#I know having consistant world views is hard but come on

[stardustmade009]

It ends with us drama has me hating everyone. A rant.

So I was on board with the critism about the movie not giving proper trigger warnings. I'm a person who's suffered, I think people should be able to keep their peace and not tagging your fiction doesn't do that. Where I have decided this is enough is when this became the "Fuck Blake Lively in particular" party. Because where I don't care about her in a general sense, and I don't doubt Mrs Lively has sinned in the many days she's spent on the planet and I'm not privy to them all, but this shit is getting too fucking much and the discourse is taking too much pleasure out of digging up every bad interview to make her look "difficult to work with" when she has made a pretty credible claim that the director and co star used his power to sexually harass her at her work place. Like it's sickening to watch every year when the internet gets a woman who is victimized by a man just to tear apart, yall did it with Megan thee Stallion last year and Amber Heard the year before, so like you'd think this one wouldn't bother me as bad as those two, but its like, yall are faking this outrage about how "victims of abuse are soooooooo important, sooooo important that I need to uplift an accused abuser (who hired JD's PR Team) and tear down an alleged victim in the name of straw men I made up watching a movie and given feelings over it." just adds a certain something that wasn't there with the other two. Like I can see how a person can be misled to being suspicious of Megan's claims because she denied tory shot her at the scene. Like I'll sit down with you and can explain why she would have done that. And the Amber situation is easy to get how we got here if you are chronically online person like I am, a lot of loser men spent YEARS lying and polluting the story online, the place people get info, so when people go looking up info they get lies, or they watched the case with some bias ass commentator online. But this... Yall went from "hey our fiction should be tagged better" to "if this woman who made credible claims (cause the ENTIRE FIRST HAND KNOWLEDGE HOLDING CREW stopped following and hasn't been interviewed with one person and is rallying around the person making the claims) really had that happen, she would have brought it up before she got backlash", and the backlash in question is her alleged abuser being called a better person than herself because "he cares". You all disgust me. And I pray and will pray until I die you develop enough sense to be disgusted in yourselves, but I know there isn't a god and in 2025 we're getting another woman.

[drdemonprince]

have you defined the meaning of “white woman brain” anywhere and if not, can you? /gen

Many Black and brown feminist writers have discussed this phenomenon and I encourage you to seek out a lot of writing about this subject, because there are a variety of perspectives, but to distill it, white woman fragility brain is a phenomenon that is not exclusive to either white people or to women, but is especially common among those who can weaponize white womanhood, and it consists of the following qualities:

A view of oneself as a helpless victim that is constantly in threat of being attacked, especially by strangers (even though statistically, this is not the case).

A refusal to consider oneself as capable of doing harm to others, especially a lack of consideration toward others' body autonomy or consent. (even while being highly concerned about one's own autonomy and consent).

A generally passive or passive-aggressive orientation toward the world: seeing oneself as a romantic or sexual object to be approached, but never wanting to initiate (or feeling that one never can), never feeling comfortable directly communicating displeasure or one's desires, believing that others instead must guess at it. (and then resenting people when they don't, but never expressing it).

A tendency to cry, excessively berate oneself, complain about being made to feel "unsafe," or give up when criticized or challenged, especially when challenged by people of color.

A tendency to associate a person's body type with how much of a threat they are. For example, feeling unsafe around people with penises and expecting a social space to accommodate that fear to cater to you, a fear of people who come from cultures where it's common to speak loudly, a fear of those who are large, assertive, and/or darker-skinned.

Instinctive fawning-type responses to stress, and a pattern of feigning happiness, agreeability, and ease when one is not genuinely feeling it, and expecting all other people (but especially other women) to feign happiness as well, paired with a deep-seated resentment of anyone who violates this illusion and expresses any negativity (being especially punitive toward women of color).

Instinctively "smoothing over" conflict between other people before it even begins, even when healthy conflict is necessary and not at all your business-- often performed by gossiping behind other people's backs, triangulating information when it is not yours to share, asking people to alter their behavior in order to avoid a reaction from somebody else, presenting your concerns as if they were somebody else's ("what will people think!"), tone-policing the airing of grievances, derailing hard conversations with more light-hearted topics, and excluding people who are known to be candid and assertive.

Here are some articles on elements of the phenomenon and why it is so dangerous:

Now, I single white cis women out a lot when I am describing this phenomenon, because they have the most to gain from exhibiting these qualities, but make no mistake: this is a pattern that many types of people can and do use. I have seen white trans women use white women's tears to silence critique. I have witnessed women of color being passive-aggressively derailed and silenced by a Black manager who was in a position of institutional power over them. Multiple of the women who sexually harassed me in the story linked above were not white. And LORD knows I see plenty of t boys falling back on this shit, as well as cis men from wealthy backgrounds. It's a mindset that has deep colonial roots and we all must be on the look out for it in ourselves and others, and we must be vigilant in uprooting it.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

I hate what the Israeli government is doing but I'm scared of contributing to the rise in anti-semitism in the US. I'm not Jewish and not super keyed in to anti-semitism. Obviously, anyone talking shit about the Jewish people is someone I should fight, but there are things I should watch out for even when they say "Israel," right? What kind of rhetoric should I be on the lookout for?

What makes this hard, is that there is no collective Jewish take on this. There are some Jews who would tell you that any criticism of Israel is inherently anti-Semitic. There are other Jews who would tell you that Jewish support for the modern state is antithetical to the values at the core of our ethics and faith.

Both of those types of Jewish thinkers follow this blog, as do Jews holding views everywhere in between.

So what I'm going to tell you isn't The Jewish Stance on this, but the stance I've developed as a Modern Jewish historian who also happens to be a Jewish person with leftist politics.

Here is a list of narratives and rhetorical patterns to watch out for:

-individuals or spaces which view jews as inherently unworthy of trust, and require them to consistently prove that they are a "Good Jew"

-rhetoric which continuously singles out Israeli human and civil rights abuses, while failing to hold other states committing equal or much larger scale abuses to the same standards

-speech which implies that the Jews can fit neatly into the role of "white colonizer"

-visual languages which super-impose Nazi imagery over Jewish symbols

-Blood Libel rhetoric, which accuses Israel of using the blood or murdered Palestinian babies for its bread, or harvesting Palestinian organs for the black market. This type of rhetoric has been circulating the western world for literal centuries, and it always ends with Jews being expelled and/or burnt at the stake.

And this is kind of where the classic "I can't define it but I know it when I see it" porn definition comes in. Sometimes someone screaming about "The Zionists" is someone deeply disturbed by, say, the frankly fascistic behavior of Israelis in West Bank Settlements. Sometimes, that person is furious that Jews are asking them to critically examine the role of any or some of the above elements in their speech regarding Israel and Israelis.

Some Jews will weaponize a lot of our traumatic past to silence other Jews, and say that by writing this I am no better than the Jewish Police who rounded up their people for the Treblinka transports. Other Jews will say that by writing any of this, I'm silencing necessary speech regarding the war crimes in Gaza and that I'm complicit in the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestinian civilians as a result.

But this is my basic, 101 level response, and it's not going to change.

I really, truly, appreciate your how deeply you care about grasping these issues. If you have any follow-up questions I'd be happy to answer them under similar understandings of username exclusion.

[lewisvinga]

the ‘born to die’ series

summary; a series of written/smaus fiction of various formula one drivers based on releases of singer, lana del rey

f1 masterlist

norman fcking rockwell | daniel ricciardo pt 2

daniel proves that he is just a man and that’s just what he does.

the other woman | charles leclerc

after his engagement party, y/n realizes that she will always be the other woman.

ultraviolence | carlos sainz

carlos and y/n always find themselves going back to the same toxic relationship. no matter how hard they try, it just always felt like a kiss.

chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen

nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

carmen | lando norris

y/n was addicting to everyone, the boys and the girls. lando was just another one in her path to become ultimately addicted.

young and beautiful | oscar piastri

due to her pregnancy, y/n wonders if oscar will always love her, if he will love her after she’s had their baby, after she’s no longer young and beautiful.

west coast | lewis hamilton

y/n leaves lewis due to the feeling of being held back from consistently traveling to his races, only to realize how much she missed him.

say yes to heaven | george russell

3 important times during y/n’s and george’s relationship where she says yes to heaven.

margaret | alex albon

moments when alex’s knows that y/n is the one for him. when he knows that he will spend the rest of his life with her.

american | logan sargeant

y/n was never one to mess around and rebel against her parents, until she met a fellow american, logan.

pretty when you cry | pierre gasly

y/n will always wait for pierre, no matter how many times he leaves her crying, she will always wait.

salvatore | esteban ocon

after living a life full of cold exes, y/n never expected to find her ‘salvatore’ during a summer in monaco.

stargirl interlude | yuki tsunoda

yuki just wants y/n to come to a race, after all he just wants to see her shine.

happiness is a butterfly | zhou guanyu

y/n learns that happiness is a butterfly all thanks to guanyu

million dollar man | lance stroll

in the world of her million dollar man, y/n can’t help but feel like a lost puppy and stick out like a sore thumb leading to mess of jumbled feelings.

born to die | fernando alonso

after their engagement, y/n realized her and fernando may have different views of the future. it makes her wonder if they were really born to die.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

note; i've been meaning to do this series since norman fcking rockwell lol, but it's finally here! it may take some time to do everything but bear with me! and which fic I post may not be in order as listed!!

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – cunnilingus, use of sex toys, cum eating, PIV sex (missionary), breeding and pregnancy kink

Summary: You and Choso are next-door neighbors who are very much smitten with one another. After a month of dirtying up third base as much as possible, the both of you are finally ready to hit it out of the park. 

Author’s Notes: Baseball euphemisms because why not LOL? Thank you for reading! I love these dorks so much! This is the final installment of this teeny tiny series, so thank you all so much for the love and support on this, it means the world to me! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

“Damn, that was good!” Yuji exclaims, licking off the last of the chicken katsu curry from the rim of the bowl. He leans back on one hand, rubbing his belly with the other, a loud belch escaping his mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, only a little bit embarrassed.

You giggle, stacking his empty dish on top of the others, standing up to place it in the sink. “I’m so glad you liked it. I couldn’t have done it without your brother, though. He’s a really good teacher.” 

“See, I told you, didn’t I?” Yuji smirks, pleased with himself. 

“It’s not hard to make, especially with the boxed curry mix.” Choso’s voice is bashful, downplaying the praise from both you and his brother. Still, you can sense the tiniest hint of pride in there.

“He’s too modest.” You return to the table to sit next to him, nudging him playfully.

Yuji rolls his eyes. “I know! It’s so frustrating! Seriously, you’ve got to give yourself more credit, bro. You’re awesome.” The blush on Choso’s cheeks are adorably obvious now as he continues to wave off the compliments. 

“Yeah, you really are,” you reiterate, resting your hand on top of his thigh, squeezing him gently. With the table obscuring his view, Yuji can’t see this small gesture, nor does he notice the subtle way Choso reacts, flustered and slightly aroused. He’s been wanting to touch you all night, but not in front of his precious baby brother, who remains clueless to the extent of your relationship. Before you can pull away completely, not wanting to rattle him any further, he hooks his pinky with yours, his grip unyielding. You smile to yourself, the two of you linked together while you chat with Yuji about your plans the rest of the night, which consists of Choso teaching you how to make a lovely castella cake, amongst other not-so-innocent activities. For the sake of Yuji’s virtue, you decide to leave that part out. 

It's been over a month now that you and Choso started your relationship after that unfortunate package mix-up, which ended up not being unfortunate at all. By total accident, you unboxed his brand spanking new Cock Sucker 3000, and in a bizarre attempt to alleviate any awkwardness from the situation, you proceeded to use your own sex toy in front of him while he demonstrated his, resulting in the hottest night of your life. Two days following that, after another ridiculous misunderstanding, the both of you realized your feelings for one another and decided to give this a shot. 

You’ve learned so much about him, most importantly that he’s quite the fragile soul, often distrusting of strangers right off the bat. The last thing you want is for him to lose his trust in you, so taking it day-by-day, little-by-little, is what works the best for the both of you. The two of you have remained on third base when it comes to sex, which you’re not complaining about one bit, considering how voracious you’ve been with each other. You’re waiting for the right time to finally hit that home run, a grand slam at this rate. It could happen tonight, tomorrow, maybe even a few more months from now. All you know for certain is that you’re happy with Choso, and he’s happy with you. That’s all that matters.

However, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t fantasizing about it already. You can’t help yourself when you’re with him. In front of others, he’s usually more reserved, timid. Alone with you, his confidence unveils. His touches are assured all over your body, an expert at all the big and little ways to make you moan in pleasure. The range of expressions he’s willing to show you, from unabashedly needy to absolutely feral, make your body tingle just thinking about it. And that voice, sweet and soft when he’s coaxing you, then to that sexy, gruffy tone as he ravishes you, whether it’s with his fingers, his mouth, his firm grip on the vibrator. It’s no shock that you’ve imagined the perfect way he’d slide into you, filling you up to the brim with his massive cock. Hell, you’ve admitted it to each other several times already, how badly you both want it, how good it’d feel to be bounded together as one. You keep reminding yourself to be patient, because when it does happen, it will be well worth the wait. 

The three of you hang out a while longer until Yuji announces that he’s leaving to get ready for a party with his friends. Choso gives his brother a big hug, handing him a small bag of leftovers to take with him back to his university apartment. “Don’t party too hard this weekend,” he warns him sternly, sounding like a protective parent. “Behave yourself. Don’t make Fushiguro take care of you and Kugisaki again.” 

Yuji beams at him. “Megumi likes taking care of us! That’s his idea of fun!” He looks at you, a mischievous grin on his face. “You two behave yourselves too, alright? Don’t forget to use protection.” 

Shit. Okay, so maybe he does know.

Choso stiffens, an uncomfortable noise gurgling in his throat, clearly stunned by Yuji’s remark. You let out a loud and nervous laugh, desperately trying to play it cool, though you two idiots couldn’t make this any more obvious. “We’re just making castella cake, remember? We’re not having sex at all! Just some good clean fun here, nothing naughty! Right, Choso?” You’re so frazzled that you accidentally kick your boyfriend a tad too hard in the ankle, enough for him to yelp. “Right, Choso?!”

Sweat beads on your forehead while he bumbles incoherently now, failing to his explain your bizarre reactions to his younger brother, who just stands there, very pleased with himself. “Oh, I meant oven mitts,” Yuji smiles innocently, completely unfazed. “You know, for your hands.” He turns on his heel to see himself out while Choso continues to gape at him. “See you two lovebirds next week!” he calls out from over his shoulder, waving until he’s out of sight.

Choso unclenches to close the door while you bury your face in your palms, ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He surrounds you in his sweet embrace, relaxed and actually laughing. “At least you said something. I just stood there like an idiot.”

You peer up at him, pouting at him. “You’re not an idiot, take it back.”

“I take it back,” he relents, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

Nuzzling your nose to his, you mention, “I guess that was our way of telling him, right?”

“I had a hunch he already knew,” he responds. “Yuji’s no dummy. He was already telling me stuff a few weeks ago.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he was the one who told me to be friends with you. He’s even the one who first suggested inviting you to our family dinners.”

Your heart swells in your chest. “Really?”

He nods, a kind smile on his face. “Yeah. Yuji is a sweet kid, so I figured he was just being polite. But maybe he sees you and me being…y’know.”  

You smirk, giddy to hear the rest of his sentence. “What?”

His voice is quiet, shy from the sudden vulnerability he’s displaying. “A good fit? I don’t know, what do you think?” Despite all that’s happened between the two of you within a month, Choso still has his doubts, his insecurities. The last relationship he had ended because he caught his ex cheating. From then on, he’s been reluctant to let his guard down and trust someone with his heart again. You don’t blame him for being so cautious when it comes to love, so you do everything in your power to validate his emotions, reassure him that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. 

You hold him close, your heart thumping at a rapid pace. “I think we’re a perfect fit.” 

He swallows down whatever nerves were tightening in his throat, relieved to hear you say it, even though he’s never doubted your true intentions. Hearing it in your voice, seeing it in your kind eyes gives him the strength to tear down all the walls he’s built around himself to let you in. Inching closer, voice still quiet, he asks, “Can we…?”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you lean forward to press your lips to his. His arms squeeze you in a tighter embrace, nearly lifting you off your feet as he kisses you passionately. Your mouths move seamlessly together, his hands gliding smoothly along your waist, yours gently caressing his face, proving that the two of you are the perfect fit indeed. There’s dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, a castella cake waiting to be baked, but who are you kidding? This is what you need right now, to have Choso’s body on yours, to taste him, to devour him, completely lose yourself in him. And that’s exactly what he needs too. 

The two of you make your way inside his bedroom, not letting the other go for even a second, kisses sloppy now, all tongue and spit. He’s quick to undress you, palms moving evenly beneath your blouse. You stretch your arms up, letting him remove it completely, his eyes fixated on your breasts, still covered by your bra. He squeezes at them, his grip firm, thumbs brushing across your nipples. Desperate to feel him without this extra layer of clothing, you turn around, wanting him to unhook the clasp, which he does. His lips graze you, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder while he pinches at your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning. “You love it when I play with your tits like this,” he whispers, mouth hot on your ear. It isn’t a question; he says it with confidence, bordering on cockiness with the way he smirks at every little whine that escapes you. You love this switch from shy and sweet to bold and unashamed, always eager to fulfill his sexual appetite for you. 

“I do,” you answer breathlessly, his cock hard and throbbing between your ass cheeks as you grind against him. “You know I do, baby.”

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he groans, sucking on your ear lobe. One hand travels past your navel, tugging at your waistband. 

Your crane your neck to meet his lips. “You’re my baby. You’re all mine, Choso.”

He moans into your mouth, lapping at your tongue. “Yeah, I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

You slide out of your pants, leaving your panties on, the silk ones he adores on you. On the bed, you lie on your back, watching him strip the rest of his clothes off while he towers over you, licking his lips when he positions in his head between your spread legs. He’s been indulging in this recently, eating you out through your panties, getting them soaking wet with his spit and your slick. His gaze meets yours, those typically kind eyes hiding something feral brewing inside him. He’s masterful with his tongue, spreading it wide on your clit, puckering his lips around you until you’re squirming. You grab hold of his head, grasping strands of his soft hair as he devours you. 

As if this wasn’t enough for him, he hums into your skin, pointing at the bedside drawer. He doesn’t have to say it; you already know what he wants. You’ve made it a habit now to keep a few of your sex toys at his place, including your most favorite vibrator, the same exact one you demonstrated for him when all of this first started. It soon became his favorite too. You pass it to him shakily, already at the edge, ready to burst any second. He takes it, holding the tip to your covered clit, the fabric properly drenched now. The vibrations start instantly as he pushes the button, causing you to jolt from the sensation. “Fuck!” you cry out, toes curling, knees wobbly. “Please, Choso.”

“Please what?” he teases, stroking his cock with his free fist. 

“Please take them off,” you beg, writhing below him.

He smiles wickedly, hooking the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off you. “That’s my good girl.”

You kick them off frantically, immediately spreading yourself for him once more. “Hurry, baby,” you whine. 

With the vibe still buzzing in his hand, he leans down, giving you a wet smooch on your clit, then presses the fluttering tip to it. Pleasure radiates from your core to every limb of your body and you eventually reach your first climax of the night. 

“God, I love how fucking wet you get,” Choso moans, licking up and down your slit, savoring your orgasm. “So fucking sexy. Makes me want to come.” Precum leaks from the tip of his dick as he jerks himself faster, lips coated in your arousal as he continues to use the toy on you while drinking every drop of you up. 

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,” you say, trying to catch your breath. It’s both too much and not enough. The vibrations are relentless on your clit, his tongue hot and wet on your pussy. You’re drunk off this, head light as air, vision getting hazy. Drool spills from one side of your lips, losing control of your composure as you succumb to yet another orgasm, this time, with two of his fingers inside you. 

“So greedy,” he grins, his cock stiff against his abdomen. He takes his digits out of you, spreading your cum on his shaft. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You reach for his cock, desperate to have him fully inside you. “I want all of you.”

His demeanor changes at this, almost like you’ve said the magic words. He swallows nervously, stopping the toy and setting it aside. “Are you serious?”

You smile, nodding at him. “I want all of you, Choso. But if you’re not ready – ”

“I’m ready.” It stumbles out of his mouth in a rush, as if he’s been meaning to say it for a while now. “I want you. I always want you.”

“You have me.” You tug him towards you, wrapping your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your nose to his. “You’ll always have me.” 

He kisses you, humming softly against your lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispers, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. 

You twitch at his touch, already sensitive from earlier, but still so needy to be filled by him. “Hurry,” you beg him, gyrating your hips, losing your patience. 

“Condom,” he mutters, reaching towards your nightstand, eyes focused on how close his cock is to being inside you. 

You snap yourself out of whatever dangerous desires are playing through your head and nod in agreement, stretching your arm out to open the drawer, blindly retrieving the box of condom wrappers and small bottle of lube. With trembling fingers, he unwraps the condom, rolling it over his cock, coating a generous amount of lube on it. He eases inside you, both of you moaning as you stretch around him perfectly. When he’s to the hilt, he stays still for a moment, kissing you fervently, so happy to finally be connected with you like this. “Is this good?” he asks, always adorably concerned about you. 

You giggle, hugging him tighter. “It’s amazing baby.”

Reassured, he starts thrusting, pulling out ever-so-slightly to pound right back inside you. You squeeze every inch of him as he fucks you deeper, fighting the urge to come on the spot. It’s so damn good, too fucking good, like he’s on this euphoric high, impossible to come down. He can’t believe how incredible this feels, even with the condom on, and it makes him want to burst thinking about the near future when he’ll have a chance to do you without it. How pretty you’d look with his cum spilling out you. That fucked-out expression on your face as you beg him to breed you. The gorgeous belly when you’re pregnant with his baby...

Choso has to physically shake his head to rid these obscene fantasies from his thoughts. He really can’t help himself when he’s with you. Grunting with each thrust, he resists the temptation to pull this condom off to give it to you raw, reminding himself that patience is a virtue and that the two of you have all the time in the world.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to come. As soon as you’re right at the edge of your third climax of the night, you cry out, “Right there, baby! Fuck me right there!” holding him tight as you spill all over his cock. He comes as soon as you finish, certain that if you weren’t using protection and assuming you’re currently ovulating, he’d surely get you pregnant with how fucking intense this load was. Choso pulls out, carefully pulling off the condom, taking a couple of seconds to marvel at all the cum you managed to draw out of him. You laugh, watching him as he ties the open end to toss into the nearby trash bin. “Is it a lot?”

He snuggles up next to you, nuzzling his nose to your neck, back to his precious puppy-dog cuteness. “If we weren’t using protection, it would have definitely gotten you pregnant.”

You joke, “And is that a bad thing?”

He rests a hand on your stomach, his touch tender and sweet. “Not at all. I wouldn’t mind raising a little baby with you.”

Normally, you’d freak out. Normally, Choso would freak out. But for some odd reason, the idea of sharing a future together, of raising a family together, seems right. And while it’s only been a month, you’re both confident that the two of you will be spending a long, healthy, loving life with each other. 

Choso’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, rousing the two of your from your post-coital snuggle session. When he reads whatever notification he’s received, he chuckles, turning the screen towards you, displaying a text message from Yuji:

So…how’s that castella cake? ;)

He types up a quick reply before putting his phone on silent to spend the rest of the night cuddling you uninterrupted. 

Absolutely perfect.

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Panicked

Prompt: You have a panic attack while you're on tour with him, he helps you through it.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: anxiety, panic attack

A/N: hello!!! i recently discovered there's a painfully limited amount of niall x reader fics out there, so i'm adding to the pot. feel free to send requests / prompts if anyone has ideas they want me to write :) (i especially love angst, so give it to me).

Niall’s laugh fills the air as he leans forward and chats back and forth with the driver. If you weren’t so busy gazing at the views around you, you would’ve held onto the sound of it longer– reminded yourself it’s still your favorite sound in the entire world. 

Tonight is night… forty five? No, forty six. Hell, you can’t remember. All you know is that as far as cities go, this one is small– but it has a certain charm to it that you’ve been admiring the entire ride to and from breakfast.

“Oh, take a look at that,” Niall says, reaching over your lap to point out the window. He’s motioning towards the river, sparkling blue underneath the clear sky, and lined with a cobblestone walkway. “That’s gorgeous.”

He says it longingly– like he wishes he could get out of the car and walk along the path. But of course he doesn’t suggest that. In fact, Niall rarely suggests outings when you’re with him on tour– because he knows how anxious it makes you. Not the outing itself, but the likelihood of him being spotted. You could handle a walk along the river, but you’d have a hard time handling a swarm of people bombarding you on a walk along the river. 

It must drive him crazy– the way you always prefer sticking to the venue or hotel. And while he always claims to understand each and every time you say no to a public dinner, or whatever adventure is planned for the day, you can’t help but wonder if there will come a time that he gets sick of you always anxiously hanging back. 

Your anxiety has ruined so much for you. It’s ruined school events and trips, it’s ruined friendships and opportunities. You don’t want it to ruin your relationship with Niall, too.

For the last year and a half, you’ve been attending therapy consistently– learning breathing techniques and grounding skills to cope with anxiety. 

You wonder if now was a good time to test if it was working. 

“Do we have time before soundcheck?” You ask.  

Niall checks his watch. “It’s only eleven thirty. We don’t have to be back at the venue until one. You want to walk around?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone. 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree. 

Niall grins before asking the driver to pull over. 

Hand in hand, the pair of you stroll along the river casually, admiring the views around you. Summer is in full bloom– all the trees a brilliant shade of green, the sky stunningly blue. 

“Look there–” Niall uses his free hand to gesture at a family of ducks swimming along the rivershore. You both stop in your tracks and watch for a moment, a smile spreading widely across your face. 

“This is so nice,” you say. It’s so rare that you actually got quality time with Niall when he was on tour. Sure, you accompanied him to most shows, but you rarely got any shred of privacy. 

This is what life might look like if Niall wasn’t… well, if he wasn’t Niall. You could take quiet walks in the morning along a riverbend. You could sit on park benches and drink your coffee without being swarmed. You’d be free to live your lives– unbothered, undisturbed. 

But that wasn’t reality. And through the years, you learned that the only thing about your situation that you had control over changing was yourself. You couldn’t change the fact that Niall was adored and loved by people wherever you went. But you could try to change how anxious that made you.

You’d accepted the fact that you would always be introverted. People, present company aside, were draining. You’d never get energized from crowds like Niall did, and you’d never like being the center of attention. All you wanted was to be able to handle yourself when Niall inevitably was surrounded by crowds– that way you weren’t always restricted to what you could and couldn’t do whenever he was on tour. 

“It is nice,” Niall agrees. 

“And to think I’d never even heard of this town before,” you add. 

Niall chuckles while you lean further into his side. “I think we’re actually really close to the venue, too,” he says, tilting his head towards the direction of the road. 

The road, which is parallel to the path, curled around a corner and sure enough, in the distance, you could see the faint outline of the venue Niall would perform in tonight. 

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize–” you begin. But before you can finish your sentence, your heart clenches in your chest. Because as soon as you’re far enough along the path to see the road leading to the entrance of the venue, the line of fans waiting to get in appears. 

They’re across the street from the two of you, less than a football field away. Hundreds of fans sit– in their pretty clothes and outfits on the concrete, waiting in the hot sun for your boyfriend’s show. You are simultaneously proud that he is so adored, and terrified that you’ll be spotted. 

“Shit,” Niall mutters under his breath. “Let’s turn back.”

“We can keep going,” you say, trying desperately to prove to him that you really are getting better– that you don’t have to be coddled all the time. 

“We don’t have to–”

“The venue’s closer than the car,” you reply. “It’s fine, let’s just go.” 

“You’re right. Maybe we can just sneak by. Go in the side gate there,” he suggests, nodding towards a side entrance to the venue. “I’m pretty covered up today. You up for that?” 

You nod slowly, although you aren’t sure how true that really was. But at least Niall looked pleased– maybe even a little impressed. 

Following his lead, you keep your head down and just focus on taking one step after another. Your gaze remains fixated on the stone beneath your feet, hoping to evade detection. You breathe in, forcing the air to your stomach– just like your therapist taught you, hold it, and out. 

And slowly, the two of you get closer and closer to the venue, just enough so that you actually start to feel hopeful that maybe you’ll pull it off. 

Until the screaming starts. 

It starts off slow– one person shrieks. 

And then it becomes hysterical– the kind of screams you let out when there’s a snake in the pool or a spider in the shower. Except you know these girls aren’t screaming because of snakes or spiders. They’re screaming because of your boyfriend– who is currently pressed to your side. 

“Oh shit,” he says quietly. “Here they come.”

“Ni–” you whisper, already feeling the panic creeping up your throat. And suddenly, everything you’ve been taught– all the breathing techniques and grounding skills, go out the window. Your mind is blank– frozen. 

“It’s okay,” he encourages you, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “Stand on this side of me.”

He shuffles you so that you’re on his other side– furthest from the group of fans currently running your way while you continue walking towards the venue. You aren’t going to make it in time, you realize– they’re going to catch you first. 

“It’ll be okay,” he repeats to you. “We’re close to the venue, it’ll be okay.”

All you can manage is a weak nod. 

As soon as the group approaches, the warmth from their bodies engulf you like a blanket– slow and suffocating. Niall, of course, handles everything beautifully. “Hello, hello,” he says kindly, remaining so calm. “Afraid we can’t do photos this morning, I’m late for soundcheck… Gotta get inside.”

There are bodies in front of you– there are bodies pressing behind you, bodies around you… everywhere. You lean into Niall’s touch, your clammy hand clinging to his like your life depends on it. In the vague distance, you feel him squeeze back, but it doesn’t feel real. 

“Move please!” A firm voice suddenly shouts above the noise. Instantly, you recognize the voice as one from Niall’s security teaam. Relief floods through you as he makes his way through the group to collect the pair of you. He grabs Niall’s shoulders firmly and guides him forward. In the haste to try and keep up, your sweaty palm slips from his. Desperately, you try to latch back on, but as soon as it parts, bodies slip between you. In an instant, you’re separated from the one person in the entire world that can make you feel safe. 

“Niall—” you try to say, but of course your meek voice is drowned out by the crowd. 

You think you saw a flash of his hair ahead of you, but then a body slams into yours and you stumble, losing track of where it goes. People are pushing forward– to get closer to him. And then suddenly, you can’t breathe at all. Hot bodies all around you, the beating sun above– skin and clothing touching your bare arms. You can’t take it– you’re going to suffocate in here. 

And all you can do is continue to push forward– closer to the gate, hoping that eventually, the crowd will break. 

Everything is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow as the edges of your vision blur, like you’re getting sucked deeper and deeper into a dark tunnel. Chest tightening, you struggle to inhale. 

Until suddenly, someone grabs your elbow, tugging you to your left. You don’t even have the energy to fight it. Instead, you let them pull you sideways until you’re out of the thickest part of the crowd. 

Another one of Niall’s security team that you recognize gave you a concerned look. “You alright?”

You can’t get the words out, so instead you just nod. It’s a lie, though. 

With that, he helps you the rest of the way to the venue. “Move aside!” The security guard yells, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he tries to maneuver his way through. “Move!” 

Using his arm, he sweeps the remainder of the mob from your way and ushers you through the gate. Except, even once you’re inside– separated from the crowd, you’re too far gone to even appreciate it. Instead, you feel the familiar sensation of panic creeping across every inch of your skin, like it has already taken over your entire body. You know you have to get somewhere private, and fast– before you completely fall apart. 

Without even realizing it, your feet start moving. Luckily the attention shifts to the mob of people outside, so no one even notices your attempt to slip away. Or maybe you’re just too engrossed in your own panic to notice anyone noticing you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting somewhere quiet– somewhere safe. 

You’ve never been to this venue before– but throughout the tour, you’ve learned that most of the layouts are the same. This was an amphitheater– outdoors, minimal options for private breakdowns. Your best bet is going to be the backstage room where you and Niall left your stuff earlier in the day. If you could remember how to get there…

Even though you have no idea where you are going, your body continues to move. It leads you around a couple of corners, past the merch booth and concessions and towards the stage… You’re going to lose it if you don't get somewhere safe fast.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip your shoulders, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "I got you."

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Niall’s touch– except you still can’t breathe. 

One look– that’s all it takes for him to know what was going on. Because he’s the one person on this planet that you’d willingly ever let get close to you during a panic attack. 

“One to five?” he asks, indicating the rating scale the two of you had created for moments like this– so you could communicate just how bad you were feeling. One meant you could stay where you were, maybe take some breaths. Two meant he’d guide you through the grounding skills he knew about, maybe rub your back. Three was on the cusp, probably needed to go to a quiet corner to take some space. Four meant getting somewhere quiet and safe– and fast. Five meant you were probably dying. 

You hold up four fingers. It feels bad– scary. Maybe you’re dying… but you also don’t want to be dramatic. 

“Tell me what you need,” he says. 

You try– honestly, you do. You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay– c’mon,” he grips your shoulders and begins walking. You have no idea where– honestly you don’t have the capacity to care. All of your energy is focused on not passing out. 

Niall flashes his badge to an employee who lets you backstage. You vaguely recognize the halls he leads you down as the ones where you dropped your stuff earlier. He’s bringing you to his dressing room… because of course he knows exactly what you need.  

Once you’re inside, Niall shuts the door behind you as you stagger inside. Then, he spins around, his hands cupping the sides of your face. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like someone is gripping your windpipe– squeezing so hard you just can’t get enough air– 

“Niall–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this a hundred times before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please-”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Niall produces loud and deliberate, slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Niall sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you burrow your face into the nape of his neck. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. 

“It’s okay,” Niall soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’d been, running off like that, having a meltdown– you probably scared the shit out of him, or at the very least made a fool of yourself in front of the entire venue. Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Niall says before you can even open your mouth. 

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. “I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out.”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Niall says. His hands grip the outside of your shoulders gently. “Don’t apologize– I’m the sorry one, making you go through a crowd like that. That was a horrible idea.”

“It wasn’t even your idea– and I should be able to go through a crowd like that. I don’t know why I always freak out–” you stammer, feeling so upset with yourself. “It’s so stupid.”

“We talked about this, love. Remember? Anxiety doesn’t always make sense. Right? It’s not rational.” 

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out every time we went out. But I guess I haven’t made progress, after all.” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It’s getting so much better though, baby,” Niall says encouragingly. “This is the first panic attack you’ve had all tour. Unless you’ve been hiding them from me,” he says with a hint of playfulness to his tone. “First one in forty-five shows. That’s incredible. Last tour you were havin’ em every other night it seemed. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but that’s huge.”

You lower your arms and nod pathetically, gaze fixated on the floor. 

“What is it?” he whispers gently. “Talk to me.”

“I’m so scared,” you choke out, “that one day you’re going to get sick of me–”

“Baby,” Niall interrupts. 

“Maybe not me, but all of this,” you say instead. “I mean, you realize you could have anyone, right? But you could especially have someone who didn’t have a meltdown every time they had to face a crowd– Or someone who could actually handle going out in public with you once and a while.” 

“Please look at me,” Niall says, voice gently serious. Pathetically, you do– your lip quivering as tears threaten to spill. “I need you to listen to me when I tell you this, okay?” 

Slowly, you nod. 

“I don’t want anyone else. Not in a million years, okay? I don’t want someone who loves crowds or going out, because they wouldn’t be you. Baby, honestly, I don’t like getting swarmed or photographed, either. If it bothered me that we didn’t go out much– I’d tell you. But it doesn’t. What does bother me is you changin’ things about yourself because you think it’ll make me happy. You make me happy. You. As you are, no changin’ things.”

You let his words sink in and try to believe them. “I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Niall sighs. “Baby, I sing and play the guitar– do a little dance or two if I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for my girlfriend on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

With all your energy seemingly zapped, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Niall’s shoulder. His arms wrap around you again, anchoring you to him. 

“I love you,” you murmur into his shirt. It’s muffled by the fabric, but it's there just the same. 

You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck while he chuckles softly. “Good, because we still have about forty more shows to go.”

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

So. Hear 5. Nika. Loony Tunes Luffy, if you will. Tell us your thoughts on him and any potential meta? 👀 I’ve been aching to hear it from you since we first saw him go Full Silly Boy.

it's hard to answer this, because i have so many thoughts. i'm just going to try and start from the biggest points and move down.

i like gear five a lot, and i think this development feels very appropriate as a culmination of both luffy's character and the themes of one piece as a whole because of how it interacts with three extremely dominant motifs that have reoccurred throughout the story: freedom, laughter, and the sun.

from the very beginning of the story, luffy has acted, in small ways and big, as an agent of complete freedom. from his first meeting with coby to his breakout at impel down to the liberation of wano, what luffy does is destroy systems that control and oppress, if only because they are in his way. every strawhat is somehow trapped and held back from pursuing their own dreams when they meet luffy, and he frees them all, along with hundreds of others along the way, whether he's inspiring shirahoshi to venture outside or crushing yamato's manacles. his talent for this has always seemed almost preternatural.

luffy is not necessarily a benevolent person; he doesn't care much about helping people in the abstract. he's selfish. he values freedom for freedom's own sake, not because of any greater moral convictions. he doesn't think much about the negative knock-on effects of things like causing a mass breakout at impel down, and he doesn't really go around seeking out downtrodden and oppressed people to free out of a charitable or selfless instinct, nor does he really do anything because it's the right thing to do. he's dismissive of the idea that he might be a hero.

but because he is a completely uncontrollable free agent, and he doesn't really want anything but for himself and everyone he cares about to be completely free, he constantly collides with the systems of oppression that control his world, and when those collisions happen, it is the systems that fail, time and time again, because oppressive systems always do eventually. they can't withstand the light of day. and because he lives completely confidently and unapologetically, he is constantly inspiring others to do the same.

so by the time we are told about nika for the first time, we already know that what nika is said to do is what we've seen luffy doing for more than a thousand chapters: he frees people, and inspires them, and makes them laugh.

i also find luffy-as-nika to be very interesting and thematically appropriate when positioned in opposition to the various antagonists in one piece who have declared themselves to be gods, frequently some of its most tyrannical and oppressive villains- enel, the celestial dragons, doflamingo. all enslave and imprison people, robbing them of their freedom.

nika is a god of slaves, and a creature of liberation. the natural enemy, as rosinante might say, of that sort of megalomaniacal 'god.'

one piece has also consistently connected the theme of freedom, as embodied through luffy, with the sun since very early on. the sun pirates, former slaves, used the symbol of the sun to wipe away the brand of the celestial dragons. (and aren't i curious to know what jinbei might know about nika- he never did answer who's who's question about it.) the fishmen more broadly view the sun as something to be reached when they are truly free. on wano, the coming dawn is understood as the coming liberation. impel down and the florian triangle, places of indefinite imprisonment, are lightless dungeons where the sun doesn't reach. the sun is freedom.

and luffy has always been thoroughly sun associated, from the visual of his hat to his origin on dawn island in the east blue, to his ship, the thousand sunny.

finally, one piece has always placed a great deal of emphasis on smiles and laughter (laugh tale, joy boy, roger laughed, etc)- but that joy must be real. it can't be forced. we're told again and again, through koala, dressrosa's toys, and most obviously the victims of the failed SMILE fruits, that to force someone to smile, denying them the right to cry, is nothing less than an atrocity. people can't be forced to be happy- they should be happy because they're free.

luffy in gear five is laughing nigh-constantly, but it's just because he's having so much fun. unlike the victims of the SMILE fruits, his endless joy is genuine, because in this form, he is completely free- nobody can stop him, and nobody can control him. as he says himself, he can do whatever he wants.

i know that some people felt this moment was in some way a deus ex machina, but it just didn't feel that way to me, because of how well it plays on the story's established themes and trajectory, as well as concepts like devil fruit awakening having been established hundreds of chapters back.

luffy is the sun, the sun is freedom, freedom is joy. i think it makes total sense.

[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 0

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

3.2k words

masterlist - zero - one

chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️CHAPTER WARNINGS⚠️

[self-harm mentions/references, in-patient setting, blood, mental health issues]

An in-patient facility was not the place you were expecting to spend your month, but it's not surprising considering your track record of mental health problems. Ever since you were young, you had a bad habit. Self harm. The feeling gave you a blissful relief, and seeing the red left you distracted from the outside world.

It was the easiest and best way for you to cope. Sure, the medications your parents got your doctor to prescribe you helped somewhat. But the anguish and depression that constantly consumed you didn't ease up much. And after a severe manic episode, your parents had enough and admitted you to the Ocean View mental hospital.

That's how you found yourself in a month stay. It was really bad at first. You were screaming, crying, begging not to be taken there. The whole intake session you were inconsolable, asking how long you had to stay there. When you first heard '30 days' come out of your assigned therapists mouth, you felt like fainting.

It wasn't all bad though, you met a guy around your age. His name was Josh. He'd just arrived there the day before you. Before meeting him, there was a whole process of frisking you by staff and making you strip to check for any previous wounds or sharp objects. They give you a fresh pair of the hospitals clothes to change into afterwards.

You say goodbye to your parents and hug them when you're done; they each kiss your cheeks with a tearful eyes and wave farewell. One of the staff leads you through hallways and into the 'day room' where all the other patients are put in during the day to have some freedom and relax.

Necks are broken and voices quiet to look at you when you enter, countless eyes boring into your soul. They were interested to see who else was damned here. Your anxiety starts to fill your nerves as you walk over to an empty table, avoiding all eye contact. You just wanted to be left alone to calm down.

The chatter starts up again, only now a few eyes were on you. A specific set in particular however, found you. Intriguing. The stranger strolls up to your table, not even asking if he could sit with you and takes the empty chair beside you, a lopsided smile adorning his lips as he speaks in a deep and somewhat slurred tone.

"Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Josh." He says as he extended a hand out to you.

He was a fairly built guy. Short, brown locks for hair and an interesting shade of green for eyes. His skin was a olive toned, brownish shade. He looked tired, and exhausted. Eyebags hung underneath his eyes, but who's wasn't in this place?

You stare at his hand for a second, contemplating if you really feel like making friends right now. But considering the fact that you'll be there a while, you decide on being friendly.

"Likewise, I'm [Y/n]." You return his handshake, finding it hard to keep eye contact. The only thing you could think about at the moment is how much you didn't want to be in the hospital to begin with.

"So, what's it like here?" You ask with curiosity. "Best to know what's in store for me, right?" You add on in a light joking tone, causing Josh to crack a smile.

"Yeah well it's no luxury hotel, I can tell you that much. I haven't been here long either, only since last night." He admits which makes you visibly deflate, the fear of the unknown starting to get to you.

Josh notices and tries to save the mood.

"Hey hey it's not all bad, on the weekends we get to play games and let loose." He says and is only left with silence. His eyes look around the room for a bit before speaking again.

"Yeah this place fucking sucks." He admits, earning a laugh from you and causing him to smile wide.

Thus, you began sprouting a friendship with Josh in the mental hospital. It mostly consisted of you guys hanging out in the day room, sitting next to each other, cracking jokes, and talking about life at home. That's when you found out why Josh was in-patient in the first place. The death of his two sisters, Hannah and Beth.

Josh was really good at hiding his mental problems, using jokes and dark humor to cope with his trauma. There was only one time where his facade slipped, and it wasn't even in front of you. It was during the middle of your stay. You could tell Josh was acting different that day too. He was a bit more quiet, talked lower, and zoned out a lot more than usual. When he was eventually called away by his therapist to have their daily session, you felt instant bordem sink in.

There wasn't much you could do on weekdays. A TV was mounted on the wall, but the movies you could watch were very limited. You zoned out, thinking about what events in your life led you here. That was until you heard an agonizing scream from outside of the day room, down the halls. A scream that you could only recognize as Josh's voice. A lot of the words he was saying were muffled and inaudible, but you could make out a few words like 'fault' and 'prank'.  You couldn't quite understand what was going on and you could tell he was distressed. An hour later, Josh was back from his therapy session and he walked out like nothing happened. You tried not to act awkward about it, but it was a weird moment. You brushed it off and didn't say anything related to it since you assumed he'd tell you if he was comfortable with it.

He never went into detail about what happened with his sisters. It was so vague, you had to piece together that they were dead in the first place. You never pressed him about it though. You knew it was a very sensitive subject, since it's the cause of him being here in the first place. On the other hand, you didn't mind opening up to him on why you were there.

You would show him your scars when no prying eyes were looking once you got comfortable enough with him to share. They were, gruesome. Is how he'd put it lightly. The first time he saw them he made a pretty clear surprised face you mistook for disgust, your insecurities flaring up a bit. But he quickly apologized and carefully caressed your shaking arm with a calming gentleness.

"I-I'm sorry, [Y/n], I just. I've seen some nasty stuff from the other patients but yours takes the cake." He tries to joke with a nervous laugh. It doesn't make you feel better though. He sighs, and retracts his hand while you two sat in silence for a few moments.

He speaks up hesitantly, trying to figure out how to lighten the mood when a thought comes to mind. "If it makes you feel better, even in the slightest. I think they're beautiful." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean?" He sighs, lowering his eyes to the ground while rubbing the back of his neck trying to gather his thoughts.

"It's like. It just shows that no matter how much pain and suffering you've been in, you're still here. You're still living. You exist. Your scars show what you've had to endure and that you made it to another day." His capturing green eyes look up at your [e/c] ones, trying hard to convey the sincerety in his voice.

"I just find your strength admirable, ya know? I hope that makes sense.." He smiles anxiously, hoping to the Gods he didn't make himself look like a bigger idiot. He waits a few seconds for your response-when you finally manage a small smile at him.

"Yeah. It makes sense." You softly say, appreciating his words. His grin widened at your smiling face and you two continued chatting about whatever came to your minds the rest of the day.

Both of you became close, as close as a mental hospital would let you. If the staff found out you were sharing your last names with each other, you'd get in trouble. It was strongly discouraged because 'you're here for treatment, not to make friends.' That didn't deter you and Josh though. You ended up learning his last name, 'Washington', and he told you about how his dad is a popular movie director. You kinda had a hunch his family had a lot of money but you didn't expect them to be that rich. He explained how he owned a mountain as well as how him and his friend would go visit their lodge for a few days to a week in the summer and winter. The way he explained the getaway trips made it sound so fun, leaving you longing for an experience like that.

"That sounds amazing!" you'd exclaim everytime he talked about the lodge.

"Next time we go, I'll invite you. I promise." He'd always say, you both making a quiet promise with your pinky fingers. But you never knew how serious he was. You never kept your hopes up about seeing him after you got out, you knew it was a small chance since both your hometowns were hours away from each other.

That was until he slipped you his phone number on a tiny slip of paper. He gave you a playful wink, indicating that you know what to do with it when you get home. It was the last exchange you guys had before Josh was discharged, leaving you to stay there one more night. The last day without him was the hardest. It's like he brought life into the place. You were practically spending everyday with him for 29 days straight, and you got used to his playful presence. It would be a lie to say you didn't develop a small crush on him during your time together.

The second you were out of the hospital and made it home, you just wanted to run up into your room, lock it, and text Josh-clutching the small piece of paper with his number on it close to your chest; brimming with excitement. But alas, your parents wouldn't allow you a moment to be alone. They showered you in love and affection, presenting gifts to you left and right the second you guys stepped inside. You tucked away the paper with a sigh, reminding yourself you'd be able to talk to him soon enough.

After a few hours of hanging in the living room and talking about your stay at Ocean View (only barely mentioning Josh as you didn't want them to question you for another hour) you tell them that you're exhausted and that you wanted to sleep. They reluctantly agree after they insisted you sleep in the living room with them so they could keep an eye on you, which you shut down immediately and reassure that you'd be fine alone.

You hug them goodnight and lug up all the gifts into your room, swiftly locking the door and hurriedly pulling out the notepaper and your phone-punching in the digits a little too eagerly. You already craved his ridiculous jokes and teasing. Once you added his contact, your finger hesitates over the typing section. 'Would he respond?' 'Would he want to talk?' 'Did he actually care about you?' 'Was he pretending the whole time to be your friend just to hurt you in the end for his own entertainment?'

Countless worrying thoughts filled your mind, and your anxiety begins to build. You felt the urge to self-harm to help deal with the stress you felt, even if it was something so minor. It's just how your brain processed these things. But you manage to suppress it somewhat. You take deep breaths, using breathing exercises like your therapist suggested to do when you got like this. Once you calmed down, you began to shoot him a simple text:

You: "Hey Josh, it's [Y/n]. Sorry it took me a bit to text, my parents were talking to me for what felt like forever. How've you been?"

You contemplate if this was a good text; if it seemed too desperate or corny. But you close your eyes and hit send anyway. Conflicting thoughts ran through your brain if this was a good idea or not. You were told it was strictly forbidden to ever become friends with people in the mental hospital by the staff and your therapist because it might be dangerous for both parties. You didn't care during that time, thinking: 'It can't be that bad, right?' And now, you weren't too sure, your overthinking thoughts swirling around like a typhoon.

Until a few seconds later you heard a 'ping' come from your phone. You immediately open your eyes to see what it was; hoping for Josh. And your heart raced when he responded.

Josh: "Well if it isn't Ms. Marbles finally remembering about lil' old me. Took you long enough"

Marbles was a nickname Josh gifted to you so generously in the mental hospital in reference to you quite literally losing your marbles-the cause for you to get admitted. And ironically enough, you really enjoyed playing a marble game with him during game nights so it was a two in one combo.

You roll your eyes with a sigh, relieved that he texted back and also the faint annoyance at such a cringe nickname, but it still made you smile nonetheless.

You: "Marbles? Really? Couldn't keep that dumb name back in Ocean View?"

Josh on the other side of the screen was smiling wide, happy to finally talk to you again once more. He missed your company and voice dearly.

Josh: "You wound my ego, Marbles! I'll have you know I'm the greatest nickname giver in the whole world. So be honored that you were personally given one by me ;)"

You scoff at the text. He was always such a complex and interesting guy. But his shenanigans were amusing to you, so you often didn't mind them. You kinda got used to the name overtime anyways when he'd see you in the day room and call you over by it constantly. Even though you acted like you hated it, deep down, you felt special the moment he gave you a nickname.

For the next 9 months you and Josh continued to stay in contact. You would text, call, Skype, and even play games together like Minecraft from time to time. You got close to each other over the months you spent chatting. He even finally confided in you, albeit the tinest bit, about the death of his sisters.

And you were growing on Josh too. The one thing he'd look forward to everyday is a text from you. Even if he didn't tell you that, even if you didn't know, it still meant a lot to him. He cherished the time you spent together, it didn't matter it was through a screen.

Some time at the end of January he invited you to his 'Anual Blackwood Winter get Away'. You were honestly excited to see him again, and you couldn't wait to hang out with him without having staff breathing down your back 24/7.

So of course you said yes and accepted the invitation. You knew it wouldn't just be you and Josh, his friends would be there too. You also knew that his friends were the indirect cause of his sisters deaths. You honestly didn't know how he was still able to hang out with them in the first place, but he said they expressed terrible regret for their actions which is fair. Only 2 of his friends weren't in on it, which you guess is a comforting thought. It's not like you already hate his friends, you just thought the prank was in bad taste and resulted in a terrible tragedy that no one saw coming. You just felt bad for Josh the most, he's the one who had to face the repercussions of his friends actions; losing both his sisters. You could definitely see it still affected him. No matter how much he insisted he was over it, you could tell he was still grieving.

You were there for him as much as you could be, through a screen. It seemed like he had a friend, Sam, who has been helping support him through this tough time in his life. You're thankful for that.

The day arrived when you had to get ready to go to leave for the trip. You woke up extra early, making sure you had enough time to take a shower and go over everything you packed the previous night. You texted Josh after your shower, asking him about the details of transportation. He said you were supposed to take the same bus as Sam to the mountain, since she was one of his most closest friends, he wanted you two to potentially bond and already have a good connection. You were a little anxious to meet her, but he's told you a lot about her and she seemed to be a really cool person you'd get along with.

You start getting dressed, choosing a warm yet stylish outfit. You slip on black thermal leggings, white leg warmers and black snowboots, a blue and white pleated skirt with a matching blue sweater, a cute black leather jacket over, and white earmuffs. You put the earmuffs around your neck to stay until you reach the mountain.

After checking all your essentials and making sure you had everything, you place your duffle bag over your shoulder and grab your phone-putting in wired earbuds to listen to music while on your way to the bus station during the car ride. Your parents dropped you off, making sure you packed your meds and your charger. They hugged you tightly good bye and drove off. You sat on a bench and began scrolling through your phone as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey! [Y/n], right?" You look up and recognize the blonde haired girl as Sam, from pictures Josh would show you. You give her a polite smile and nod, taking out an earbud and offer a hand for her to shake.

"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you." Sam shook your hand, it was soft and warm.

"Likewise, I've heard lots of things about you from Josh. And I mean a lot. He really likes you, you're a good influence on him." Your heart skipped a beat at her words. You didn't think he'd talk about you that much to his friends. But it made you feel happy he thought of you like that.

You two sit and talk for a fat minute, until your bus arrived. Sam and you step aboard, taking a seat close to the back together and continue chatting, talking about each other while the bus drove off to start the journey to your destination.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[a/n] omg y'all chapter zero is done and chapter one is coming soon as hell so stay tuned!

-From

🦈 & 🦇

[arisuworld]

HOW TO PERSIST?

So, now we all know how self concept is one of the most important key to manifestation. How you view yourself in relation to the world around you is extremely important and can greatly affect how you manifest. However, persistence is another key to manifestation that often gets overlooked. It is as important as self concept.

Now, I know why it can be hard. At some point of my life, i couldn't persist no matter what. It was hard for me. 3D and circumstances made it hard for me to persist. However, Manifesting in general is very easy but it does require a certain amount of discipline and mental work. It truly gets difficult for most people, when an unfavorable circumstance happens in 3D. Everything seems to be going well but then all of a sudden everything starts falling and you start seeing the opposite of your desires. Then circumstances and everything going on around you, makes you question, doubt yourself and even start spiraling, not knowing what to do. 

Everyone has been in this kind of situation and they don't know what to do. So, now I'm gonna tell you what you should do when you're in this situation, no matter what the circumstances are.

• WHAT DOES PERSISTING MEANS?

per·sist  /pərˈsist/ verb

continue firmly or obstinately in an opinion or a course of action in spite of difficulty, opposition, or failure.

Basically, persisting means to continue to dwell in the new assumptions despite the difficulties or obstacles that may come in the way.  

• WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT?

"An assumption, though false, if persisted in will harden into fact" — Neville Goddard

No matter how crazy your assumption sounds, no matter how delusional you sound, if you PERSIST into it, it will harden into fact. The 3D will always conform it in front of your eyes.

• IS BEING PERSISTENT AND CONSISTENT SAME?

People often confuse persistence with consistently. Affirming 24/7 till they pass out or their head hurts which is so wrong. Persisting isn’t affirming, it's knowing that your desire is inevitable. You feel safe and secure knowing THAT CREATION IS FINISHED. The moment you’ve finished your visualisation, affirmations, SATs or have just simply stated that your desire is yours, then your desire has already been completed. Your “job” is to just continue KNOWING that it’s yours, which is basically PERSISTING.

• HOW TO PERSIST?

Persisting means to live in the end, to completely live in your imagination (4D) and to ignore any unfavorable circumstances that the 3D may throw at you. Live in your imagination as it is the ONLY true reality that matters to you. When you see something you don't like in the 3D, turn inwards to your imagination and live within.

1. TAKE A BREAK: The main cause of a spiral is usually a result of seeing something unfavorable in the 3D and becoming overwhelmed. You feel like doing something to change the situation, to make it better somehow. Therefore you panic and try different techniques, methods at a time to fix the circumstances. However doing this will not help you fix anything. It will only manifest the opposite. No, let me ask you something. If you had your desire, would any difficult circumstance trouble you? Would it affect you negatively? No right?. All you're doing is interfering with your manifestations. Instead of trying to make it happen, you just have to let it happen. So, i would recommend you to take a break from ALL manifesting-related things for a few days for a week. Like delete tumblr, instagram, unsubscribe from LOA youtube channels. In this time period, i suggest you to do meditation, yoga nidra and journal out your feelings. Let yourself feel any emotions and vent out whatever’s bothering you. Don’t keep it all bottled up. Let it out for once and all.

2. DON'T SEEK VALIDATION FROM 3D: When you’re truly in the state of KNOWING (you already have your desires), you will be much less likely to spiral. Why? well, as i stated in the first point, we spiral primarily because we experience something unfavorable in the 3D. But when we’re in the state of knowing, we KNOW that the 3D is temporary and that our desires ARE COMING, no matter what, it’s inevitable. No matter what happens, your desires are already yours, is all you need to understand.

3. IMPROVE YOUR SELF CONCEPT: Self concept is the only thing you need to manifest. If your self concept is good then nothing can stop you from getting your desires. Now, after you feel like you’ve taken enough time “off” from manifesting consciously, now you can start easing back in. I recommend you to do a mental diet. It's easy, simple and so effective. All you have to do is be conscious of your thoughts, and flip your negative thoughts to positive. Whenever you get a negative thought related to your manifestation, just flip it around and be like "no, i already have my desire". That's it's, it's that easy.

• CONCLUSION

Persistence can be very hard sometimes but it is extremely important in order to manifest your desires! The best thing to do is to remember that you're the god and remind yourself that circumstances do not matter. Always, remain faithful to your new assumptions and don't let outer circumstances rattle you. Circumstances are temporary, they change in seconds. And, You are the god of your reality and everything has to go your way, no matter what! Never give up. Always persist, persist and persist. The 3D will always conform in front of your eyes.

[raayllum]

I've touched on this before in regards to TDP, at first just in regards to Claudia's consistent thing with fragmentation and then further in my meta regarding Rayla-Leola parallels, but I want to talk briefly about the Fixing vs Broken dichotomy TDP has been running with more subtly till S6 said, "Sit up and pay attention" so let's get into it.

First: what breaks things in TDP?

If you're a magical object, it's probably Callum but when it comes to people, things get a bit more complicated. We see the literal act of dark magic break people and families apart, both literally and metaphorically:

This on the one hand makes sense. Of course the characters and by extension their family dynamics or magic use is going to reflect the landscape of Xadia itself: literally split and divided down the middle, initially, due to dark magic use and how the elves and dragons chose to handle things. A broken continent and broken people.

Therefore, we see characters who want to fix things, particularly in TDP shorts featuring Claudia:

Her brother squirmed. “Clauds, Biscuit’s—” “—I know. But I fixed it. Now we can still play with her.”

Reflections Vol 1: Rise Again

It will be just like before, only this time, you won’t be able to fix him… [...] “Do not fear,” the Startouch elf had said. “You are a dark mage, powerful and potent. With my help, there is nothing you cannot fix. Not even death.” [...] “Let’s go,” Claudia told the creature. “I can fix this. I can fix anything.”

Reflections Vol 2: Lost Child

as well as in show canon:

This is reflected in magic use routinely throughout the series, as mages inherently use magic (primal or dark) to fix their problems and help those around them. Callum uses magic to try and fix Rayla's problems with her family; Claudia uses magic to 'fix' Soren and Viren's physical conditions, and is confused and upset when it isn't enough. Bringing Zym back to Zubeia 'fixes her "irreparably broken heart" (3x08) and starts to heal the continent. Wanting to fix things or keep things from breaking apart further is something that drives many of the main characters, most notably Claudia and Karim in their steadfast attempts to hold onto, or restore, what they still have to the way it 'should be':

This "I need/want to fix it" mindset isn't exclusive to the villains, but wanting to go back rather than move forward — heavily resisting change — does tend to be more common for antagonists (versus Viren's "I have changed") and more counterproductive when protagonists engage in it ("She's been trying hard to get things the way they were" "But things aren't like they were!").

Part of this, of course, is because breaking things isn't (or is rarely) exclusively bad in TDP, or that not breaking things is always Good.

And all of this comes back to, I think, one of the most interesting scenes in the whole show in both a "character perspective as an individual" standpoint and in a broader narrative way of thinking: Sol Regem's assessment of the world in 6x04:

Which of course begs the question: what is broken in Xadia, and what does Sol Regem think is broken in Xadia?

I'd be willing to wager given that Sol Regem seemingly reported and/or testified against Leola to the Cosmic Council that it's about magic use, but it could even be about the First Elves themselves leaving and the "long slow spiral to chaos" that's ongoing. For us as an audience, our context of what is broken (re: not functional and wrong) — especially by the end of S6 is the Cosmic Order system because it's not fair, the division between elves and humans, and the splitting of the continent, which is why Ezran argues for elf-human reunification, Callum uses primal magic for good, and Rayla loves her human family. Because what fixes things, routinely, is love, compassion, self-reflection, and mercy. That's what breaks the cycle, and allows people to fix themselves and their world views, their families, their mistakes. That's what allows healing.

We also know canon is gearing up towards something given Aaravos' endgame is some kind of great shattering, and given what it implies, both immense suffering and good will likely come out of it:

I have not seen the stars in centuries. But when I see them again—when the stars are forced to look upon me, their dark brother—they will know how I have waited. And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky.

—TDP Reflections Vol 1: Patience

Because Sol Regem is both right and wrong.

Xadia is broken — but our team of heroes can and will save it.

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding. 

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture. 

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules. 

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless. 

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future. 

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away. 

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next. 

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video. 

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss. 

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by. 

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?” 

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.” 

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her. 

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.  

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later. 

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her. 

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her. 

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore. 

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent. 

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb. 

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

[shannonsketches]

lays on the floor i am once again thinking about the goku geets foil in terms of their experience and perspective and parenting

tl;dr: Goku sees letting his child do serious battle as a gift, and Vegeta sees it as a failure.

a lot of the 'goku's a bad father' discourse comes from how he trains/puts Gohan into fights and either doesn't know or doesn't realize that Gohan wants to be a scholar and not a warrior; the reason Gohan keeps joining the fray is because he doesn't want to see people he loves get hurt, right, because that's been his entire experience since Raditz showed up (and remains so until Cell dies).

The discourse re: The Cell Games is interesting though, examining the 'how could Goku not know/how could Goku volunteer his child so blithely' etc and his similar attitude toward the kids fighting in Super('s manga), and it's part of why I say/write/read Goku as deeply inconsiderate but never malicious (and this does tie into the foil with Geets lemme just); Goku's experience with serious combat is fun, and exciting.

Goku volunteering Gohan to fight Cell was something Goku considered a gift to Gohan, to be able to flex his power and go all out on an enemy that could handle it/required it -- that's something Goku wishes he had the power to do, especially at Gohan's age! That's super exciting to Goku. It's not pageant mom forcing her kid to do what she wanted energy, it's Goku being sweet and pure and sharing something he thinks he has in common with his kid. Vegeta says Saiyans live to fight! Goku's entire life has been spent bonding with competitive martial artists! It never occurred to him that someone so naturally powerful and talented wouldn't enjoy fighting.

And Goku does not read subtext, that's not a skill he has, so by the time Piccolo spells it out for him, he's genuinely sorry to have put Gohan in that position.

But in Super('s manga), the larger picture of Don't Put Children in Traumatic Situations still doesn't really occur to Goku, because he doesn't consider battle traumatic, no matter how emotionally intense it gets. Goku doesn't hold onto things. Goku lives and lets live, as long as he doesn't have to kill you. That's his super power. It's why he can be friends with all of these people who have done him and his loved ones and his planet so much harm. He consistently ends earth-shattering battles with, 'that was fun, let's do it again sometime'

Vegeta, on the other hand (see I told you I'd get here, I promised), has had the complete opposite experience. Vegeta considers others heavily, it's what made him very good at being malicious. Vegeta does this for survival. Vegeta's climb to the top is for the vantage point, not the view. He's not looking to the stars dreaming about what else it out there. He's squinting at the dark trying to kill whatever it is before it kills him and his home and his family. again.

Vegeta is a child soldier, who has distinct recollection of his culture being built on the rearing of child soldiers. By the times the cell games come around he is experiencing having a child for the first time, and after seeing (a future version of) that child die in battle, he seems to take on a much different opinion on letting kids fight.

Vegeta comes from a culture in which you send your child off-world to conquer a planet, alone, once they're old enough to walk. The stronger kids go into war zones. Vegeta was giving strategic orders to fellow elites by the time he was five. He was treating Gohan like a soldier when he was five.

But, by the Buu saga, Bulma tells Gohan that Vegeta says Trunks is old enough now to start proper training -- when Trunks is eight years old. Even then, Vegeta's telling Trunks not to push himself too hard in the gravity room, to stop and leave when it's too much for him to handle. Vegeta kills himself trying to prevent Trunks and Goten having to fight Buu. He jumps in to protect the kids when the fight gets too intense in Yo! Son Goku and Friends Return. He begs the kids not to fight Beerus in Battle of the Gods when he's barely conscious. He snaps at Goku any time he suggests them for intense battle in Super('s manga).

Vegeta sees it as not being strong enough to handle a problem, Which totally definitely doesn't have anything to do with some kind of deep-rooted trauma about placing the responsibility of making up for your weakness on your children that Vegeta's had to deal with since becoming a father and he for sure doesn't take it personally when a parent volunteers children to solve problems they had nothing to do with. He's fine! It's fine.

He does not want Trunks or Goten anywhere near a real battlefield (Bulma and/or the other adults seem to be helping to enforce this; in Res F, Trunks and Goten are not invited to go to the Freeza fight, and in the Moro arc both of them were asked to go be rangers in 17's absence again, complaining that nobody told them there was a fight happening at all), because it's got nothing to do with them. They shouldn't have to fight for their -- or anyone else's -- lives. That's the adults' job. That's his job.

Because to Vegeta, it is a job. Soldier, guardian, prince, lord, whatever. It's a role he has to fulfill, and his pride (and a whole lot of trauma-informed necessity) drives him to be the best at it, period, the end. It's an obligation that he must fulfill, because he's decided he's personally responsible for [gestures to the earth] all of this and its survival. It's where he keeps all his stuff!

For Goku, it's a game. He just wants to fight the strongest guys, and it's his understanding that everyone else wants that too. If he's not the best, GREAT! That's more to look forward to. A whole new rabbit to chase to who knows where. It's adventure! It's exciting! So of course the kids would want to get in on it! He LOVED doing this kind of stuff when he was a kid.

Goku has two hands! ...for former villains Vegeta and Piccolo to try to wrestle away from all the other, much worse villains who do not want to play with him.

[fawnnpaws]

this isnt even like. sexy but i think so hard about art and being a sub and what it means to him emotionally……… i feel like a lot of it is rooted in a want for transactional love where he gives and his partner gives too, rather than him giving and getting nothing in return.. another big component is a need for a consistent role in his life so he can have a sense of self.. and then in terms of actually being in headspace (puppyspace included) a lot of it has to do with dumbification and being able to turn his brain off for a little bit .. so many thoughts in my mind And dont even get me started about what i think his relationship with his mother is like 😭🤦‍♂️

oohhhhh <//333 art viewing being submissive as a way to guarantee getting his needs met and to have a purpose….. he knows his actions will be reciprocated, even if his feelings aren’t…. he needs to be needed and wanted so bad he’s willing to enter purely transactional dom/sub relationships because at least in scenes he’s almost getting what he craves so badly. he drops after, almost every time, it’s like all of his feelings of being unlovable and inadequate swallow him whole the second his dom leaves. because they always leave. they get what they want from him and they go. he doesn’t know enough about being submissive to understand why he feels so broken after scenes or that he should have a dom that takes care of him after the “transaction” is over. then you come along and you do return his feelings and it feels like the whole world has opened up all of a sudden. he never considered he could have all of his needs met at once - that he could give and receive through submission and be loved outside of it. it makes sinking into his headspace so much easier, so much so that he’s able to just turn his brain off while you’re home together doing mundane things. the dumbification part of it is so sweet because he’s putting all of his trust in you to take care of him, allowing himself to stop thinking and just follow your lead. he knows you know what’s best for him and he’ll lay his pretty little head in your lap while he waits for you to tell him what to do. he loves to hear that you think he’s good - praise is the quickest way to sink him down into that soft warm place where his brain takes the backseat. dumb puppy that he is in this headspace, he’ll just follow you around and lean against you, cuddle up on you however he can, breathe in your perfume and natural scent, anything to stay close. you love him fiercely and give him what he needs freely - he’ll do anything for you in return.

[eisforeidolon]

You know, I thought the stupidest entitlement we were going to get out of this weekend was yet again bitching that Jared cancelled. There are a whole host of reasons any of these actors might cancel a con event at any time - from scheduling to illness to things that are just plain none of our damn business.

But nope! We've got bonus extra-stupid new bitching that the first person who very considerately recorded the panels and uploaded them right away chose to focus more on Jensen than Rich or (especially) Misha.

You want to be entitled to seeing and hearing everything from the panels ASAP? Okay, pay out the ass to Creation for prime seats at the convention, then you'd be owed that view. Otherwise, STFU.

And of course it's mostly (if not entirely) coming directly from whiny hellers frothing at the mouth insisting it could only be done by evil Jared stans. Not only have they been soooo cheated of pretending it's twue lurve every time they could see Jensen and Misha make eye contact while speaking to each other? It's part and parcel of the ridiculous narrative they're trying to sell that the audience in general, except for a few dismissible outliers, would see any other rando shoved next to Jensen as equal to or better than Jared. Especially third lead Misha! Except the majority of the audience - the GA, bibros & J2 fans, Jensen fans that can't stand Misha, Jared fans, non-hellers in general, etc. - get that SPN had two leads in J2. Hellers are the lunatic fringe weirdos pushing an unpopular agenda, and all the delusional assertions on SM in the world are not going to change that.

So yeah, if someone is videoing the panels for themselves and uploads? Considering the general makeup of the actual audience, not the one that only exists in hellers' heads that consists mostly of themselves? It's not shocking they might choose to focus way more on the one lead that is there over the comparatively minor supporting character actor Creation slapped onstage to give him someone to interact with. Which is assuming the omission wasn't at all because it was an awkward angle where it was hard to film both people in the panel from the videographer's seat in the first place.

[caffeinerabbit]

(Note: I originally started to write this as a quick and dirty backstory for Latte, which explained why she was chosen as Benji's mentor, and why she behaves the way she does. Once I started writing, however, it was like some floodgate opened and now I have a full blown setting and story arc in my head. I'd love to turn it into a comic, but I don't think I have the patience for that, so I'm giving serious thought about turning it into a multi-chapter illustrated fanfic, with the occasional comic for fun.

In any case, here's the first piece of lore, possibly with more to come. The story continues under the cut, with potential spoilers for down the line - and please forgive the melodrama!)

Latte's Story

Latte is a veteran exploration team member, and in her prime she was considered one of the Guild’s elites. Even though she’s semi-retired now (for reasons) she’s still highly regarded as one of the best, and from time to time the Guild will seek her help when they have a difficult task in front of them.

She’s also a thoroughly unpleasant person. Sarcastic, aloof, and generally unfriendly to most people, she spends much of her time alone, either drinking her days away or just kind of blankly existing.

(And yes, this PMD setting has booze. You can’t tell me that a civilization whose diet consists of 90% berries and fruit hasn’t stumbled upon fermentation.)

When Benji the human-turned-buneary just happens to show up one day and the Guild becomes aware of him, past experience tells them that something bad is about to go down. They know that Benji and his partner Finn need to be brought up to snuff ASAP, and to that end they enlist Latte to act as the duo’s mentor, which she reluctantly accepts after much pleading.

From the moment their eyes meet, Latte and Benji can’t stand one another. Although she’s typically hard to get along with in general, for some reason she takes an immediate and intense dislike of Benji in particular, constantly snarking at him, mocking him when he messes up, and directing a weirdly immense amount of ire his way. For his part, Benji is utterly perplexed as to what exactly he did to piss off this giant rabbit woman, returning her vitriol in kind. Her being the final evolution of his new form doesn’t help matters either, since he’s mildly embarrassed by his current situation, and she’s a reminder of what he has to look forward to if he winds up stuck in the Pokémon world permanently.

Ostensibly, as a lopunny, Latte has a firmer understanding of Benji’s potential capabilities than most, and can train him better than anyone else could. That’s the excuse given, anyway, but it’s only a small part of the whole truth on why the Guild chose her.

Which is that Latte once had her own human partner, and that together they saved the world.

When Latte was still a young buneary, she stumbled upon a hapless human in pokémon form, much in the same way as Finn did with Benji. Although shy, withdrawn, and slow to make friends at the time, she easily formed a fast friendship with the outsider, and he was able to draw her out of her shell. After joining their local Guild and going on multiple adventures together, their bond grew ever closer, with Latte effectively viewing her partner as the center of her world.

Eventually, the big apocalyptic threat that always seems to accompany humans made itself known, and after much grit and determination, Latte and her partner were able to defeat it. Despite the hardship they’d faced up to that point, the relief, pride, and closeness to her partner she felt in that moment left her the happiest she’d ever been in her life, triggering her evolution into a lopunny right there on the spot – an evolution that probably never would have happened if she’d never met her friend and remained that sad, lonely girl back in her home village.

The joy, however, was short lived. With his task fulfilled and his original life waiting for him back home, the higher powers determined to return Latte’s partner to the human world. Not long after the pinnacle of her existence, she watched as her closest and only true friend, the person that gave her life meaning, purpose, and who she was secretly deeply in love with, evaporated into a wispy yellow flow of sparks and energy.

And unlike in the games, he never came back.

Latte’s world was devastated. As the initial shock wore off, in its place took anguish, and a desperate pleading with the higher powers to please, please bring her friend back to her. Pleading that went silently, but firmly, unanswered.

In time, the anguish itself faded into numbness, and Latte again found herself feeling utterly, completely alone. She wasn’t even able to celebrate and take solace in the victory that she and her partner had earned, since the Guild swore her to secrecy lest the populace at large learn just how close it had come to complete annihilation – and in turn learn that this has all happened before, and will likely happen again. Outside of the Guild masters, her vanishingly small circle of friends, and a handful of other people privy to the information, nobody knew that they all owed their lives to Latte and her partner.

Trying to fill the void in her soul and distract herself from depression, Latte doubled down on her Guild work, becoming one of the top Explorers and Rescuers in the world’s Guild system. She eventually realized that she couldn’t remain in her home village and ever hope to become whole again, because everything there reminded her of him. Packing up what little she had, she moved far away to another village whose Guild master was sympathetic to her plight, attempting to build herself a new life.

It didn’t take. Between Guild missions and the bottle, Latte’s life went more or less on auto pilot. She took on fewer and fewer jobs, and eventually only took work when the Guild sought her out specifically. Regardless of his advisors’ grumbling, calling her a freeloader and dead weight, the Guild master made no effort to force Latte to do anything. He knew of the sacrifice she had made, and letting her live her life in what little peace she could muster was the least he could do.

Out of Latte’s numbness, a sense of resentment also took root, growing over time. She and her partner were still effectively children when they went on their adventures, and like most children, the transformed human had an upbeat and unblemished view of the world. He would regale her with stories about his world, about things like airplanes, movies, video games, amusement parks, all the different kinds of food you could ever hope to eat and all the different places you could ever hope to visit - they’d even been to their moon! She held the Earth in awe, and wished that someday, somehow, she could go there as well.

But when the time came, he didn’t take her with him. He got to go home to paradise. She was stuck here.

Alone.

In spite of herself, she found herself growing angry at her long-lost friend. A part of her knew that it wasn’t his fault, that he had no more say in the matter than she did, but nevertheless he had abandoned her. The hurt continued to grow, the resentment hardening ever stronger. How dare he. How dare he.

For several years, this was the internal stalemate in which Latte found herself. Going through the motions of life, doing what was needed of her when asked, drowning her sorrows when left to her own devices. The numbness dulled the resentment most of the time, and she had resigned herself to just playing out the clock on life.

That is, until he arrived.

From the first moment she laid eyes on him, Latte knew exactly what Benji was. His mannerisms, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he held himself. Everyone else might have mistaken him for this clumsy, confused little first stage, but to her it was as glaringly obvious as though she were staring into the sun. And in tow he held another innocent, unsuspecting soul, one that undoubtedly worshiped the ground he walked on. One whose heart would inevitably be shattered into a million pieces and scattered into the wind, never to be made whole again.

All of the anger and resentment that she had fought so hard to bury came flooding back like a tidal wave. All of the broken dreams, all of the unfulfilled promises, of once bright future that now laid forever beyond her grasp. How dare this insipid little bastard come here and cause this to all play out once again. How dare he.

She knew what his being here meant, and knew what was at stake should he fail. With a generous amount of loathing she agreed to mentor the duo and train them for their appointed task, and to do so to the best of her ability. But she would be damned if she allowed history to repeat itself. All she wanted was to get this whole business over and done with, to send this little shit packing back to where he came from.

The sooner, the better.

[mymoodwriting]

3.8k, deja vu au, reader appears in the end, alcohol, drinking, depression, past relationship, amnesia, gaslighting, manipulation, denial, character deaths, implied character deaths, car accident, lingering spirits, traveling dimensions, 99% certain you will cry, I cried writing this (@starillusion13)

“Hey… it’s me again…”

Yeonjun laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling while he was on the phone. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was hard to find the words at times.

“I know you’re busy but… you know it’d be nice to hear your voice again… I’m really-”

The beep cut him off as that was all the time he had to leave a message. He thought to try again but he left it that way. He sent you a lot of messages throughout the day, and he didn’t want to piss you off more than you already were. He laid in bed for a while longer before getting up and preparing for the day. The apartment was a lot quieter without you around, and he was well aware of that everyday. Still he didn’t touch your things, leaving them as they were, always waiting for the day you’d forgive him and come home.

On his way out he stopped to look himself over in the mirror, wiping away the tears on his face. He always woke up crying, and he couldn’t understand why. He never remembered his dreams, but he always felt such heartache every morning. He knew he missed you so much, but perhaps he missed you a lot more than he even realized. Once he was out of the apartment he texted his coworker, letting them know he was on his way. He worked as a line cook at a small little joint. It wasn’t anything fancy but it paid the bills and gave him a consistent schedule, so he didn’t hate it too much.

For his lunch break Yeonjun went up to the rooftop, eating in peace and watching the world go by. The scene was quite lovely and it brought back memories. Back then when you had been dating you’d stop by to visit him during his lunch break whenever you had a chance. You could enjoy the view together, and had taken a few pictures together, as well as shared a handful of kisses. It was a little awkward now for Yeonjun, knowing you wouldn’t come up there to meet him anymore, but the memory of you here was what always brought him back. When he heard the door open he perked up, thinking a miracle was about to happen, but instead he saw Soobin walking over. His friends knew of his lunch spot too after all.

“Where you been, man?”

“Ah, you know, just living my life.”

“But you don’t have time to text or call?”

“My bad.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Soobin took a seat next to Yeonjun. “How you been though?”

“Okay, I guess. Just going through the motions.”

“You know we’re here for you, right?”

“I know. I just don’t wanna burden you guys or sound like a whiny bitch.”

“You wouldn’t be a burden, or annoyance, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna test our friendship over something like this. It’s not a break up, just some miscommunication. We’re taking a break, that’s all.”

“… oh…”

“I’m fine though, really.”

“… yeah… yeah I can see…” Soobin cleared his throat. “You know, the guys are gonna get together on Friday for some drinks, you wanna come? Wouldn’t be bad to spend a night out with us, right?”

“I’d like that.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details.”

“Thanks.”

Yeonjun admired the view once more, deciding to take a picture and send it to you. Soobin watched him curiously. He could admit it was nice to see the world from up here.

“Who you texting?”

“Y/n. We used to come up here a lot and enjoy the view together. This way we can still share it even if she’s not here now.”

“… right… I, uh… I gotta get going, but I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. See you later.”

“Be safe.”

Yeonjun stayed up on the roof for a while longer before heading back down to finish his shift. He lived close to work, so the commute wasn’t that long, but most nights he’d pick up a few odd jobs doing deliveries. That way he got to travel past all the places you’ve made memories together. The restaurants you’ve dined at, the walks you took together, the ice cream you shared. It was a happy trip down memory lane, and he hoped to do it all again someday. He stopped along the way to check his messages, and just like before you hadn’t responded. Countless messages have gone unanswered, and he could see that you haven’t even opened them. When he finally got home he decided to try giving you a call.

“Hi, you’ve reached y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! And if it’s you, Yeonjun, I’m sorry I missed you, but I’ll see you later, love you! Okay, bye!”

Hearing your voicemail message always brought a smile to his face. Perhaps that’s why he kept calling. After the beep though his mind went blank, unsure of what to say at first until the words came to him.

“Hey… how are you? I hope you’re doing well… I, uh, I sent you a picture earlier from the rooftop… it brought back a lot of memories… you know, you could at least let me know you’ve seen my messages… I don’t mind if you leave me on read, but I guess you must be busy… Soobin came by today, told me this Friday-”

Another beep told him his time was up and the line then went dead. He sighed and looked back at his texts, but there was nothing new from you. He lingered in the shower afterwards, trying not to break down in tears. It had been so long now without you, but he was still doing pretty well to hold himself together. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long before he finally fell asleep. His alarm would wake him in the morning, freeing him from whatever tear filled dream he wouldn’t remember. It was probably more accurate to call them nightmares, but all he knew was what he felt in the morning, nothing else.

This was his usual routine, so he just went about his day as normal. He’d call and leave a message, getting ready for work and spending his day out in the world, distracting himself from your absence. He felt cold in a way he couldn’t describe. It was spring, leading into summer, so the weather itself wasn’t a reason for his feelings. He knew what was, but he didn’t want to dwell on it too long for fear of being swallowed up whole. Yet every passing day made him feel as if you were fading away, and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

Every morning he’d feel the tears on his face. Sometimes he’d wake before his alarm, sobbing uncontrollably, his throat burning from the tears. His face hurt from all the crying, but it seemed he was getting used to the pain now. Once he calmed down he found himself staring at the blank ceiling once more. It was easy to zone out that way, drifting back into the memories of the past, the memories forgotten. Although every time he tried to look back it seemed harder to grasp those moments, to grasp onto you. Such feelings always led him to call, even if you wouldn’t answer. He still hoped that someday you would.

“I miss you… I really fucken miss you… and I’m sorry… I honestly can’t remember what we fought about that day but I know it must have been something stupid… we’ve fought before over worse things but this… whatever it was… y/n please… please let me make it up to you… I want to hear your voice again, I want you to say my name again… I can’t… I can’t lose you-”

He screamed after the beep and threw his phone across the room. It was all true. He missed you like crazy and yet you were nowhere to be found. He desperately wanted to remember what happened that day, but even after all this time it was a blur. The stupid anger he felt, knowing you were leaving upset. Things shouldn’t end that way, and all he wanted was to make it up to you, to see you again and apologize for hurting you. Yet ever since that day you’ve disappeared from his life and gone silent. All his messages and texts have gotten him no response, and he was quietly going insane. Somehow he still managed to live his life, day by day, but it was becoming unbearable the longer this went on.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Yeonjun! It’s so good to see you!”

Taehyun and Kai ran up to hug their friend when they saw him, the atmosphere growing brighter with his presence. Everyone was happy to see him as it had been a long time since they all last hung out together.

“Thanks. Soobin invited me, and I thought I’d see how you were all doing.”

“This is gonna be fun.” Kai admitted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Let’s drink till sunrise.” Taehyun added. “I’ve built up my tolerance, I can totally take you on.”

“Ya, relax.” Soobin stated. “We haven’t even ordered the first round. We’ll see if your words hold up later. Sit, sit.”

“I’ll order.” Beomgyu said. “It really is great to see you, Yeonjun.”

“Same here.”

To be surrounded by friends, and drinking for joy, it was truly something Yeonjun had needed. He wasn’t alone, and he could forget his sorrows while in this moment. Everyone talked about what they had been up to, their plans going forward, and they all promised to see each other again soon. It was kinda strange to feel happiness like this again after so long, and Yeonjun wished to share it with you. By sunrise they were all pretty gone, but Yeonjun still had enough sense of self to act on his own.

“Excuse me for a minute, I gotta do something.”

“Hurry back.”

Yeonjun got up from the table, stumbling a bit towards the door. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number. Of course he was met with the usual ringing, but this time things were different. As he was walking out he stopped, hearing a familiar sound. 

“Y/n, could you please pick up the phone, it’s your boyfriend calling.”

Yeonjun had recorded a special message for you to use as a ringtone whenever he called. So hearing it now sent chills down his spine, sobering him up in a second. He looked around the place, searching for the source, but it was naive to think you were there somehow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the truth. Beomgyu pulled out a phone, your phone, quickly shutting it off before slowly looking up at Yeonjun. Their eyes met and for a moment the world froze. It was just the two of them in this silence, but the rage inside Yeonjun quickly burned away the cold and he stormed back over to the table. Yeonjun dropped his phone and reached over to pull Beomgyu close, getting up in his face.

“Why the fuck do you have y/n’s phone!”

“Yeonjun, I, I can explain.”

“What the fuck! I have been trying to reach her for weeks! Why the fuck do you have her phone!”

“Yeonjun, calm down!”

Everyone had sobered up in an instance. Soobin and Kai grabbed Yeonjun, pulling him away from Beomgyu. The boy took a few breaths, Taehyun looking him over. Yeonjun tried to free himself, a fire burning inside him, and his eyes locked on Beomgyu.

“Where is she!?” Yeonjun yelled. “Where is she, Beomgyu!?”

“Yeonjun…”

“Tell me! Where the fuck is she! You fucken bitch! Where-”

“Yeonjun, stop it.” Soobin interrupted. “Don’t do this here.”

“Let me go! I need him to tell me the truth.”

“That’s not gonna help.”

“Fuck you! Tell me where she is, Beomgyu! What has she told you!? Where is she!?”

“Yeonjun-”

“Where-”

“She’s gone!” Taehyun spat. “Yeonjun, she’s fucken dead.”

“… huh?”

“Taehyun, don’t.” Kai said. “This isn’t-”

“She got into a car accident a few weeks back.” Taehyun continued. “You were there, you went with her to the hospital and she… she didn’t make it…”

“… no… no… no, that’s not true! Liar! You fucken liar!”

“It’s true.” Beomgyu added. “You disappeared after the doctors pronounced her dead. You didn’t even go to her funeral. We didn’t see you for days, and when you suddenly reappeared you were talking about some fight and that you two were taking a break. You fucken gaslight yourself, and we just let you be cause surely you’d come to your senses eventually.”

“She… where is she?”

“I can tell you where she’s been laid to rest…”

“No, no… no…”

“We all miss her too, Yeonjun.” Kai added. “I’m sorry…”

“… you’re lying… you’re all liars…”

Yeonjun fell to his knees, his vision being blurred by tears. He didn’t want to believe any of this, yet his heart hurt like never before in this moment. Soobin and Kai let him go, cautiously stepping away to give him space. They all knew the truth had to surface somehow, but they didn’t want it to happen this way.

“Why did you have her phone?” Soobin questioned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was the one who took her belongings and before I could deactivate the phone I noticed Yeonjun kept texting and leaving messages. I couldn’t… I don’t know what would happen if I suddenly cut the line.”

“You should have told me you had it. I thought he did and he was feeding his own delusion. Why did you even bring it!?”

“I forgot to leave it at home, besides I didn’t think he’d leave a message right now.”

“Yeonjun- where did he go?”

When the others tried to look for Yeonjun they realized the boy was already gone, having run off when he had the chance. Yeonjun had no idea where he was running too, but he just had to get away. Tears blurred his vision, wiped away only for a moment by the wind. Somehow he wound up running away from civilization and out into the fields. The light from the sunrise illuminated his path, but it did nothing to soothe the pain in his chest. His legs could only take him so far and he eventually collapsed, falling to the ground. He struggled to breathe, the lack of air and pain from his tears making it hard to regain his breath. 

While he laid there images began to flash before him. A car wreck, fire, sirens in the distance getting louder and louder. The crowds around him, screaming and calling for help. A vague image of an injured hand sticking out from an overturned car. He stood frozen in place, taking in the whole scene before screaming and running towards the fire. Yeonjun jolted up, still in the field and looking around at the emptiness. He was alone, completely alone. He didn’t want to believe you were gone, he couldn’t, yet he felt it in his heart. All those dreams he had, they had truly been nightmares, memories of that day. Yet he wanted to deny it all.

“Please… please…”

Yeonjun had gotten on his knees, praying, begging, to see you again. Things couldn’t end this way, definitely not like this. He had been terrible at times, unable to keep promises or leaving you alone in all kinds of ways. Still he loved you, he loved you more than anyone else, and he’d never love another like he loved you. So he prayed, begged, to anyone who would listen, if he could have you back, promising to never let go again.

“You lost her, didn’t you?”

Yeonjun opened his eyes to see Beomgyu standing before him, then the boy kneeled down to embrace him in a hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay… I lost her too…”

“She can’t be gone… she can’t be…”

“She is… but I can give her back.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Promise me you’ll look after her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeonjun!!!”

Yeonjun turned around to see his friends running in his direction, all four of them. Once it clicked in his head he looked back at the Beomgyu by his side.

“What…”

“There isn’t much time. Please, promise us you’ll take care of her. She can’t be alone.”

“I…”

“Promise us.”

“… I promise.”

A blinding white light changed day into night. Yeonjun found himself alone once more, standing in the middle of nowhere. It took him a moment to truly regain his composure, confused about what had just happened.

“Yeonjun!”

Your voice, he had almost forgotten what it sounded like in real life, and not just some recording. Tears stung his eyes, except they were of joy this time. Although that feeling only lasted for a bit. When he turned around his eyes went wide, memories rushing in. That day you had come to pick him up, the two of you planning to get the others and you were all going to go on a weekend trip. He had a bad day at work and just snapped at you for no reason. You were rightfully upset, telling him to get himself together and call you when he wanted to be picked up. You drove off without another word. He already regretted his actions as he watched you leave, and when he turned his back he heard a loud noise.

Screams soon filled the air and he ran over, seeing smoke rising into the air. He was met with a horrifying scene. Your car was turned over, some other idiot hitting you and causing the whole wreck. He was frozen in shock, being able to see your hand sticking out of a broken window. When he saw your fingers move he snapped into action and rushed over. It was all really a blur from there but now he stood before a similar scenario. There was an overturned car just off the road, a giant fire roaring from it and the bits of debris around were also engulfed in flames. You were on your hands and knees before a body, screaming and crying.

“Yeonjun! Yeonjun! Yeonjun, get up! Please, Yeonjun… Yeonjun… you can’t leave me alone… please… Yeonjun! Get up! Please… please… yeonjun…”

Yeonjun wasn’t dreaming this time, or reliving a memory, this was something else entirely, and there was no waking up to reality. This was the real world, and it was like deja vu. He took a shaky step forward, one foot after another. Your name escaped his lips as a whisper, in the moment he struggled to call to you although seeing you again was what he had desperately wanted. As he got closer he noticed four other bodies scattered around, and your face became clearer, illuminated by the fire.

“… y/n…”

“… yeonjun… please wake up… please…”

“Y/n.”

Yeonjun choked back tears as he said your name. From where he was he could see your clothes were torn up, and that you were covered in cuts and bruises. When you looked up to meet his eyes he froze. It really was you, he could never forget those beautiful eyes, even when they were full of tears and agony. He couldn’t forget your face either, regardless of how many injuries decorated it.

“Yeonjun…?”

“Y/n.”

“Yeonjun… Yeonjun!”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the searing pain from your leg as you finally stood. You tried to run, but it was more of a desperate limp as you made your way over to Yeonjun, tears blurring your vision. Maybe this was all just some hallucination, or maybe Yeonjun had come back for you, either way there was only one way to know for sure. Yeonjun caught you in his arms, almost in disbelief that it was really you. He held you tightly, so fearful you’d suddenly disappear again.

“Yeonjun, is it really you…?” You sobbed into his shirt. “Don’t leave me alone… please…”

“No… no, I’m not going anywhere… I got you… I promise.”

Yeonjun’s legs gave out, the adrenaline wearing off, but he kept his hold on you. The two of you collapsed to the ground, but neither said much. Yeonjun stared at the car wreck, slowly looking down at your battered body. The car suddenly exploded, causing you to scream and hold Yeonjun tighter. He did his best to shield you, watching the flames grow brighter, and noting all the bodies were suddenly gone.

“Yeonjun… what’s going on?”

When Yeonjun heard his name he looked over to see his friends walking towards him. They looked worried, and confused, coming to Yeonjun for answers, but he had none.

“I… I don’t know…”

Yeonjun noticed his friends covered in injuries as well, their clothes different from when he last saw them and now torn up. He suddenly winced, looking down at his own body, seeing injuries that hadn’t been there before, and realizing his own clothes had changed.

“I thought you were dead…” You sobbed. “I thought you were all gone…”

“Y/n?” Kai questioned. “Is that…”

“We’re all okay.” Yeonjun cut in. “We’re all gonna be okay. I promise.”

The boys all looked at each other, but now wasn’t the time for questions. Soobin and Taehyun helped you and Yeonjun get up. You were in no position to walk, so Soobin picked you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style and having you wrap your arms around his neck. They all had a vague sense as to where to go, starting to walk away from the wreck. Yeonjun stayed close to you, softly petting your head and assuring you he was right here with you, they all were. Your eyes stared deeply into his, feeling that his words were true. Yeonjun saw the fire reflecting in your eyes, seeing something strange and turning around. Among the flames he saw five silhouettes, not needing to wonder what that was.

“I promise.”

The smoke overtook the fire and he turned back to you, offering you a smile. You reached out to hold his hand and he took it, feeling the warmth it brought him. He may not know the past here but whatever the future held he knew you’d see it all together, and make new memories. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your hand, forever grateful his prayers were answered. Yeonjun would keep his promise, as he was sure they all would.

“Yeonjun.”

“Hm?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay… we’re gonna be okay… right?”

“Yes. I promise.”