm excited to share it with you! I like sharing my life with you."

Slowly she was pulling you back down. You were almost there. You begin to remember what normal conversation was like. For a while you lie in silence. Nothing but the sound of the rain and the song still on repeat on your laptop. But you can still hear faint thunder in the distance. Both outside your apartment and in your head.

"Do you mind me asking what the trigger was tonight? You know I just wanna help."

"I was just reading your Vogue interview while listening to the new song and somehow it all just came crashing down. It never really makes sense when it starts. But I was just reading how you said you wanted to ask the important people in your life if they were having a hard time and if they were happy. It just triggered a spiral of thoughts. Immediately I was reminding myself I wasn't happy."

"So... it was me?" The sadness in her voice hits hard.

"No, no! Of course not, baby. It's all me. My biggest insecurity is that I'm just this ugly, unhappy person just dragging you down. Like, why can't I be happy like you? Why don't I have my life together the way you do? I can't help but compare cuz you're just so amazing and out of this world to me. And that's not on you. That's just something I have to work out myself."

"Hey, no..." She tries to stop you but it all comes rushing out.

"And you're so pretty. You're so sweet. You're so talented and successful. Like, there's literally nothing to fault about you. You just feel so perfect and I just feel so inadequate next to you. That's why sometimes my brain gets in the way and doesn't believe that you could love me."

You notice tears start to form in her eyes.

"I really hate when you talk like that about yourself. It hurts. Cuz you'd never talk like that about me. Or anyone else for that matter. Why be so hurtful to yourself..."

"I know, baby. I just can't help it..."

"No. You can help it." Her voice was firm now. "We'll work on it together. Do it for yourself. And for me, too. Because it hurts when you refuse to see why I love you and why there's so much to love about you."

"I know you love me. It's just that I get so scared all the time that you'll get sick of me or I'll just drag you down because I've been a mess lately. I want to be good enough for you but faking confidence or pretending I'm ok doesn't really work."

"But you are good enough! I know you haven't been well lately but you've always gone above and beyond for me. The word inadequate shouldn't even be in the same universe as you. And it's ok to be a mess! It's ok to not know where you're going yet. I just found my career very young but that has nothing to do with how good you are and how successful you can be. We may have different paths but that's ok! We're in this together. I'm with you to the end, ok?"

You knew she was right. But it was just so hard. As you nod weakly in agreement, she pulls you in for another hug. She speaks more slowly now. Gentle and caring. You feel her voice reverberate in your chest.

"I'm so excited for your future. You may not see it yourself but I know you're gonna be amazing. Because you are amazing. You just need to trust yourself, baby. The real you. The one who knows all the reasons you're wonderful and why I love you. Do you want me to remind you?"

She pulls away with a smile on her face. Her smile that could outshine a thousand galaxies. Her smile that could comfort you a million times over.

"Actually, you have no choice. I'm going to remind you. Let me spoon you again."

You eagerly oblige, falling quickly into the safety of her embrace.

"Close your eyes and just listen to my voice, ok? So, do you remember when you first came to Korea? When we first became friends and you learned Korean in a year just for me?"

"Yeah."

"What does that say about you?"

"I don't know..."

"You do know. It means you're smart, hardworking and dedicated. And a sweetheart. Now you say it to yourself."

"I... um... what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Say it to yourself like you're complimenting a friend."

"I'm smart, hardworking and dedicated."

"Don't forget the last part."

"And I'm a sweetheart," you say, blushing.

"Yes, you are! Now remember when you started having a hard time and you reached out for help? You went to therapy and shared with me everything you learned there and what you talked about? You were at your most vulnerable and you still shared everything with me. That takes strength and courage."

"I have strength and courage." You pause. "This sounds cheesy."

"No, you're doing a great job, babe. Just keep going. Ok, now, remember when I was a trainee, whenever I'd have super long days, you'd come over to my place just to drop off some coffee or my favorite ice cream? What does that say about you?"

"I'm thoughtful and caring," you say, smiling this time.

"Good! You did it without me telling you. That's your confidence building! And do you remember all the gifts you got for me, my members and my family? There's too many to count."

"Does that mean I'm kind and generous? This feels weird. This just feels like I'm showing off."

"But who are you talking to?"

"You."

"No, you're talking to yourself. I've heard you give all these compliments to me before. And many more. Now you're just complimenting yourself. And it's not like you're lying to yourself. You know everything is true. You just need to be confident and admit it to yourself out loud. Take care of yourself like you take care of me all the time, ok? Be kind to yourself like you're kind to everyone around you. You need to be your friend, too."

"I'll try. But doesn't it sound like showing off? Like I'm too proud of myself?"

"You're just reassuring a friend! Telling them all the ways they're worth loving. It's not like you're going around telling everyone how good you are."

"Is this how you're always so confident, babe?"

"I guess!"

"You're incredible."

"So are you! Incredibly cute I might add."

You're blushing again. In the dark she couldn't see it clearly, but she knew you well enough to know that you were. Somewhere in the room the song repeats again.

"Do you feel cool with me, baby?"

"I really do, Min. You really do know me like no other. The way you helped me tonight - it's like you could read my mind. It's just like you said. 'What's the best?'"

"너의 옆에 내가 있을 때."

"Exactly. When you're here with me I feel safe."

You open your eyes. Saying those words out loud was the last thing you needed. You landed. She brought you all the way back. You were home. And she could tell by the way you were smiling.

"I'll always be here for you." She smiled in return. "Cuz I know you're always there for me, bro."

The first chuckle out of you that night.

"How are you feeling, baby?"

"I think I'm good, Min. Thanks again. You're the best. The best thing that's ever happened to me. I love you so fucking much."

"Then don't swear at me, bro!"

The first real laugh out of you that night. And she echoes it.

"Do you hear me, baby? Do you hear me laughing with you?"

"I do."

"You hear just me?"

"Yes. Just you."

"Do you see me? Focus on my eyes."

You turn around to look at her and see the way her eyes sparkle with encouragement. Her endearing smile pulling you out of the dark. Into the light with her.

"I see you." You smile. "But it's a bit blurry cuz I've been crying."

"That's ok! Can you feel my hands?" she asks as she gently takes both your hands in hers and caresses them slowly. "I've missed holding your hands."

"I can feel you. But my fingers are still a little tingly. And shaky."

She pulls your hands towards her and kisses both. "That's ok, too." She smiles again. "And you know, we listed reasons to love someone, but at the end of the day, love isn't a rational thing, either. The strongest love has no reason. Who knows why we fall in love? All I know is that I fell in love with you because you're you. And that'll always be reason enough for me."

[wildgeese98]

Some of my favorite tma episodes that don't get talked about much.

mag 36 Taken Ill: One of the most horrifying Corruption statements ever. First appearance of John Amherst and an early appearance of the Hunt dream team, Trevor and Julia. Also sets up Melanie's father's fate two whole seasons later.

mag 44 Tightrope: first Gertrude statement. Statement giver became a doctor so he could try to understand the Stranger creatures he saw in the "freak show" tent. There's something so horrifying about spending your life trying to understand something you saw as a child, to the point where it influences your career and it just leads you to realize that what you saw can't be explained.

mag 45 Blood Bag: Mosquitos suck all of the blood out of a guy because he sold his lucky syringe, enough said there I think.

mag 52 Exceptional Risk: Something I think Jonny is very good at is writing from the perspective of shitty cops. The statement giver spends the whole time both bragging about and excusing his abuse of the prisoners under his care. He readily admits to using excessive force but has a million reasons why it's necessary. Also it's clear that the system fully allows and encourages it, until they come under any kind of scrutiny of course. He's just such and believable character, awful in such a mundane, true to life way. It's one of those episodes where the the supernatural element is not the most horrifying part by a long shot.

mag 53 Crusader: Love the voice actor for the statement giver, his performance makes an already harrowing story that much more upsetting. The description of the man burning alive inside the tank really got to me. Also introduces the concept of the ancient Archivists which is really fun and I wish had been explored more. Love a shuffling, empty husk that's not allowed to die.

mag 60 The Observer Effect: I am genuinely so afraid of seeing something lurking behind me in my reflection. This one really creeped me out. Really considering what it would be like have something watching you all the time makes my skin crawl. I'm not that surprised she tried to blow up the Institute.

mag 99 Dust To Dust: There's just something about the vibe of this one. The Dust Bowl is such a perfect setting for a Buried statement. All that dirt causing so much destitution and suffering while in turn having been caused by people overworking the land trying to "build their fortunes". Lungs full of dirt is also just such and awful way to die. Also Gertrude mispronouncing Boise always sends me.

mag 113 Breathing Room: Gotta love a Dekker statement. More than on of the End statements manage to hit precisely onto one of my very specific ongoing anxieties. Every couple months I become convinced that there is a carbon monoxide leak in my apartment. I'm also obsessed with the detail that the blood of people of die of carbon monoxide poisoning is cherry red. Plus love that Dekker's solution was straight up just a good old fashioned lobotomy.

mag 123 Web Development: I love when Jonny dips into his old school internet horror roots. Chelicerae really sounds like a creepypasta that an older kid tells you about on the playground. I am also obsessed with a guy who is so much of a pushover that he refuses to stop working for an evil website that turns people into spider monsters because he doesn't want to rock the boat.

mag 148 Extended Surveillance: In retrospect this feels like a Protocol case to me. A guy fusing with the computers and cctv system, yeah I've heard that one before.

mag 183 Monument: It's interesting that this one doesn't get a lot of play because it is essentially the thesis statement on why Smirks 14 was a deeply flawed system and why any attempt at categorizing the Fears will inevitably fail. It's also got some great Helen moments and a very good Jon/Martin conversation at the end.

mag 159 Adrift: Simply for Jon and Basira's conversation.

[misctea]

social anxiety is frustrating as a concept and in practice, we all know that. what’s more though is when it manifest in any way other than the classic visibly scared and panicky demeanor that’s easy to pick up on.

to those of you whose social anxiety is construed as being rude or uncaring, I see you. avoiding friends and family and any social situation, and having it come off as rude because you seem like you don’t want to be there. not talking to anyone for days, and having it come off as you stopped caring. going completely silent on social media platforms for weeks or months or years to avoid having any kind of presence, and there are many ways that can come off. ignoring texts. cancelling plans. isolating in your home. I see you I see you because me too.

It looks pathetic. It FEELS pathetic. Desperately trying to make yourself small in every facet of your life to avoid any perception and having it feel like any perception is negative by default, it’s exhausting. I have friends I promised I’d hang out with for weeks and because I have no concept of time, it dawned on me this morning that it’s been months.

“I should talk to my friends I should post more I should reach out to old classmates I should talk to my family I should go out more I should do more I should do more but I am so so so tired” yeah I hear that!! and also sometimes doing one thing just needs to be enough.

Not sure where I’m going with this. It’s exhausting and isolating to be scared for what feels like 99% of the time. Not really sure what my goal was by pulling away from most of my social connections for years but maybe just maybe if anyone resonates we can get through this together. one terrifying step at a time

[fives-lover]

Chapter 16: Little Soldiers

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Languages - Again, I used Google Translate, sorry if it's wrong pokol = Hell (Romanian)

Cadets of all ages spread across the room. Black marks crisscrossed the white walls from a fight that had already passed through. They helped each other the best they could with the limited supplies and training they had. Blood covered several of their tunics and various spots on the floor. Training helmets had been thrown around in the chaos, several had been broken from shots taken to the head. Thin shattered training armor covered some already dead and seemed to have barely protected others. It wasn’t designed to keep them protected, just to simulate actual armor without the weight and to help their trainers keep track of them.

The cadets with her looked frustrated when they reached the barracks, one slid down the wall and shoved his face in his hands, ignoring the injured brothers scattered throughout the room. Another asked what they were going to do.

The old clone, 99, agreed. “A separatist victory means death for all of us. The cadet is right, what are we going to do?”

“We fight,” someone said from behind them. 

Rex and Cody came around one of the support walls for the bunks above them unexpectedly. The cadets stiffened as if they were debating on getting up to salute or not.

“But our training isn’t finished!” The younger one with long hair protested.

Fives jumped into the conversation and Rasha rolled her eyes, knowing some inspirational speech or something similar was coming soon. He loved to make them so he could keep morale up. 

“Look around. We’re one and the same. Same heart, same blood,” he hit his chest and watched the group in front of him, “your training is in your blood and my blood is boiling for a fight.” He stood to his full height with a menacing scowl.

“This is our home,” Echo chimed in, “this is our war.”

The pep talk seemed to work on the kids as they started getting back up. They looked like they were ready for anything. Rasha’s heart broke for them, they were just children.

The older cadets still had some baby fat around their cheeks and they were close to finishing their training, soon to be sent out to fight in this seemingly never-ending war. Soon to be sent out to fight and pray that it wasn't their last mission. Soon to be plagued by nightmares and constant anxiety and the frustrations that accompany them; the constant feeling of taking a step forward and two steps back.

“What are we going to do about weapons?” one asked. The rest deflated again.

“The armory! Just a few corridors away, here in the barracks! I can retrieve all the firepower we need.” 99 looked and sounded more excited than a tooka getting a new toy. “So, who’s ready to blast some droids?”

“Wait,” Rasha interjected, “99, where can I get more medical supplies? What I’ve got in this bag isn’t going to spread far enough for everyone over there.” She pointed at a group of injured clones unsuccessfully trying to bandage themselves up, apparently unaware of their presence or just ignoring them. “Is there anything close?”

“There’s a storage closet on the way! I’ll take you there too!”

“Thanks 99, but only if we’ve got time. We need to get ready for all those clankers coming. I can always figure something else out if I need to.”

“Rasha, it’s on the way. You get supplies while we get weapons. We’ll be okay,” Rex reassured.

“Those droids have been relentless ever since this whole thing started. Be careful.”

99 perked up again, “I’ll make sure they get everything, ma’am.”

She turned back to the group of boys she’d been with since she hid in a random room along a random hallway. “Any of you boys wanna help me?” 

They stood still, staring at her in surprise. 

“You’ll be able to learn some first-aid that’ll work best in the field. They can only show you so much in those rooms out there,” she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder toward the hallway, “it’s not like you’re ever gonna be shot at in those expensive sterile rooms normally.” They still hesitated, so she sat on the bench in the middle of the small area they had gathered in, mostly getting on their level. “You’d be helping me save your brothers. Anyone in here wanna be a brave medic when you finish your training?”

Fives and Echo rolled their eyes at her, and she shot them a look, almost telling them to shut up.

One of the older cadets stepped forward nervously, “I- uh.” He stood taller and cleared his throat, feigning confidence, “I do, ma’am.”

“Awesome, let’s get to work. Lead the way 99.”

The storage room was much closer than she thought it would be, just across the hall and a few doors down. The old man hobbled in front of her, entered the code, and continued on with an infectiously warm lopsided grin. She looked at everything on the shelves, quickly took inventory, and started grabbing supplies she knew were going to be needed.

Feeling how nervous the cadet was, she tried easing him by talking while she continued handing him more supplies. “Remind me to get my knife back from your brother. It’s one of my favorites. Got a name yet, kid?”

“Uh, no. Not yet. Nothing’s been sounding right. He likes his weapons, you might have to pry it out of his hands.” He sounded slightly more relaxed now that he had seen how much the brothers that had apparently served with her already seemed to trust her, but he was still guarded. 

She didn’t blame him. He didn’t know who she was and had never been in a situation like this before. He had never been forced to solely rely on the others around him for anything other than their runs through whatever training courses they had. He only ever needed his squad and whoever was training him.

“Well, whatever you pick, there’s no need to rush it. We even get some newbies that still don’t have a name yet,” she shrugged and handed him more supplies, “most of those ones usually end up having a name by the end of their first mission. It’s gotta be up to you. Well,” she chuckled, remembering the story of how Echo and several others had gotten their names, “ usually that’s how that works.”

He watched her, almost starstruck, “how do you know that we don’t start out with names, ma’am?”

“You can just call me Rasha, kid – let’s grab a couple more of these, is the bag too heavy?”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name.” He tested the weight of the bag, “no, it’s not.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thank you, let’s get more stuff into mine. We gotta hurry. I've been working with the Republic for a while and, like I said earlier, I'm one of the medics. Gotta know what your numbers are for the records. I’ll tell you some stories once we get out there and those clankers are all torn up, okay?”

He smiled widely at her, “yes, ma’am- err, Rasha.”

“What’s your number so I know what to call you for now?”

“CT-9735.”

“Nice to meet you 9735. I think we’ve got everything, now let’s get out there and save some brothers.” They grabbed their bags and ran back to the barracks.

The unforgettable grating sounds of metallic grinding and monotone robotic voices were starting to come down the halls for another attempt at killing the rest of the clones. The sounds and memories sent shivers down her spine. The anticipation of the coming battle and the resulting silence was never Rasha’s favorite.

Fives looked up from his rifle and a small pile of bombs. “There you are, Cap!”

Next to her, CT-9735 stiffened again. She ignored the change and asked,  “did any of you find anyone else alive?”

Her friends looked at the floor solemnly. “No… They were -”

“Okay, let’s get to work on the ones we know are alive then. What’s your plan so I know where we can try to take them.”

Cody explained their plans involving the cadets. Rasha had to push the guilty knot rising in the pit of her stomach that children had to be fighting like this, even if they were ‘engineered’ and trained for it. While he explained, she decided that the furthest wall would be the best place to move the ones stable enough. Fives and Echo built a small barricade of crates for extra cover.

“9735, are you good with a blaster yet?” Rasha asked in between helping other cadets get to the back wall.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I guess I’m good, Captain.”

The blonde one called out from behind them, “He’s one of the best in our classes! He’s more than just ‘good’!”

“Even better! I need that knife back when you’re done helping Captain Rex!” She yelled back. “It’s just Rasha right now, okay? You can call me Captain all you want later. I’m gonna need you on the lookout while you’re helping me. Think you can do that?”

His eyes widened, unsure of himself for a second. “I, uh-”

“There’s no time to freeze up. I’ll be on the lookout too. What’s rule number one out on the battlefield?”

He proudly answered, “never leave a brother behind.”

“Awesome. Now, rule number two? Well, I don’t really know everything they teach you here, so it’s rule number two for me: watch each other’s backs alongside your own.” 

He stiffened again, flicking his gaze anxiously from one brother to the next.

“They need you more than you need them when they’re hurt. You need to stay on high alert for everyone about everything. Remember to help them if you can but you have to keep yourself alive too. You can’t help them if you’re hurt or dead. Okay?”

He looked at several of the injured clones around him again before coming to some sort of resolve. “Okay Rasha, what do I need to do?” She pat his shoulder and they continued bringing more of his brothers over. 

“Get into position! They’ve almost reached the barracks!” Cody ordered from across the large room.

The sounds of grinding and the clinking of metal feet on metal floors got louder. Muffled blaster fire and screams sounded from outside the room. 

She saw CT-9735 tense next to her at the thought of what was coming. “Keep wrapping his arm tight. We need to stop the blood. Just focus on that right now.”

“But they’re-“

“I know 9735. I know they’re right there. But he’s here,” she patted the unconscious clone’s chest, “right now, he’s the top priority. There’s two of us that can shoot a blaster, plus anyone that's still got one within reach behind us” she gestured to his still conscious brothers along the wall then leaned forward to look directly at him and held his shoulders firmly, “nothing is going to happen to you if I can help it. You’re allowed to be nervous. You’re allowed to be scared, but you need to stay in the moment.” He seemed to relax minutely, and she chuckled, “pokol, you should’ve seen me after my first mission.”

He went back to wrapping, "what does that mean?"

"What?” She looked back up from the next cadet she started working on. “Pokol? Oh, it means Hell." She shrugged, "I'm a translator too so I know a few languages," she chuckled and went back to work.

A metallic knock came from the door on the other end of the room followed by a muffled mechanical voice telling them to open the door. 

Ice ran through her at the sound of a low mechanical growl paired with incessant coughing. She knew it was General Grievous outside and prayed that he wouldn't come in. She let out an impressive string of curses in several languages when Grievous’ growling and barked orders continued getting closer.

The barracks door opened, and blaster fire began shooting in every direction. Rasha and CT-9735 ducked lower behind the crates and moved closer to the middle of the support wall everyone had been moved to.

The blonde cadet that stationed himself in front of their barrier with minimal cover cried out in pain and brought himself around. He laid down on the floor in hopes of relieving the pain but neither of them could get to him just yet.  

“Do you know what to do with this?” CT-9735 asked, gesturing to a large gash running along one of his brother’s shoulders and a small blaster burn on his side.

She turned from the man she was working on when his torso was wrapped to her liking. “Yeah. Let’s get him to sit up so the blood can’t spread across the floor more. Grab some more bacta. I’ve got a few things right here too. It’s a good thing it’s fresh. There are lower chances of it getting infected if it’s taken care of as soon as possible.”

He did as he was told, staring solely at his brother’s shoulder when he came back, “he’s gonna be okay, right?”

Rasha sighed while she cleaned the gash. “I, uh," she paused, "it’s hard to tell at the moment. I don’t know how deep the blaster bolt cut through him, especially the lower one. I can’t tell if any tendons or arteries were hit yet. We have to do everything we can to make sure he lives while we can, this is a pretty bad one. Just remember that you can’t always save everyone. It’ll hurt like hell when you can’t but it’s not always something you can control. Now, come here and do what I tell you. You seem to learn better when you’re the one doing it.”

He looked away for a few seconds, blinking harshly. “Does it ever get better or,” he paused before looking back up to her with sorrow-filled eyes, “or hurt less when it happens?” 

The pain seemed to have taken over and made his brother pass out. Rasha continued showing him how to seal the teen’s shoulder back up and the best ways to keep it from reopening once he became conscious again. Rasha shook her head, “no, it doesn’t…” CT-9735 took a deep shuddering breath. “But now that we’ve got him fixed up, I think he’ll be alright. He didn’t lose as much blood as I thought he did and nothing too important was hit. I’m glad he came around for help as soon as he could. Captain Rex could learn a thing or two from him. Now, we just need to watch him. Get back to helping them and I’ll go check on things out there now that we don't have any immediate cover fire.”

She poked her head above the crates just enough to see past and was momentarily blinded by an explosion. Droid parts flew in every direction possible, and she ducked down quickly, almost getting smacked by a droid’s arm in the face.

“Cadets, now!” Rex yelled. The group of younger cadets she had been with earlier slid their bunks out of the wall and began firing too, catching the droids in a crossfire.

She looked back down and saw 99 running in her direction and felt her heart clench. “Stay here. Just keep patching up the ones you can.” 

She ran from behind their cover, fired several shots, and tackled the old man. Her shoulder felt like it was lit on fire in the process, but she pushed past it and dragged the old man behind one of their walls. She’d have to see if she hurt him later, it was about making sure everyone lived during the fight rather than making sure everyone was unscathed. “ 99! What were you thinking?! ” 

“They need more bombs, ma’am.”

“They’ll be fine! Stay behind here with us until everything is done,” she ordered and handed him the fuller bag. “We need you to give us supplies. You’ll help save more of your brothers if you can do that. He needs more wrapping anyway.”

“Rasha! You’re hurt!” CT-9735 called out.

“I’m fine. We need to take care of your brothers. As long as I can still use my hands, I can still help.” She looked at her shoulder and saw the blaster burns that had barely caught her, grabbed a scrap piece of gauze, and hastily wrapped it until they could do something about it later. “The fight is still going, so we’re still going.”

99 started getting up. “There isn’t anymore, ma’am. I’ll go get some.”

“No, 99. You’re going to stay right there,” she shoved him back onto the bench. “There’s still supplies in there that we can use. I told you earlier that we can figure things out if necessary. Hand me my knife.” She took it and saw 99’s disappointed expression and immediately felt guilty but needed to get to work. She figured that she could apologize later.

“What do you need the knife for? We don’t have any more gauze to cut,” her helper asked.

“We’ve got plenty we can cut still.” She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and began cutting it, ripping a long patch off for him to use. “You run out of shit all the time out there. You make do with what you’ve got, now let’s keep going. If you need more, use your own shirt or see if one of your brothers will let you cut up one of theirs.”

He sat there staring at the torn khaki fabric in shock. There was no chance that a Kaminoan would have ever done something like that to save anyone, let alone a clone. Especially not a clone. He never considered that their clothes could be used as bandages if needed. He was entranced watching her work and tried to soak in as much knowledge as she would give in the short amount of time they had together.

She could see how worn the small battle had made 99 and all of the cadets when it was finished. CT-9735 looked to be worse for wear and he had mainly stayed in one area during the whole thing. Rasha chuckled when she remembered that she had probably looked like that, if not worse, when she started with the 501st. It felt like ages ago at this point.

Cody’s comm went off with General Shaak Ti informing that the droids had been pushed back to the main hangar and everyone collectively sighed in relief. The kids hiding in the bunks at the beginning looked around in excitement. They’d survived and shot down a bunch of droids that weren’t just there for target practice.

Rasha and CT-9735 finished patching up the ones that made it through and needed immediate care, then finally let 99 go get more supplies after being checked for injuries as well. She was sure they were a sight to behold as they got closer if she looked anything like the cadet walking next to her did. He had blood across his face and clothes. His hands were covered in even more of it. She was sure that she looked worse through the torn clothes and messy hair. The looks on the younger cadets’ faces helped confirm the assumption.

“The ones that made it through should be stable enough to wait for more care once the Kaminoans are ready to start taking men in again, sir,” Rasha reported to Cody, wiping her face off in what was left of her t-shirt thankful she had an undershirt on. “This one did great with keeping them going by the way,” she elbowed CT-9735’s arm and he stiffened like a slab of duracrete again.

“Oh, did he now?” Rex stepped forward with his arms crossed, suppressing a proud grin. Rasha knew he was messing with him, but the cadet looked terrified.

“Yes, Rex. Now stop being so mean!” She threw her good arm across the cadet’s shoulder, leaned in, and whispered, “he’s just playing with you. He won’t admit it, but he’s a huge softie.” CT-9735 laughed loudly and Rex gave her a look. She just shrugged and acted innocent. Talking normally now, she chuckled and playfully shook him, “but really, you did amazing, kid. If you’re hurt, you better make sure you’re on his radar. He'll patch you right up.” 

“Thank you, Rasha.”

“Eh, it was nothing,” she shrugged, “you’ll do amazing out there in the field if you keep going at it like you just did.”

“Well, thank you for that too, but, uh…” He looked away nervously before shooting his gaze straight back to her and smiled, “thank you for my name.”

“I gave you a name?” She looked between the rest of the men, eyebrows raised. She stared at Fives, and he had the biggest smile possible. No one was giving her any other indication of how she should react, so she felt like an idiot.

CT-9735 kept looking at her instead, tuning them all out. “Yeah… ‘Radar.’ I like how it sounds!” He beamed at her, thankful that she was able to teach him so much and that he’d finally found his name.

“Oh,” she looked back at Fives, still not sure what to do. “Uh, you’re welcome?”

Fives finally jumped in, to her relief, “it suits you, kid. I’m sure your batchmates would’ve been happy with the name!”

Rasha looked at the back of the room. “Wait CT- uh, Radar, that one blond kid that was with us that you were so worried about, is he one of your batchmates?”

“Yeah!" He lit up and looked back at the wall of crates, "He was breathing better when we came over here! His name is Carnage!”

Rasha chuckled, “that’s... an interesting name. Any story behind that one?”

“He always destroys the training areas.”

Echo dramatically gasped and brought a hand up to his chest, “and here I thought that everyone tried to be nice and take it easy on 99 here!”

“Aw, it’s nothing guys. Really. Carnage isn’t even the worst one.” 99 smiled again and it spread across the group.

“When are you guys supposed to take your test?” Echo asked.

Radar looked upset again, “it was supposed to be tomorrow morning, but Carnage and I don’t have much of a squad to go through it with anymore and I doubt there’s even a course left anyway, plus all the rebuilding that we’re gonna need to help with.”

Rasha chimed in, "when we were on our way here, nothing looked too bad. Just where those ships pierced the buildings. I'm sure the course is fine." 

Cody put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Everything will work out in the end. You just have to trust in everyone else too.” He let go and gave Rasha a stern look, “now you, Captain Skohl, are going to let us fix up your arm - no. No buts. Get back there and Radar here will get to work.” He pointed to the back of the room where the medical supplies had been replenished.

She closed her mouth and grumbled out a “yes, sir.”

“That’s not a very good example to these cadets, Captain,” Cody jabbed at her.

She turned to walk away without saying anything and flipped Cody off behind her, “yes, sir,” she enunciated clearly, using the finger as a weak salute, receiving shocked gasps from the kids and hysterical laughs and wheezing from Echo, Fives, and Rex. He crossed his arms, and she could feel the glare burning through her skull. 

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for future posts!

@cdblake1565

[utsuboh]

hey there-- this is a CANON DIVERGENT roleplay blog for 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇 from 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃. due to the nature of the character, and the darker content here i ask that MINORS DO NOT FOLLOW ME. also would prefer if non - rp blogs did not like or reblog my content. and any who do will be blocked immediately. crossover/duplicate friendly. and VERY happy to receive any and all ocs!!! est. march 2023.

( RULES FOUND BELOW )

verses: touchstarved , skeleton key , the dreamlands important tags: headcanon , prompts

affiliated with: rebirthee , bitterseadrop , rosehearrt , imarahuyo , chiheru

            Hi  there,  I  go  by  RHYS.  They  /  Them  pronouns.  I  am  an  artist,  and  i  struggle  with  anxiety  and  other  illnesses.  I  also  work  when  I  can.  So  i  tend  to  be  pretty  sporadic.  I  can  get  to  things  very  quickly,  or  very  slow.  Nothing  against  any  one  person.  I  just  write  when  I  feel  like  it.

I am 29 years old, and I sleep a lot!!

99% of my edits and psds here are done by @imarahuyo

Also good to keep in mind I am divergent, and play a lot into the horror aspects of the character. I can do meet cutes and slice of life situation but...there will always be unsettling undertones.  I also write jade from several points in his life. Anywhere ranging from 17( in game age ) - 20( last year at the college ), and beyond that even. If I'm exploring his life post NRC.

  I  am  mutuals  only  in  regards  to  threads,  and  require  plotting  to  write  anything  at  length.  however,  I  do  accept  asks  from  anyone  and  everyone  that  wishes  to  send  them  in.  This  is  for  my  own  comfort.  So  do  not  get  impatient  with  me  or  push  me.  I  will  block  you  the  moment  you  do.  I  have  a  life  outside  of  rp,  and  I  need  that  to  be  respected.

  PLEASE  I  ask  that  people  be  patient  with  me  in  character  and  ooc.  I  am  always  happy  to  talk,  and  plot  with  people,  but  I  can  be  pretty  slow  with  that  too.  Either  because  I  forget,  or  just  don't  have  the  energy  to  do  so.

asks and thread do not always stick. i love writing with people, i love getting asks, and i love threads. but sometimes im genuinely not sure how to reply to it right away. it isn't a lack of interest, i promise. if i'm following you, then i do want to interact and write. again, just be patient, rp is an outlet for me, and a hobby. i don't force myself to write if it just wont come to me.

on shipping and dynamics. so... i practice ship exclusivity, when it comes to certain dynamics. i do not enjoy recycling, or reusing ideas with other people. and in order to ship with my muse romantically-- i do ask this be mutual. if you do not enjoy that, then it's fine. no hard feelings, i can respect that. when i am comfortable enough to plot these things out, i really try to put out 100% effort. and it doesn't feel very good to see our ideas and dynamic done the same with someone else. again, i do not expect everyone to operate like i do. if you don't want exclusivity in this way, then say so. we can do something different, and work that out. ( to be clear this only really applies to romantic or unique dynamics. not platonic or familial. )

  Themes  here  will  absolutely  include:   murder,  blood,  torture,  body  horror,  deep  sea  horror,  drowning,  manipulation,  ocean  related  imagery  and  aesthetics,  teeth,  gore,  and  more.  each  will  be  tagged  accordingly.  if  i  ever  need  to  tag  something  in  particular,  like  a  ship  or  a  character,  please  feel  free  to  ask  me.

other blogs: MULTI , JINX

[appliedpsychedelics]

Applied Psychedelics and Psychonautics - Ian, December 12-25 2023

Applied Psychedelics and Psychonautics - Ian, December 12-25 2023

I noticed, while I was high off mushrooms, I entered an altered state of consciousness known as flow state, which is characterized by a sense of time distortion and overall sense of happiness. These things, I realized I was experiencing them because this mushroom was making my mind perform at its peak, and I felt truly alive and fully attentive to my work, deriving great joy in such wonderful subjects as Electromagnetic Energy… truly my schoolwork didn’t feel much like work, but rather an exploration of the world, and I found myself very happy with a positive mental picture of myself as a scholar and explorer: I would explore my chosen subject matter, up close, and gain real experience and knowledge of it, all while taking good notes of it.

Sometimes, I found that it was like I could be a sort of, scholarly conqueror 

And I began to relish in this image of myself and this mushroom forming a kind of mutually beneficial relationship, and then in the dream of showing the world what psychedelic mushrooms can really do to improve people's lives

Today even, one in 10 Americans aged 12 and older is on SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, used for depression or anxiety), and actually, SSRIs are incredibly easy to access, at least for me it was. I’ve had my own encounters with Big Pharma and Big Psych, notably I took Prozac for a short period of time due to a bout of “depression”. 

The main difference between SSRIs and psychedelic mushrooms is that SSRIs are just escapism: you’re zombifying yourself to cope with your feelings. When I was on Prozac, I had such a major disconnect from reality, I always felt so distant and was looking at myself from outside my own body, I realized that the excess serotonin from the drug was causing derealization. 

The issue with medical professionals in this field is that they genuinely believe the issue in a depressed person is something like their amount of serotonin. 

The truth is, the issue is that a depressed person is caught in a negative loop/cycle of their own bad thoughts and actions: they need to have a “breakthrough” thought, a kind of, “Eureka!” lightbulb moment. I am like, 99 percent sure that the big public backlash against using mushrooms, weed, cacti, and other LITERAL PLANTS to self medicate comes from Big Pharma wanting more people to go to them to get POISONED by SSRIs, which are literally demonic (I'll explain how evil Big Psych and Pharma can be in another post, I haven't got enough time to document all that evil in this first post…)

        What I’ve found is that mushrooms grind on your ego and humble you, they help you REALIZE things that are helpful and make you break out of harmful cycles. 

 λόγος you open your mind to new ideas, and λόγος will show you images and give you voices, it will suggest things to your mind that help produce these breakthroughs. , in case you were unaware, is Greek (“logos”), meaning “logic” or “reason”, and it is the name which Terence McKenna and many popular psychonauts have used to refer to the living entity which you can feel in the mushrooms. Many people who take mushrooms get the feeling that something is alive in there… and it wants to talk to you. That mushrooms are animate, and trying to communicate. This is something I believe 100 percent. 

         For example, Albert Hoffman, the guy who synthesized LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide) and isolated + named + synthesized psilocybin and psilocin (the psychedelic part of shrooms, which I hope to discuss more in depth later on), told Terence McKenna once that the reason he preferred LSD to shrooms was because he felt that shrooms were animate, that there was something alive inside them. 

I would like to try and communicate with this entity. I believe it is a force for good… some of the things it has revealed to me have been like, crazy spiritually enlightening. I feel much better overall since I've taken them, mentally and emotionally. There is a kind of harmony there. 

Terence McKenna, who I mentioned before (RIP McKenna, he died in 2000, respect) is well known for advocating the positives of using mushrooms (responsibly), kinda like I'm doing now. 

I will probably make a post dedicated to him.

I’m convinced that there’s some real potential in using magic mushrooms to help treat the symptoms of and maybe even cure conditions such as depression:

Every trip I go on, I find that I am able to make “breakthroughs” in my cycles of thinking, which enable me to learn about myself and explore ways to make myself a better person, ways to function on a higher level.

In fact, this post right here might as well be a testament to the way mushrooms can influence the way people think: I was so inspired that I decided to study this, for fun, and I’ve taken it upon myself as a kind of hobby, although I do admit that I do not yet have enough knowledge and experience to call myself a psychonaut just yet, I do hope to get there someday.

In case you didn’t know, a psychonaut is   to some extent, I suppose while partaking in Psilocybin/Psilocin mushrooms, An altered state of consciousness in which the mind functions at its peak, time may seem distorted, and a sense of happiness prevails. In such a state the individual feels truly alive and fully attentive to what is being done.

I saw all sorts of repeating patterns, shapes, colors, it truly was amazing and I was convinced that each symbol I saw held some sort of deeper meaning, at least in my own heart, but it is only through the exploration of my own heart that I begin to understand the rest of the world: certain things will strike chords in you. 

The only thing I have noticed about mushrooms that is negative is that they negatively impact my memory and often while high off them, I find myself disoriented, confused. I got lost in my own school that I've gone to for 3 years while on shrooms. I couldn't tell if I was upstairs or downstairs. I kept forgetting where I was supposed to be, forgetting lots of things… overall, I think we should try to make sure mushrooms don't impact memory negatively on a longer time frame (ex. Causing Alzheimer's or dementia) 

I am, however, not worried enough about this to stop using mushrooms or to stop championing them as a potential solution to mental/emotional/spiritual health problems 

I feel like from the small amount of times I've consumed shrooms, I always walk away from my trip with new knowledge and a sense of inner ☮️. Because of how profoundly this has affected me, I do think it's worth temporary memory loss and confusion, which can be made so that it does not actually fuck with ur life (I'll be making a post later on the responsible use of shrooms)

Other than that note on memory, I have noticed 0 negatives from shrooms. They're literal mushrooms! You aren't even putting smoke in your lungs, you're literally eating a pizza topping or salad ingredient. 

As a Christian it is my belief that there's nothing wrong with the responsible use of these mushrooms. It's a fungi! It's God's creation, same as any other regular Portobello mushroom. Just be aware that some people believe that 

 λόγος is a demonic entity or a malicious influence. 

I do not believe that myself, 

 λόγος is to me like a wise old man

And there's definitely other stuff out there besides angels and demons, so maybe it's one of those other things! 

I'm just warning y'all, it's a risk! It's a spiritual, pyschological, emotional risk to put faith in λόγος, 

But I seriously vouch for its positive impacts. I'm doing this research and taking this risk because I truly believe this is part of the future. 

Overall, I believe in the potential of nature. We should be utilizing the resources provided to us by God :3 

So this is my intro post! Soon I'll be posting: 

How to find/identify shrooms/where to find them 

How to grow shrooms 

The horrors of big pharma/pysch

Horrors of the war on drugs 

Guide for responsible mushroom use 

The historical use of pyschadelic mushrooms 

Terence McKenna and maybe other people like him 

MY OWN PERSONAL TRIP REPORTS !! 

MORE INFO ON λόγος

Enjoy my tumblr :3 

[storiesofsvu]

Olivia Benson Caring for a s/o w/anxiety

FAM! This took way longer to write than I expected, but honestly, 99% of it is because it’s LITERALLY my life. I’ve been coping/dealing with anxiety/panic disorders for years and its terrible. So yes, the restaurant story is something that happened to me, darker alcohol WILL affect your nerves the next day, and for all of you out there who deal with similar situations, I see you, I hear you and I feel you. I know how terrible and tough this is and I love each and every one of you. 

Also TW: Anxiety/panic attacks

***

The first time it happens is after a very long week of work with barely enough sleep to keep you going, the entire squad had been living off caffeine to keep going which only made the situation worse. You and Olivia had brought a couple of files to Barba for more warrants and end up getting into it with him, he in turn comes after you, criticizing your police work. You do your best to hold your ground but he can’t help but roll his eyes at the tremor in your lower lip, the glassiness of your eyes, you storm from the room and he mutters something that sounds like ‘pathetic’. Liv tells him to smarten up and not be such an asshole, finding you outside Hogan Place pacing, trying to burn off the adrenaline burning through your veins.

At first she thinks that you were just riled up, tired from the rough week, upset at the way Barba came after you, though he was always an ass, and you were usually able to spit back just as much fire as he was. She gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, telling you to go home, try to get some sleep, take the weekend off.

The second time she noticed you’d been on edge all day, snapping a couple times you probably shouldn’t have, your hands were nearly shaking, your paperwork was a scribbly mess when it was usually immaculate. The squad headed out for drinks, you were beyond thankful to be done with the day, dropping down into a chair, swigging back a hefty amount of your drink. The bar was crowded today, loud, the squad was letting off steam, shouting over the music, Amanda started flicking bits of coaster across the table at Carisi, making fun of whatever story he was telling. It only took a second for you to down the rest of your drink, slipping away from the table, flagging down a cab. Everything rung in your ears, feeling completely overstimulated, you needed quiet, you needed peace, you needed darkness. You felt your body trembling the entire ride home, your heart palpitating way too fast, your chest constricted so tightly you felt like you could burst at any second. You hated being enclosed in the small space, hating more at the music playing from the radio, trying to take deep breaths, quickly tossing cash at the driver as you clambered out, thankful for the cold air.

When you got up to your apartment you burst into tears, finally letting out the tension in your body. You felt like you sobbed for hours, throat hoarse by the time you thought you were done, the need to move still driving through you, pacing back and fourth through the living room. Your phone pinged, Olivia, asking if you were okay. You replied with a simple “I need you here please.”

It felt like moments later that she was at your door, you buried yourself into her arms, a fresh set of tears throbbing through your body. She held you close, tight, the embrace that you simply needed so badly in that moment. Her lips softly meeting your head, she was concerned, but didn’t ask any questions until you finally pulled away, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose. A muted ‘Sorry’ coming from your lips, barely able to meet her gaze.

She guides you to the couch, asking if you want to talk, you apologize again, saying that nothing particular is wrong. It takes a minute, her soothing squeeze of your hand makes you meet her eyes, admitting that you deal with anxiety. It’s something that sprouted unexpectedly, you’d never dealt with it in your adolescent life, and it was always worse when you were low on sleep, had caffeine, or the day after a big drinking night. You got overstimulated easily, and tonight it was just too much for you. As much as it wreaked havoc on your body you preferred not to take the Ativan, attempting to calm yourself down, doing breathing exercises, cooling your body down, something as simple as jumping jacks to burn off the extra adrenaline. You knew things could be a hell of a lot worse and you didn’t want the Ativan to lose it’s effect when you had an actual panic attack. 

The first time you’d had a panic attack was your last year of college, you’d been out late with friends, having downed at least a full bottle of red wine, despite having to open the restaurant Saturday morning. You felt groggy and on edge all morning, your body shaking with energy, the hungover part of you divulged in greasy food and a Venti espresso filled coffee to give you the energy to get through the day. You felt light headed, shaky, nearly like you couldn’t breathe. It was Pride, the restaurant would be FULL this afternoon, so you mentioned to your manager that you weren’t sure if you could make it through the 10 hour shift, knowing something was wrong. It was halfway through taking payment for a table that you stumbled to the hostess stand, a simple “I can’t breathe.” before you had to sink to the floor, scared and barely able to see. You’d already taken a Benadryl and your inhaler. The hospital wasn’t able to figure out what was wrong, but upon doing more research over mental health you figured it out yourself months later.

You’d much rather take the Ativan in something like that than the little anxiety bursts you experienced.

Olivia’s quick to take this into part of her daily life. She doesn’t overbear you with questions, but she’s going to be checking in with you, a soft smile on her face, a little squeeze to the shoulder.

She always makes sure your medication is refilled before it really needs to be, and that it’s in your bag at all times. It can only take a second for something to trigger you, and she wants to make sure that you’re always taken care of.

She knows that sometimes you need her embrace like nothing else, and sometimes that physical contact will make things horrifically worse, always asking for your permission before she touches you.

She comes to learn that temperature is a big thing with anxiety, with the higher heart rate you’re burning up. She’ll always drag you outside in the cooler months, letting you breathe until you calm down, despite the fact that she’s freezing. In the summer months she always makes sure the ice cube tray is full, holding one against your neck or wrists, cooling down your blood, reminding you that it’s going to be okay.

Olivia encourages you into a physical activity, knowing that morning runs will help you burn off the extra adrenaline coursing through you, she enlists Amaro to teach you some boxing techniques, taking out your emotions that way.

You very well know what she’s doing, but you won’t admit it to her, simply coming home to her with a smile on your face, kissing her softly as you tell her how much you love her.

Olivia’s always going to keep a careful eye on you, watching for signs that she knows mean you’re slipping into a state of overstimulation, making sure you’re getting enough sleep, getting enough healthy foods, not using alcohol to cope (or that if your are that you’re onto things like vodka soda and not scotch or red wine ‘cause they trigger it more). She always makes sure to fill your coffee with half decaf, knowing how the caffeine affects the jitter in your chest. 

Most of all she never judges you for it, she accepts it as part of who you are, and you remind her of how thankful you are of that every night. Her heart swells with the fact that she’s the only person you want to be around when you’re going through an attack, she knows it isn’t ideal, but knowing she’s the only one allowed to touch you makes it known that you love her, and only her. ___________________________

[buckysforever]

what bucky would be like while you’re pregnant

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU ENGAGE: i am a minor, i think it goes without saying that minors can read my work if they want to, but i do want to clarify that if you are an adult you can interact with my work (if you feel comfortable), if you are an 18+ blog you can interact with my work (if you feel comfortable, and i will not interact with yours). i only read and write fluff and angst, and small amounts of mature topics, the pinned post on my page goes more into detail. i write with black women in mind but most of my fics will have no physical description of y/n. trigger warnings are tagged! if you would like to learn more about my blog (which i highly encourage) please refer to the post on my blog titled “PLEASE READ”. thank you and happy reading! 

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trigger warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, anxiety, fluff, cursing, morning sickness (?), diet, calories, mention of showering together (?), pain (?)

word count: 872

a/n: i’m not sure what to tag the mention of showering together, i’m 99% sure it’s not smut, maybe a mention of smut, but i don’t think i implied that anything sexual was happening, so i’m not sure. if you guys could let me know, if you’re aware of what to call that so i can tag it as a trigger, that would be great. feel free to send in requests! thank you and happy reading!

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bucky’s very worried throughout the entire pregnancy. he’s always making sure you’ve eaten and drank enough for you and the mini super soldier. constantly monitoring how well you’re sleeping, massaging your feet, you’re pretty sure he has longer conversations with the obgyn then you have. it’s reassuring to know that he cares so much, but you know that it’s partially because he thinks the carrying a baby with his genes is hurting you. he isn’t wrong, your doctor did say the serum makes the baby stronger, which means it needs more energy, which means you have less energy, which means your body is more tired and can’t protect itself as well as it used to. you wouldn’t trade it for the world, bucky knows that. despite having a shitty immune system and carrying a baby that wasn’t meant for your body, you’re so happy, and that makes bucky happy. the first trimester was the worst for morning sickness, it was like clockwork everyday at 7 am. there were times you couldn’t keep dinner or lunch down and it would throw you off for the rest of the day. in order for you to get enough energy to support you and the baby, a strict diet was enforced. and when you threw up, it messed up your calorie intake for that day, but there was one thing the baby ever made you throw up. mangoes. bucky always got some when he went to the store, you were banned from the grocery store, or any store really, after what happened last time. he was nervous to take you places with lots of people while your immune system was so weak, but somehow you had managed to convince him to let you go with him after weeks of what felt like  quarantine. it had been about three minuets since you two had walked in the store, you were looking at the yogurt when you heard a sneeze. bucky’s head shot in the direction of the sound and started pulling you towards the exit, completely deserting the cart you weren’t allowed to push. he drove home, dragged you into the shower, washed you and himself twice, cleaned the clothes clothes with bleach, and made you apply hand sanitizer every hour until you went to bed. you have not been to a store since. bucky did pick the best mangoes, sometimes they’re all you want to eat, there’s no nausea after, no upset stomach, no allergic reaction. because apparently you can develop allergies while pregnant, saying goodbye to bananas was hard. the second trimester was worse than the first. you constantly were catching colds, bucky was into overprotective overdrive, the thought of being mad about not going to store was long gone, he would barley let you stand. it was getting hard to breathe, the conversation about letting you do some things for yourself was a hard one. it started a fight. but in the end he let you be a bit more independent, you guys started going on walks at night, because there’s not a lot of people. that was when things started to get better, your baby was growing quickly and by the sixth month you wanted it out. despite delivering babies for over 10 years, your doctor was not exactly sure how soon the baby could come out. it was bigger and more developed than other babies, and she thought 8 month would be a good estimate of when you might go into labor. as the third trimester started so did the braxton hicks, they are basically fake contractions, but boy did they feel real. wincing in pain, hands on your stomach or digging into your thighs, waiting for them to pass felt like an eternity. bucky was always there, holding your hand and telling you to breathe, and kissing your belly when they were over. he spent a lot of time down there, talking to the baby, telling the baby to stop kicking it mother at 3 in the morning, he wanted the baby out as much as you did. both to give you a break and so he could hold his child. it was probably about 4 in the afternoon, you had just woken up from a nap, when the strongest contraction you’ve had yet hit you like a truck. calling for bucky mid excruciating pain wasn’t an option so you waited it out, only about 30 seconds and by the send of it you were sweaty and hot. finally able to form words you yelled out his name, to which he came running, his face was priceless when you told him you think you’re in labor. he was asking a million questions while trying to get your bag’s in the car, it was pretty cute, when he finally got back to you he tried to pick you up. you protested, heavily. of course, he didn’t care and carried you to the car, making sure your seatbelt was on before giving you a kiss. 

“i can’t believe we’re doing this”, he said with a smile. you knew then it was going to be okay, uncomfortable, scared, and in pain, you knew it was going to be fine, because bucky was with you. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Training Day

AMHL – Masterlist

WARNINGS: PTSD, domestic violence & abuse, panic attack, anxiety 

“I feel like you’re torturing me now,” Y/N groaned as she put the bar back down on the bench press.

Dick chuckled. “You gotta gain some strength before I teach you, otherwise you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“You callin’ me fat, Grayson?”

His eyes grew three sizes and his jaw dropped in shock. “No, no, no, no, no. I would never!”

Then he jumped into a tangent about how beautiful he was and he loved her for how she looked and never wanted her to change, unless that’s what she wanted. And it went on and on and on.

Y/N finally took pity on him and started laughing.

“Dick, I’m just fucking with you.”

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “That was cruel.”

But she only laughed more.

“10 pushups for that,” he demanded.

Her jaw dropped. “Noooo!”

“Yeah. Come on.”

She did as he instructed, knowing she did kind of deserve it.

Afterward, he led her to the training mats. They had done weight training for about 30 minutes or so, and Dick insisted that was going to be a big part of all this. He was right: some of the self-defense moves would only hurt her if she didn’t prep her body.

But when Dick turned to find Y/N standing at the ready on the other side, his tough-love coaching style disappeared.

She looked so small and fragile, clearly nervous for the actual fight training.

Sometimes Dick forgot that Y/N wasn’t like his family or his teammates. She didn’t graduate from field work to sitting behind a computer. Hacking and computer science was her first and only exposure to this life.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing. You just…look nervous.”

“I am,” she admitted.

With that, Dick walked across the mat and planted a kiss on her lips.

He stepped back with a smile, “Ready?”

She beamed at him and nodded.

For the next half hour or so, Dick taught Y/N all the basics of self defense: how to get out of holds, where to hit an attacker for the most impact, and how to prevent herself from getting injured in the process.

“Things are going to be quicker in real life. You’re going to have to get over the feeling of panic and calm yourself down enough to properly react,” Dick explained.

Y/N nodded with her back to him as she returned to her spot on the other side of the training mats.

But she didn’t reach it before Dick surprised her with a chokehold from behind her.

Before now, Dick had been walking her through moves step by step. But he clearly was trying to prove the point that she would most likely not be expecting these attacks. And he wanted her to get used to reacting to the surprise of it all.

Except…Dick didn’t think this training tactic completely through.

Dick hadn’t taken into account that his student and girlfriend was also a victim of domestic violence.

Since she first escaped from underneath her parents’ roof, Y/N’s had improved a lot when it came to treating and handling her PTSD.

It used to be so much worse.

Loud noises would throw her into panic attacks. People just lightly touching her without her expecting it made her jump feet away. Anytime she got a whiff of alcohol that smelled even a little bit similar to her father’s preferred brand could set her off.

Over the years, it got better.

Therapy helped. Dick helped – his whole family had helped.

But Y/N knew it would always be there, waiting inside her.

And in this moment, it decided to reveal itself once again.

Y/N’s vision blurred. All she could hear was her heartbeat making its way to her ears.

It wasn’t until her entire body was trembling that Dick realized something was wrong.

He let go.

But before he even completely let go, Y/N dodged away so quickly that she almost tripped over her own feet.

She whipped around, eyes so wide. Like a deer facing a hunter, fully aware it was about to be slaughtered.  

And Dick realized how much he just fucked up.  

Without even realizing what she was doing, Y/N slowly lowered herself to the ground, not trusting that her knees to not give out at any moment.

“Y/N,” Dick whispered desperately.

It was hearing how sorry he was already that made Y/N’s eyes fill with tears.

As soon as she was shakily lowered to the ground, she hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in them.

“Can we stop?” She begged, as if she had no choice and Dick had complete control.

Her voice and sob was muffled by her knees.

“Yes, we’re stopping,” Dick immediately answered with a clear voice. "You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

But Y/N only nodded, not helping to convince Dick that his words comforted her in the slightest. 

Her entire body was trembling as she continued to squeeze her knees as tightly as she could.

Dick kneeled but didn’t move any closer to her.

“Can I…Please…Can I touch you?” He whispered.

But she shook her head.

Not because she didn’t want him to, but because she felt like she had no control over her body right now. And she had no idea how it was going to react to being touched again. 

And she was already mortified and confused and terrified.

“OK,” Dick sighed as he lowered himself to the mat as well. “I’m just going to sit here. OK? I’m not going to get anywhere near you.”

Y/N didn’t respond. But her body was still clearly trembling.

“Can you just breath for me?” Dick asked softly. "Deep breaths in, slow breaths out.”

She still doesn’t respond. But he can hear her trying to do as he asked.

Dick didn’t think he should say any more, worried that his talking was just making the whole situation worse. But then he remembered a tactic Bruce had taught him to console victims who were going into shock or scared of them.

“Can you count backwards from 100 with me?” He then asked.

“What?” She sputtered out, confusedly.

But it was good that she was clearly able to even process that he was talking to her.

“Countdown from 100,” he repeated gently. “100, 99, 98,” he started.

She eventually joined in.

When they reached 1, Y/N went quiet again.

It seemed to have worked. 

After a few minutes, Y/N finally stood up.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she whispered quickly, but it was so quiet that Dick almost didn’t catch it.

The next second, she rushed out of the cave.

Now that her PTSD had calmed down, she was clearly embarrassed.

“Y/N! Wait!” Dick called after her in a panic and jogged after her.

When they got to the main part of the manor and Y/N reached the stairs to go to the second floor, she had flown past a very confused and concerned Bruce Wayne.

Dick paused when Y/N sprinted up the stairs with her eyes blood shot and cheeks tear stained.

“What did you do, Dick?” Bruce grunted, not even considering that it could also possibly be Y/N’s fault.

Dick sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “I was showing her some self-defense…and I…I trigged her PTSD and she had a panic attack.”

“You need to be more careful,” Bruce reprimanded.

“I know, I know. It was stupid.” Dick already knew he messed up.

Bruce remained disappointed by Dick’s mistake.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Dick mumbled and passed Bruce with his head hung.

Dick returned to his childhood room, the one they always stayed in while visiting. 

The shower was already running.

He figured he should give her some time to herself and not rush into the bathroom.

Y/N was most likely crying and wanted to hide it from him. Even though she already realized Dick would know that’s exactly what she was doing.

10 minutes later, Y/N came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam and a white towel wrapped tightly around her.

Dick’s heart broke even more when he saw her red, bloodshot eyes.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, desperate for her forgiveness.

He should’ve realized that certain things in typical self-defense training could trigger her.

Bruce had taught him to always expect the unexpected. And Y/N’s PTSD should’ve be expected while he put her under such a tense and rigorous circumstance.

Y/N hung her head in shame. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dick.”

Her voice was so small, so vulnerable. Dick had to hold his breath to hear it.

“Y/N, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he insisted and he slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

Dick wanted to go to her, but he was so scared of making things worse.

“Will you please come here?” He finally asked in a whisper.

She practically tiptoed to her boyfriend, while she held her towel tightly to her body as if it were some kind of armor.

As soon as Y/N was a few inches away, Dick gently tugged her onto his lap.

He was a very tactile man, and not being able to give her physical comfort was slowly killing him. And he felt utterly useless to help her.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or sorry. I knew better than to surprise you like that. I was an idiot. What happened was my fault, OK?”

She nodded slowly.

Eventually his words would get through to her.

“Can you still train me?”

Y/N finally shocked Dick with her question.

“Of course, Y/N. Let’s just take it slower next time. I promise to be more careful.”

She nodded quickly, fully believing him and trusting him.

Now he put his arms around her, holding her to him tightly.

Dick had always been protective over her. But when she showed signs of being triggered, he went full mama bear on her. But that was also Dick as a person. He was so caring of everyone in his life. He was a big brother, a leader, a stand-in father sometimes even. 

But it often led to Y/N’s guilt when Dick felt the need to treat her like a piece of glass. But sometimes…she was. And that was OK.

“Wanna get to sleep?” He muttered into her hair.

She nodded again.

Dick carefully moved her from his lap and placed her on the bed before he stood.

Y/N watched with love in her eyes as Dick moved around the room and grabbed some of his clothes to give to her to sleep in.

What had she done to deserve him?

“I’ll give you a minute,” Dick told her as he handed the clothes to her. 

Not that he hadn’t seen her naked hundreds of times before. He was just treading carefully now. 

“Want some tea?” He asked as he walked to the door. 

“Sure,” she agreed quietly.

When Dick returned with two cups of tea, Y/N was already underneath the covers of their bed.

Dick watched Y/N as she took her first sip.

“You want to talk about it?” He was ever so careful in his tone, making sure it was obvious that Y/N didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.

“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted with a shrug.

“That’s alright though.”

Y/N sighed. “As fucked up as it sounds, I sometimes forget about all the things he used to do to me.” 

She chuckled darkly, “Guess that’s repression for ya.”

Dick winced slightly.

“He used to grab me by the throat. Constantly. Because he hated whenever I tried to talk back or fight him with words. So he made sure I couldn’t talk at all. It was all about control.”

Despite being trigged and having a panic attack earlier, Y/N talked about her tragic past without any emotion, and it sounded so casually. She was numb to the memories, but the scars manifested themselves in different ways now – and that was proven today.

Y/N looked up when Dick hadn’t said anything.

She was taken aback by how he looked as if he was going to be sick.

“I’m fine, Dick. Really.” She insisted as she cupped his cheek.

It hurt Dick to hear these things more than it hurt Y/N now. 

“You were dealing with your past all by yourself long before you met me,” Dick answered. “But I just need you to know I’m never going to let anything like that ever happen to you again.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Even if – fuck – even if something happened between us, and we weren’t together…I’d still keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Y/N smiled.

Oh, Dick. His gentleness never stopped amazing her.

“I know that, Dick. I’ve always known that.”

Before he could answer, she added, “Now enough talking. Can you just cuddle me now?”

Dick laughed at her demanding and teasing tone.

“Get over here,” he pulled her into his chest.

Soon his grasp was so soothing to Y/N’s body that she reached the ultimate level of relaxation, especially after being drained from her earlier panic.

Y/N felt Dick kiss the top of her head before she fell asleep in his arms.

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ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 9)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Nine: The Night at Sea

The second you attempt to reach behind to untie your corset, your arm spasms. The collision with the hull of the ship has left you shaken and battered and in no position to twist your body to undo the double knotted ties Seil, your handmaiden, would have tied. And your heart aches when you think of her.

You know that you shouldn’t sleep in the dirty clothes and the corset, but with the secure double knots there is no way to undo the ties yourself. And so you pull yourself into the hammock, landing face first, when your back muscles give out, into the netting tied to the wall. With a groan, you don’t even bother trying to move, and you pass out on the ship - having been through the ringer for what feels like a million times in one day.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

“Where is she?” Hunter grumbles when Tech returns to the group, looking up at the stars Hunter was using to calculate their ETA.

“Probably asleep in Echo’s hammock I'd guess.” Tech says plainly, and he watches as his sergeant’s face hardens.

“You need to learn how to follow orders.” He snaps, before going back to the map.

“Sarge,” Tech starts, “you’re displaying worrying symptoms.” He decides on. And under the hat he sees his eye twitch.

The barrage never ended, and the cannons never ceased. How much ammunition either side had left was impossible to guess. This creeping barrage was working. But only just. All they had to do was keep the separatists busy, the regs should be able to manage that at least. And rescue missions were the best kind of mission out there these days…

In the medical bay, Hunter shakes, the wookie child is long gone, and his vod have returned to keep their sergeant company while he heals. They’re angry, and resent him for the return-to-ship order from before. But the carnage that was left of Kashyyyk proved how right he was in securing the safety of Clone Force 99.

“Hunter, your hand.” Tech says looking at the cuts and mangled tissue.

“Kriffing door wouldn’t open.” He explains through drugged eyes. Thinking that the war is over. It has to be over. If not now, it has to be over soon. They can’t continue like this, there can’t be more missions like this. The war has got to be over soon.

Outside, the artillery starts firing again.

Hunter looks at Tech, watching the goggles reflect moonlight, and realises something that, in the chaos of the day, went unnoticed.

“Did Wrecker even lock the cell door?” He interrogates the shorter man in front of him.

“I don’t know.” Tech answers honestly with a shrug. “But even if he didn’t. You know he made the right call.” Hunter grunts in response.

“She’s a Aaray. A danger to us all” He says.

“We’ve been in worse predicaments.” Tech states. Watching as Hunter walks away from yet another conversation of theirs, and he wonders to himself, how long it will take for his captain to start screaming because of nightmares on this clear, calm, night at sea.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

Everything on your left side hurts. The hit from the ship has battered your skin, muscles, and bones. Sleep evades you because the only thing you can focus on is the pain. And when even laying down becomes too much, Gonk moves herself out of where she was curled on your back as you clumsy step out of the hammock, and begin to tread outside.

The three boys are asleep, and part of you chides yourself for being vulnerable in front of them. They could have thrown you in the birg - or worse. But a bigger part of yourself says that you can trust them. Probably more so than you’ve trusted anyone in your life. It’s a naive thought - and perhaps it’s built off of never having someone you can trust before, but a part deep inside of you jumps onto and clings to the idea of putting your faith in these men.

Maybe Crosshair was rough around the edges, and from what you can see, his glare stays with him while he sleeps. It makes you smile a little. And Wreckers exposed scars, they scare you, but the eye patch was so typical of the pirate stories you heard as a child, it’s like living in a fairy tale.

Someone clears their voice behind you.

It’s the Captain, or rather Hunter. Now only in his pants, and tunic, that's been bunched around his forearms in his sleep.

“Plotting something else perhaps?” He asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

“N-no,” you say, annoyed at how easily he makes you nervous. “I couldn’t sleep, I wanted fresh air, and they…” You pause, looking back at the crew. “They’re more manageable when they’re asleep.” The captain lets out a puff of air that's not in annoyance, and you take that as a small victory. And he watches when you crane your neck to look at the stars. He knows it’s because you feel awkward, but in another life, he would’ve found your curious eyes endearing.

“Am I missing something?” Crosshair asks, having woken on his own, and deciding to investigate the scuffle outside.

“Didn’t want the Aaray skulking around the ship.” Hunter answers, “nightmares?” he asks his brother, watching him shake his head no, and with that, one tension is lifted from the sergeants shoulders.

“Are you in pain?” Your voice comes out softly, and they both stare at you unabashedly. “I only mean, i just,” You go to explain. “From earlier the side of the…”

“Hull.” Hunter corrects on instinct, before chiding himself for doing so.

“The Hull, when you caught me…” You motion randomly with your hands as if that helps communicate to Crosshair what you mean, and he stares at you looking tired and vaguely annoyed.

“You’re in pain.” He tells you. And you’re a tad taken back because it hadn't shown on his face that he knew what you meant, let alone made the connection as to why you were awake and hence asked if he too, was hurting.

“I’m okay, I just wanted to…” you try to brush it off

“There’s no point in lying.” Crosshair interrupts, watching at Hunter’s features soften when he also takes in your appearance, leaning against the door, tense and radiating anxiety. He wonders if you’ve ever felt pain like this in your life. Living on a velvet cushion of upper class coruscant would call for little more than flimsiplast cuts. He watches you shrug off Crosshair's comment, intent on being the smallest problem you can possibly be. The man that Hunter was before would be reaching out for you, your messy hair, soft features, and innocence that he knows lesser men are itching to take advantage of.

“You should take that off.” Crosshair nods towards your dress and you gape at him.

“Crosshair!” Hunter barks on instinct, and not standing for the disrespect. He sees your face flush and your arms go around your waist protectively.

“Have I missed something?” A forth voice joins them outside of the bunks and Hunter inwardly groans. Now Tech is awake, what he hoped would’ve been a private nightly stroll has turned into some kind of situation report.

“Shockingly the Aaray is being uptight.” Crosshair moves to the opposite side of the doorway you’re leaning on.

“I don’t think it is fundamentally uptight to want to preserve my own modesty.” You say incredulously, and Hunter notes that you resort to your training as a lady when you become nervous. Just like his men resort to being soldiers when faced with problems.

“Crosshair!” Tech exclaims, glaring at his brother - he really needed lessons in things that are appropriate to say, and things that are not.

“I’m only asking you to take the corset off.” Crosshair says smirking, enjoying how flustered everyone is. And Hunter sees something flash in your eyes.

“Do you think you’re funny?” You snap, and the sniper stops smiling. “Is this a game to you? Clearly you have no concept of the ramifications on a woman should she ever do something like that. Or you have no concept of how dresses and corsets work - which wouldn't surprise me given your temperament.”

Hunter catches a small grin on his face, you’re alive tonight and he hates to admit that he likes it. The inference that Crosshair is too unintelligent to understand womens garments or that no women has let him close enough to understand them is both funny and potentially accurate.

“He does have a point.” Tech chimes in.

“Tech!” Hunter shouts, expecting better from him.

“I mean it might be adding pressure to areas already in pain.” He says quickly, his face as red as a zarrabak. And no one is surprised that he’s caught himself up in the conversation.

Behind all of you - Wrecker snores.

“I-I… can’t.” Your voice is small, and you’re looking at the floor, embarrassment pings in everyone's hearts when they realise that this is an important issue to you, and they’re talking about it like you’re not even present.

“We can give you private space if that's what you require.” Tech speaks up. And when you pause you can hear the waves crash in the night.

“Thank you.” You stammer out. This whole ordeal has become very embarrassing and as much as you want to deny the pain and tell the clones it’s nothing, you know both Crosshair and Tech will see right through whatever lie you construct.

“It’s, it’s just that…” You pause again. Maker if you tell them you can’t do it yourself you’re going to look as pathetic as you feel. “I would need assistance with the ties…” You mumble the last part to your bare feet that poke out under your dress. When you have the courage to look up again, all eyes are looking at Tech. The latter of the three simultaneously having decided he was most equipped for the job.

“Have at it, loverboy.” Crosshair jeers at his brother, and now both you and Tech are blushing madly.

“I’m surprised you're not jumping to the occasion.” Tech cracks back at him. And if you weren’t so self conscious in this moment you’d roll your eyes at how much they argue. Hunter remains deathly quiet.

“Unless she wants it cut off as i’m usually-” “Alright! Alright!” Tech cuts him off, and moves towards you while Crosshair snickers.

“Turn ‘round.” Hunter barks, and while you might think he’s telling you, he’s actually giving an order to Crosshair, as the trooper made no move to divert his eyes. And as Tech undoes just enough buttons to start loosening the corset he sees how taught the ties have become and yanks it towards him for leverage.

“Tech!” You squeal and gasp, trying to get away from him and he accidentally constricts you more. Sending pain shooting all over you as your injured body is put under more stress.

Hunter turns around at the sound of pain and sees both of you shaking, he knows you must be beyond embarrassed and Tech even more so. Your moss coloured dress is unbuttoned and the back pushed aside to reveal the cream corset. Hunter sighs, and pushes his brother aside.

You hear an ‘ow’ from Tech as well as what you suspect is Crosshair's hand connecting with the back of his shorter brother's head. As they walk away you shiver as you realize the captain is standing behind you.

“You’re fine.” He says plainly. Nimble fingers working at the knots quickly, you shake in the absurdity of it all, and the feeling of Hunter exhaling into your hair and neck as he works.

“This is so unbecoming.” You mumble to yourself in shame, jerking when you feel the tips of his hair brush against your skin.

“I recall you saying ‘fuck’ earlier.” Hunter scoffs at you, “I think you’re past unbecoming.” silently praising himself when one knot becomes free, whoever tied them must have known what they were doing because it feels more complicated than half the sail ties on the Muraduer. Then again, your activities of the day probably didn't help the situation.

“Captain, you’re basically undressing me.” You tell him, looking over your shoulder just in time to watch him still at your words. The part of his face you can see in this position is covered by the tattoo, but what the moon and stars manage to light up is stunning nevertheless.

“If you’re worried about modesty, I can’t see any more of your skin than I could before.” He reassures you, and you’re beginning to wonder what kind of man he really is. Hunter is so tender at this moment, so gentle. And yet you know what lies underneath.

Technically what he just told you is a lie, he can see the expanse of your back, and parts of your shoulders. But the way your brows creased in concern as you look back at him makes lying worth it as you relax a little bit. Trying to be annoyed at you for causing him grief, he goes back to the knots.

You gasp and clutch your chest as you feel him loosening the string as the last knot comes free. And you see the shock in Hunter's face when you whip around so he barely catches a glimpse of the slip that sits underneath the corset.

Maker, he thinks to himself, you’re so disheveled and scared by a simple act. He grits his teeth at the thought of how Nython would treat you, someone like you needed soft and gentle touches, words of affirmation. Hunter’s grinding his teeth together as he realizes the pride Nython would have in hurting someone as defenceless as yourself.

But then he thinks about how you held your own against his own crew today. And the captain of the Havoc Marauder thinks you’re not as defenceless as you look.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter VII | Raul Mendes

                                               *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Oh hi, this is the seventh chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. I can’t believe we are already halfway there! Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 5.5K+

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, , man who can’t take a hint, angst (if you squint!), things might get hot in this (not smut though, sorry guys!). And Raul fluff, that’s a very important warning.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: August 12th, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was nervous.

Y/N knew he was anxious about something the moment he stepped foot into her apartment. They’ve known each other for so long, they’ve spent so much time together, that she was able to tell his fidgeting mannerisms and stiff shoulders from miles away. But under their current situations, him being this nervous could be a bad sign. He could’ve been discovered or something like that, which meant they’d have to leave the building in seconds and run as far away as they could.

Before she could stop herself, her eyes roamed all the expense of his body, looking for bleeding or any potential injury she could find, but none could be detected. Raul had left an hour ago for a morning run, Janet decided this was their day off since they’ve been working like crazy, so she forbid them from working on anything. So when he left after having a late breakfast with her, she wasn’t even worried about him being in danger, but seeing him all nervous was making her tense.

“Hi, doll” he said trying to sound casual but his voice sounded almost mechanic.

“Hey” she greeted from her spot on the couch, carefully placing her bookmark between the pages of the novel she picked up the other day “is everything okay?”

Raul dropped his keys and phone by the door as he nodded, moving behind the counter on the kitchen to fill a glass of water for him as he used that to calm himself down a bit “yeah, I just- do you want to go out tonight with me?”

“Uh, sure, is that all?”

Raul seemed surprised at that “So, uh, you’d go out with me? Just the two of us?”

“Of course, we’ve done that before” she said still trying to understand his reaction. Was he asking her out on a date? And if he was, wasn’t it obvious she’d go?

“Yeah, I know, but this is different, I think we both know things changed between us, sweetheart, and this could be a chance for us to forget our reality for a second and just let things happen, maybe?” the normally confident, borderline cocky demeanor he normally carried around was gone. His body language showed clearly an almost shy side of him that Y/N wasn’t aware existed.

And she did know what he was talking about. They’re always close and intimate, he’s a very touchy kind of person and that’s definitely his love language, so that wasn’t knew. But spending the night and waking up cuddled to his chest was new, different in a good way, and that left her crush into growing by the second. It was getting harder to ignore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t have it in her to avoid it that much anymore.

“Yeah, I’d like that” and with that his face lit up completely and she flashed him a bright smile.

“Yeah?” he asked as he approached her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she nodded “good, saw this really nice restaurant by the docks, it’s Italian”

“Oh great, what time do you want to leave? Just so I can get ready” she said looking up at him as he stood up to his full height.

Raul starting pulling his shirt off as he moved to the hallway leading to her bathroom “Seven works for you?”

“It does it’s perfect, I only need to help Celine out, but I’m having lunch with her to do that” Y/N replied as she forced herself to focus on the book in her hands and not the perfectly designed muscles on his abs as he leaned on the doorframe to the bathroom.

She heard Raul chuckled as he closed the door, not locking right after. Y/N would need a few hours to get herself together if she wanted to survive this ‘date’.

-*-

She ended up spending most of her afternoon with Celine and trying to calm down. If Celine noticed, she didn’t express anything, maybe too worried about her little mission tonight, but she was a good distraction. Trying to explain the best use for all of the equipment she receive and discussing the plan over and over again. Then she was told to leave and rest, boss’ order since it was their little day off.

Y/N got back to her apartment at around 5 p.m. finding Raul napping on her couch, the little fluffy blanket she had cuddled close to his chest. She had to hold back a coo not to disturb his sleep, and physically stopping herself from playing with his hair or caressing his face. So she decided to shower while he rested, so when he was up he could have the bathroom all to himself.

Before leaving the bathroom, she peaked her head outside of the door to check if Raul was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, which he was. So she took that to her advantage as she crossed to her room with only a towel wrapped around herself as she tried to figure out what she could possibly wear. She only packed really basic outfits, and sure, she didn’t really need to dress up and Raul’s seen her with every single type of outfit, so if she got all dolled up it wouldn’t be the first time or actually impactful.

But bless Y/N from weeks ago from deciding to throw a delicate sundress amongst all the gear she brought in her suitcase. It was a backless dress, with spaghetti straps holding the sunflower dress on her body. She felt pretty and comfortable in it, and it was enough to convince her this was it. A soft knock coming from her bedroom door brought her back to reality as she ran her hands down the front of the dress nervously.

“Yeah?” was all she said.

“Can I come in?” Raul asked before actually opening the door, only doing so after getting her consent “oh wow”

“What?” she felt a little self conscious under his gaze, she knew she’s been out with so many beautiful woman and she hated this stupid insecurity rising in her chest, but she could really help it.

All of her stupid questioning and anxiety were quickly washed away when she looked at him, finding Raul speechless and still staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

“Shit, you’re gorgeous, holy fuck, come here, doll” he said as he offered her his hand, which she gladly took as he pulled her closer, twirling her around blowing a low whistle “you’re so ducking beautiful, I love this dress on you”

Y/N shook her head giggling “oh stop it”

“I’m serious, baby, you’re just so perfect, sometimes I don’t even believe you’re real” as his praises slipped out of his lips she felt her face getting hotter and hotter.

“Oh God, you’re such a sap” all she could do was cover her face with her hands.

He gave her million dollar smirk pulling her hands away to look at her properly “only for you, sweetheart”

Y/N shook her head “I still need to put on some makeup” she warned him and he nodded, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Take your time” he then added “I’ll change real quick and I’ll wait for you to finish getting ready, yeah?”

“Okay” was all she mumbled before she saw him leaving her apartment to walk down the hall to his.

She grabbed her little bag of makeup items deciding to do something a little bit nicer than her very basic everyday routine. Y/N padded her way still barefoot to her bathroom, propping herself up to sit on the sink and get closer to the mirror, placing her items nicely next to her. Just as she decided what she was going for, she heard Raul coming in. She let him know she was in the bathroom and she wouldn’t take long, but to her surprise, as she was prepping her skin, he slipped into the bathroom silently.

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly looking at him through the mirror.

He was standing right behind her as he lifted his hands to place them in her waist, moving her hair to one shoulder to another, placing a gentle kiss to the newly exposed skin. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as she fought to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but he was making it hard. His cologne making her feel lightheaded, add that to his soft touches and eyes locked with hers through the mirror.

He was wearing a silky black button up, with the first few open, most of his chest exposed, his silver chain peaking through. His classic tight black jeans and his curls as perfect as ever. Raul looked like a fucking dream and being so gentle she felt like this was a dream, and it it weren’t for the cold of his rings against her slightly heated skin, she would be sure this was just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Yeah, just like watching you get ready” he mumbled placing another kiss to the place where her shoulder and neck met, making her let out a soft sigh.

Y/N trapped her bottom lip between her teeth as she met his gaze through the glass “you’re a little shit, you know that?” and he only chuckled lowly in his chest, shaking his head “let me finish so we can go!”

“I’m not stopping you” he said with a teasing tone and his smirk, but leaned away from her exposed skin, his hand never leaving her waist “but I guess I’ll behave cause I’m a good boy

“Of course you are” she chuckled, shaking her head, as she got back to her work.

She carefully applied a few items of makeup not wanting to look like it was too much, and every once in a while, she glanced back at Raul that stood patiently behind her. His thumb rubbing slow circles at her waist from time to time as he watched every move attentively. He smiled gently at her when he noticed her staring, a slight blush coating his cheeks.

“You look so pretty, doll” he admitted at she leaned forward to apply some mascara “so so pretty”

Y/N giggled shaking her head “did you hit your head or something? What happened to you today? You’re clingier and sweeter than ever”

Raul chuckled “I’m just enjoying my day off with my best girl, that’s all, I’m just happy and glad we got to do this” and with that she almost turned into a puddle “and just wanted to remind you how pretty you are”

“Thank you, darling” she meant it and she turned her head to place a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling her face heating up considerably “almost done, only a little highlighter and lipgloss”

Raul nodded as she finished applying the products and setting with a spray, before turning around to climb out of the counter. But before she could jump to get off, he had his arms around her waist to pick her up and carrying her to her bedroom as she squealed after laughing at him. He carefully placed her back on her feet at the bottom of her bed with a smile on his face.

“There you go”

Y/N laughed patting his chest softly “thank you” and then she turned to grab her shoes and her purse “do you think I should grab a jacket?”

“It’s probably better since it’s by the waters and we might need to walk a bit to reach the place I have in mind” he said with a shrug as he bit his lip “you can take mine, the leather one by the door”

“Are you sure?” she asked turning to fully face him completely ready, and she swears she saw his breath hitching.

“Yeah yeah, of course” he was quick to nod and she smiled at him in response.

“Okay!” Y/N practically hoped to the from door to grab the look, throwing it over her shoulders without actually putting it on and she waited for him.

Raul trailed behind her like a trained puppy chuckling, extending his hand towards her “you’re absolutely gorgeous”

“And you’re insanely pretty” she added as she interlaced their fingers letting him pull her closer to his body, his warmth radiating through his opened button down and the soft material of her summer dress.

“You think so?” Raul asked with a smirk and she nodded trying to hold back a laugh with an eye roll “good, pretty enough for you?”

Her eyes widened as she realized that behind his smirk he was actually curious, maybe even a tiny bit insecure, which made zero sense to her“Are you kidding me? You’re literally like a model of something”

“Thank you, sweetheart” he smiled genuinely, placing a kiss on her forehead before pulling her towards the door “now come on, promised you dinner”

-*-

The ride to the docks was pleasant, with him goofing around and singing horribly off tune to whatever song come up on the radio (and even though he would never admit it alive, he actually had a pretty decent singing voice, while Shawn was the singer, Raul wasn’t bad himself at all). He had his hand gently placed on her thigh, not high enough to make things weird, instead it was a comforting weight keeping her grounded and lightheaded at the same time.

They couldn’t park next to the restaurant, having to find a spot on the parallel street alongside everyone else who wanted to venture on the stores and diners. Raul was quick to hop out of the car and open the door for her, to which she just laughed and kissed his cheek as a thank you, locking her arm with his as they walked around the block.

The place he picked was a small cozy restaurant, looking all warm and homey as soon as the stepped foot in it. They were quickly whisked away by the host and walked to their table as they sat on a booth by the window, watching all the boats and movement from the street. Y/N sat across from him so they could both have enough room to feel comfortable.

“This place is so cute” she was the first to break the silence that installed as the walked in.

“You liked it?” his shoulders relaxing as she nodded her head cheerfully.

She looked around before turning back to face him “I loved it, never could’ve imagined we’d be in a place like this under this circumstances, but I’m glad we are”

“Me too, I wish I would’ve asked you out on a different situation, maybe a few months ago” he said scratching the back of his neck looking anywhere but her face “and I know this isn’t a proper date and stuff, but I think it’s a great start so we could figure out where to take this, but if you want it to be a date it’s fine by me! It’s just- I-“ Y/N couldn’t let him get into his head, so she gently placed her hand on top of the one he had resting on the table.

“Hey” she called softly as he finally looked at her, so she shot him a small smile “we don’t have to label anything for now, yeah? We don’t need to worry about this right now, we have other stuff in our heads, okay? We have all the time we could ask for and I don’t mind waiting a bit longer”

Raul smiled at her and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle (an old habit of his, it started when she punched a guy in middle school for bothering Peter, he kissed each bruise and swollen knuckle he could, saying she was so brave and so strong) “yeah, I’m normally not his nervous, and I know I technically don’t need to be, it’s just you’re too important to me for me to fuck things up”

“You won’t, don’t worry, yeah?” she offered and he nodded “now, let’s discuss an important matter, what are we having?”

“Great question and I have no fucking clue” he admitted and she laughed at him.

They ended up picking a plate for them to share since it was a big portion as the talked, and time seemed to fly around them. They’re always so easy going, conversations flowed so naturally and it felt so right, they both ended up forgetting why they’re so nervous to begin with. This wasn’t a date date, it was just an excuse to understand where they stood and how they wanted to proceed, and they’ve known each other for years, it’s not like they had to make amazing first impressions if they wanted this to work.

They decided against ordering dessert since Y/N claimed she saw an ice cream shop down the block and that she was pretty much stuffed anyway. So Raul payed the bill against her protests, but she ended up giving in with a promise she’d be the one to buy their ice creams. They walked hand in hand down the small street that was surrounded by people, and as she claimed, there was this beautiful ice cream shop.

They placed their orders as she paid and he grabbed both of their treats, and ended up deciding to just eat outside on the light breeze to watch the boats and the water. They walked to the end in the street, leaning into the small wall that kelts kids from falling or jumping on the water. They’re just lightly chatting about random stuff, recounting old embarrassing stories when she visibly saw Raul’s demeanor change drastically.

But before she could ask what’s wrong or turn around for potential triggers, she felt a calloused hand on the exposed skin of her back. When she whipped her head around to see whoever was standing behind her she was surprised to be met with the man himself. Geonoff Reyes was standing right behind her.

“Oh hello, Y/N, how are you?” his voice made her stomach churn.

“Oh my God, hi!” she smiled politely turning completely to face him, her back now pressed to Raul’s front, unconsciously moving away from the man’s gross touch and into Raul’s warm chest “I’m okay, you remember him, right, love?”

She didn’t need to turn around for Raul to know she was talking to him “oh yeah, hey man, how have you been?” he had an arm around Y/N’s waist in a second, bringing her even closer to him and she went gladly, the weight of him on her comforting.

“I’ve been good, working a lot, trying to expand my business”

Y/N squealed softly in a fake excitement “Oh that’s awesome!”

“Yeah, congrats, man” Raul said with a smile he wasn’t even sure how he managed to fake.

“Thank you, guys, it’s been hard but it’s worth it” Reyes’ said with a smirk on his face “are you guys here on a date or something? I’m not interrupting anything, right?”

“Oh no, it’s okay, we’ve been down here for a while now, but yeah, Raul has been trying to get me to come down here for a while so he made it a date night and I couldn’t really say ‘no’” she explained as she placed her hands on his bicep, holding him in place.

“And are you liking it so far?” his slightly annoyed tone didn’t go unnoticed by Raul, as he glanced at the arm he had wrapped around Y/N as if it was something revolting.

“Oh yes, it’s amazing, really, such a beautiful view” she added pointing to the boats.

“Agreed, but you’re a a better view” Geonoff chuckled at his own flirtations joke and Y/N chuckled softly when in reality she wanted to puke “well, in case you ever feel like it, I own a couple of boats, so I could take you on a ride if you wanted”

Raul almost lost his temper there, but he felt Y/N slightly squeezing his muscle and he forced himself to relax and to keep his cool.

“Oh thank you, but I’m a little afraid, rather be here on land where I know I’m safe” she said with a sweet smile, but she had a bitter taste on her mouth.

“In case you ever change your mind, you have my number” he added with a wink “I gotta get going, have a meeting in my yatch now”

“Have a nice night, man, good luck with your business” Raul forced himself to speak up and Geonoff looked up at him almost as if he had forgotten he was there and flashed him a smile, but not without looking him up and down with disgust.

“Oh yes! Have a great night” Y/N waved politely “Don’t let us keep you from getting to your meeting, wouldn’t want you getting late”

“Good night, drive home safely, yes?” Geonoff said, reluctantly peeling his eyes from Y/N’s figure.

“Of course, I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry” Raul said kissing her hair and she giggled in response.

Geonoff waved before walking in the area she supposed was where he’d climb on his yatch, and only then Y/N noticed the man in suit surrounding him, heavily armed. When he was finally far enough she let ou a breath she didn’t know she was holding, melting completely into Raul’s chest. He held her tighter so she wouldn’t slip.

“Come on, it’s getting late, my love, let’s get you home” Raul said pulling her in the direction to their car.

The whole way home Raul didn’t utter a single word and Y/N was still processing everything, so they both sat in silence, the only noise was coming from the soft purr of the engine and the low music coming from the radio. As he parked oh the garage, they both got out of the car and moved to the elevator almost automatically, still without speaking up, mostly due to possibly leaking some information.

As if he could read his mind, when she started breathing a bit heavier due to the stressful situation and the weird vibe they had between them, Raul quietly slipped his hand in hers, giving it a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. She then left a breath she didn’t know she was holding, stepping out of the elevator as it hit their floor and dragging him behind her like a puppy to enter her place.

“Are you okay?” Raul asked as soon as she locked the door and turned to face him.

She nodded leaving her shoes by the door, alongside her purse and hanging her (his) leather jacket “Yeah, just a bit shocked, you know? Wasn’t expecting him to be there, Celine’s been following him for the thing he had, but we didn’t know he’d have a meeting on a boat”

“Yeah, sorry about that” he mumbled mimicking her actions as he scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong, honey” Y/N said finally actually looking at him, noticing the prominent frown on his face, a small pout on his overly pink lips “hey, it could’ve happened to anyone and anytime, you couldn’t have known”

Raul huffed a breath shaking his head as he plopped down on the couch, running a hand on his hair “yeah, but this was one of our only chances to relax for the past weeks and he ruined it everything”

“He didn’t ruin everything” she was quick to stop him, sitting down beside him, tucking her legs under her body as she rested her arm on the backrest of the small couch, stretching a bit to place her hand on his shoulder “I had a lovely time and I honestly can’t remember when was the last time I actually had this much fun on a non-date date”

Raul turned his face slightly to place a gentle kiss on her hand “really? You’re not just lying to make me feel better?”

She gasped feigning offense “what do you take me for?”

“A liar” he stated without blinking, and she was quick to try to get up and make a dramatic scene, but he was faster to wrap his long fingers on her wrist near his face, pulling her back down and in his lap as he laughed “come on, doll, it was just a joke”

“You're an idiot” she said laughing trying to climb out of his lap, but the arm that was wrapped around her waist stopped her.

Raul shook his head “no, no, stay here, sweetheart, and we’ve already discussed this” he said looking pointedly at her, but the small grin playing on his lips gave him away and she shook her head “Yes, I am an idiot, but I’m your idiot”

“I don’t mind that” she said with a shrug and he smiled at her.

“Good thing you don’t” he chuckled, comfortable hand on her back as he drew random shapes on the exposed skin of her back making her shiver slightly “you know, the jacket looked really good on you”

Y/N huffed a small laugh shaking her head“Yeah? Might steal it”

“You shouldn’t announce it, silly, but I have to admit, you could probably steal my whole closet and I still wouldn’t be mad at you” he said turning her in his lap to face him and making her properly straddle him “you look too good in my clothes for that” he added voice slightly lower.

If Y/N had been drinking water she would’ve choked, but she tried to keep her face as straight as possible “you're such a flirt”

He then laughed “Only for you, doll”

“Oh shut up, you literally flirt with yourself on reflexes and might have flirted with the dog we saw earlier” Y/N pointed resting her hands on his chest as she laughed.

But Raul shook his head trying to hold himself from chuckling “well, it’s not intentional, didn’t know you were jealous of my own reflection”

“I'm not the jealous one here, darling” she had a teasing glint in her eyes, but he didn’t even hesitate before admitting, knowing denying would be ridiculous at this point.

“What do you want me to do? Everyone wants you, I can’t help it sometimes” he said and Y/N arched a brow at him “okay, okay, most times, but you’re just so fucking pretty and smart, and talented and good and of course I get jealous”

She was left slightly speechless. Sure he always complimented her, about pretty much everything but they’re normally casually thrown, here and there, but since they weren’t so directly she was able to brush it off with a joke. But never so many in a row and looking her straight in the eye. Y/N looked down, dropping her hands on her lap and fidgeting with her ring.

But then she felt his hand tilting her head slightly up so she could look him in the eye, her whole face burning up, and he smiled so sweetly at her she was even slightly breathless. His hand came to rest on her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheeks gently “did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, no” she was quick to add “no, you’re just-”

His voice was quiet when he inquired “What?”

“So sweet and-” she sighed looking around and shook her head.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was like honey, all warm and making her feel tingly as she looked down at him again and she didn’t know what to do.

Raul was staring at her lips and they’re suddenly too close, she didn’t even notice how close to his face she was, her noses almost touching, and maybe they gravitated closer to each other unconsciously, almost like magnets. But she wasn’t complaining. Her mind having a tiny short circuit and she got lost in his eyes.

He leaned forward a bit more, giving her a tiny eskimo kiss, their lips brushing “Am I reading this wrong?” his voice an octave lower and she shook her head, leaning in the rest of the way.

She caught his lips in a tentative kiss, hands splayed on his chest, not fully confident on it, but all of her self doubts flew out of the window as he sighed happily kissing her back, pulling her even closer to him and keeping her flush against his chest with a hadn’t around her waist. She literally felt like she was on the moon, her head spinning as he enveloped her in everything him.

His hand gently caressing her face, his other one on her waist, his cool rings a stark contrast to the heated skin exposed by the low-cut back of her dress. His smell was everywhere, his thighs under him and the soft fabric of his silky shirt. Raul didn’t hesitate to slot her bottom lips between his two, deepening the kiss and taking control of it.

All this years, all his pent up emotions taste on his tongue as he swept it over her soft glossy lips, and she was quick to open her mouth to him. Bringing one of her hands to tangle on the small curls at the base of his neck, pulling on the soft chocolate curls and he could not hold back the small whine that left his lips and she swallowed it. The soft strokes of his tongue against her making her want to his him forever.

But as if he sensed it, he pulled back placing a long kiss to her lips and trailing his mouth in slow wet kisses down her neck “can't believe I waited this long for this to happen” but Y/N only hummed in response, too lost in the feeling and trying to catch her breath, pulling his hair a little harder and he let out a deep groan “fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me”

She then titled his head up by his hair, before glueing their lips back together, his hand dropping to her exposed thigh and her breath hitched in her throat. But before things could go any further, she heard a strong knock on her door, making her snap her head to look at the front door of her apartment.

“Y/N, sweetie, I need help” she barely recognized Celine’s voice in the fake sweetened tone she used for her cover.

“Oh shit, they must be back from the mission” she whispered as she turned to Raul with wide eyes and he looked completely blissed out “what are we going to do?”

“Honey, is your boyfriend in there? Hope you’re both decently dressed” Celine called with a teasing tone and it didn’t seem fake at all.

Raul held her face in his hand trying to get her to focus and said it in a hushed tone “it's okay, go open the door to her and we don’t have to say anything just yet, we can talk about this later, yeah? Everything’s fine, I just need a second to- uh, you know, calm myself down a bit” he added the last part a bit shyly and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“He's here but we’re decent” she shouted back with a fake laugh as she scrambled out of his lap, leaning down a bit to arrange his curls and cleaning the excess gloss that transferred onto his lips “Coming, darling, you want me to kick him out?” she offered shooing him out of the couch and aligning the throw pillows to make it less obvious.

“No, no, he can stay, it’s just Trevor again” Celine came up with the stupidest excuse she could think of.

Raul nodded to her as he hid behind the kitchen counter, casually grabbing a beer. So she took a deep breath and tried getting herself together before unlocking the door, being met with Celine looking at her suspiciously in casual attire.

“Oh hi, come in” Y/N said as she straightened her dress and pulling the door more open, watching as Celine stared her up and down but not saying a thing about her slightly disheveled state.

Instead she looked at Raul by the kitchen counter and said “Jack's coming with Tom in a sec” and sat down on the couch.

Y/N felt Raul’s gaze on her, but instead she just turned to close the door and then sitting by Celine, trying to ignore those damn butterflies on her stomach.

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[ruby-whistler]

therapy psa

hey there! have you ever said, “(character) needs to go to therapy! they need to get them help they need” in fandom context? 

that’s cool! nothing wrong with that! i used to say and still say that a lot both before and after i went into therapy, because to put it simply, characters in nowadays’ media face a lot of very traumatizing and stressful situations in quick succession. however before i got my own treatment i had a lot of very confusing thoughts about what therapy actually entails, so as someone who has been going through cognitive-behavioural treatment (for ptsd and anxiety) for about a year, i’d like to perhaps just inform people who are unsure about the concept.

so uh, welcome to my essay! the gist of it is:

1. what a therapist does and doesn’t do 2. why that matters when talking about therapy or writing about it

just a quick note, again, that i am not licenced or professional or anything of that sort. i have an interest in psychology, but i’ve picked all of this stuff up by observing my own psychotherapist. if you feel like you need professional help, please reach out and try to schedule an appointment close to where you live.

1. so... what is therapy?

let me preface this by saying the main point of this post, which i will probably be repeating a couple of times throughout this: therapy =/= emotional support. your therapist isn’t there to hug you and tell you everything will be alright. so, what does a therapist do?

- professional diagnosis

your therapist will most likely give you sheets of paper to fill out at your first appointment, ask you questions, give you tasks to complete, psychoanalyze you and diagnose you. they will find out exactly what is going on with you; after all, they’ve been to school for that and as much as you might feel lost in your problems, they know what they are called, why they happen and how to solve them.

- instructions

the psychologist will not “therapize” you on the spot. think of it as piano lessons; you come there once to twice per two months for a one to (rarely) four hour session. most appointments sit around the one hour mark. much like on a piano session, you show off your progress in that one hour and talk about what things you’re having difficulty with. your therapist will then give you advice as to what you should try to do, and send you off for a few months to deal with life.

your therapist, and this is hard to swallow but important, will not coddle you. if you keep bringing up a problem over and over again because it seems large to you, but they keep changing the theme to something else, you might even get frustrated. but a (good) therapist knows more about your brain than you do. they’re not there to validate your feelings, they’re there to help get rid of the ones that stop you from functioning normally.

what they will do, is go; “hey. stop focusing on that so much. i know it makes your life hard, but it’s part of a larger problem. from an objective perspective, you should shift your attention to this issue and solve it instead. if it keeps happening, you do the breathing and mental exercises i taught you, but the only way to stop it is to try and resolve this underlying problem.”

a therapist 99% of the time will not have an emotional attachment to you. you’re a name in their many alphabetically sorted files from which they take out yours and check through their notes before each session. then they will help you solve your issues by explaining the things happening in your brain and instructing on how to fix them. nothing less or more. you will usually not have an attachment either, because that’s not the point of going to therapy. therapy isn’t emotional support. 

- further help

if your mental health issues/mental illnesses cross a certain line, your therapist will direct you to a psychiatrist for further help such as medicine or other kinds of treatment. most therapist do cognitive-behavioural therapy, which “helps people learn how to identify and change destructive or disturbing thought patterns that have a negative influence on behavior and emotions.” however, in intense cases this is not enough. your psychotherapist will help you get the additional treatment you need.

another thing they can do is legal things! documents, things to give to your school, job, the authorities, other technical things. they are a higher authority when it comes to a lot of things, and can make your life easier.

- other

this doesn’t mean you can’t talk about life or must be all objective or only talk about the negatives. your therapist will often try to get you to view your issues in a more positive light, ask about other things that make you happy or distract you. you are pretty much free to ramble to them! they’re happy to know, and if it makes you feel better, there is no need to be all gloomy at your therapist appointments. if your therapist is alright with you rapping the entirety of hamilton at some point, or you explaining c!dream’s arc on the dream smp, feel free. if you feel happy talking about something, that’s good! you have something to latch onto and distract yourself from the hell in your brain. 

i’ve learned that thinking about things that give you comfort when things get rough is a big part of cognitive-behavioural treatment, in order to stop that good ol’ thought spiral of anxiety.

2. why is this important to know?

well, i think a thing many people overlook when talking about fictional characters going into therapy is the fact that,, therapy by itself often isn’t enough.

i asked my therapist a few days ago what my family could do when i’m having an anxiety attack. she replied, “they can be there for you. they can keep up conversation, distract you from the stressor, assure you that nothing bad is really happening and that they care about you.”

this is something really important that people forget; emotional support does wonders. your friends, family, whoever, if they provide support it’s suddenly much less terrifying to go through the healing process.

a character being sent to therapy and left to fend for themselves is not a happy ending. it’s not going to heal them quickly, it will be extremely difficult to go through all that on their own. the more the people who care about you understand your struggles and try to be there for you, the less scary it gets. they’ll ground you, they’ll hug you, they’ll make you a mug of hot chocolate and they’ll hold your hand and say “everything’s ok. everything will be ok”. because the mental harm in your brain is more often than not a consequence of things being not ok in the past. remembering that it is ok now is important. having emotional support can both remind your that it’s all in your head, and assure you that your feelings are valid and people will be there for you for as long as it takes for things to finally be ok, or as ok as they can be.

as much as professional help is very important, this is vital to the healing process. having people be there for you and just having people who support you in general. 

i think people should put more weight on that than just “character needs therapy.” character needs therapy and emotional support. these two go together, and character needs both. you might be, or try to be strong, but it’s comforting to be.... well, comforted. “get them the help they need” no. get them the help they need and then on top of that provide the help they need. 

that’s all. just something i thought was important to remember.

- ruby

[screechthemighty]

An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid.  In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

[quietborderline]

An Open Letter To Fandom (and the BioWare fandom, specifically),

TL;DR:

1. Fandom creators are not trained monkeys. We are not some corporate entity mass producing content. We are passionate fans, of all ages, same as you, who just want to share our love of the source material with the world, same as you. We are full of anxiety and awkwardness, same as you. We can feel things and have emotions, same as you. We're people. Real people. Please treat us accordingly.

2. If you, too, are discouraged by all the bullshit out there, then come say hello. My inbox is always open. I promise we are not all trolls. We are not all hateful, obnoxious assholes in disguise. And we are not all fake as shit takers who don't know how to give. Some of us are just normal, good people who love the content as much as you do and want to squee with you about it. Find us. We are out here, I promise.

Now, I want to tell you all a little story about my return to fandom just over a year ago. But first, a bit of backstory: I've been kicking around fandom for a LONG time now. About 25-30 years. At least 25 of them as an active writer/creator or whatever you want to call it.

See, I come from the RP side of fandom. So, as a creator, I'm pretty used to small, tight-knit communities that almost never had any outside audience. We created stuff with and for each other only.

That became exhausting when all the various platforms we were using decided to kick us out (I'm not gonna get into all that fandom history, as it's been documented many times over by people far smarter and more articulate than myself). Because, remember, right now I'm talking pre-AO3 times. Fandom was scattered across all different journal sites and other platforms and communities. And while I was always, always writing I almost never shared my own work, only the logs and stuff I wrote with others as part of the RPGs.

This will all come together, I promise...

For the sake of condensing this story I'm gonna skip a bit, and fast forward to 2017 and my official entrance into the BioWare fandom.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, friends.

We need to have a talk.

Because this fandom is a fucking disaster. Like I said, I've been participating in and lurking around fandom spaces for 25-30 years now. I've seen some shit, okay. I have never in all that time seen such a fucking cesspool of misery and hate disguising itself as a fandom.

Not EVER. In all that time.

Not in my personal experience, at least.

I have thoughts about why this is. You've heard of the 1% theory of fandom, have you not? If not, you can read about it here on Fanlore. It is great and, usually, very accurate. But BioWare, we have a problem. And I've decided that problem is one of two things: Either our fandom is just fucking backwards, and our 99% is the truly awful ones and our 1% are decent humans. OR. Our 1% is just SO FUCKING UNBEARABLE that our 99% is scared or bullied into total silence.

I really hope it's the latter, otherwise that's just depressing as shit.

And let me tell you something: I don't abide bullies well at all.

If you know me in any capacity... be it from the olden RP days, or my fic/writing, or just general Tumblr fandom stuff, or GISH, or my mental health blog, or theater and real life, or whatever... I think it's fair to say, I'm a decent and kind person? I'm a bumbling idiot, I will give you that, and I have a wicked case of imposter syndrome sometimes because 99% of people are smarter than me in ways that are extremely frustrating to me as a perfectionist lunatic person...

ANYWAY. I digress.

I'm not an asshole.

I reach out to people, I try to be supportive, I give as much of myself as I can. I act a fool out here not just because I am one, but because I want the people like me who hid away thinking they could never be good enough to know that they are. You can be a bumbling idiot, and you can keep fucking shit up, and you can take four goddamn years to stubbornly finish one stupid work of fanfic... and no one cares.

What people care about is your heart. Are you a good fucking person, yes or no? Do you actually give a shit about the people around you?

Or do you just want them to give a shit about you.

If some of you acted in the real world the way you act online, you would be laughed out of existence. In ANY space. Nowhere would be "safe" because you would still be a piece of shit. And that's the appeal for some people, I get that. The anonymity of the internet gives them the ability to say and do all the horrible things they wouldn't do IRL (absolutely fucking HILARIOUS, btw, how that's one of the things at least some of them get their panties in such a twist about, too, but that's a whole different rant for a whole different day). I don't understand it, but I get it. Only that warps everyone else's view of what fandom or other spaces/communities are actually like.

And what sort of behavior is acceptable in those spaces.

So I am here to tell you, this fucking bullshit is not acceptable.

For example, using my current most active fandom, I have a list a mile along of complaints about various aspects of the Mass Effect franchise. Some of them extremely minor, some of them a little less so. Do you know what being an obnoxious asshole to other fans, and in fan-specific spaces, about those complaints does to help anyone or anything? Jack and shit. It doesn't do ANTHING. Literally the only thing that accomplishes is making that space uninhabitable for people who do not share my opinion, or who don't care to focus on the negativity, or blah blah blah a million other fucking reasons.

You are more than entitled to have whatever opinion you damn well please. But if 99.9% of what you want to do is hate on something, make your own "Hate On This Thing" place and invite all your fellow trolls and haters. Have a whole fucking goddamn party, I don't give a shit. I'll even buy you the drinks. Just leave the rest of us alone.

You're toxic waste and I'm sick of looking at you.

Some of you are literally children and I forgive you, because you don't know any better and clearly aren't being taught any better. But some of you are supposedly in your 20s and 30s etc. are you're just pieces of literal human garbage. And at least in part you're the ones teaching the younger crowd how to be smaller pieces of human garbage. Because you're trying to be "cool" or something?

I don't even fucking know but if so god that's so pathetic it makes me insane LOL but I guess that's another rant for another day because I'm getting way off topic here...

When I first started posting BH&R in 2017 after BioWare announced they were giving up on MEA, BECAUSE THE ENTIRE FANDOM IS A DUMPSTER FIRE FULL OF BULLIES AND ASSHOLES do you know what one of my first experiences of feedback was? Someone telling me I'm horrible and problematic and blah blah blah for fetishizing two Hispanic characters. Because my relationship tags were Scott/Reyes and Scott/Vega. This person knew jack shit about me, and I'm almost positive they hadn't even read any of my story because I'm not sure Reyes had even appeared in it yet. Vega certainly hadn't, aside from maybe his name. And they certainly had no way of knowing that MY Vega is aspec, because I hadn't shared any of Sleeping With Ghosts yet... the list goes on, but basically this person made a whole shit ton of assumptions and, in the name of "Wokeness," sent me some less than friendly anons here on Tumblr.

And, I won't lie, that is a part of why I stopped updating for so long.

Because I let some dumbass get in my head.

This is nothing new. This sort of thing happens all the time now.

This is unacceptable.

When I came back last year and started posting again, I stumbled into @radio-chatter and she tried to convince me to chat with one or two other people who were active in the fandom, among them @satashiiwrites. And do you know what I did? I RAN FOR THE HILLS lol. I not only didn't talk to these new people, I also stopped talking to her. I wanted no part of it. In part because my experience with this fandom had not been great up to that point. And, perhaps even in larger part, because I took one look at their AO3 stats and decided I could not sit at that table. Probably didn't even want to.

Guess what? I was wrong.

I know we had a few Tumblr-type interactions, and on Discord, but let me tell you about the one I remember most. The day I finished BH&R.

The day I actually completed BH&R I posted here on Tumblr because I was so fucking excited. This was the first time I'd finished ANY work at all since before AO3 existed, and I'm like 99% sure it's the first time I've ever shared any work that was 100% my own (as I mentioned, I come from rp fandom for the most part as a "creator").

And the two of them reblogged my post, and they were so excited for me and cheering me on, and blah blah blah. At the time it was kinda random and unexpected. And I spent like an hour grinning like a fool.

Now let me be clear, neither one of them have actually read BH&R, to my knowledge, nor do I believe they are interested in doing so.

And I am 100% okay with that. In fact I prefer it, because fandom has all this stupid bullshit pressure, and it makes me insane. No. Stop.

They were cheering for and supporting me.

As, like, a fellow human being.

And maybe a fellow writer, too, I guess. But it wasn't about my story. And it wasn't because I had supported them or reblogged their shit so they felt obligated or some other stupid crap like that which I hate.

It was just them as humans reaching out and being amazing. So, I reached back out to them. And now I consider them friends.

Listen to me: I don't make friends. LOL.

I'm not an easy person to get along with, not because I'm unfriendly but because I'm awkward and I overshare or I don't speak at all and it's just a nightmare having anything to do with me, really, but they do it. We don't (always, at least) have the same headcanons or ships or types of fic that we like, etc. but we respect each other as people.

It's literally not hard.

If BioWare is your only fandom experience, I am begging you to branch out. BioWare is trash. And I don't mean the devs/studio or the games. I mean the fandom. It is hot garbage, and it is not at all representative of the larger fandom community as a whole.

There's something called the golden rule (at least where I come from), you've probably heard of it in some form but it boils down to "treat people the way you want to be treated." And I honestly think that would solve so many of the world's problems.

But what the fuck do I know?

I'm just some trained monkey who writes fanfic...

And if you are in BioWare and you stubbornly love it as much as I do, come say hi. I'm a multi-shipping whore and I'll talk about anything. I have EXACTLY one squick and that is Mpreg but even then it's a "this is not for me but it's cool if you like it" and I'll talk about it with you, I'm just not a fan. I'm not gonna call for your head on a spike or w/e.

I even know a few cool people I can introduce you to.

If you want to make some real friends, that is.

[whump-town]

Into Your Arms

@genevievedarcygranger this one’s for you (I would have done more but the other’s sucked ass)

Various ways Aaron Hotchner stumbles his way into his loved ones arms only to give them heart attacks because he’s a drama queen with awful timing (and inspired by this post)

(1) Haley

He tells her everything that he can when he gets home each night. A second debrief where he sits on the couch, anxiously rubbing at her fingers, and is allowed to feel the impact of what occurred. She knows it’s just the honeymoon phase, that’s why he still greets each day with a smile and promises her it’s not that bad. He’s still got that look in his eyes like he can save the world or eat it whole like he hasn’t decided but when he does...

She thinks that if there was ever a man who could succeed, it’s going to him. His background is so drastically different from everyone else there. Not the son of a politician, hardly the son of a lawyer. Aaron has dragged himself here bleeding, nothing more than roadkill to these men. He might not have been able to pour himself into these cases as they had, doesn’t have the experience, but he’s lived many of them. Felt abuse and escaped his monster’s hands. Maybe she’d just needed him to be different. Safe for once. 

But isn’t that what all those other men had wanted too?

It’s midnight when he gets home. She’s already in bed when she hears him fighting his bike into the door, the loud clatter of the pedals and the handles refusing to fit. All before he shouts angered and explosive and not nearly under his breath-- “fuck”-- before he gives up and throws it out onto the porch. Desperate with those thoughts that tell him everything is out to get him, that’s he’s alone in his misery.

She jumps when he slams the door, not expecting the sound from her typically very timid, soft-spoken husband. The man who will drop a dish or a pot and comes to find her to make sure he didn’t scare her. She’s known him for nearly all her life and she’s heard him utter maybe five curse words. It’s how she knows that what greets her downstairs will not be her Aaron but something broken, something like the boy who feverishly tried to convince her that his bruises and scars were something of her active imagination. The boy killing himself to save everyone else. 

“Aaron?” She comes down the stairs, making sure to hit every creaky board so that he can hear her coming. He’s not in the living room. None of the lights are on but with the street lights pouring in she can make out just enough, and he’s not there. She searches it twice, making sure her eyes don’t deceive her but he’s not there. “Aaron?” she comes around the side of the room and stops.

He’s standing in the kitchen, shoulders shaking. She can hear his soft intakes of breath, the way he presses his hands into his face to muffle the sounds of his sobs. “Oh, baby.” She comes around him, keeping her distance until she’s standing in front of him. Watching as he wipes at his face, jaw quivering as he fails to hide the tears streaming down his face. “Aaron,” she hesitates to touch him, waits until she’s certain he’s calmed down enough not to flinch at the contact. 

She starts with a hand on his shoulder-- this is the hardest part about loving him. No matter how many years she’s been here, no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen or talked to or been hurt by his father every time is like the first time. Like he’s still just a kid standing in his kitchen waiting to get beaten for something beyond his control. 

He lets her get closer, anxiety growing but he wants her there. Knows it won’t get better until she’s got both arms around him so he wills his body to remain stationary. He whimpers when she touches his back but she keeps going until their chest touch and there is, he’s right there. She wraps him as tight as she can. Feels his heart beat against her chest.

“Okay, okay--” she’s not ready for how quickly his knees give out from beneath him. She pulls him back when it startles him, holding his arms with her own, willing herself stronger to keep him down. “You’re okay.”

He shakes his head, bowing in until his face is in her shoulder. “No,” he rasps. “She was right there,” he cries. “I had her in my arms, Haley. I felt--” he chokes on his own words. Chest heaving. “She died and I held her, she wasn’t alone but I couldn’t do anything.” 

She hates the pain in his voice, the way he shakes nearly feverishly against her. 

“She was seven,” he cries, “and I held her the entire time, I promise I did. I tried but she just kept bleeding. She was so tiny, I don’t even know how she had so much blood. I hurt her, Haley. She cried when I put pressure on her wounds. She was scared and all I did was hurt her.” He’s frantic, trying to make her see his reasoning. See him for what he sees, the thing he flinches from in mirrors. 

She just holds him and waits for morning.

(2) David Rossi

Dave is going to put a tracker in the kid’s boxers. He’s fairly certain Haley might hate him but she might okay this idea, so long as nothing like this happens again.

“He’s like ten feet tall,” Max grunts, “how the hell did you lose him?”

Dave shoots him a glare in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t lose him!” He presses on the gas pedal, the old car groaning as it accelerates. There’s nothing David Rossi likes more than playing Mr. Cool & Collected and there’s nothing that Aaron freaking Hotchner has accomplished more than making Dave feel like the frantic father to a toddler that can’t just stand still in the store. It’s kind of ruining the badass vibe thing he claims so feverishly. It’s hard to be a hot FBI agent when he looks like those dads in the store, running up and down the aisle calling out for their child.

“Alright,” Jason soothes, reaching over to squeeze Dave’s elbow. He looks at the picture of calm but he can feel his own fears rising as the gauge climbs steadily over seventy miles per hour. “Easy, Dave. Have some faith in him, okay? You’ve put in the time, he’s a smart kid.” A blind hope sort of faith but all things considered (with the exclusion of the fact that Aaron is like a fire-bug and seems to not understand that you run from danger not to it) he’s has a good head on his shoulders.

“Right,” Dave mumbles. God, he should have left Aaron in Seattle.

They find him in a field and when Dave hears the deputy calling in his description-- early thirties, dark hair, slender build-- his breath catches in his throat. He’s expecting the kid from Seattle, whose gangly height had made Jason wince and Max laugh. Who drinks too much coffee and trips over everything to be brought back to him on a stretcher. A sheet thrown over his body. Suddenly all those jokes, the way Max pointed out Aaron’s ankles hang off stretchers, would fall bitter.

But instead, he sees that ten-foot-tall, 99% all-leg toddler that he hired and his throat dries.

There are deep, dark circles around his eyes. Too many cuts to count on his face, some actively dropping blood onto his dress shirt, but he still smiles. Still raises a hand to wave when Jason shakes his head and huffs out “that kid is a piece of work”. He leans heavily on the deputy at his side, wincing and limping but he’s upright and alive.

Dave gets to him first. Tearing through the tall grass to end up, chest heaving from the run, right in front of Aaron. He points a finger up at him, anger melting at the sight of just how tired he looks. How young he really is and Dave hates himself for bringing him into this stupid mess.  “Don’t you ever do something like that again, do you understand me?” Is this what it feels like to finally find your kid in the endless aisles of Walmart? Because he’s livid but he wants to pull this big oaf into a hug and never let him go. “You could have been killed. Do you know how much paperwork that is?”

Aaron smirks, tilting just a bit and wincing when he puts pressure on broken ribs.

“Come here,” Dave says far too angrily to make it clear he’s on the verge of tears here. He pulls Aaron down, cupping the back of his head closer and wrapping his other arm across his back. “Big old idiot,” he chides sniffling to keep his tears at bay. Dave can feel him shaking, shivering despite the humidity looming over them thickly. Making even the air nearly unbreathable it’s so thick.

Aaron grunts, shifting in Dave’s arms but not away. Just trying to be comfortable but his ribs light up like a match has been struck inside him. “Rossi,” is all the warning he can get out, knees rolling out from beneath him. He hits the ground with a thud, Dave grunting to keep him from falling completely.

Dave grabs him, wincing when Aaron’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth slacks open. Body jerking.

“It’s a seizure,” the deputy drawls. Dave is too shocked to fight as the deputy eases Aaron to the ground, rolling him onto his back, and holding him on his side. “You have to time it.” Dave looks down at his watch but he’s unable to think-- unable to breath as he hears Aaron moan in pain, crying softly as his body jerks beyond his control.

The deputy rubs Aaron’s chest, whispering something softly until Aaron’s eyes peel back open. His choked breathes easing into breathless pants, confused mumbles leaving his mouth. He doesn’t pull away from their touch, if anything Dave thinks he might actually press his face into Dave’s leg. Holding on a little tighter to Dave’s hand. “My son used to have them,” he tells them both. “You’ll be tired for a while but you’ll probably be fine.”

Unless it’s a brain bleed or a severe concussion or brain damage or a thousand other things.

“Da--Dave?”

He leans closer, squeezing Aaron’s hand and rubbing at his back. “I’m right here, you’re okay.”

Aaron peels an eye open, that signature scowl slipping into place. He looks like himself for a few moment as he looks around and artfully deducts, “I’m laying in the mud.” Leave it to Aaron. “It’s cold.”

Dave thinks again to the sweat pouring down everyone else’s backs. To the humidity so thick it should be considered a solid at this point, defying all laws of matter. “Shut up,” he says entirely too softly to be taken as it should be. A jab, a taunt. “You’re always cold.”

The crunching of grass betrays the medics coming in behind them but Dave doesn’t leave Aaron’s side. He hears the deputy tell them about the seizure. He smiles down at Aaron, brushing back a strand of hair. “I’m putting a tracker in your underwear. Gonna handcuff you to me next time we go anywhere.” And as Aaron’s eyes slip closed, loosing his battle with fighting his body, he smiles.

Dave already complains that he walks too fast, how would handcuffing them together solve anything?

(3) Penelope Garcia

They entrusted him in her care. She’d seen the hesitation in Emily’s eyes, watched her move back to Aaron’s side twice before averting her eyes and going to stand back by Dave. As if physically putting distance between them would solve the gut-rotting feeling Emily has that she’s abandoning him. That they’re all awful for leaving him but there are no other options. They leave him and they go solve this case and they can come right back as soon as it’s over.

“I’ll watch him,” Garcia promises. “We’ll be okay.”

And it’s relieving to know that it’s Garcia who will be here. It’s unspoken the connection between Garcia and Hotch. No need to review the ways he won’t even behave for Emily or Dave, he will succumb to Garcia’s nurturing ways. Let her tuck blankets around him and fuss with him about resting when he wants to sign himself out. He’s far more hesitant to hurt her. He loves her just a little bit more.

“Call if you need anything,” Derek reminds her again, as he stalls at the door. Looking back between Garcia and Hotch, convinced there is no way this goes over smoothly. No way Hotch doesn’t burn her trying to self-destruct and he’s afraid of what that will do to both of them. Garcia has ever right to be wounded by the daggers Hotch throws when he’s down-- a wounded animal cornered, snapping and teeth barred fighting with all he has left. But if Hotch sees the blood, sees the way that he hurts them… He doesn’t need any help placing those knives in his chest,  prying his ribs open to see his heart. Trying to convince himself, as his blood flows freely over his hands, that his human. 

They’re all terrified of what will happen this time. As they are every time he goes down. How much longer until the next time? How close will he let them get? How much blood is it going to take? 

“We’ll be okay,” Garcia says again because she’s still trying to believe it herself. 

But she knows that when he wakes up, he will be someone else entirely. An animal biting it’s leg off to escape, unaware that is leaves that mutilated limb behind that they will never get free. A few feet. Maybe a mile. Blood loss and infection will set in and they will die alone. Panting but free. 

Aaron never cares about what he has to loose, he  just has to get free. 

The drugs hold him back for a day. She sits there, expecting every little hitch in his breathing to be the start, but the next inhale comes and all she has is a pained groan or a soft sigh. 

She falls asleep, laptop precariously tipping off her hips, when he wakes. He doesn’t make a sound, just peels his eyes back and takes in his surroundings. He’s panicked, on the edge, and he sees her but he can’t say a word. He’s too tired, too drugged to even try to make the great escape he’s already formulating in his mind. 

She hears the monitors pick up, something shifting in the room. “Sir,” she gasps but she’s a little too late. He’s already sitting up, hunched down and over himself. “Are you okay? Should I--” 

The door is thrown open, startling them both with the bright lights from the hall into the dark room. 

“Hotch are you okay?” she stays right beside him, trying to get him to say something. Anything.

The nurses buzz around him, not as frantic as she feels just quick practiced movements. She watches them give up trying to move Hotch’s arms, raising the sleeve of his gown up and plunging something into his arm. They step back, going to the machines.

“Hotch?” she tries again, softer. 

He turns his head, eyes darting between hers.

“Are you okay?” she touches his shoulder and nearly jumps in surprise when he leans into her. She hesitates for only a second-- mind racing to understand what’s happening right now. Hotch who avoids hugs and hates attention, leaning into her. Seeking out comfort. “It’s okay,” she whispers, pulling his shoulders closer to her. “You’re okay.” 

She can feel him deflating, all of him now against her. Head on her shoulder and his other arm, not the one pinned between their bodies, trying to reach closer. His breaths even out, no longer quick and shallow as they had been before. 

“It was a sedative,” one of the nurses assures her. “He’s okay. He just needs to rest.”

Garcia nods and tries to pretend like that idea doesn’t terrify her. She’ll call Derek or maybe Dave just someone later and tell them about this. How quickly Hotch had just gone limp in her arms, unable to hold his body up. She’ll cry in the shower and probably every night after this-- is that how desperately he needs a hug? Should she have really been listening to him all these years and skipping him while showering the others in affection? 

She doesn’t fall back asleep, she sits up with him. Listening to his breathing and calming him back down before he can wake up or work himself into a nightmare. She’ll make up for when she wasn’t there and vow that once he’s back on his feet, she’s going to pull him down into a hug and she’s never going to let go.