#I feel like one of my mental health's walls just fucking dissolved

[lensdeer]

grabbing you by the shoulders and violently shaking you begging you to listen to TECHDOG

this album changed me as a person and I desperately need to distill how/why into art and maybe some longform writing but it's late and I have to work tomorrow and I'm sleepy and aaaaaaa listen to TECHDOG

[maybege]

... Stays In Quantico - FBI Part 2

Summary: Back in Quantico, you are reminded just how difficult your situation is. (Part 2 of the FBI Series)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: descriptions of an anxiety attack

Here we are! I am so excited to finally start sharing this story with you. Having binged through all 15 seasons, I just want to say now that (1) this story will be canon-divergent and (2) it will be a slow burn. It is my first longer story about Hotch and I hope I will do his character justice. As always, you can find the posting schedule linked in my masterlist.

Have fun reading and let me know what you think.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“I don’t know what to think.”

“This is not the kind of job where you don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

“Hard to believe from someone who just told me she doesn’t know what to think.”

You shifted in your seat. The office you were in was colder than the bullpen of the BAU and you wished you had remembered to bring your cardigan with you. Now all you were wearing was your short-sleeved dress and heels.

To be fair, you had presumed this would just be a standard meeting with the in-house therapist. After the incident in Kansas City, it seemed like standard procedure and you were glad to have been offered this opportunity.

Now though, sitting in the way too soft armchair with the brunette older woman looking at you over her glasses, this felt more like an evaluation than anything else. And you absolutely hated it.

You looked at the still-life of a fruit bowl on the right wall, right next to a bookshelf full of framed certificates. A woman who was proud of her accomplishments.

The first and last time you had had an evaluation was when you had first started working at the FBI and back then you had been sure that you had failed it. You had been sure you had failed all of it.

Your grandmother always used to say that if you looked for flaws long enough you would find them.

Dr Johnson looked like she spent her life looking for flaws.

“Tell me again why you chose to work for the FBI – and the BAU specifically.”

You would not make it anyway. Fuck it.

“There is so much hurt in the world,” you started, watching her eyebrows rise over the frames of her glasses, “I would feel better knowing I am trying to do something against it. And as for the BAU,” you shrugged, “Chief Sector Strauss approached me about it and I thought I would be stupid not to take the opportunity.”

She hummed, looking down at her file. “You don’t have any official FBI training.”

“No.”

“Any formal police training?”

“No.”

“Gun training?”

You hid your smile at the thought of the recent debacle for the gun qualification.

“I took down an UnSub in Kansas City last week,” you reminded her, “That is why I am here.”

She did not react to it. “In fact,” she leafed through the papers in her hand, “You only recently finished college. How did that go for you?”

“Good,” you nodded, trying to keep your knee from bouncing, “It was good.”

“What did you major in?”

“English,” you replied and when you saw her raised eyebrow, tried to elaborate, “Um, English literature to be exact and I have a minor in law as well.”

“Why only a minor?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why did you only minor in law? Were you not good enough?”

To cover the unease from her question, you crossed your legs. “I had no interest in law,” you answered truthfully, “My passion was and is with literature.”

The full truth was, you simply did not like law students. That and the pressure they were under was, you were convinced, what brought many lawyers to an early grave. But she did not need to know that about you.

Ironic that you had ended up in the BAU after all this.

Totally not stressful.

She said your name, then, slowly, and leant forward. You tensed, knowing that look too well. Was this the moment she would tell you that you had failed the valuation? The moment Hotch would come into the office and hand you your resignation with that disappointed look in his eyes.

Maybe the way Kansas City had ended was just a way to disguise the true going-ons of your work here in Quantico?

“You have been here, what, seven months now, Agent?”

“Yes, eight months, coming February,” you replied, meeting her gaze and swallowing the dryness of your throat.

“Would you say you have adjusted to your life here in Virginia?”

You frowned, “What do you mean?”

Dr Johnson made a vague gesture as if encompassing everything and anything, “Do you have friends here? Family? How do you get on with your colleagues?”

Well, you certainly had not been expecting this kind of question.

“I live together with a friend,” you answered slowly, “My family lives in Idaho.”

“Idaho,” Johnson smiled, “A long way from home, no?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Agent, I am not going to lie,” she sighed, putting her pen down on the notepad, “I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.”

You’re not the only one, you thought with a grimace.

“I am sure you are a good person, that your motivations for working here are true,” she elaborated, “But your lack of training? Your lack of … experience,” she gave you a pitiful look, “I am simply not convinced you are cut out for the work we need here.”

You had always thought it but hearing someone else say it to your face hit deeper than you ever could have thought. Your fingers started to tremble and you clasped your hands together, squeezing them to somehow force yourself to remain with as much dignity as you could.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would keep your tears at bay, “What – what does that mean?”

“As there are no reasons for a suspension based on your mental health, the next step would be that I get in contact with your supervisor,” she threw a look on her paper, “SSA Aaron Hotchner, is that correct?” you nodded and she continued, “A written evaluation of your role at the BAU will be requested and then we will go from there. Best case scenario is you won’t leave at all, worst case scenario …”, she trailed off.

Of course, she did not need to finish the sentence for you to know what she was saying.

Worst case scenario: You would leave the FBI.

Realization washed over you and you smiled tightly at her. “Thank you, Dr Johnson,” you stood up, reaching a polite hand out to her which she took, “If you will excuse me, I should get back to my desk while I still can.”

Dr Johnson smiled kindly at you which only made it worse. She was pitying you. She felt sorry for you. Sorry for your incompetence, sorry for you not belonging in this place.

You felt like you would throw up any minute.

“Of course, Agent,” she said softly, “I will inform your supervisor of my recommendation. You will receive a copy of the protocol within the next week.”

You nodded, not meeting her eyes as you hurried out of her office.

*

The staff washroom on the third floor was always empty.

You knew that from the fact that you had often used it as a refuge after nearly dissolving into tears in the bullpen. That and the fact that the third floor was far away enough for anyone of the BAU to search for you here made it the perfect place to come after your talk with Dr Johnson.

You threw a look on your watch.

Six minutes. You would give yourself six minutes and then you would go to your desk and work on those reports and show Dr Johnson that you loved your job and that you were capable of doing it. You would show her that you were not the anxious, incompetent student she saw in you but someone who could be an asset to the team.

I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.

Tears shot into your eyes and you locked the little cabin behind you, sitting on the edge of the toilet as you rushed to grab a few pieces of toilet paper.

The first sob echoed in the tiled room and you pressed the tissues to your mouth, hoping it would muffle the sounds somewhat. Your skin felt too hot and too tight and you could already see how your makeup would be ruined by the tears no matter how hard you tried.

And you had left your backup mascara in your bag at your desk.

Great. Just great.

Anxiety filled you at the thought of having to prove yourself even more than before. After Kansas City and Hotch’s encouraging words, you had somehow hoped that the hard part was over now. That you could focus on delivering good work instead of questioning if everyone doubted your belonging in the unit.

But maybe they were and they were just too polite to mention it? Maybe Dr Johnson was finally saying what they all wanted to spare you from?

Tears were rolling freely over your cheeks now, dropping onto your dress and you cursed, trying to wipe it away and somehow keep your face dry. There were still quite a few hours left in the workday and although you hoped there would not be a case coming in today, you were working along with a team of profilers.

You were like an open book to them even if there was the agreement to not profile each other.

A look on your watch told you it was nearly time to go and you took a moment to listen if anybody was there before stepping out of the little cubicle. It was completely abandoned.

Much like you had expected, you looked an absolute mess and just seeing yourself in the mirror brought fresh tears into your eyes.

“Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity,” you echoed the motto, gripping the edge of the counter and taking deep breaths, “Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity.”

*

“Hey, kid, how did it go?”

You entered the chaotic bullpen, just barely avoiding crashing into Anderson before making your way to your desk. Reid was seated across from you which meant that no matter how much of a mess you left at the end of a day, it still looked comparably neat.

Now though, it was nearly empty.

“Hi Derek,” you smiled tightly, your eyes still irritated from your impromptu cry session as you sat down at your desk.

You had splashed cold water on your face in hopes of somehow feeling and looking better. Still, you immediately went for your bag, scrambling to find your emergency mascara and lipstick to sneak back into the washroom before anyone noticed.

Especially –

“Agent,” Hotch’s voice boomed through the office and you winced, feeling the heat of tears collecting in your eyes again. You stayed ducked over your bag, hoping that maybe he did not mean you. Maybe he wanted to talk to Derek or Emily or Reid or –

Cleanly polished shoes appeared in your field of vision and you swallowed.

“In my office. Now.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumbled, hastily wiping your cheek of a stray tear before straightening and following him up the stairs. You ignored Derek’s worried look, instead choosing to straighten your shoulders and stoically look ahead.

This was but an extension of the interview with Dr Johnson. You could do this even if the man terrified and intrigued you more than he should.

You had barely stepped foot in his office when he sat down. “Close the door. Sit down.”

You did, feeling much smaller than you had in Dr Johnson’s office. His lips were tight and he looked incredibly displeased, even for Hotch’s standards. You must have majorly messed up.

His hands were clasped in front of him and your eyes fell to his fingers. You swallowed heavily, hands wringing in your lap as you waited for him to start talking.

“Dr Johnson just informed me that a written evaluation of your performance on this team is being requested.”

“Sir, I can explain, I –“

He raised a hand, effectively silencing you and your mouth snapped shut.

“You do not need to explain anything,” he said calmly, “Dr Johnson is only doing her job and after what happened last week, it might not be such a bad idea.”

You nodded, trying to not seem as nervous as you were.

“Do not worry yourself over it. I meant what I said in Kansas,” he stated, facial expression unreadable, “You are a valuable addition to this team and I look forward to seeing your contributions in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” you looked down on your hands, trying to hide your nervousness, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Call me Hotch.”

“Yes, Si- Hotch,” you corrected yourself with a sheepish smile. He was sitting at his desk, hands folded on top of it as he looked at you. And fuck, it should be forbidden to look this good. You froze, licking your lips and hoping you would be able to blame it on the dryness of your lips instead of you imagining what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

Not the time, a rational part of your brain reminded you, So not the fucking time.

*

Shuffling through the crowded metro you pressed your phone to your ear.

“I promise, it is all right, mom,” you assured her, letting yourself fall into one of the free seats, keeping your bag pressed against your chest. An elderly woman threw you an offended look and shuffled away from you as if you had any interest in stealing her dog off her hands.

“I am just worried, honey,” your mom said on the other side of the phone, “We are all worried. It is a hard job, isn’t it? And why do they keep putting you up for evaluations? You haven’t even been there for a full year!”

“Mom –“

“Are you okay?” she interrupted you in that voice that only your mom had, “Truly okay?

Your head fell against the window of the wagon, the heaviness of the day washing over you. You took a shuddering breath, “No, Mom, I – I don’t think I am.”

There was a sigh on the other side of the line. She was disappointed and worried, you could hear it already and it did not help to calm the anxiety raging in your stomach. You could almost see her in front of you, the pity in her eyes and the little furrow between her brows.

“You can always come home, hon, you know that, right?” she asked carefully and you cringed at how quiet she was being, “We can still find somewhere else for you to work. A nice option. You can come back home and dad and I will help you. I know it can take some time to find a good position. But you had so much fun doing literature, why not go back to it? You don’t have to stick there if it doesn’t make you happy.”

“But it does make me happy, mom,” you protested, wincing at how desperate you sounded, before adding quietly, “Saving people is what I want to do. And I can do it.”

“I am not saying you can’t, sweetie,” she assured you, “But maybe it is not what you should do with your life, hm?”

*

You could see that the light was on in the living room when you entered the small hallway. The sounds of the TV washed over your ears and you smiled.

“I’m home!”

A non-committal grunt answered you and you grinned, knowing that he was probably too entranced in whatever crime show he was currently watching. You let your keys fall onto the little side table and made sure to lock the deadbolt before making your way to Josh.

Your heels made clicking sounds on the floor and you took care to be as quiet as possible. “Hi,” you grinned, waving at him.

Josh was tall and lanky. And despite being offended if you ever told him that – looked exactly like one would imagine a law student to look. He was always well dressed and took great care when it came to all things cultural. He drank the best wine, read all the important books, watched all the niche movies to impress people.

Sometimes you joked that of the two of you, he was the one who could be expected to work for a government institution.

“It’s late,” he commented, nodding to the screen, “You’re usually here by the second episode.”

“I wanted to get some reports done,” you explained, shrugging out of your coat, “Had a chat with my boss today again. I thought it might be better to not give any more opportunities to criticize me. How was your day?”

“Boring,” he replied, “Attended that one event about intellectual property and want to lunch with a few friends from uni. You should come with us sometime, you will like them.”

You nodded, already thinking ahead of a day when you would have enough free time to join him and his friends. Dr Jones’ words about having a strong social life to fall back to echoed in your mind and you decided to make more of an effort to make friends.

It would be all right.

There was some Chinese takeout in Josh’s lap and you spotted a few grocery bags in the small hallway to your room and the kitchen.

“Did you get me the bananas like I asked?” you asked, slipping out of your heels.

Josh kept munching on his noddle, making a vague gesture that led you into the kitchen. And there, on the tiny dining table were two green bananas.

“They are not even ripe yet,” you called into the living room, “And I asked for four bananas, not two.”

“What do you need them for anyway?”

“I wanted to bake banana bread,” you said, turning to get out some flour and chocolate chips, “It’s an easy breakfast to have in the metro.”

Josh sighed, walking into the kitchen and throwing himself onto the black dining chair. “You barely eat at home anyway, that’ll just go to waste.”

“Which is exactly why it is nice to have something ready to eat on the go,” you explained, wondering if he had overheard your words.

Cracking two eggs into a bowl, you hummed. “I could bring it into the office,” you mused, starting to mush up the bananas, “I think JJ mentioned she liked it once.”

“To the colleagues that despise you?”

You frowned, “They don’t despise me. They are very nice to me, Josh.”

Josh took the last bite of his noodles, setting down the little container “By the way, Greg is coming over tonight.

“But it’s almost midnight,” you stated, throwing a confused look towards the clock, just to make sure, “Didn’t you say you will leave for that Seattle trip tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if it gets too late he will just stay on the couch,” Josh replied, shrugging. You nodded, not saying anything but knowing deep down that George would occupy the bathroom that morning so you would have to get up even earlier than normal.

That would be a stressful day.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: dark content (self-harm)

masterlist

a/n: By no means do I condone self-harm or want to glorify it in the light of this chapter. As a person who struggled with physical self-harm in her early teens, I know the destructive nature of this type of activity. However, as my characters are not perfect and complicated, I see this particular mode of action as something she would try to do in order to alleviate her pain and confusion. If you have questions or concerns, my inbox is always open to having a discussion about it.

If you so wish, you may skip this chapter altogether. There will be a recap on the next one if you choose to skip for your mental health. Take care of yourselves and see you soon. (ALSO, I know I promised smut but I gotta give y'all a raincheck this go-round. SORRY PLS DON'T KILL ME)

You're on your forty-seventh file of scandals, coverups, and secret dossiers that you finally feel it. The fabric of your identity begins to unravel right before your eyes.

Everything you've known is a lie.

The CSB has covered up so many things. So many lives lost. So many people forced to flee. So many families ripped apart--

An email makes its way over to the server, and you open it, the words across the screen coming from Suguru.

I know it's late, but send over Yu Haibara's files when you can.

You hit the reply button and begin to type out: "You mean the boy you killed?" but you stop yourself, deleting the words rapidly. Instead, you attach the files and send them over, not even bothering to look at them. You can't do it. Not another file could be stored away in the annals of your brain.

Nothing is as it seems anymore. The lies... they pile up in your mind, flooding the spaces where you used to hold what you thought was true, what you thought was real. Now, they're overflowing out of your brain and into your heart and soul, plaguing you like the nightmares that face you down night after night, more like demons that lurk in the corners of your mind than full file cabinets.

You always wake up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, one of your various enemies' faces hovering over you right before you stare down the barrel of a gun and --

You stumble out of the chair, eyes wet with tears, and go to the sink in the bathroom to wash your face. After you splash water on your skin, you look up at your reflection, anger rolling through you at the way you look. Weak.

You're fucking weak.

The voice in your head that usually told you that you were doing okay, that you had it all under control, is now turning on you, spitting nasty words that stick in between the synapses of your brain a muddy your rational thoughts.

The voices rise to a fever pitch, and you suddenly see red, the entirety of the world descending into blood-colored madness. The shattering of the glass mirror only becomes a reality when you're standing above the sink, chest heaving as your thoughts silence one by one, like shutting off lights in a house.

But only one stays behind as a shard of the mirror clinks into the sink.

Escape.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

You could get rid of the feelings here. You could get rid of the thoughts. You could escape. Why hadn't you thought about this before?

"Do it."

Your fingers grip the jagged shard of glass carefully, and before you can stop yourself, you drag it across the inside of your wrist, end to end, leaving behind a red line of blood that immediately blooms. Crimson dots drop into the sink, and you stare at the color, mesmerized by the way the blood runs down your arm and into the porcelain bowl. But there's no relief.

No sense of freedom.

Maybe you didn't do it hard enough?

Maybe you didn't--

The door to your room slams open, and you turn your head just as Suguru comes rushing into the bathroom. The shard of glass is still in your hand, as well as the blood running down your arm, and Suguru catches this immediately.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you turn to him, shard extended.

"Don't come any closer."

"Y/n," he calmly whispers. "You don't look so good."

"I wonder why that is," you reply, and Suguru stares back at you, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like, Suguru?" you state in a trance. Your bullet wound begins to throb dully, but you ignore it, just like you're ignoring the blood dripping onto the tile flooring.

"Y/n, let's think about this."

"I don't want to think anymore!" The shrill scream is loud enough to make Suguru flinch, and you softly repeat, "I don't want to think anymore," over and over again as tears run down your face.

"I know," Suguru whispers. "I know. Will you let me help you?" You hiccup and drop the piece of glass to the floor, dissolving in a heap of tears and moans. You feel hands pulling you up from the floor and into strong arms, your head being cradled against a broad chest you've felt before. "Go ahead," Suguru encourages you. "Cry it out."

He carries you to another room in the building in silence, laying you on a firm bed and disappearing as you heave painful sobs into the sheets.

"Everything... hurts..." you gasp, and when Suguru reappears with a white bundle of cloth, a bandage roll, and some water, he nods.

"We're going to make it better, don't worry." He takes your injured arm and carefully wipes away the blood, examing the cut slowly. "Doesn't need stitches, thankfully." He turns to open the water bottle and hands it to you, silently telling you to drink while he bandages your wrist.

You drink the water greedily then lean back on the headboard, eyes closing down as Suguru works diligently on your wound. And then you remember the first time he did this for you and the mistake you made in your pridefulness.

"Thank you," you murmur, and Suguru looks up at your face, finally seeing some form of clarity cross your tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replies tenderly. "I have to keep you safe, remember? I promised you that I would." You don't answer him, but he finishes at that exact moment anyways, standing and placing the remnants of the bandage roll on the nightstand. The wound is now covered up completely, with no sign of blood seeping through the cotton and staining the white cloth dark red.

You watch as Suguru crawls into the bed beside you, sighing deeply as he runs his fingers through his locks. "Should I stay awake with you or do you want to try to sleep?"

"Sleep," you answer - albeit not confidently - and the black-eyed man obliges, pulling the thin sheet over you.

"I'll be right here," he affirms, but you reach out your uninjured arm and touch his hand. He instantly turns his palm up to let you grab his fingers, and you pull him closer to you in the king-sized bed.

"Hold me." A second passes with no movement, and Suguru whispers,

"Are you sure?" You nod, and he wordlessly scoots closer, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle into his side with your bandaged hand resting on his chest. His fingers rub a soft pattern up and down your skin, soothing you to the brink of sleep. "I've got you. We'll deal with everything else in the morning," Suguru murmurs as you slip off into a dreamless - and nightmare-less - sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Morning comes and goes.

Midday arrives, and you awaken from your terrorless sleep still encased in Suguru's grasp. Your eyes flick up to his face, which is peaceful in the midday light streaming in from the windows. The Leader of the Fallen Sun District is asleep and dead to the world around him, but the sound of his breathing lets you know he's on the brink of waking up.

Part of you doesn't want him to. You want to lay there without any responsibilities to him, without any concern, or further harm to either one of you. Maybe if you continued to sleep, all of this would become a distant memory. All of this would go away, and you could go back to living in ignorance.

But Suguru's stirring makes you stiffen, and you feel his arms tighten around you before sliding away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," you whisper, and he sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"We need to talk about last night." You sit up as well, staring at the edge of the bed blankly. "Why didn't you tell someone about your declining mental health?"

"I didn't realize it until it was too late," you admit, looking at the bandage on your wrist. "But I won't be doing that again."

"Doesn't matter," Suguru interjects, looking over at you. You choose to avoid his gaze and stare at your feet, inhaling deeply. "I have to have someone watch you now. I want you to be safe, and now I'm not sure if I can ensure that without some oversight on my part."

"No," you exhale quickly, looking over at him in fear. "I'm better now, I promise."

"I'll have someone move a few of your things over here. That way I can keep an eye on you, just in case." Suguru continues, standing from his position on the bed. "I won't bother you. But I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it at all costs." He turns back to you, stating, "Today we'll take a day off and go into the town. I've been wanting to show you around for a while anyway."

You conclude the argument is over when he places a kiss on your temple, then walks into his bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you on the bed alone.

_____________________________________________________________

A car picks both of you up from the building, and when you slide into the backseat, Suguru points to the expanse in the distance.

"Take us to the marketplace." The driver nods, scars running up and down his pale face and his blue eyes looking up at you in the rearview mirror. Does this man even know that he's sitting next to the leader of the Fallen Sun district? Or is Kenjaku a faceless man, hiding behind walls of ones and zeroes?

The scenes that pass by you look identical to those of the city you know and love. There are children playing on the sidewalks, people carrying groceries, life carrying on as if the majority of their names aren't on some rejected list of people who defected from their previous society. Suguru notices your awe at the way things are, and looks over at you, smiling brightly.

"You'd be surprised what you can build from ashes, y/n."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on @sammytamaki @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 9

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

Three nights.  Three blissful sleep filled nights.  It had been awhile since you slept the whole night through.  Whether it be stress, nightmares, your other medication keep you up or having to work, there was always something that stopped you from getting a full nights rest. But this new one week trial of sleep medication that Dr. Wang put you on was a miracle worker.  The only downside was that you only had four tablets left. If you wanted more, you would have to make an appointment with her.  It was necessarily a bad thing, but how you would go about getting out of the tower without the buddy system was beyond you.  

The downside of the last three days?  The new dosage of your medication didn’t seem to be working.  And Dr. Wang had discussed that with you too.  If the dosing wasn’t working, you may have to switch medications all together and that too would require an in office visit.  

Your irritation had gotten downright horrible along with your intense bouts of anger.  Even if someone was chewing their food a certain way, it drove you crazy.  So, instead of trying to hang out with Darcy or Pepper or Clint, you found yourself stuck in your room for almost 72 hours straight.  

But then you started to have the ongoing feelings of emptiness.  Without Steve or Bucky and you being cooped up in your room because you just couldn’t handle the sound or annoyance of anyone at the moment, you were lonely.  So lonely. The last thing you wanted to do was let Steve or Bucky know while they were on a mission.  You didn’t want to distract them and get them hurt.  

At times you found your thoughts racing a mile a minute.  ‘What if they just decide one day they no longer like me and want nothing to do with me’ or ‘what if they find out about my mental health and leave me’. Yep.  A lot of thoughts of rejection and abandonment were also starting to creep into your mind.  

But at least you were getting good sleep.  And no more threats either.  You hadn’t worked in a few days and as much as you wanted to, it was hard to get out of bed.  

By day nine you were going absolute out of your mind.  Your medications clearly weren’t working anymore and now you had run out of the sleep medicine too.  You emailed Dr. Wang but with your stroke of luck, she was out of the office for the rest of the week and her scheduled was booked up for another two weeks after that. They marked you down for an appointment in exactly 19 days.  You weren’t sure how you were supposed to last that long, but you decided to dig deep and find as much willpower as possible.

On day ten, you were just about to head down to your game room and get to work.  You needed the distraction.  

Walking out of your room you were shocked to see Steve and Bucky coming off the elevator.  They were supposed to be gone for another two days you thought.  

“Hey!  Welcome back!” you cheered, happy to see them.  Bucky gave you a soft smile as Steve dropped his shield on the ground angrily; the sound echoing around the apartment.  Putting your foot in your mouth, words came tumbling from your lips.  “Great. Crabby Steve is back.”

His head snapped towards you, a menacing scowl on his face.  “Excuse me?” he growled angrily.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with sour mood.  

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he barked out, storming towards you.  He took in your appearance and you realized you didn’t have anything covering up the dark circles under your eyes.  “When’s the last time you got any sleep?”  Not even answering him, you shrugged your shoulders and walked right on passed him.  “You answer me when I speak to you!”

“I don’t know Steve!” you yelled back at him.  

If looks could kill, you would be six feet under.   “Don’t even think about going down to work right now.  You get back in your room and get some goddamn rest!”

“Steve, calm down,” Bucky urged, wanting to help dissolve the tension.

“I will not calm down Bucky,” he countered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You pressed the button on the elevator.  “I’m going to work Steve.  You can’t stop me.  I haven’t worked since the second night I moved in.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed just an inch, but you could still tell he was pissed.  “I want you back up here at a descent hour and in bed.  Do you understand me?”

As the elevator doors closed, Steve could hear you say ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah’.

Alone in the elevator, you gave into your anger and punched and kicked the steel door, screaming profanities.  You had to admit, it made you feel better.

Getting off on the communal floor, you saw Natasha in the kitchen.  

“From the way Steve is acting, I’m going to guess the mission didn’t go as planned?” you asked.

“That would be correct,” Natasha replied, never looking up at the stack of papers in front of her.  “We’ll get them next time.”

As the night went on, you realized this was the kind of distraction you needed.  Why you hadn’t done this the whole time Steve and Bucky were gone was beyond you.  You were having a blast, interacting with your followers, killing the villains and just having an all-around good time.   Your body was less tense and for the first time in days, you were smiling.

Time got the best of you and by the time you were logging off, you realized it was after six in the morning.  At this point, you didn't care.  You were on a high from kicking some major gaming ass.  And to top it all off, no threatening messages from JSmith20 tonight.  

The communal kitchen was void of anyone and you got out the bread and plugged in the toaster, feeling hungry for the first time in days.  It was only seconds later when the elevator doors opened and out walked Steve, Clint and Natasha.  They were all wearing their workout clothes.  

“Damn.  You’re up early,” Clint joked as he began making a pot of coffee.  You saw Steve come to stand next to you out of the corner of your eye.  Hopefully he was in a better mood this morning.  

You snorted at him, shaking your head.  “More like I’m up way too late.”  You didn’t even think about the words that came out of your mouth as you finished buttering your toast and placed it on a glass plate.  

Grabbing your plate of toast, you turned around and started walking towards the elevator.  The sound of a fist slamming on the granite table stopped you dead in y our tracks.  

“I specifically told you to get to bed early last night.  Did I not?”  Yep, he still wasn’t in a good mood and you probably just made it ten times worse.

“You did,” came your short reply as you turned around to face him.  

His jaw was clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break any teeth.  He pointed upstairs and began to yell louder.  “I want you to get your ass upstairs right now and get the fuck to bed!  I don’t want you coming out of your room until I tell you to!”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks at being yelled at in front of people.  Who the hell does he think he is telling you to go to your room like a fucking child?  You had never felt such intense anger than you did in this moment.  Without a second thought, you chucked your glass plate at his head.  You would have hit him but he saw it coming and he ducked out of the way.  The glass shattering into pieces on the floor.  

“Fuck you Steve!” you screamed so loud you felt your vocal cords vibrate in your throat.  The room fell silent as you turned on your heels and slammed open the door to the stairs.  Fuck waiting for the elevator.  

You took the stairs two at a time; your hands balled into fists.  Blood was rushing to your ears and you didn’t hear your name being called angrily by Steve.

As you got to your floor, you kicked open the door and headed down the hallway to your room. All you wanted to do was scream. Scream and throw something and punch things.  You needed to get this pent up anger out of you somehow or you felt like you were going to explode.  

You extended your arm to reach the scanner on your door but you never made it.  Instead, Steve gripped onto your wrist, yanking you away.

“Let me go!” you screamed, trying to kick at him, but it was no use.  He had you pinned to the wall; his legs pushed against yours and his hands against your shoulders.  You were stuck.  Stupid super soldier strength.  

“What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?” Steve demanded, his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath.  

And you didn’t even know how to answer him.  Because in that moment, seeing such rage burning behind Steve’s eyes, you were turned on.  Oh fuck were you so turned on in that moment.  You wanted him to drag you into your room and have complete rough and carnal sex.  

Your shoulders were pinned to the wall by Steve’s firm grip, but your arms were still free to move around. As your eyes never left his, you picked up your right hand and grabbed Steve’s hand.  His body stiffened against you, but he didn’t move.  But once he noticed what you were doing, his eyes widened.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Bucky demanded as he saw Steve’s hand around your neck.  

[jenna-jayde-the-renagade]

So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

[imaginativeart]

I'll never understand the notion of wanting equal suffrage for the next generation...

"My father worked in the coal mines and died of black lung to afford the shack I grew up in, and I'm developing scoliosis from my construction job to afford our double-wide trailer home, so NO! YouTube is not a career!"

"I have slaved for two decades paying off my student loans, so NO! This generation shouldn't have their student loans cancelled!"

"I had to pay $7,000 when I broke my leg in '83, so NO! Healthcare shouldn't be free!"

Like....it completely sucks that earlier generations, had to deal with a bunch of bullshit, don't get me wrong, but why would you not want better for the future?? Millenials to Gen-Z grew up with the birth of the technology we see today. We adapted to it, it became part of us. With that evolution came more knowledge, ingenuity, career opportunities and cultural crossroads like never before. 

Disclaimer** You should never be a leech. You still need to work hard for what you want in this world, and with every door closed in your face, you need to press on if you truly want to reach your goal!

But this generational scoff that Boomers, and Gen X does at the prospect of YouTubers, TikTokers, Activists, Climate Change, Racial Justice, Feminism, etc. Is mostly whining at this point.

Unfortunately, these generations were subject to:

- Having children at younger ages

- Lack of Social Media (an advantage in some ways)

- Tabooed subjects (Molestation, Rape, Abuse, LGBTQIA2+)

- Stifflement of Women and POC- and so many, many more....

But it's crazy to me, this concept of "Entitled Millennials", or "Socially Inept/ Sensitive Gen-Z".....like, no....

Our generations saw "Flava of Love" revolutionize Reality TV; Paving that avenue for income. We saw Napster, LimeWire, and iTunes pave the way for artists unknown. We watched MySpace dissolve, Facebook emerge, Instagram takeover and TikTok be born, allowing the notion of social notoriety and income streams cross paths. RuPaul's Drag Race is one of the top watched/rated shows ever, giving voices to queer people across the world. We watched the footage of Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, Vegas and more horrible tragedies, thus opening us up to conduce conversations on mental health and gun issues. We studied economics and flooded the stock market with damn Blockbuster and thwarted trust-fund baby, Anglo-Saxon capitalists at their own games. We saw a black man become President, and a daughter of immigrants become Vice President.

Formally, as a "tail-end millennial" I apologize to those of generation's past. I sincerely do. I think of the millions of queer people who took their own lives in a world unable to accept them. I mourn for the hundreds of thousands placed in asylums or not taken seriously and told to get over it. I personally feel that all those who did pay off student loans, if they are forgiven for the rest of us, should be reimbursed. And I'm sorry you've had to work in a field that is not your passion. I really am...

But please....the point of having children (if you have them) if to want a better life for them than you had to endure. Respectfully, get down to the music, or stand on the wall and have a drink. 

To Conclude:

Love is Love

Climate Change is Real

Billionaires Shouldn't Exist

Treat Mental Illness

No One Needs a Machine Gun

Women Deserve Respect

All Religions/Gods Are Valid

Life's Too Short To Settle

Don't Be Fucking Racist But hey....I'm just a Left-Leaning, Native, Pansexual, Mentally-Ill Socialist Snowflake, with Luciferian and Ancient Spiritualist beliefs.....what do I know...

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 23

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Errors (no, I did not spell check this time – shame on me), dealing with trauma, mental health care, feels, growth, smut, pain. A/N: So, this is one of those chapters that I call a “bridge”. Maybe that’s not the right term, but it’s needed for…reason. You know before tossing the last chapters at you. Lots of love for liking and reblogging!!

23 - Never give up. Never back down

…   Romanoff   …

The change comes creeping in like the first light of dawn that suddenly makes it possibly to make out the shape of furniture in the dark and later adding a depth to the surface even before the colours are visible. Some days are exhausting for both [Y/N] and Natasha in each their own way. One is drained from the weekly session with the psychologist or maybe the hard physical training under the stern but kind guidance of Maria. The other, a certain redhead, finds it had to stand by. Hands off even as her love struggles with nightmarish processes that set off nightmare after nightmare until her throat is raw from crying out in anguish. No preparation can make it easier. No knowledge of the importance can soothe the Avenger when she rocks the shaking woman in the dark of night.

But that’s not the real change.

The change is the flashes of peace. The straight back and head held high. It’s the healthy thoughts that are voiced, each time with a sense of acceptance that they are the truth.

Sitting in the kitchen of the Compound, [Y/N] is allowing herself to be completely absorbed in the book she’s reading only glancing up when the glass of lemonade is empty. Clint, who’s sitting next to her, is twirling a straw around in his own empty glass but otherwise only paying attention to the take-out menu. Supposedly. Natasha is fairly certain that she’s heard him drinking even after he’d drained the jug and as such running out of options for a refill plus it’s the kind of stunt the archer has pulled on pretty much anyone who isn’t paying attention to their snack, drinks, or food.

“Mister Barton,” [Y/N] begins hyper-politely, “do you have any knowledge of what might have happened to the last half of my lemonade?”

The man puts on the perfect display of surprise spiked with such a subtle outrage at the underlying accusation that Natasha knows 100% that he’s guilty. “What? Why should I know?”

“Not buying that,” you happily announce, “so I guess I’ll use you to test out something Maria told me about.”

You refuse to tell the suddenly nervous archer what it is, merely patting him on the shoulder as you get up to make a new batch of lemonade.

…   Reader   …

Every single muscle in your body is sore. It hurts to put on a sweater. There are muscles in your back you didn’t know you had screaming at you when you bend to put tie the shoes. Hell, you can barely face going to the loo because your thighs and butt are punishing you for all the work you’re putting into the training with Maria, but at least it’s finally paying off. The former SHIELD agent is an exceptional teacher: honest, but kind without talking to you like you’re a kid. Most importantly, though, there’s an unspoken understanding of why you feel like you have to learn to defend yourself and perhaps feel like you’re in control of your own body. So that’s where she’s started.

First, she has helped you get into shape with simple cardio and strength, teaching exercises you can use on your own in the impressive gym two floors down. The second step has been to show how to use defend against simple attacks by using the other person’s body (weight and size) against them – your own stature is irrelevant or can even be used as an active benefit.

“Aaaah.” Hot water sloshes against the sides of the tub as you lower yourself into the soothing bath.

Natasha’s voice drift through the gap by the door: “Should I be jealous?”

She’s perched on the bed with the blue light from the tablet creating shadows almost as ominous as the intel she’s studying for tomorrow’s missions. Well, it starts in the morning when the present Avengers (Tony, Nat, Cap, and Clint) all leave for wherever they’re heading, and if all goes well they should be back in three days.

“Mhmmmmm…I’m having an affair with the bathtub.” The heat seeps into stiff limbs, dissolving reluctant tensions. “Sometimes we even go as far as adding bubbles to our fun.”

There’s an audible snort and you can imagine the exasperated eyeroll that doesn’t diminish her smile. Perfect, that’s how it is. Sliding deeper into the water, jaw skimming the surface as steam rises past the face, you’re completely enveloped in subtle heat and it lulls you into a drowsy contentment that pulls the eyelids down.

A rustle of clothes seems to filter in from far away before the water and you are stirred by sleek limbs as Natasha settles between your willingly parting legs, back against chest, with a quiet moan. Perhaps it’s an addiction rather than natural behaviour, but your hands are drawn to her, first massaging the tension from shoulders that hold up your world too before flat palms start stroking her arms. Her chest. The swell of her breasts where fingertips tug and twist the rapidly hardening nipples only for the warm water to soothe the skin.

She’s your friend, ally, and lover. Someone you never planned on being such an integral part of your soul and though logic dictates you could be happy without her, you simply don’t want to try. Natasha.

You love these moments when the tough hero melts like snow in your hands, head resting against your chest and mouth slightly open to release the quaking sighs of satisfaction conjured by you and no one else. Tasha is surrounded by you, laid out bare and vulnerable and easy to read. Breaths hitch, toes curl, her fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as your fingers move faster now they’ve found her clit. She’s granted a few fingers for the core to clench around, and holy fuck, the heat fluttering around the digits that curl against the soft walls is beyond divine. Better than any bath could be.

The name on her lips as she falls apart in your hold is like a prayer. Or the praise from a goddess who has decided to adorn the life of a mere mortal, you.

“[Y/N]!” There’s a hint of a whine to her gasp. “I love you.”

The red locks are matted against her skull from the steam but still soft on your lips as you find the way to her ear. “I lo–”

Out of nowhere, the pain bombards you, starting in your head but sending rigid tendrils into the rest of your body.

…

Gone is the gentle lapping of the water and the comfortable weight of Natasha’s body against you. Fighting against leaded eyelids, you catch a glimmer of white and steel illuminated by a (thankfully dimmed) panel of LED lights overhead, but it’s the smell of hand sanitizer that reveals where this is. Infirmary. This time, as you try to look around again, it’s evident that you’re alone. Aware of an itch on the back of your hand, it’s with some trepidation you begin to search for the button to call for the nurse or whoever’s on duty.

What happened? You recall the bath, the sighs on Tasha’s lips before…the vision. The scene had unfolded (or will unfold) somewhere tropical, a lush jungle as a backdrop for the little houses in a village or maybe the outskirts of a town. It’s the two-story building with the flaking reddish concrete that holds Brock, so that’s where you have to go because you’re the only one that can get access to the place. But…why? There’s no logic to it as far as you can tell. Why would he let me in? But he did, or will, waiting on the other side of the door with a crazed smile as if it had been an agreement to meet. It hurts just to think about it, and not just in your head.

A door slides open with the ssshhh of vacuum, allowing the petite Dr. Cho to enter with Maria Hill in tow.

“How you feelin’?” Maria asks, phone in hand and thumb dancing on the little screen, “Promised to let Natasha know as soon as you woke up.”

Your throat is dry when you try to answer, but Cho is already prepared and stands with a glass of water with a straw in it. It’s drained before you try again. “I’m ‘kay…I guess.” Admittedly, you wouldn’t quite mind volunteering to test a guillotine, but that just means you’re alive. “Where’s Tasha? Why am I here?”

…   Romanoff   …

48 hours. Learning to wait had been a part of Natasha’s training, but the last 48 hours after [Y/N] seized up in the bathtub have been the longest and hardest to get through for the former assassin. Steve had offered she stayed back, he could ask his buddy Sam to cover, but of course she can’t accept that either. The redhead needs to stay busy which isn’t an option if she stayed by the side of the bed. Useless, that’s what Tasha would have been.

“Everything’s okay?” Clint asks, placing the last slice of cheese on the impressive sandwich he’s made.

There’s a distinct absence of weight on Natasha’s chest, a pressure she hadn’t allowed herself to focus on until now when she finally can breathe freely again. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

[anodyne-sunflower]

I hate that I want to vent to you because of your last post. So pls forgive me if I’m contributing to your stress and if so, ignore this. By all means, Sin ignore it! But if you’re okay to listen then I just want help or advice. Okay, I know this is like a broken record. But the kpop (particularly bts) fandom cause me stress. I love them. I do. I love my groups, but I feel so intensely dependent on them to make me feel good and that scares me. I’ve somewhat stopped, but I still get nervous. 1/2

And I feel like I’m not a good fan if I don’t keep up, or I don’t buy this or that. I feel like not streaming makes me shitty or ugh. I’m lost. I hate how angry certain comments make me, how toxic fans are in all groups. I just feel like I need to find they balance. :( Uoure an older fan, and I just wanted some advice because you seem to be better at navigating this lol (2/2)

Please don’t ever apologize to me for needing to vent or seek advice. I swear to you, this isn’t the part of my life that causes me any pain. I’m glad to be of any help I can be to any of you. So don’t worry for me. I promise you I’m alright with this. That being said, prepare for a mildly long answer, because I have many feelings on this. AND this goes for all fandoms, not just Kpop in general, but since this is the fandom you speak of I’ll mostly be mentioning it.

First, you are not a shitty fan for not streaming or buying any content or even keeping up 100% with a group. We all have lives outside the internet and unless you’re a young fan with literally no job, and all the money at your fingertips, this is downright impossible to perfect. For example, I have a full time job, a husband and pets. My life includes them and they always come first, and I’m not going to use my free time when my husband is off work to be streaming a video or buying content. That’s rude to him, and a waste of time. I assure you, you can watch a groups video once or twice and it still counts for something and can definitely be appreciated—if not more so than the fans who let it run over and over just for hits. That’s not enjoying anything but contributing to obsessive competition with Kpop and I find that very hurtful to ones mentality overall. Also, this works for all fandoms but I’ll use BTS as an example. Not sitting there all night and streaming isn’t going to harm them. I promise you it won’t. BTS will be just fine and not crumble over night if you choose sleep and health over their new music or video. It does not make you a terrible fan, it makes you (excuse my language) fucking human. You don’t owe them anything, and I know some fans will disagree with me but it’s true. You being a fan is enough. You listening to their songs or watching an MV once or twice or just here and there is enough. You do not owe anyone or any group your entire life or day. The same can be said for the idols. Aside from being thankful for people liking their content and helping them succeed in a way, they don’t owe us shit. Honestly, I wish they’d realize it’s their hard work that started their career. Fans came after. That’s the truth. But that’s an entirely different point...

As for buying their content, don’t if you don’t want to. I like a few groups, and other artists. I haven’t bought a cd since 2009 and I never will again. Because I prefer digital and I already pay Apple Music. Also, I don’t want a physical copy just to have a physical copy. It’s useless and will just sit there and collect dust. I’m not wasting my money on that, and if you’re the same then that’s okay. Don’t feel guilty. It’s your money. If you don’t want to buy something, don’t. If any fan out there tells you you’re not a good fan because of it—fuck them. You don’t need to buy every single piece of fandom collectibles or whatever to prove anything. I’m a collector of many things but I only buy what I really want and being an international fan makes this a bit trickier, too. I saw a Mamamoo keychain I really loved. ($7) and shipping was $32....yeah lol No. ✋🏻 So trust me, you aren’t terrible for not spending money on the whim of needing to be a fan. I swear your groups will not fall into destitution because of it. They’ll survive and the fandom won’t dissolve. Not to mention there are fans who just don’t have the money or whose parents don’t have the money. If any fan ever shames them for this, then they need a lesson in humility because screw that mentality. Also, side note—kids who don’t make their own money and rely on their parents, never be angry with them if they refuse to buy you something from your fandom. Again, that’s an entirely different topic but I want to throw that out there. Point is, hun, you are no less a fan than the one out there with every inch of their wall covered and shelves filled. You are a fan if you believe you’re a fan and that’s all that is required.

Onto the dependency. This is a little heavier a topic, if you feel it’s something very serious please refer to a professional for mental health. I am not one, but I can only offer advice from my own experiences or feelings on the matter. So, as for this, it’s okay to find happiness in things or fandoms, but for it to be the only source is not healthy. I would say take a small break if it feels overwhelming for you. You come first, always. These idols do care about their fans, but they don’t CARE about the fans. What I mean is...there’s that normal and basic form of human empathy most of us have. We obviously don’t want others to hurt, but if we don’t know them personally it’s a little less significant. I say this because I think the idol and fan relationship (especially for Kpop) becomes very distorted. Fans feel they have to be loyal and will argue if they think they need to defend their group or idol. You don’t have to. Chances are an idol didn’t see that one comment made by a teenager on Instagram under a random fan page. I’m not saying we let them be bullied or ridiculed, but I’m saying if those comments cause such an emotional intensity in you, then bypass those comments and block the one who made it or avoid the comment section altogether. You not defending the artist won’t make them hate you, won’t make them think you’re less their fan. I would actually argue idols or groups would wish you to take care of yourself first. Think of it this way, like I mentioned, the group/idol would not wish you harm but they also don’t know you. If someone hurt you, they wouldn’t hear about it and therefore wouldn’t comment on it. Does that make them less human, does it make them terrible for not defending you? No. It means they have their life and you have yours and people who actually know you that have a better chance at helping. You are no more responsible for them as they are you, hun. I say all this because I want you to understand this dependency you feel/obligation to always be in the know. It’s okay if you’re not. There is more to life than BTS or Kpop and that’s okay. You’re allowed to enjoy other things. You’re allowed to find comfort elsewhere. This doesn’t make you bad, again—makes you human.

Hell, you don’t have to even like everything your group does. Sometimes a song isn’t that great. Sometimes a video isn’t that deep. That’s just personal taste and it doesn’t make you less than other fans. In fact, I guarantee you some fans even lie and say they love every single song poured out. They just feel obligated to say so. For as many BTS songs I love, there’s a handful I find dull. So please don’t let anyone make you feel less than. It’s all valid what you feel. ❤️

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 3: Get Hired

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Swearing, Homelessness, Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Tony Stark, Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  The real reason Tony Stark hired you is revealed, and you get a lateral promotion.

You backpedaled so fast that you collided with the back wall of the elevator with a loud thud.

Loki just stood there, watching.

You leapt forward and punched the 'door close' button.

Horribly, comically, the usurper prince just stood there as the doors slowly closed in his face.

Tony caught your wrist before you could hit any more buttons.

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, yes, I'm sorry, I should have warned you. That's on me, I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck is he doing here!?!” You screeched. “Why is he in New York? Why isn't he in jail? Why is he still alive?”

“All very good questions, and I'm working on them. He's only here temporarily, and at the behest of his brother. He's made a lot of promises.”

“You want me to be a maid. You want me to be That Guy's maid. Why? Oh god, is this about the salad dressing packets? I thought they were free, I swear-”

“It's not about the salad dressing. It's about...Look, Thor tells me that he needs help around the place. Says he's been injured somehow.”

He looked fine to me!” You exclaimed. “He looked ready to murder the whole tower!” You frowned at the door. “The elevator shouldn't be able to keep him out. Why hasn't he broken in here yet? Why are we still alive?”

“Okay so that's the thing. I don't like it either, but his brother swears the guys conquering days are behind him. I don't necessarily buy it, Thor's always had a soft spot for his brother, and their culture is just different enough that 'attempted world takeover' might not be that big a transgression by their standards.

However-” He cut you off before you could start screeching again. “-Thor has told me a few things, which is a shocker, considering how tight-lipped he can be about Asgard. One: The situation has completely changed. Asgard is in shambles. The whole place, wiped. That's why they're all here; this is all that's left of them. Thor obviously doesn't want any more of them dead, Loki included, because now they're an endangered species.

Two: Thor is the king now. No more uncertainty between the two of them, no more jockeying for approval. That ship has sailed. It's over.

Three: There is something else going on that Thor was very evasive about. Or maybe he just didn't have the information to share. On their way to Earth, their ship was attacked. Whoever it was killed a lot of people, but Thor tells me Loki did something that kept the majority of them alive, but whatever it was left him horribly injured. I know he doesn't look like it, but it might be something internal, or mental. In any case, he's a hero to his people. I didn't think he had it in him, but guy's surprising me to the end, I guess. Which brings us to...

Four: Loki knew the guy who attacked them. Knew him and had worked with him. And, according to Thor, cannot speak a word about him. That's what we need though; we need to know what Loki knows. That's why he's here, that's why we are here with him. There is something here that guy wants, and we need to know what to plan for.

Which means we need to take care of Loki, and maybe acquiesce to a few of his demands.”

“Which are?”

“Well...he needs someone to keep the place clean, maybe cook sometimes. So, for the good of the world, you must become Loki's maid.”

“The actual fuck? Why me though?”

Tony's eyes found the elevator ceiling, as he tried to come up with the right words.

It clicked.

“Oh.” You said. “No one knows he's here, do they?”

“Well, not many people, no. For obvious reasons.”

“And I just got in a fight with someone who has been looking for a reason to fire me since I was hired, so if I don't show up tomorrow, no one will think twice about it.”

“Well-”

“And if I just disappear entirely, it won't matter. I was just a homeless drifter, no one will care.”

“That's not it.”

“It is. It's all right. I understand. There are things you can't risk, and I am extremely expendable.”

He looked guilty, at least. Practically squirming with shame. Good. He understood too.

You hit the 'open door' button.

The elevator doors opened slowly with a ding. Loki was still standing there, as if he hadn't moved once in the entire time you'd been talking.

“Hey there, curlicue, got a minute?”

Loki's lip curled.

“Clearly.” He drawled, in a voice much lower than you expected.

“Well, after reviewing your list of dema-er, requests, we have seen fit to assign you a maid.” Tony pressed against your shoulder, urging you forward and out of the elevator. “This is _______. She can clean, and cook a little.”

Loki eyed you slowly up and down, his expression between a sneer and a smirk.

“This is the best you have to offer, Stark? This filthy, malnourished waif? I'm offended.”

You drew back at the tone of disgust in his voice. Wow, rude.

“I think you mean grateful? Because you only get the one, so better not fuck it up.”

“Very well.” Loki grumbled. “You may leave us.”

“I mean it!” Tony threatened as the elevator doors closed. “You better not treat her bad! I'll hear about it and then I'll-”

The doors closed, leaving you alone with a killer.

“Okay.” You said quietly. “So, it's good to meet you. I think.”

You held out your hand, which he just glanced down at impassively. He didn't take it, but his fingers did twitch as if he was thinking about it. You reached out further to grab his indecisive hand-

-But your fingers passed right through him, his whole body fizzling away in a crackle of green light. You screamed and jumped away. You had made Loki explode!

A deep chuckle reached you, morphing into a soft cough. At the end of the entryway hall, where the penthouse expanded into a more open, circular area, was Loki. No armor, no horns, just a rich robe, a wheelchair, and a large neck brace that his long hair spread out over.

“Pathetic creature.” He rasped. “Frightened of phantoms. Come here and let me look at you.”

The place smelled strongly of Alpha, you finally noticed, and you sighed quietly. You didn't find the smell as pleasant as other people seemed to. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it did mean that he was probably used to people just doing whatever he said.

You ambled down the hall towards the new boss. You'd been in New York at the time of the attack. You weren't homeless then, but you had hidden in the subway all the same. The aliens didn't have the time to go down there. They were too busy zipping around topside.

But footage of the battle had been all over the news, including this terrible man. This horrible Loki, who stared at you with tired, sunken, calculating eyes. As if he were searching for your worth. It was strange to see him like this. He probably couldn't even stand on his own.

“As sacrifices go, you are a poor offer on his part.” Loki finally said. “But you will have to do.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Yes, of course. Didn't Stark tell you? Every full moon, I must drink the blood of an innocent. The moon waxes full tonight, and my great hunger must be appeased. Unfortunate for you, but that is how it goes sometimes. Now lean down and stretch out your neck.”

“Oh yeah? If you're a Dracula, where's your fangs then?” You demanded, crossing your arms.

“Look here, delicious morsel.” He opened his mouth, and long fangs slid into place. You jumped back in surprise. Could he actually be-?

Loki laughed again, once again trailing off into a pained cough. The fangs were gone.

“How are you doing that!?!”

“I am powerful beyond your greatest imaginings. I can seize your perceptions, even alter your very sense of reality.”

His body changed in a sparkle of green light, to your own form. It was disconcerting to see yourself tucked into a wheelchair, bulky neck brace holding your head straight and stiff.

“I can be anything.” He said, in your voice. “Anyone. I could be right behind you at any moment, wearing any face, and you would never know.”

“Wait. Does that mean that first face isn't real either?” You asked.

He went silent. Your stolen visage dissolved back into dark hair and snow-white skin, cold gaze glittering up at you.

Oops. Strike a nerve?

“I have an order for you.” He said icily. “For your first service to me, I want you to go into your rooms, and bathe. You are utterly filthy, and I find the stench distracting.”

You bristled a little, but you couldn't exactly refute the accusation. You hadn't had access to a shower in a while.

Loki held out his hands and a bundle of sage green cloth shimmered into being.

“Don't put your old clothes back on. They carry the same odor. Use these instead.”

You eyed the little bundle suspiciously. Why did he just...have these?

“These are real, right?” You asked. “They aren't gonna just disappear off me when you feel like being funny, right?”

“Now that would be predictable, wouldn't it? No, these are real, and they are for you. That uniform you are wearing is ugly and graceless, as well as smelly. There isn't much I can do with the rest of you, but I can at least dress you properly.”

“Thanks, I think.” You said, accepting the clothes. “I'll just...go shower, I guess.”

                                                                               *****

Your new apartment was unfurnished, but it had hardwood floors, and real tiles, and excellent lighting. It was certainly miles better than the cramped little place you'd shared with your old roommate, and even more than the old, drafty house you'd grown up in, before your parents had gone completely stupid.

They would have protested this. Working for a billionaire. Subservient to the enemy. And for what? In exchange for a roof over your head and food to eat? For health insurance and financial stability? What about Liberty? What about self-sufficiency? What about independence?

But you weren't like them. You understood the reality of the world.

The shower felt wonderful. You didn't have toiletries yet, but someone had left behind tiny little soaps and shampoos, like you would find in a hotel. They would do just fine for now.

There was so much grime to wash away. Dirt, and dead skin, and scabs. A year and a half to scrub out of your hair, off your shoulders, and down the drain. The warm water felt like new life, like rebirth. Like shedding your old skin and growing into a new one.

There were no towels, so you just squeezed as much water out of your hair as you could, scrapped it off yourself with your hands, splashing droplets everywhere, flapped your arms and walked in little circles in what you had decided would become the living room, just trying to dry off and figure out your new situation.

This would be the living room, and that would be the bedroom, and that would be a hobby room, if you ever decided to get back into things. You would put a little table there, in front of the window between the living room and the kitchenette. A couch or chair there, a sleeping bag, maybe even eventually a real bed! A houseplant, and food in the kitchen, a laptop, and maybe a pet fish. Like a real person.

And outside, an alien. An Alpha. A war criminal that you had to obey. He was waiting, and you could almost feel his impatience.

You were as dry as you were going to get. Might as well get dressed.

Loki was right about the elegance part. Stark janitor uniforms were simple and utilitarian, but this Asgardian style uniform was well fitted, high quality, and beautiful.

How had he known what size to give you? He was a prince after all; perhaps he was such a connoisseur of women that he could tell from a glance. The underthings especially gave you pause.

There was one accessory-a choker made from velvet ribbon, with a bejeweled golden horned serpent biting its own tail affixed to the front. It was a little too much like a collar for your liking, so you slipped it into one of the multiple pockets in your new uniform.

You headed back out into the hall, to find him waiting in his own living room area, gazing out the wall of windows at the city view. His back was to you.

“That took entirely too long.” He said without turning. “Were you truly so encrusted with grime? Perhaps you will require sandpaper next time, to remove it all?”

“I didn't have a towel.” You admitted.

“Ah yes. You haven't moved in your things yet. Or...do you not have anything to move?”

“I have things.” You said, slowly approaching. “They just aren't here.” They were scattered out in hidden caches around the city. There wasn't much, it was true, and no furniture, but you had a sleeping bag, and some blankets, backpacks, toiletries, even books. In more suburban areas, it was much easier to rummage in the trashcans. You just had to wait until very late at night, on weekdays., and find the houses that didn't have motion activated lights. You could find some good things there.

He glanced up at you as you came to stand beside him. He couldn't turn his head in that big brace, but his eyes followed your reflection in the glass.

“You are not fully in uniform.” He said.

“What? Oh.” You said, remembering the necklace in your pocket. “Well...I'm just not comfortable wearing a collar. I'm a maid, not a dog.”

“Silly thing.” He said. “It's to let the world know that not just anyone gets to order you around. That you are a servant to royalty, and are not subject to poor treatment.”

“Still...”

“Turn me around.” He interrupted abruptly.

You didn't know why he needed you to do that, when he seemed perfectly capable of getting around on his own, but you obliged.

“Now kneel.” He ordered.

“What?”

“Kneel, servant.” He repeated a little impatiently. “There is a little bit of ceremony that must be observed, to make you officially mine. Kneel before me.”

This was getting a bit too kinky for your tastes, but you did it anyway. Maybe he was playing games with you, or maybe this really was the way Asgardian royalty did things. You didn't know.

But he very suddenly had a dagger in his hands, with such a long blade, it might as well have been a sword, and you shied away. Maybe Stark had been wrong, and his murderous streak had not been erased after all. If he killed you, he would no doubt be severely punished, but that wouldn't do anything for you, now would it?

“Kneel, and bow your head.” He commanded. You did, hoping it would keep him from getting stabby.

He laid the blade on your left shoulder, very close to your neck, like he was knighting you.

“______, Maid of Midgard, I accept you into my entourage as the executor of...maidly duties, which shall consist of both whatever I need and whatever I ask.”

When you opened your mouth to protest, he quickly raised a finger.

“A good servant does whatever is required of them, and a good master knows what not to ask. Now rise. And put on the necklace.”

And you did.

“You are now the first of my entourage on Earth. Congratulations. Now do go make us lunch. I am famished.”  

[demonsforfriends]

Just having a quiet moment to myself to sit and think about everything that's happened in the last week or so, and reflect on what's going on in my life right now.

It's been 3 weeks now since I've been in isolation and it's been a blessing in disguise. I didn't realise how much I needed time to just hermit and be at home and not mixing with the outside world. It's been over 3 weeks since I dissociated last, and that's something of a record for me. Even though we're having money worries, the same as everyone else, anxiety levels have dropped significantly.

Last week, we hit a bit of a bump. Well, a big bump actually. While anxiety has been a lot more manageable, there's been a lot of random depressive spells, and last week out of nowhere, I hit a wall, completely snapped, and made a really irrational, split second decision to end my life, and just went out on autopilot. For a moment, I was completely overwhelmed, felt like I was the source of all that's wrong with everything, felt like everyone's lives would be better without me in it and was just completely exhausted with the state of the world.

I struggle to do and understand a lot of things. Basic things, like working out how I feel, and talking about it, and dealing and acting on a single emotion. Feeding myself when I'm hungry. Showering when I need to. Understanding people's feelings and intentions. It's so difficult and confusing to the point of tears sometimes. But at the same time, I feel so so deeply, I just can't do anything about it a lot of the time, and not for lack of trying either. When I can actually pick up on it, I can feel deeper for others than I can myself. I've speculated in the past that I have autism, and never really thought anything of it, I just brushed it off and carried on. More recently, it's felt more and more like something I need to confront and deal with. Anyway, when I was off on my little suicide mission, I had a moment of clarity and I stopped. I turned my phone back on, and listened to the voicemail that my fiancée had left me and it absolutely broke my heart. She was so scared, and hurt, and confused and could barely speak for crying and it wrote me off. For a moment, I had a flash of confusion, which quickly turned to anger and self loathing. How could she love me? I'm so obsessed with perfection, but I am so imperfect, the exact opposite of the thing I've spent my entire life chasing, and trying to be. But as quickly as the anger came on, it dissolved. All I wanted to do was go home and make her feel better. I've always said that her happiness is my happiness, and I'll probably always stand by that. I went home, had a chat with the police, went with the ambulance crew to the hospital, spoke to the mental health teams, and went home to her. I felt so much remorse. We have regular mental health check ups with each other anyway, but that night we really talked a lot, about what I want, why I can't ever do anything for myself and the general day to day struggled that I have, and ups and downs that I have, and how to deal with my autism better. She also tried to work out how to love me better, which made me kinda sad, because there's no way she could do more for me than she already does, but she vowed to stick to it nonetheless. I've always believed her when she tells me she loves me, but somehow I believe her more now than ever.

I'm so glad I didn't go through with ending my life last week. I've experienced so many beautiful moments in this last 8 days alone. Things that would seem small and insignificant to some, but have been amazing and beautiful and really meaningful to me.

The first day after everything that happened, we spent the day at home together, mostly in bed. Just being in each others company. She held me and kept me calm for most of the day. Just the pure warmth and innocence of naked skin to skin contact was amazing. Jen sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the window, and as the sun was setting, I noticed the way the skin touched her skin and outlined her body, and it was truly an amazing thing to watch, so much so that I had to capture it. Her silhouette looked perfect against the dusk sky. I had a really profound feeling of being grateful to survive the previous afternoon, else I wouldn't have lived to see that moment.

Tuesday was a really, really amazing day, start to finish. One of the best days I've had in a long long time. Once Jen got back from work, we had a parcel arrive from Ithaca, actually genuinely one of my favourite bands. When the Covid-19 lockdown started, we bought a long sleeved t-shirt from them, because A. the shirt is sick as fuck and B. just to show some love and support. To our surprise, they sent us two shirts, the one that we ordered, as well as a bonus shirt from old merch stock, as well as a sticker and a handwritten note on the back of a photo of Djamila's dog, The Ham™.

Afterwards, we got dressed and headed out to go get some food shopping, and decided to talk through the park on the way home, and came across a beautiful bed of daffodils, so of course, I had to take pictures. The one above is my favourite, of course. Jen has the most beautiful smile, especially now that I know that she's happy for real.

After we'd been home, put the shopping away and showered, we headed out again. This time, to go hunt down a good spot to try and take some good photos of the "Pink Moon". We went for a nice long walk through the woods first though. It was so quiet, all we could hear were birds singing, the water running in the stream and the ground beneath our feet.

Once we found a good spot on high ground, we sat on top of two big rocks in front of some trees, one tree in particular was a a blossom tree, and we watched the sun go down, and just sat there quietly, looking at all of the colours meld and mix in the sky.

After the sun had set, we found the best spot we could find to set up the tripod and Jen sat by for a good half an hour to 45 minutes while I tried to get the best shot I could of the moon. I am honestly so so proud of this photo, I personally think it's one of the best photos I've ever taken.

I was starting to feel as though Jen was getting bored of sitting around, while I was indulging myself, as I know I often get carried away and absorbed when I'm doing something creative, and starting to feel like I should wrap things up, but instead, she took a big interest in what I was doing, and took the time and effort to get involved in what I was doing. She came and sat with me, and asked me questions about how my camera worked, and gave it a try for herself. I remember watching her try, and adjust, and try again and I remember feeling so much love, and feeling so proud of her. No one has ever gone out of their way to involve themselves in something that I love doing the way she did, and that memory, and that picture will stick with me forever.

This is just a bonus picture of Jen, because I thought she looked really beautiful under the glow of the streetlights and the moon. 😍

The day after/yesterday, after Jen came home from work, we spend another afternoon in bed together, to have some alone time. While the sex was amazing, as it usually is, that isn't the moment that sticks out for me, it's this one, in the photo. This might be grim, or kinda gross or just too much information for some, but I don't care. Now, ever since we have been together, both of us have become more comfortable body hair, periods, and pretty much everything that our bodies do naturally and we both find it beautiful. Something I've noticed, as well, is that people don't generally tend to talk much about grooming, especially when it comes to helping your partner groom and helping your partner with self care. Well, recently, we both decided to shave together, which is something both of us had to do before to please others, even though I never really liked it. However, this time is was different. Anyway, I have quite sensitive skin, and naturally, I get a lot of ingrown hairs, this time around have had a lot and it's been very uncomfortable and at times quite painful. When we were lay in bed together, I was in a bit of discomfort with it, and without batting an eyelid, Jen picks up the tweezers, heads back down there and starts removing and relieving all of the ingrown hairs. This really sticks out to me as a really beautiful moment. She was so gentle, and I was so comfortable that I felt no pain at all. I've never met anybody who treats my body with such care and respect before as she does, and she protects and looks after it better than I do. I remember being filled with love, and I felt like it was such an intimate moment, but a gentle, innocent kind of intimacy and it was beautiful. Another moment that will stay with me for a long, long time.

Later on in the evening, we went out for another walk, this time to go and meet Jen's mother and collect some food that she had got for us. On the way there, we came across a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Cherry blossoms are both of our favourite flowers, we absolutely adore them, so I wanted to photograph them, but I'm not a tall person and the tree was very high, so I couldn't reach to get a good close up photo of the flowers. Within seconds, she gave me a piggy back and hoisted me up high so I could get close enough to take this photo. We must've looked crazy to onlookers, but it was like we were the only two people in the world.

If I had gone through with ending my life last week, I would've missed out on all of these precious moments. As I said, they may seem small or insignificant to some, but to me, they hold so much weight and meaning. All of that would've been gone, within a split second of being overwhelmed.

Jennifer Stephanie Riddell, I wouldn't be here without you. I love you, so so much, more than words will ever be able to say. I can't wait to become your wife, so that everyday for the rest of our lives, we can carry on making beautiful memories out of the little things. Every day, you give me a reason to feel love and feel grateful for being alive. I hope you realise how special you are to me, and how meaningful it is to spend my life with you, however big or small the moment is.

[kwcnhbins]

hi everyone! my name is anna and i can’t wait for you guys to get to know haebin! he’s definitely out of the box for muses i’ve drafted, but i loved him so much that i couldn’t wait to add him here! im literally the shyest bitch of the century until i get to know you AND take first place as the queen of overthinking so please like this post so i can reach out to you for plots or connections!! my connections page will be up later :>

oh my god ! you can’t believe who i just saw. it was kwon haebin! they really resemble jung hoseok, don’t they ? i heard they started their career about nine years ago as the rapper, lead dancer, and sub-vocalist in the group thyme, but it sure seems longer, doesn’t it ? they always seem so cheerful, passionate, and kind in interviews and to their fans, but their latest scandal made them sound blunt, impulsive, and uncertain … oh well, must’ve been the bad lighting. did you know they came all the way from busan, south korea to new york city ? it was really brave of them to sacrifice so much. you think they’re survive the spotlight ? 

trigger warning: abuse, violence, mental health struggles, mentions of collapsing due to starvation and dehydration

p.s. i love hoseok so much it was lit rally luv at first sight 

haebin, and his messy personality.

haebin on camera is probably one of the sweetest and most considerate people on the planet. like, seriously, he’s been acknowledged multiple times by the korean and western public for his respect towards others and especially women.

he’s known for being one of the more energetic members, his affection towards his fans and his members is a never-ending cascade of hearts, kisses, and hugs.

off camera? well, that’s a different story.

he loves sex. he eats, breathes, and survives on sex . he’s one to seduce many and will never discriminate. anything for a good time, right?

he’s like nicky from ointb, if he sees you and he’s attracted to you, he wants you.

not really one to stick around in a relationship. he likes the rush, he likes the diversity of things. he knows he’ll get bored and may hurt the other person in the relationship, so he actively tries to avoid people who are romantically interested in him or who he thinks he’d be interested in.

he also can’t stick around in a relationship because he’s afraid of what he’s capable of.

his respect for boundaries and such is real, and he understands when someone is uncomfortable around him. he’ll never push them into doing something they don’t want to do.

will not fuck someone more than once unless it was good enough to come back again. he’ll rarely do this, but there are always exceptions in new york.

he knows his deep voice and stage presence is sexy. now that his company finally let him expose more of his seductive side, he’s taken advantage of it wants to show the world just how well he can perform.

he wants a family. this is probably one of the hardest things for him to think about; he can’t imagine himself settling down with anyone, but he wants a full family and a wholesome life. this causes backlash in his own internal monologue.

he uses sex and drugs as an escape. nothing has ever solved his problems the way both highs have.

his members are his family. literally. if anyone ever lays a hand on them, disrespects them, fucks with them, he’ll be by their side. he’s loyal when it comes to people he loves the most. he can’t let someone else make the people who’ve brought him back from dark parts in his life dissolve again.

backstory.

born to kwon haechul and kwon jiye on august 30th, 1994. the second of three children, and the apple of their eye.

there was something off about his family. haebin would always get that gut feeling that something was wrong, but he never payed attention to it.

it was a tuesday afternoon, and after three tests in class and an exhausting walk from school, the kwon siblings had decided to stop by a convenience store to buy some ice cream. his older sister, haewon, led them home, marching down the road with her two younger siblings giggling behind her.

haebin was his happiest in that moment. he never realized it until later, but the pounding of his heart mixed with the  giddy smiles and exhilarated laughter was one of the most liberating feelings he’s ever experienced.

they’d returned home at around ~7 p.m., which was significantly later than normal. haebin recalls wondering if his parents would be worried about them.

haewon happily swung open the door to have a glass vase fly by her, shattering against the wall and the glass piercing her skin. she fell to the floor, writhing in pain as salted tears stung her wounds. the screaming, the yelling, the sobbing, the crying. . . it was more than haebin could process at eleven.

haebin frantically sent his younger brother haesong to the next house over in an attempt to protect him. haesong, only nine at the time, was weeping; the fear in his eyes was enough for their shocked elderly neighbors to invite him in and keep him safe.

haebin refused to look at his howling sister on the floor, afraid if he saw her he’d break down and run. he couldn’t do that to her, he had to protect her when she couldn’t protect him.

as he peered around the corner, he found his father with bruises across his body and blood soaking the clean white shirt he’d seen him wear only hours ago. it was so red, it could’ve been the original color. his mother held the spade of their fireplace in her right and and a knife in her left, hysterically screaming about how she knew he was unfaithful to her and that she would make sure he wouldn’t live to fuck his imaginary mistress again. his father’s eyes darted towards him, tears running down his cheeks at the sight of his son seeing something so graphic within his own home.

horrified at the blood staining the walls and floor and the muddled screaming inside his house, haebin crept up the stairs to reach his sisters phone in her room. he dials the authorities in a panic and whispers information, distressed and incoherent. the police arrive in around six minutes and arrest his mother, charging her with child endangerment, assault, battery, and psychological abuse, among other things.

no one had really talked about haebin’s mother’s abusive behavior. it had always been there, and everyone always noticed it, but no one decided to pinpoint it and stop it before it got worse. 

this led haebin to a bad portion of his life. his dad’s never-ending silence and his sister’s face littered with scars from glass shards were inevitable reminders of the history of his family. he hated his house; he hated that his dad didn’t let them move out, he hated the way he could still visualize the now changed wallpaper crimson red, he hated the way the breakage in the wall created from the hurled glass vase was never repaired.

haebin wouldn’t return home at times. he’d bury his problems with drinking, smoking, and sex; he didn’t want to go home to the house that never seemed to leave the evening of april 19th, 2005.

somehow, he was scouted in a restaurant in 2009. the neighbors that housed his brother on that cursed tuesday owned a restaurant, and would let haebin perform for guests from time to time. after he performed mirotic by tvxq with a friend of his; he was questioned if he wanted to join the company he’s now a part of. haebin didn’t know how to respond to such an offer. he took the business card of the woman who scout him and left, feeling unsure about whether or not he wanted to return home.

after a long conversation with his family, he decided that he’d take the position and the next day, set off to audition. all of the distress from getting his acceptance letter was not in vain, for he was signed as a trainee later that year.

he didn’t find himself to fit in at all. he’d rarely talk to people. his main focus was to do well with something in his life for once. the hardest thing about it all was watching his friends debut one by one while he was stuck training. it was a long and hard process. if you ask him now, he’ll tell you he never regret a second of it. it’s a lie, though. he regret not being around his family, he regret leaving busan for seoul.

his addition to thyme brought him more joy than he could ever fathom. once he was on the road to debuting, he upped his game even more, working thrice as hard, practicing for more than 24 hours, burning his body out.

he collapsed in the middle of dance practice due to dehydration and starvation.

he was devastated after waking up in a hospital bed, screaming at himself for fucking it up, yet again. it felt like all he could ever do was fuck up. this caused him to become even more enveloped in his emotional walls, not letting many people in. this is why he doesn’t do emotional attachment anymore. 

once he was told thyme was heading to new york, he didn’t know how to react. he’d never been this far away from friends and family before, but with their encouraging words and support, he decided that he’d be okay with going to new york. eventually.

[blaperile]

Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 16 (Epilogue 3 Page 3)

[queeniewritesce]

Shall We Dance 3/?

“You okay over there?” Chris asks her during halftime, the Patriots opening a three-drive advantage over the Tennessee Titans and making Chris feel good about the game. Lucy was seated by the wall and Chris had to cross over five chairs to get to her, moving to sit by her side. Most of his friends left for the bathroom or the bar, leaving him and Lucy when neither of them didn’t move after the whistle. “You’re being oddly quiet and Penny’s worried.”

He watched Lucy worry her bottom lip, her teeth moving back and forth over the plump lower lip. He was sure she was debating over giving him a feeble excuse or talking freely with him. He wished for the latter, Chris was tired of girls using headaches or that time of the month to justify their moods.

“I have a…” well, here comes the excuse then he gazed at her disappointed while she made to look at the field to avoid him. The next second he could feel something inside her snapping back in place, her eyes meeting his. “You know what, no, I do not have a headache. I feel perfectly fine health-wise, but I do have a lot on my head. I don’t appreciate being treated like a piece of meat, a fat piece of meat at that, and some of your friends are pig heads.”

Chris stared at her, somewhat pleased she was forthcoming with him and at the same time getting mad someone he considered a friend mistreating another.

“What Samuel said to you?” his stare was hard when he got up, never breaking eye contact. “He can be an ass sometimes, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for something you didn’t do Chris,” Lucy offered him a smile, stilling his walk when she grabbed his hand. “As I said, I do have a lot on my mind and sometimes I let a bad memory filter through the forefront and that freezes me for a moment. Most of the time though I’m a tough cookie, I can dish back whatever I receive.”

She gave him her meanest face, dissolving into laughter right after.

“Oh right, that was terrifying, I’m shaking in my Nikes.” He sat next to her, his half-full cup of beer in his hand. He brought the cup to his lips, finishing it all at once. “Seriously though, I’ll talk to him, he knows I hate when he pulls that shit. If there is one thing I don’t tolerate is disrespecting women.”

“He called me a stripper!” she giggled and downed whatever little wine was left inside her own plastic cup and grabbed his, getting up and throwing both on the can next to the wall before resting her bum on the rail in front of him.

“He what?” Chris was on his feet so fast he swayed a little. “I’m kicking him out right now.”

“Calm down Chris, seat your ass back down and relax,” she pushed him back gently and he was dumbfounded, a confused expression on his face his free hand raised in a ‘what’ question at her. “He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last to call me that or even worst. Guys don’t usually understand that you can pole without taking off your clothes, as stripping is ordinarily their introduction to the craft.” She got comfortable, leaning a little lower on the rail, her legs stretched in front of her between both of his. She had on brown boots that reached almost to her knees but no heels, she was dressed for comfort he noted, but even she wasn’t trying to impress him, she already had. He closed his legs trapping her and oh why he loved that laugh so much?  “Not that there’s anything wrong with stripping, it’s hot as hell when you know what you’re doing.”

The temperature around them was board line freezing, but Chris felt warm at her words. He had been to his fair share of strip clubs, some raucous trips to Vegas coming back to him.

“Have your ever? I mean, did you ever… God, don’t answer that, I sound just like a pervert, I have no right to ask you that.” He ran a hand through his hair and face, exhaling to right his mind. Calm down man, what are you, nineteen?

“I don’t mind answering to be honest, we’re just talking.” Her right foot moved back and forth with the music filtering down from the speakers. Lucy gathered her hair to her left side and brought it forward to rest over her ample chest and Chris was undecided if he wanted to gently run his hand through the tresses before resting it on her breast or grab it to pull her towards him and run his nose between the valley of her bosom. In the end, he chose neither, his hand flexing and opening again to try and release of the tension his body was feeling. She grinned; “Ask whatever Chris.”

“Who usually chooses the pole dance classes?” he tried a safe question first even though he knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

“You’d be surprised!” she sounded like she had a secret and he made a mental note to ask why later. “We have housewives who want to plus their sexual lives, executives who want to let go of their everyday lives for a couple of hours, surgical doctors who want the limberness and the dexterity pole dance offers. And of course, we have the girls working the poles for money, either pros who need to learn something new or a beginner who can barely bend and reach her toes. And the best thing is that anyone can do it you know, they can be as small as Kate Moss thin or as big as Tess Holiday, it doesn’t matter, as long as you have core strength you can do a routine.”

Her passion shinned while she spoke and Chris couldn’t help but smile with her.

“And do you do personalized routines for the working girls?”

“Sometimes we come up with stuff together, sometimes they just want help with an angle or how to go from one move to the next seamless and as graceful as possible. And when I say graceful, I mean sexy.” Lucy explained. “Sometimes I go to their club so I can see the space they have to work with it. Some routines use chairs or the floor and not only the pole itself.”

An image of her on the floor, legs encased in black stockings and heels flashed in his mind and a small moan crossed his lips. He scooted over the chair, and his crotch made contacts with her calf when he hugged her legs with his own, hands on her knees.

“For some reason, I can’t see you performing in a club…” he playful tapped the side of his face. “I mean, not that you wouldn’t be amazing, but… No, you’d want a captive audience for that.” He tilted his head and looked at her a little sideways, an eyebrow raising and giving her a heat look when a beautiful blush tinted her cheeks, his cock twitching at the thought of her braless in front of him, her ass rotating with the rhythm while she grounded herself on him. His hands went grazed over the backside of her knees, going up till they rested near her buttocks to hold her in place, fingers sprawled on the backside of her thighs, squeezed lightly when he looked up at her. “I bet you have a routine for each of your favorite songs, don’t you? Outfits picked and everything.”

She licked her lips and nodded, unable to form words at his forwardness. The hand that previously combed through her own hair trailing down her body, giving her own breast a squeeze before coming to a rest on his biceps. The green of her eyes was brighter, her pupils dilated.

“I don’t see a question in there Chris.” Her voice was low and raspy, and it did things to his cock.

“You’re a flirty little thing, aren’t ‘ya?” he chuckled and sighed right after when her other hand took hold of his chin, caressing lazily through his beard. Chris looked her straight into the eyes before posing his question, “Are you gonna dance for me, sweetheart?”

Chris turned his head slightly and captured her thumb with his lips, sucking lightly before nipping at the pad of her finger, still holding her gaze and winking before sucking more of her thumb into his mouth. She shivered and moaned softly, and he was glad there were quite a few seats empty, guaranteeing their privacy. He didn’t want anyone hearing her moans but himself.

Lucy righted herself and her blush intensified when her movements put her mound right near his face but he was holding her gaze waiting for an answer. The hand that holds his arm moved and she cupped his chin with both hands.

“Yes, I will."

--..--..--..--..--

This had been the longest second-half of any Patriots games in recorded history. It was like Tom Brady knew that he wanted to leave as soon as possible so he could fuck the soft, beautiful girl seated next to him and decided that all snaps would end up with the ball out of bounds. He was favoring short passes over big plays and advancing yard by yard. Brady was a cockblocker, Chris was sure of that.

After their exchange during half-time, Chris moved places, seating himself next to the fiberglass wall that separated all suites and pulling Lucy on the seat next to him. He took a hold of her hand and didn’t let go even when Guillermo handed him three cups of beer stating he wasn’t going back to the bar. He also brought Lucy two plastic cups of wine and she drank half the contents of one almost immediately, saying her mouth felt dry.

Chris had Garret kindly ask Samuel to seat as far from them as possible going as far as to say that he was welcomed to stay if he kept his mouth shut. The blonde man skulked but went on to chat with a brunette that was friends with Dix’s brother. Looking around he realized he knew no more than ten people milling about and he made a mental note to reevaluate who should be invited next game.

The third quart was over and he looked at his watch, three thirty p.m. With some luck his team would get it together and don’t let the Titans score again and for fuck’s sake, stopping punting on every drive.

He threw his hands up and cheered when Malcolm Butler intercepted the ball, high-fiving his friends, but the Patriots had to punt after a penalty stalled them near the forty-yard line. He groaned and picked on the skin of his pinky finger, almost ripping his nail off when the Titans scored a touchdown in a drive that lasts less than 15 seconds.

“FUCK THIS.” Chris chugged the rest of his second beer, cursing loudly. He sat with a huff, grabbing her hand again. “Not a word from you woman,” a stern look on his face. “This is what happens you bring a Giants fan to the temple. And don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

She did just that while taking a sip of her wine. Penny and her big mouth had disclosed Lucy was a diehard Giants fans, with season tickets to prove it, while they went to get drinks and Garret almost gloated when he informed Chris he was consorting with the enemy.

“You Bostonians are way into this team. It’s like a religion… better yet, a cult!” her empty cup was back on the ground, a smirk on her lips. “At least I admit when my team does something wrong you know. You people worship Brady like he was a goddamn gold idol, even after deflate-gate.”

“Don’t you go spouting heresies inside the temple! Are you insane?” Chris gave her an exasperated look before softening his features; he was feeling the tiniest bit drunk after so many beers, enjoying this time with his friends and the girl by his side. But now she’s talking crazy!

Lucy threw her head back and laughed out loud, mirth dancing in her eyes.

“You guys are so easy to rile up,” turning her body to him, she placed a hand on the inside of his thighs, rubbing small circles there. “I’m sorry I offended Boston’s number one boyfriend, is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Chris should’ve been offended by her dissident comment about Brady, but her apt fingers reached the inseam of his jeans, pausing there for a moment before making they way back to his thighs and all thoughts quickly left him.

He dropped his gaze to her curved mouth, getting as close as possible without touching her. He wanted to kiss her badly, run his lips down her jaw and pull at her lips with his owns lips, but he refused to have their first kiss where thousands of cell phones would surely capture that intimate moment. They both wetted their lips at the same time and the gesture drove Chris nuts. Fuck the cameras, I need to taste her.

Just then the Patriots scored a field goal and people all around them went nuts. Getting out of their seats and jumping, flags clasped in their hands.

Chris seized the moment and captured her lips in a kiss, moving slowly, first her heart-shaped upper lip and then her full bottom lip, his teeth pulling and drawing a moan from her. His tongue followed where he teeth pulled, soothing the bite. Lucy opened her mouth a little, welcoming the exploration of his tongue. She tasted like an opulent wine, and it warmed him in the freezing weather.

Their mouths moved together till air become imperative. Opening his eyes Chris was met with the most beautiful sight of her face almost flush with his, her cold red nose touching his cheek, red lips turned into a blissful smile. And when her eyes opened, he felt something running all the way from his head down his back and up to his chest, settling content near his heart. They took a few seconds looking into each other’s eyes before he brought his hands to her neck and the side of her head, pulling her into him again for one more taste.

He'd do anything to get back home as soon as possible, game be damned.

[orangepunkwitch-blog]

Tsk, so...  A friend of mine and I plan to do a temporary banishing spell on someone.  I have a “keep reading” link posted in case you don’t wanna scroll through the story just to get past it on your dash.

Ever since September, my husband and I started hanging out with two of our friends we’ve known since high school.  We missed them dearly, and because of a lack of activity on FB, we didn’t even know we all still lived in this shithole of an area, and started hanging out.  It’s helped me get back into socializing, so I don’t feel anxiety anymore speaking to anyone outside of the immediate household here thanks to a few years of damn near social isolation (largely because I haven’t been feeling well physically or mentally and whatnot).  One of these friends grows and sells weed, and it was actually in September that I tried smoking it for the very first time.  Ever since then, I’ve been using weed for my period cramps---I don’t require very much.  Just enough to make it so my husband doesn’t have to stay home and help me go to the bathroom because I’m in too much pain to walk.  Seriously, having a buddy who sells weed has amazing benefits.  He gives me what he can for free because he’s just a damn good friend and wants to help me.  So we usually just went over and smoked weed, got me used to what it’s like (though it’ll be a while before I can finally build some tolerance for it because I’m a light-weight with like... everything), and we’d hang out and whatnot.

So now I have something to look forward to every week.  Several months later and we’ve become a little D&D group who has a blast with some other games like Cards Against Humanity, Liar’s Dice, and we watch some movies and anime if we got nowhere else to go.  My parents are fully aware of this and, despite their political views and whatnot, they don’t see marijuana as this evil thing (largely because back in the 70s, my dad grew it, smoked it, sold it, etc. but that was of course a long-ass time ago).  They knew the facts about it and told me to just be careful.  My mental health has improved greatly as has my husband’s, and we regret not finding out about them still living in the area sooner.

Welp, this doesn’t come without its downs.  You see, the good friend of ours who sells the weed?  He lives with his mom.  He did live on his own, got screwed out of some money, lived with the other friend mentioned in this story for a bit, and then his mom apparently made some sort of personal info legality threat against him (the dealer-buddy’s mom, not the other friend’s mom) and he ended up having to move in with her until he can figure something out.

This woman.... Holy shit...

She commands our friend around (from this point on, for privacy reasons, I’m going to refer to him as Buu and the other friend as Whis), making messes and commanding he clean it up.  It’s summer already, and this past Thursday, she turns off the air conditioner and opens the windows when it’s 80 degrees outside.  She claims it’s too hot, open the windows for some air circulation, etc.  Buu usually turns on the air with windows closed when she’s not in the house, but she’ll throw a fit because she wants to save on the electricity bill (she’s made it to where she only pays $90 a month or some shit like that because she’s cheap as fuck, meanwhile the company for my parents’ electricity overcharges us and we can’t do shit about it).

Now, while the area knows Buu grows and sells weed and doesn’t care or mind (and this, surprisingly, includes his mom), he would still like some form of privacy.  No, his mom wants the air conditioning off, all windows and doors open, etc.  She’ll barge in without knocking, too.  She’ll get nosy about what we’re doing or playing, and we’ll start throwing terms that confuse her just to get her to go away.  She will walk around the house bitching to herself about something, and she’ll talk on the phone with whoever while on speakerphone and talk loudly.  This woman will even walk in on you in the bathroom if the door isn’t closed and locked.  She did that to me once just so she could do laundry (the washer and dryer are installed in the bathroom---the house has a nice set-up but my only complaint is there’s one bathroom and I always lived in a house with at least two).  She’s walked in on her own son before, too, so it’s not just a personal thing against one of us or anything.

And if we confront her about anything, we have to walk on eggshells because Whis’ home (he also lives with his mother due to financial reasons but he’s saving up to move) is ridiculously small with missing or busted doors, and while we have a considerable amount of room here at my parents’, my parents go to bed at a certain time and we don’t want to wake them (ground-floor, not a two-story place).  At least, we can’t hang out here until the garages are cleaned out, and I’m working on that, but I need my mom’s help going through some stuff and she works 6 days a week, so...

Last month or the month before, Buu’s mom went to Mexico for a week for a vacation.  Buu had the whole house to himself for that week, and when we met up for that one day (my husband and Whis only had one day of the same day off that week), we played D&D in the dining room instead of his semi-cramped bedroom.  All of our health problems were pretty much gone because we weren’t under some sort of stress, and actually had the most fun we’d had in years.  Since then, we hadn’t had a day like that within Buu’s home.  Closest we’d have is when we’re out and about, but we’re not guaranteed to run into any assholes, and we have.

For some reason, since she’d returned from Mexico, she’d been yelling or screaming at Buu through walls and such to make him do things far more often than before she went to Mexico.  She doesn’t care he has guests over.  And she’s yelled at my husband and Whis before, too.  She’ll flip at the drop of a hat.  However, she won’t yell at me because I’m a woman, which is odd.  She actually calmed down when I first started hanging out, but that has since dissolved away.  Now she’s in full-on bitch-mode, and won’t flip out directly at me.

It’s to a point where we can’t exactly say we’ve hung out much because she keeps making Buu do things even though he has guests and even though most or half the things she makes him do is all because of her fucking shit up or making the mess or whatever in the first place.  But there was a straw that broke the camel’s back Thursday night that made me and Whis talk about in the car along with my husband on our way home.

Buu’s mom had a handgun on the island counter in the kitchen with the clip laying next to it.�� We don’t know if she legally opens the gun or not (I can’t remember if Buu clarified this with us yesterday or not, my flare-up was distracting me heavily yesterday), but my husband asked her right before we left what the gun was for.  And she says that the neighbor’s dog likes to chase her on the ride-mower when she mows the lawn and she just fires into the air randomly to get the dog to go away.  And she laughed about it.  My husband, who is a gun-nerd knowledge-wise, said that you don’t just randomly fire a bullet into the air because that eventually comes down at high velocity (because bullets, believe it or not, tend to be heavy), and they could hurt or even kill someone or something.  She didn’t believe him and told him to leave.  He didn’t think to bring up the fact that people can trace the bullet’s serial-number to the purchaser and dust for her fingerprints until after we talked about it in the car on the way back.  The three of us on the way home all agreed that we may not be as safe around this woman as we thought we were, that she could one day snap.  But we need to buy some sort of time until I can get these damn garages cleaned out.

So Whis and I have decided we are going to have a ritual where we can have a temporary banishing spell.  Temporary because she brings in more money than Buu, and he wouldn’t be able to pay all the bills and whatnot by himself.  This will give us some time to have at least one day a week where we’re not going to be so damned stressed while the rest of my free week can be spent cleaning out the garages where I can by myself (there’s some heavy-lifted in the outer garage needed but the inner garage needs cleaned out, first).  Perhaps her visiting with a distant relative or something for a month or so would help.  Regardless, we have no other choice.

I’ve even done some divination and all signs point to the fact that Whis and I need to perform a banishing spell.  Buu’s been catching those shield stinkbugs (they’re annoying and he just catches them in a D&D dice container that he has so he doesn’t have to deal with their stench) and we’re gonna use them as part of the ritual.  This will have to take place after our trip to Pittsburgh, because there’s a metaphysical shop called Hocus Pocus that sells lots of ritualistic supplies, especially herbs, and Whis and I are gonna need as much stuff as we can get for this to work.  It’ll probably be a bit of a lengthy ritual, too.

Whis has more experience in witchcraft than I do, but I’ve been pretty damn successful in my craft so far, especially when it comes to protection as well as banishing my nasty maternal grandmother’s spirit from my parents’ home and sending her to my aunt.  So I’d imagine we should be good doing our own part in this.  I share this because I’m letting you know this will be my first ritual performed with another witch, and I will let you know how things went after the ritual and a while after that if it worked in case you are curious as to whether or not shield stinkbugs make for a good use in a banishing ritual.

Wish us luck that this might work, because we don’t know what else to do until we get these two garages cleaned out.

[sonsoflucis]

How about Noct finds out that Prompto doesn't always eat like he should and takes it upon himself to feed this idiot some gd pizza (a fluff request for a rainy day)

craving // noctis x prompto [sfw]

1,630 words || tagged @crowryn-arts || current song: price x koethe || a/n: i am in a rut like you wouldn’t believe so hopefully this little drabble is okay. also my brain saw the word FLUFF and was like “sure, we could do that. or make them CRY” so it got a tad angsty and i touched on eating disorders. be prepared for that. peace and hair grease, bud. || sfw with mild angst and depression/ED

Noctis kicked his boots off immediately after entering his apartment, sighing heavily. “What a day, what a day…” Gladio knew he hated these early morning training sessions and made them even earlier every time the prince complained. He stretched, groaning, jacket on the floor beside his boots. New bruises were making themselves known on his back, a few more reminders to never look away from that hulking man-beast of a shield during practice. Noctis assessed himself in the mirror, gingerly feeling a particularly tender place on his jaw. “Hm…” 

“Noct…?” 

The prince jumped at the wavering voice, no one else was supposed to be here but Ignis and that mad man would have swept away Noctis’ clutter and chastised him before could even make an excuse. Noctis crept around the corner, not entirely sure what to expect, and saw a very nervous Prompto sitting on the counter, kicking his feet. Noct blinked surprise and relaxed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Sorry, dude, I… I just wanted to come over. It hasn’t been a… good day,” the gunman mumbled, eyes falling to the floor. He was wearing a black hoodie and loose jeans, not really his usual style. The very air around him felt… off. 

“I mean, I love seeing you, man,” Noctis answered quickly, jumping up on the counter beside the blonde. “But uh, what’re you doing here? You were supposed to-” 

“Be out making deliveries, I know.” 

“Well… Yeah, you just got the job… You should probably show up every once in a while,” the prince laughed, touching the boy’s shoulder. 

Prompto shrugged off the hand trying to convey comfort and shook his head. “I am not really in a good place, Noct. I shouldn’t have applied for the position in the first place.” 

Noctis furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about, Prom? What’s up?” His eyes lingered on the splash of freckles spilling across the bridge of the blonde’s nose, the faint trembling of his bottom lip. Prompto closed his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest. 

“It doesn’t matter. How’re you? Didja get fucked up by Gladdy again?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no, reverse. What’s wrong, Prompto?” Noctis prodded, drawing his mouth into a fine line. “Did something happen at work?” Prompto’s entire demeanor was collapsing in on itself and it felt like he was trying to make himself smaller, winding his fingers around his knees and burying his face. “Do you want me to call Iggy-” 

“No!” Prompto cried, two big tears rolling down his face. He stared at the dark-haired boy for a minute, the two of them shocked that Prom had actually raised his voice. It was so out of character. Noctis didn’t say a word when Prompto slid off the counter and straightened out his hoodie. Didn’t say anything when he meandered toward the door. Didn’t say anything when he stopped and hunched over, muffling a sob in the crook of his arm. Didn’t say anything when Prom looked at him pitifully from the floor, a blubbering mess. Noct merely stood and crouched next to his friend, pulling him awkwardly into his chest. 

“Dude, hey, I’m here,” he crooned, unsure of what else to do. The blonde shoved his face into Noct’s shirt and hugged him tightly, causing the prince to fall back a bit. Prompto crumbled at the contact, wildly apologizing, body wracked with watery sobs and sniffling. Noctis readjusted, reaching his hand up to… to do what? I don’t even know how to comfort my own friend. Prom wiped his face on his jacket sleeve, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Noct warily placed his palm on the back of his friend’s head and softly patted his hair. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Prompto sniffled, a look of horror cresting over his face, and released Noctis from his vice-like grip. “S-sorry, highness…” 

Noctis stifled a chuckle, his hand resting on the gunman’s thigh. “Oooh, so formal.” Prompto blanched, hesitantly placing his own shaking palm over the prince’s. 

“You… You aren’t mad?” 

“Why would I be?”

Prompto sniffed, blinking back another bout of tears. “I’m used to people getting mad. And then leaving.” 

“It’ll take a lot more than a snotty t-shirt and a halfassed break in to drive me away.” The gunman laughed quietly, standing. Noctis got up and walked over to the refrigerator. “You want a soda or somethin’?” he called out, shoulders deep in the fridge, digging around behind the prepared meals Ignis had left for him. 

“Nah, ‘m good.” 

“How about these?” Noctis waved around a bag of frozen lima beans, grimacing. “Please. For me. Eat them.”

Prom shook his head. “I’m not really hungry.” 

“Whaaat? Since when?” The joke hit Prompto in the gut and Noctis saw him wince from across the room. He knew what was happening, what had been happening. It was something he thought Prom had left behind in high school, but clearly had hitched a ride with him, gnawing at his emotional health, slowly but surely. “I need you to answer me honestly, okay?”

The blonde nodded, gazing out of the window. 

“Are you eating?” Prompto opened his mouth, almost too quickly, and stopped, kicking his foot. Noctis closed the refrigerator and crossed his arms, thought better, and let them fall to his sides. “Why not?” 

Sunshine boy didn’t even try to argue. “…look at me.” He gestured at his torso, mouth frozen in a permanent frown. 

“What am I supposed to see, Prom?” Noctis murmured, walking up to the boy. 

Prompto’s lip quivered, but he reined it in, exhaling. “…a loser.” He rocked back on his heels, fingering the zipper on his hoodie. “An absolute waste.” 

“No. No, you’re not. You’re so…” Noctis flailed, trying to put his thoughts into words. “…you’re not a waste.” 

A cold retort built up on Prom’s lips, but he shoved it aside. “…what do you mean?” 

The prince shrugged, crumpling his face into various expressions while he figured out how to speak to his best friend in a way that didn’t end in sarcasm. “Having you around… is like having the sun come out on a rainy day.”

“Oh please-”

“Listen,” Noct interrupted. “I don’t have a lot of friends and it’s obvious why. I-I’m rude and selfish. All I want to do is sleep and hang out with my dad, but he is always so busy and Ignis is busy and Gladio’s an ass and…” He stopped, allowing his mouth to catch up with his train of thought. “And then there’s you, Prom. There’s you.”

His shoulders fell slack. It was clear that Noctis had breached the wall he’d built to protect himself and it scared him. A fierce crimson flushed his cheeks. He clenched his jaw and relaxed his hands, unsure of where to go from there. “I gotta make a call.” 

“Uh. Huh?” Prompto mused, watching as Noctis snatched up his cell phone and started typing furiously. He uttered the beginnings of a question, but Noct held his finger up, waggling it playfully. The prince placed the call, muttered a quick “thanks”, and hung up. 

“I ordered us two large pizzas and-” he shushed Prom with a glare. ���…and we’re gonna watch whatever movie you want. I know this isn’t some crazy wonder drug and I won’t reboot your mental health with pepperoni, but I think you need to hang out with me tonight, yeah?” His blue eyes sparkled with warmth as the prince trotted over to the shelf of DVDs. “Ignis picked up Captis’ documentary on Altissia’s music scene for us, it has some cool shots of landscapes and the score is killer.” He looked up at the blonde, DVD in hand. “You wanna watch it?”

Prompto shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say. “…should go home.” 

“Prompto, please stay,” Noctis breathed softly. “Please?” The prince barely managed to hide his disappointment, indigo eyes pleading. “Stay with me?” 

The air hung heavy, neither boy sure of what else to say. The sound of Prom’s stomach growling broke the silence and he laughed at the irony. “I guess that settles it, then, huh?” He wiped his face one more time, cheeks blazing red. “S’pose I could stay for a while.” 

A relieved grin plastered itself across Noct’s face and he tore into the movie case, going on and on, babbling about “this one dude, wow, he is lethal with that bari sax” before popping it into the DVD slot. Prompto beamed from his place on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Noctis hurried over and pressed play, flopping onto the sofa. Prom looked over at the prince, wishing he had his camera. Noctis radiated love and security, the only person he felt he could truly be himself around. Two horribly awkward, socially deprived, idiots just trying to make it in this weird world. He leaned his head on Noct’s collar and pretended he wasn’t floored when it was reciprocated with an arm around his shoulders.  “You’re gonna love it,” Noctis exclaimed excitedly when the menu music began. 

“I’m sure I will,” Prom replied, curling his legs up on the couch. 

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, the delivery man sputtering pleasantries and “royal highn- majesty, I didn’t know” when he saw the prince of Lucis handing him a wad of gil and waving before shutting the door in his face. 

“He curtsied,” Prompto cringed, taking a slice of pizza from the top box. 

“Yes, he did. Not too shabby, but I’ve seen better,” Noct teased, dissolving into laughter when Prom’s cheese kept stretching, a two-foot trail dangling out of his mouth. Prompto grinned wickedly, sauced smeared all over his chin. 

“Thanks, man,” he uttered. “…for the pizza.” 

“You’re welcome,” Noctis replied, handing him another slice. “For the pizza.” 

[poorlilbeans]

Keep Fighting (through this damn fic) (part seven? i think?)

i’m so sorry this took so long and it’s not even that long >.< idk man i struggled so much with this section i’m sorry. there will probably only be like two more parts after this one so like thank god you’ve almost survived my long ass fic good job <3

“Skater Katsuki Yuuri appears to have hit the wall on his winning streak, sustaining a significant leg injury after falling at the first competition in this year’s Grand Prix series. Fans marvel at the rapid rise and fall of the late bloomer, while others speculate about the fairness of his success. Many wonder if his sudden bout of sickness was due to a drug, or rather, a steroid overdose, supplied by ‘coach’ Victor Nikiforov to solidify last year’s success. Will this be…”

“Fuck off!” Yuuri yelled, chucking his phone across the room. No one cares about this article. It’s not even well-written. I am not going to let this silly gossip get to me.

He was letting this silly gossip get to him.

“You okay?” Victor poked his head into the bedroom, perturbed by the sudden shout.

“Yeah, I was yelling at the Internet again. Ignore me. Sorry.” Victor made the obvious decision to not ignore him, but rather retrieved the wayward phone and climbed into the bed beside him.

“I saw that article too. You know no one’s going to take it seriously.”

“Still stings though.”

“Yeah,” Victor sighed. “You’re just going to have to get used to that bullshit. Do you want to post online today? Calm down the rumour mill?” Yuuri wrinkled his nose.

“I guess. Then I’m going to have all these random people tweeting at me and trying to talk to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Victor chuckled at that.

“You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but then I look like an asshole.”

“Or like a person who has better things to do than sit on twitter reassuring strangers of his well-being.”

“Except that’s not true. I absolutely do not have anything better to do, I just don’t want to because I’m an antisocial dickhead.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about my Yuuri like that!” Victor silenced Yuuri with a kiss before he could come up with any more self-deprecating comments. “You,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together, “are not obligated to talk to random strangers online. You are not obligated to respond to every single message and at-reply. And, most importantly, you are not a dickhead or an asshole. Understand?” Before he could answer, Yuuri rolled away from Victor to cough, letting out a strangled groan as pain shot through his body. When the coughing fit ended, Yuuri didn’t move, afraid of the venomous, panging ache that would attack him if he tried to return to his previous position.

“I should grab you some ice packs,” Victor observed, stroking Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Heat first. Please?” was Yuuri’s choked response. “It hurts so bad.” He was facing the other way, but Victor could hear that he was holding back tears. It stung to deny him.

“Ice to bring down the swelling, and then heat to relax muscles. It will feel better that way.”

“How many hours ago did I take the acet-um… pain relief shit?”

“Four. We have to wait two more before you can have another one.”

“Fuck. Okay, fine. Ice. Anything.” Victor kissed his head before getting up to retrieve some ice packs, feeling irrationally guilty for not giving in and letting him do the heating pads first. It was so frustrating taking care of someone when everything hurt him. It felt impossible to make things any easier for Yuuri, especially when Victor had to put so much effort in to not letting on how worried he was. Yuuri would undoubtedly find a way to feel guilty about that, and working himself into a fit of anxiety was definitely not what his body needed right now. Still, it was incredibly hard for Victor to act cheerful when he hugged Yuuri and felt every one of his ribs, or when Yuuri described himself as feeling “relatively okay” while he was vomiting with a forty degree fever. He’d only been discharged from the hospital a day prior, but Victor was getting seriously impatient with the slowness of Yuuri’s recovery. Thinking on that, he slammed the freezer door just a little harder than he’d intended and brought the ice packs back to the bedroom.

Yuuri hadn’t moved from his awkward position. He was lying half- on his side and half- on his belly with his head hanging off the side of the bed. His face was still twisted in pain.

“I’m going to move you, alright love?” Victor breathed. “The ice will make it better. I promise.”

“Bathroom first,” Yuuri moaned, pain and frustration clear in his voice. It was a routine now. Victor would carry him as far as the bathroom door, and place him down on one foot, closing the door behind him. Yuuri was adamant about maintaining his privacy. He was perfectly capable of using the goddamn bathroom on his own. Today, Victor made a point of keeping his face as neutral as he could manage when Yuuri dissolved into pained whimpers at being moved. He was carrying a skeleton right now. A sweaty, shivering skeleton.

Just like always, he pretended not to hear the pained groans coming from the bathroom, and opted not to ask any questions when Yuuri shakily emerged nearly ten minutes later. He didn’t say anything as he laid him back onto the bed, elevating the broken leg and placing the now slightly melting ice packs on his joints. Finally, when they were situated and relatively comfortable, Victor spoke.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, gently flicking a stray tear from the corner of Yuuri’s eye.

“Practice,” was his shaky response. There was a stretch of silence before he continued. “I want to go to the pharmacy as soon as the fever breaks. I need to find a small enough brace that will fit in my skate.”

“You should plan on healing before you get back on the ice, eh?”

“I know, I know, but like… there’s no way I’m missing this season. I’m getting the cast off in three weeks, and then I’ll have seven weeks of solid training to get myself competition-ready again.”

“Okay, so you have a game plan. Good. Just…”

“Just don’t freak out if it falls through,” Yuuri finished. Victor was ready to agree, but Yuuri wasn’t done. “Because it’s not the end of the world if I take some time off. Because lord knows as soon as I don’t suck anymore I have to get sick and hurt myself. I can never be good; I have to be sick or crazy. One or the other. As soon as I get better, if I get better, I’ll probably lose it again. That’s what has to happen, right? That’s the rules. That’s…”

“Enough.” Victor even surprised himself with the intensity of his voice. He certainly startled Yuuri, who paused his rant and choked on a couple of tears in shock. “I can deal with you being irrational. I can deal with you being a pessimist. But where did these rules come from? Since when do you blame the universe for things that happen in real life? That’s not like you.”

“Not like me? No, lying here covered in ice packs and sympathy, THAT’S not like me. Being carried everywhere is not like me. Freaking out over missing a season? That’s like me. Freaking out is definitely like me. Maybe you didn’t realize that- that I’m kind of an asshole that way. Maybe I’m just not as good as you…”

“STOP!” He shouldn’t have yelled. Shit, he shouldn’t have yelled. Yuuri was obviously delirious- Victor could practically feel him heating up by the second- and so much attention was being put toward his physical health that his mental health had gone pretty well unchecked through this whole ordeal. It wasn’t fair to yell. He had successfully stopped the rambling, but he assumed it was all still going on inside Yuuri’s head. He had curled up on his side, knocking off the ice packs. He always did like to be as small as possible when he was upset. “Okay,” Victor whispered, placing a light, hopefully comforting hand on Yuuri’s back. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to sleep for a while, and get down to a safer temperature again. I’m going to stay with you. If you still feel this way when you wake up, we can talk about it then. Alright?” Yuuri unravelled the ball he’d made himself into just enough to nuzzle into Victor’s waist, and Victor felt hot tears soak through his shirt.

“Can I have the heating pad now?” was Yuuri’s barely audible response. The rawness of his voice was like a punch in the stomach, and Victor bent down to kiss him. He tasted of mint, having insisted on brushing his teeth every time he was sick.

“Okay. I’ll get it.” Victor resolved to heat the sore muscles, but still place ice packs on Yuuri’s neck and forehead.  He settled into bed with Yuuri, bringing a few tissues to wipe away the leftover tears.

“I love you.” Yuuri’s voice sounded so desperate, like he was afraid Victor might forget and leave forever. Victor took his shaking, sweaty hand and was as serious as he had ever been when he said, “I love you too.”