#I used to get in this huge stress spiral about cleaning

[runawaymarbles]

I think there are therapeutic benefits to the house being kinda messy actually

[azulera]

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

~~

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

~~

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

~~

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

“Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[snifekinner]

For the friendship ask: 1-10 for the baltic trio :)

happily :)

1. who brings the most drama to the table?

raivis spirals really easily so it's usually him although it's never anything serious, just, "i sat up for 36hrs straight and now im convinced all my friends hate me for reasons i made up in my brain."

2. who always has the gossip on everyone else?

eduard. he has organised folders on his computer for all the dirt he has on people. always good to have plenty to negotiate with. tolys is sometimes like, "hey we don't have beef, couldn't you delete the stuff about me?" and ed is like. "nah. i like to cover all potentialities."

3. who is the one everyone goes to for advice?

usually tolys. raivis likes asking both of them at once because then he gets two different takes (all data is useful) but tolys is more likely to be sympathetic about his problems. ed is very much a 'fixer' and not great at validating emotions.

4. who is the one who gets dunked on the most?

i don't think they go in much for ripping on each other in general but there's a fairly equal split. probably leans slightly more towards tolys because it's pretty hard to get under ed's skin and raivis is too easily set off on one of his anxiety spirals. whereas it's almost guaranteed that at some point while they're hanging out tolys will do something which makes ed and raivis go, "ok MUM."

5. who borrows everyone else's stuff all the time?

tolys; he doesn't necessarily borrow stuff but he'll pick up things lying around and just use them whether he knows who owns it or not. his defence is, if you leave it lying around then it's fair game. raivis constantly loses his pens and they all end up in tolys' pockets.

6. who is the peacemaker?

eduard has a very grounded, level-headed attitude which snuffs out arguments before they can really get started. again his 'fixer' behaviour coming in. also very straightforward about calling it as he sees it. the type to say in an infuriatingly calm tone, "let's not be over-emotional about this."

7. whose house do they hang out at the most?

between ed and tolys. raivis' place is always a huge mess and the other two can't be there without getting stressed. raivis would prefer to drive or get a train across the border than clean his house. he lives in a state of semi-organised chaos where he can locate the exact tool he needs from a drawer full of them but has no idea where he put his clean laundry. he's had the backs off most of his electronics and some of them still only semi-work. it's kind of a death trap in there.

8. who always demands they take a selfie and who complains about it every time?

tolys always wants to take photos and eduard always complains about it.

9. who is the biggest liability when drunk?

lmao eduard. the other two can handle their drink; eduard is kind of a lightweight (in comparison) and he spends so much time being calm and diplomatic that when he's drunk there's a strong likelihood he'll just go tell everyone exactly what he thinks of them. it's very, "he's going to say the wrong thing to someone and end up getting punched."

10. who is the one who flakes out of plans last minute?

raivis. not intentionally, he'll be hyperfixated on something and completely forget about their plans. tolys isn't flaky but he is chronically late for everything.

[episbep]

seven days clean (again)

against my will may I add lol- I’ve tried to pick up for the last 3/4 days to no avail which I am pleased about now that the worst of the cravings have passed but also that mental obsession is still here in full force and I just wanna get high despite being so aware and certain of how much better sober life was/is. I’m falling back into a life of addiction with short periods of sobriety, but that is not the same thing as recovery. I’ve basically stopped going to meetings, I don’t have a sponsor, I’m not working the steps…I’ve been drinking Smirnoff ice (???)…life definitely isn’t as bad as it was pre-rehab when I was using every single day but I’m still chasing drugs/intoxication…I’ve been mugged off for £100 lmao (it’s not rly funny tho is it the first time I sent over £60 and he aired me for almost 2 days then got back to me like ‘oh I got nicked with it sorry’ then the next day I sent another £40 and was another day til he got back in touch, apparently he’d slept the whole day and now he’s fallen off the face of the earth again hehe haha I’m a fucking mug🤪)

spending far too much time thinking about my ex and tryna see/speak to him as often as possible, eating like shit, gaining weight again, my skins a state, I haven’t worn makeup or nice outfits for weeks I’m just, idk I’m not progressing I’m not recovering I’m just not back in full blown active addiction yet but given the means and opportunity I have no doubt that I would be…

On the plus side things in the bigger picture are getting better, the consequences of my past use are subsiding, I’m able to cope day to day and convince others enough that I am making progress and not actively using. My house is clean, I’m attending relationship therapy and mood management groups, I’m getting back into the swing of day to day life but in a healthier way, not sleeping all day, not wishing I was dead…idk, I’m struggling to see the brighter side of things- I had an issue with re-ordering my prescription and only have 3 days worth left now so didn’t take it yesterday which evidently was a huge mistake, bc I’m spiralling now, I’m stressing out, I don’t feel good. (also period is imminent which never helps and there’s a full moon so yh)

[evanoxvt]

A recent trip to the dentist...with my service dog!

I know I can get ranty, so let's get all the boring stuff out of the way first!

As many people may know, I have a ton of health issues, ranging from physical to mental. This rant will primarily be discussing my anxiety and my ADHD, ASD, & PTSD to some extent, but again, it primarily leans towards my anxiety.

I have a service dog, whom on my stream is dubbed "Town Crier" due to a few reasons. This is partly because she is a husky mix, but mostly due to my PTSD and deep need for privacy when I originally started streaming. We also call her TC for short.

Town Crier was a pet for the first ~5 years of her life, and has been serving as a service dog for nearly 2 years (including training time). As a result she still has many pet tendencies, but there is only so much I can do when I live with 7+ other people whom do not treat her like a service animal with a job. I focus on making sure she can & does do her job correctly and that she does not react to other animals negatively when out of the house. As she is a psychiatric service dog and I can only do so much in my situation I do feel bad that she is not always up to standards, but I need her to do her job more than I need her to be perfect for public perception. Main mistake she makes is constantly asking for pets, and sometimes trying to sniff for food in public. To avoid making this a run on section, we can talk about this another day.

Usually I go to the dentist 2x a year, and the first 3 times I had her sit in the lobby with someone I brought with me. This most recent time however was different from all of the other appointments.

My biggest fear of having a service dog while at the dentist is that I will need to command her to do something while they are in my mouth. I never felt like she was prepared enough for a proper dentist appointment, this time included which is why I bring someone with me to hold on to her in the lobby. I'm never fucking doing that again, not after my recent experience.

How my usual dentist appointments go:

I walk in, (sometimes we do xrays, other times we don't), sit down, and they begin cleaning my teeth. If I get xrays, I have to struggle for my life because I have EXTREMELY bad gag reflex and the xray thing in your mouth really starts this issue up. After xrays we go straight into the cleaning. Now, I have alot of anxiety and the way it works at the dentist, it becomes a huge downwards spiral.

For one, I don't know wtf to do with my hands, so I'm usually gripping the little bib thing for dear life with both my hands, as if not doing so is gonna literally be the death of me. YES I END UP WITH A DEATHGRIP ON IT. Secondly, I have a hard time breathing once I am conscious of my breathing. This goes into a downward spiral in and of itself very quickly, but add in my bad gag reflex which makes it much worse? Yea, we now have anxiety plus anxiety to the tenth or something. Add in that I can feel everything they're doing and that it all sounds so loud that it could split boulders in half? Yea, not a good sensory place for my ASD to be. Oh and I mentioned ADHD, yea, I feel the endless need to fidget and move and can't relax while I'm there.

I usually leave dentist appointments very stressed out and uncomfortable.

How this last dentist appointment went:

I walk in, leave my SD in the lobby with my grandma, brush my teeth and while going to sit down at the chair my SD was whining quite a bit. My dentist asked me if she needs to come in with us and I expressed my worry about needing to tell her to do stuff while they were in my mouth, but (ironically off topic) they said they'd just need to clean up any fur she shed....

So we brought her back, and she was on the left side of my chair. I have an incredibly short leash for "walking" and a "normal" short leash for when I'm sitting around somewhere for longer periods of time (ie. restaurants, movie theaters, etc.) so that she can lay down, sit, or adjust herself as she pleases. I had both leashes on her at the time, and had the handle of the longer one under me on this chair.

I experienced 2 different realities during this dentist visit. REALITY reality, and in MY BRAIN reality.

In REALITY reality, she tried wandering a little bit from time to time and I snapped my fingers to tell her to return to my hand, sometimes tried pushing through my hand to go to the rest of the dentist office, but mostly stayed standing against my hand that was petting her. I was petting her neck/front chest area the entire time.

Usually I need to raise my right hand several times during the cleaning because of my gag reflex. Despite them knowing and working on my teeth for years, this still happens because there's the normal level of my gag reflex, and the spikes. They have learned the ques for my regular level of gag reflex, but the spikes are kinda like lag spikes in a game and can't be anticipated easily. During this visit, I only had to do this once. Moreover they actually had to tell me to close my mouth for the suction thingie which is unusual, but was due to me nearly falling asleep while they were cleaning my teeth.

In MY BRAIN's reality, I was just petting my dog, and suddenly I was just surrounded by this warm long fur blowing in the wind with this gentle warm light glowing down on me. Anyone who's watched Fairy Tail will know the Golden Grasslands scene, and it was like I was laying down on the grass there (but it was fur not grass in my mind). For those who aren't familiar with this, I added an image for you!

When you combine these two realities you get an unexpected truth: albeit Town Crier is not perfect, she does her job beautifully none the less. Moreover, this is the first time I have a solid "event" where I can explain to someone how she does her job. Usually I can at best describe what it is like when she either does not come with me, or cannot do her job... but for once I have such a vivid before vs after experience I can share to show just what a difference she makes.

People have criticized me so many times before because I could not describe exactly what or how she does her job (as task names weren't enough for them). I get that I am not good at explaining it, and I get that alot of people don't understand how she (a psychiatric service dog) is any different from an ESA (emotional support animal) even when I explain to them that its her tasks that make her a SD vs an ESA... blah blah blah. We don't need to hear about all the haters, because the point of all of this is that SHE MAKES A HUGE DIFFERENCE, and now I have something so vivid and clear to use as my example of what she does that it just makes me feel a tiny bit more secure when we go about our day.

Small anecdotes:

People have told me that "She can't possibly be a service dog, her vest is blue not red!" - False, "The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness." In fact, if it were to impede in the dog's ability to do their job, they are not required to wear ANYTHING AT ALL. However, most service dog handlers choose to have them marked for a slightly easier time when in public spaces, especially in accessibility or to aid in reducing the frequency of the general public interfering with their job. Often you will see "service dog" or "do not pet" on vests worn by them, and many will have additional information on them (I only have a basic harness... might make my own custom one someday).

People have mentioned time and time again "She must be a service dog, she can walk in those shoes normally/ 'my dog would just throw them off'." AGAIN this is false, a dog walking in shoes does NOT make the training thus whether she has her booties on or not does not make her a service dog or not.

Lastly, this is a new one for me, "We recently had a dog come in here, and bit one of our staff, it must make it so hard on real groups like yours." *walks to table as we are chatting, and tells my dog to go under the table* "SEE, the fakes don't even ask their dog to go under, real service dogs ALWAYS go under." As much as I appreciated that she could differentiate between the fakes and real ones based on behavior, my dog cannot always safely sit under the table, or sometimes needs to be on the outside of an area (like the table). I have specifically had issues with her fitting under 2 specific tables at that restaurant and do not try to force her under those ones. When possible for EVERYONE'S SAFETY, especially TC's, I do have do go under the table. However, some restaurants really don't do a good job at cleaning under their tables so she often gets into food I'm unaware of, almost got cut by glass a few times, and just gets trampled on by those I am out with (on accident). It's a really tough balancing act, but again I do really appreciate that the waitress saw that she was trained differently than the average dog.

A side note/afterstory:

I go to the same salon every 3 weeks, and this past visit I had to come in but did not have my service dog vest on hand. They knew who we were and let her in anyways, much to the confusion of the 2 men in the waiting area. She basically acted the same, although she let husky brain take over while we were waiting a few times. I'm working on getting her to stop wandering a little, especially in familiar locations but as I can limit her movements and it does not interfere with her ability to do her job it is lower on my priority list of behaviors to either maintain or work on.

Questions? Answers? Words that occur?

Want to hear more? Ask me anything on my Tellonym! I will be answering everything when I return to streaming and making a post along with it!

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Hello! I saw your post last night about anxiety, and wanted to reach out. I’m so sorry you had such a bad day, and on your birthday too! I hope today is better for you and that you treat yourself to something special.

This is none of my business and please, feel free to delete this—I don’t want to stress you further— but your post made me want to say something because my son who suffers from OCD has been going to “cognitive behavioral therapy” (CBT) and it has helped him so much. We visited a few therapists before picking one he was comfortable with, and after only a few months seeing her, it has made a huge difference for him.

I know some people don’t find therapy helpful, so it may not be the answer for you, but I thought I’d mention it because even though he still has anxiety and the accompanying behaviors, he is much more relaxed in general, far happier, and has some tools to help him navigate his fears when he’s in a difficult situation. This type of therapy may not be an option for you (insurance doesn’t always cover it and it is so expensive), but after seeing how much it has helped him, I wanted to mention it.

Your stories have touched me so deeply, and I hope you know how many of us have found comfort during trying times in the worlds you’ve created for us. You have a beautiful mind and a true gift. I’m so thankful for you. May this year bring many wonderful things into your life.

Happy Birthday! 💛💛💛

WELL I'M CRYING AGAIN ANON

No, seriously, this is very sweet. I will say, I'm usually *much* better at handling my anxiety. Yesterday was just sort of a spiral for me. I spent my week off work taking 2 cats to the vet, my car for an inspection, and now the one cat has to go in for surgery (just for a teeth cleaning, but they still have to put him under) and I'm stressed about how much money that all cost & how much I will have to spend on the surgery (which I WILL do because I want my good good boy to have clean teeth and no gum disease!!). Plus, he has to go under! And he gets so stressed going to the vet, it makes me so sad. All that combined with the fact that my coworkers decided to still text me on my days off about work problems that I'll have to deal with when I go back made for a bad day.

Otherwise, I had a very nice dinner with my family and a few other dinners during the week with my friends and those were lovely.

I got my medical marijuana card a few months ago and that's been helping a ton with my anxiety, and my sleep. I've also identified a lot of my anxiety triggers and have started to be better at recognizing the start of a spiral. Some days neither of those things help and I have a bad day. Luckily, they're coming fewer and further between these days.

I appreciate the concern, anon. I forgot to delete those tags last night cause I took my troche and went to sleep, but the reason I usually do delete posts/tags where I mention how bad my anxiety gets sometimes is because it's usually pretty short lived (the very bad spirals) and I don't want anyone to worry!

[mego42]

Meggggg I was just musing on something and decided to send an ask because I LOVE ASKING YOU ALL YOUR OPINIONS.

Ok so I always see people mention that rio was crying In the club ™️ because he thought Beth and nick slept together. I get lost as to why people make this assumption though. At the start of the episode nick is asking rio for advice on a very clear problem: how to get Beth to agree to run for city council. Rio gives his smug hair-pulling advice as the solution to the problem. Beth agrees to run at end of episode and nick sends rio the bottle complete with “for pulling her hair” note. (Because he thinks Rio pulling her hair via strip strip coercion meant that Beth was won over by nick’s romancing tactic in comparison?? Because he thinks Rio’s hair pulling tactic convinced Beth to run? I’ve never totally known).

This bottle is clearly celebrating Beth deciding to run for council? It was the hurdle nick was facing at start of episode, and the one he’s jumped by the end. I’m so confused why people think rio thinks it means nick and Beth slept together?!???? What am I missing?? What do you think??

My hot take was that rio knew it meant Beth had agreed to run and while Rio had been all talk up to that point about being FINE SO FINE about nick using Beth for his plans, when the event itself actualized, he realizes he’s very NOT ok with nick using Beth or working with Beth or getting close to Beth or spending time with Beth, especially in light of the fact that nick has been kinda overt about his intention to also hit on Beth as part of the above. (The very next rio and Beth scene is the next episode when Rio can barely contain his “so WHY do you want this, what’s in it for you” question.) cue rio in his feels crying in the club and the true turning point for Rio in his decision to take nick down.

This was meant to be two sentences. Oops.

hahahahahaha NO OOPS I LOVE IT!!!!!!

personally, i think i'm in line with you? i never thought rio took the bottle as notice that beth and nick slept together as much as confirmation from nick that she was running aka nick had his hooks in her now (or so he thinks). my take was rio's angst came from seeing where that path could lead, and it's almost more worrisome than just beth and nick potentially sleeping together for someone who's in big fat stupid love with beth like rio is.

more so than money, rio knows beth's horny af for power, control, and respect. his ability to give her all of the above is a huge part of what attracted her to him in the first place and all three of those are things nick/city council are able to give her with a crucial difference of not coming equipped with all of the bloody baggage and bitter history beth and rio have accumulated between them.

i always thought he's crying in the club bc he's looking at that bottle and seeing a future where beth's able to get everything rio's been able to give her from nick and she cuts rio out/leaves him/chooses nick. why wouldn't she? as far as rio knows, beth has no idea he's playing her and again, he and beth have all that baggage making nick look like a much less complicated option on paper. additionally, it's compounded by the fact that nick's got a history of taking what rio has/loves, so (i think) he's afraid that if presented with that opportunity, nick's gonna go for it/her just to mess with rio.

which brings me back around to what i ultimately loved so much about the love triangle (beyond the sheer delight i took from watching rio lose his ding dang mind and spiral his way into proposing): the way the contrast between rio and nick highlighted beth's feelings.

if money, power, control, and respect were all beth was after, she could've made her life a hell of a lot less complicated and turned on rio after he gave her what she needed to get nick out of the way. she had all the cards, she had the line on the secret service, and she decided to protect rio (and if there was any doubt, the show made sure to explicitly underline it with that beat between nick and dave where dave said rio had something nick didn't and then they cut straight to beth)

AND THEN, just in case anyone was like well yeah but she was all pissed off about nick lying to her blah blah blah, the show went for the compare/contrast again and set up (what seems to beth like it might be) a betrayal from rio with mick and the gun, and beth chose to protect him again!!!!! and then they made it explicit again with her and ruby and annie where beth flat out tells them sure rio might have had me shot but it was a flesh wound so basically he loves me and i'm not saying i love him too but i am saying i'm giving up all of our plans and a stress-free life with a clean slate in favor of criming with him until death do us part bc actually i am kind of saying i love him too

at the end of the day, beth wants rio, not just the money/power/control/respect. it's personal for her too, and she chose rio and the twisted, complicated mess between them bc she's just as in it with him as he is with her thank you and good night.

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--" 

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

[krewbies]

these arms of yours

a korra x reader one shot ; you get stressed. your girlfriend loves you too much to watch you spiral down a pile of papers.

••••••

“What are you up to?” The sound of Korra’s voice took a litle bit of the stiffness out of your shoulders; you had specifically told your friends and family you wanted to be left alone today, you had work to catch up on for school. The end of the school year was nearing and you had convinced yourself, as you often did, that you weren’t prepared.

But secretly, you had been waiting to see her all day.

“Studying,” you reply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She made a little ‘hmph’ sound, wrapping her bare arms around your shoulders, glancing at the reports and pages of notes sprawled in front of you. “’m afraid I’m gonna fail the final, Korra.”

“What?” She honestly sounded shocked as she came to kneel down in front of you. “You’re the smartest person I know.” You shook your head at that notion, letting tears you didn’t know you were holding well up in your eyes.

“Then why do I feel so... so incompetent?” The tears spilled over when you finally decided to look her in the eyes. The stress, the anxiety, the ache that you felt when you didn’t get to see Korra for days on end finally got to you.

Her eyes widened, and her first instinct was to wipe the tears away from your gorgeous face and wrap you up and shut the rest of the world out. You honestly didn’t even know why you were like this- your chest was heaving at this point. You’d been stressed before, but today was different.

Korra knew it was no use trying to cheer you up when you were surrounded by the things making you cry like this, so she thought of the next best thing.

“Let’s go somewhere. Can’t let the months I spent learning to drive go to waste, can we?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she pulled your hands away from your red face; she hated seeing you like this. It made her feel helpless, and on top of that, more than anything, she just wanted you to be happy. To see you smile was intoxicating to her, and she’d pull one out of you somehow. Korra was a determined woman.

“I- I- I have class tomorrow. I can’t go away from home.” You struggled to get your thought out, all sniffly- you felt stupid crying over something like this.

“Then... the hotel on the other side of the city. You’ve been pent up here all day. Let’s just get away for the night,” Her suggestion was definitely tempting, and you knew she wouldn’t let up. Plus, quite frankly, your home was messy and you didn’t even want to think about cleaning right now, “Just you and me.”

The hotel was quaint, but the sheets were crisp and clean and everything was neat, this sort of pristine was something you had been missing for a while. Most importantly, Korra thought, the tub was huge.

“Sit here.” She gently pushed you down on the bed, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles and kissing your palm before stepping into the bright, white, fluorescent bathroom. You sniffled quietly as water ran, and turned your head to look out the window and down at Republic City. You were still stressed, and you felt increasingly less calm, because all you wanted was for Korra to lay here and hold you. At the very least, for her to be in your immediate vicinity.

“C’mere (Y/N).” Korra’s voice, which was surprisingly quiet at the moment, drifted out to you. You hesitantly stood up, feeling shaky and tired and straight up emotionally drained. 

Korra had it all laid out. Pajamas sat on the vanity, a small radio with faint music sat on the edge of the toilet, and there she was, sitting on the edge of the tub, already having stripped off her uppermost clothes. Sometimes it was easy to underestimate Korra’s inherent tenderness. She was often brash and loud, and her kisses were always rough, and she was so passionate about everything; but these were the moments only you had the pleasure of seeing. 

You both took off the rest of your clothes slowly. It wasn’t sexual or awkward, it was intimate and comforting.

The bathwater was hot, the kind of temperature that made your face sweat a little, but it wasn’t uncomfortable as you two dipped in. Korra got in first, and you after, and the first thing she did was pull you back against her chest. Her arms loosely wrapped around you, caressing both your arms up and down, and she placed her face in the crook of your neck.

A soft sigh left your mouth. This is it. This is the reason you work your ass off. Moments like this, where the world is far, far away, and all you can feel is Korra.

“What’s up?” She asked you softly, placing a damp kiss on the back of your neck. You let your head roll back onto her chest, smiling for the first time all day.

“Nothing.. just,” You hesitated. She had such an artful way of tricking you into feeling better, into forgetting all your worldly responsibilities if only for a night. It meant the world to you, and so much more. “Thank you.” 

She giggled into your neck a little, shaking her head, her hair tickling your forehead as it hung over your face. “I love you.” It was a simple statement, but something that Korra didn’t say out loud often. She preferred showing how she felt rather than saying it, but right now it was all she had left to say. It was the simple truth. She loved you, with her entire being.

You laid your hand over hers and squeezed them, letting her know she had successfully helped you slip into a state of calm.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~

hey!!! i hope this was okay! i wrote it because, right now is the time of year where a lot of people have either already started school or will be soon, myself included. sometimes we all just need someone to love us like korra ;)

[seungminotes]

Broken Noses and Potted Plants (pt.1)

w.c. ~2k

warnings. some cursing I believe, gender neutral (please notify me if anything suggests otherwise!)

desc. high school au, love triangle w/ student body president! seungmin and reckless and lazy! jisung

a.n. hello! I am getting back into writing! this will be part of a series updated weekly, for now please enjoy part 1 and tell me if you're liking it? any and all feedback appreciated.

For someone as lonesome and timid as you, Kim Seungmin was what you'd call your savior.

Him being Class President and the longest standing place holder of the first rank of your grade, you would think he was the solitary and studious type of person. No one would think such a straightforward and driven student was so popular and well-liked as he was.

You being only second to him, knew it was difficult enough to balance academics with a few simple extracurriculars, imagine having a social life on top of that, it made your head spin.

And yet, somehow Seungmin managed to do it all. He was class president, captain of the baseball team, and on the officer committees of at least five clubs and honor societies. On top of all that, he was one of the most popular and well-known students in your year.

Sure, Seungmin had lots of friends and acquaintances, but some he would consider a lot closer than others. You weren't really one of those, let’s face it. You knew that much.

In fact, you and Seungmin were mostly just "friends" for the academic benefit of it all. You'd sat near him all year long, were his vice class president, and were also in numerous of the same honor societies. It just made sense that you'd be at least academically close, a lot more would get done that way.

For instance, you two would often study together at the school’s library after classes, specifically on Fridays, when no extracurriculars were occurring to keep you busy. Lunch time was strictly student government briefing for you two. And in the time between lessons, you’d regularly check each other’s classwork and homework for each other, catching any errors either of you made before it was time to submit, not that Seungmin made many errors anyway. To say that you two spent a lot of time together would be a bit of an understatement.

Despite all this time though, you could hardly say you really knew Seungmin, at least not on a personal level. You knew he always preferred chicken at lunch, and how math was undoubtedly his best subject, whereas he struggles a bit more with language. You knew he was an amazing leader and how his decisions were always very well rounded and well-received amongst the student body. You knew he was an exceptional baseball player.

But that was about it really. Yet you somehow still managed to develop some huge crush on this guy. This boy who would never feel the same towards you surely, because you two were merely classmates with similar goals and no intentions of building upon this acquaintance-like friendship.

Knowing this, you still sometimes tried to get closer to Seungmin, you really did, out of the sheer possibility that one day he may notice and you’d have an implicit agreement of friendship at the very least.

-

One of these attempts was made with the founding of the club you’ve always wanted the school to have, but were sure hardly anyone would join unless prompted to do so.

The morning you had asked Seungmin to take into consideration a new club proposal, he had initially rejected it quite harshly.

“Who would join this?” he smiled. To be quite honest he had found the idea of a gardening club maintaining potted flowers and vegetables on the school’s old rundown rooftop greenhouse to be pretty wholesome, but did not think it held quite the right formality to be taken as seriously as other clubs if presented to the rest of the student government. Everyone was way too stressed and busy with exams to waste time playing with dirt.

He eyed the proposal form meticulously, looking for the student’s name, but to no avail.

“Who submitted this?” he asked, looking up from the table for the first time since lunch began.

“I just thought it’d be a nice stress reliever for everyone,” you replied, now feeling a lot less confident than when you had slid the piece of paper in front of him.

Your shy look told Seungmin he had probably hurt your pride just now, something that he would never mean to do on purpose of course, and now he felt the remorse creeping up on him. Perhaps the club wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought over. Maybe tweaking the name just a bit would make it sound more worthwhile to students.

He sighed.

“Put your name on it and change the name to an Environmental Awareness Club, something along those lines at least. We can present the idea at today's meeting.”

Headstrong and confident as always, Seungmin brought a smile to your face as you reached over into your bag to fish out a pen and correct the form.

Seungmin had always been this closed off and serious, never speaking informally to you, and never wasting his words, he was the most concise and careful speaker you had ever met. And for some reason this only drew you in. His big brain energy was just that attractive.

On the other side of the table, Seungmin took notice of your surge in mood and smiled to himself, relieved to have boosted your spirit.

-

The board hardly agreed to the proposal until Seungmin cut in and beautifully explained the benefits of gardening and plants on stress relief and the ideologies of being environmentally conscious at your age.

After that everyone was pretty much sold on the idea with just one condition. Miroh High’s new Environmental Awareness Club would have to be established in time for the annual club fair in two weeks. Meaning, recruitment of leading members, supplies and set up on the rooftop would have to be set by at least next week to be considered for the school’s extensive list of beneficial extracurricular activities for students.

The condition was enough to falter even Seungmin’s confidence. He was unsure if you’d manage to do all that on your own in just a week, especially with your rather quiet tendencies, he doubted you could recruit many students in such a small amount of time.

He looked over at you, almost as if asking for your approval, to which he caught your lingering gaze on him, a look he had never seen coming from you. You slightly nodded your head once in agreement to the ruling and Seungmin politely shook his head towards the rest of the government board members, bowing as he took his seat once again.

Seungmin had made your dream gardening club a hopeful reality, you just needed more people now, that was the only problem. Still, you imagined having Seungmin join and coming along to your gardening club, gently taking care of a flower. No, a vegetable, you decided. Seungmin would prefer a vegetable, it’d be more practical of him.

-

The day following your ‘environmental awareness club” approval was a Friday. Your designated study session with Seungmin was as always to take place in the library after classes had ended, only today he had opted to stay behind a bit and insisted you meet there in thirty minutes instead.

“I’m helping Han with cleaning duty today, so I’ll meet you there,” he explained, before he stood up from his seat making way for the desk behind you.

Behind you, a certain Han Jisung had sat for the last 3 years of school in which somehow you two were always assigned the same classroom and the same seating order, you in front, him right behind you.

Today Jisung was dead asleep, as he usually was after a math lesson. The sight made you smile, Seungmin lightly shaking his friend awake as a very disoriented Jisung began to stretch and groan from his interruption.

Jisung was actually a very close friend of Seungmin’s. Very unexpected given their contrasting qualities. Sometimes opposites just attract huh. Seungmin could never sleep in class, for instance, while Jisung might as well have brought a pillow on the daily.

You knew Jisung wasn’t exactly the most driven student either, but his rank had miraculously never sunk below 10, he was just naturally smart that way. He also never bothered with extracurriculars much, claiming music was all he cared enough for to ever sign up for. Overall, Jisung was an unexpectedly exceptional student with lazy tendencies and not much academic ambition, a striking polar to Seungmin.

After watching the scene unfold, you stood up yourself and made your way towards the vending machine to pass the time waiting for Seungmin before heading to the library. You decided on a small bag of chips and two cookies. You also decided to save one for Seungmin, even though you weren’t supposed to eat in the library, you figured he could save it for afterwards or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin would later take this small offering in a different light.

Because you see, Seungmin had experienced a fair amount of admirers in his time and had been used to the small gifts given to him by more brazen ones before. In combination with the lingering gazes he felt you giving him both yesterday and now today, he was worried the same was occurring once again. Only this time he didn’t know to go about it. Usually he would simply refuse their gestures with a polite apology and it’d be enough to kindly reject them. But he was unsure this time. Not because he felt anything of the sort towards you, no, Seungmin was much too busy for romantic gestures and feelings to eat up his time, but rather because you were simply so close to him. Not in the personal sense, but in the academic proximity sense of closeness. If he were to “kindly reject you”, would you avoid him like his other past admirers often decide to do? That would make a lot of student government stuff difficult. He suddenly wondered if he could have led you on at all, had he been too kind towards you lately? His racing thoughts spiralling into a mess of ‘what ifs’ were fortunately cut short.

“Are you alright Seungmin? You haven’t finished the problem set yet.” you inquired. Seungmin was usually the one to finish long before you, especially if it was math.

He’d looked over at the fully scribbled page of your workbook, realizing his distraction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” you replied, glancing towards our watch briefly. It was just nearing the time the school’s library closed and you had planned to leave a bit earlier to make a quick trip to the plant nursery just a few minutes off your route home, you had thought your study session would have ended by now.

“Do you need to go,” Seungmin voiced, noticing a slight impatience in the bounce of your knee.

You thanked Seungmin’s impeccable attention, you couldn’t find it in you to excuse yourself when he still hadn’t finished.

“I’m heading to the nursery today for some supplies for the club,” you unconsciously checked the time once again.

“We can look over the answers Monday if you like? I got a little distracted today…” Seungmin trailed off.

It was unusual for Seungmin to trail off his sentences and get distracted and for a second you worried for him and wanted to ask if anything was bothering him.

Only, you stopped yourself. You didn’t know Seungmin like that. It would be inappropriate and insensitive to ask him something like that, right? You decided it was best to let it go, everyone has off days after all. Even the amazing Seungmin isn’t immune to them.

“I’ll leave first then,” you offered, bidding him a polite bow of the head before slinging your bag over our shoulder and making your way out of the library.

Seungmin watched you walk towards the door, unconsciously biting his inner cheek, he felt... worried, that was the best fitting word, he would say, only he wasn’t completely sure that was what the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach really was.

When you had disappeared down the hall, Seungmin slumped his head down onto the table heaving a deep sigh.

[everybodyscupoftea]

under the mistletoe

ole miss rafe x reader

the beginning of your relationship with some misunderstandings along the way (ft. the first kiss)

yes i will continue to use the same gif of this man :)

(warnings: cursing, drinking, light editing)

Rafe texted you for the first time about a date the weekend after the Egg Bowl. You weren’t overly enthused at the prospect, he’d been a huge dick, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

Dinner and a movie.

It wasn’t even a question. It was a demand, like he knew you’d say yes so there was no point in actually asking. To be fair you did plan on saying yes, but he didn’t need to know that. So, after 30 minutes, you had to make him sweat it out, you responded.

First of all, you should ask. Demanding is not the way to get a date. Second of all, if you think I’m voluntarily stepping foot in Oxford for a boy, you’re sorely mistaken.

Rafe responded almost immediately which made you feel a bit vindicated.

You’re right. I’m sorry. Meet in Jackson?

Which you could absolutely do. The two of you made plans for the following weekend to meet at the Cultivation Food Hall, and then you wanted to check out a science museum they had there. It was the inner vet major in you. And shockingly, Rafe agreed without much of a fight.

Of course it was almost too much to ask. What more could you expect from an Oxford frat douche bag, really there was no one to blame but yourself. The science museum was maybe a little bit childish, but you thoroughly enjoyed it while Rafe made it very clear he was bored.

You weren’t entirely sure what his major was, but clearly it wasn’t very sciency. There were easy hikes which cheered him up a bit, so you were glad for that, but when the two of you got in your cars to go your separate ways, you expected that to be the end.

It wasn’t, and he texted you again.

Did you make it back okay?

And when you didn’t answer, ready to leave him on read despite the warm feeling in your chest, he texted again.

I hope you had fun, I did. Can I see you again?

You walked over to your roommate’s room and dropped onto her bed with a loud, dramatic groan. She looked up from her desk where she was reading for one of her classes with an amused look, “Something wrong?”

“Rafe texted me,” you told her. She’d heard all about the date, you called her on the drive home so she had Thai takeout waiting for you when you got there, so she understood for the most part.

“And? Leave him on read if he made you that miserable today that you had to eat your weight in Thai food.” 

“But, part of me wants to text him back. Like a big part of me. I don’t- explain to me.” 

She snorted, “You’ve always liked toxic men.” 

Your jaw dropped, but you couldn’t really argue with her there. There was nothing but the truth in her words, “Um, you didn’t have to come for me like that.”

“You needed honesty. I know you’re going to text him back, so what do you plan on saying?” 

“What should I say?”

“I don’t know. I barely met him. Have your texts been super flirty?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want them to be?”

And that you had to think about. Did you really want to pursue things with this guy when you were both about to graduate in a semester. 

“Maybe, I don’t know. I mean it might not go anywhere or get, like, super serious.”

She made a face, “But is that the guy you really want to pass the time with? Like you could definitely meet a nice boy here.” 

You scoffed, “I’ve been here for three and a half years and haven’t managed that. May as well go for a hotty toddy.” 

She sighed and gave you an amused look, “I’m a little embarrassed for you. This should be against everything you stand for.”

“It is,” you told her, slightly ashamed, “but he’s also cute.” 

“Like I said, toxic men as long as they come in a pretty package.”

So, after a few hours you texted him back.

Yeah I made it, thanks. I’d like that. Maybe we can catch that movie. But no way in hell I’m going to Oxford.

His response was a little delayed, which you didn’t expect one back that night anyway, you sent it late. But just as you were almost asleep, your phone buzzed.

Fair enough. But don’t expect me to show up in Starkville anyway

-

Some people in your major were throwing a Christmas party a week before Christmas, and you really were debating going. Most of them had significant others and you knew it would be pretty painful being one of the only singles drinking alone.

“So bring Rafe,” your roommate suggested when you were yet again laying on her bed to complain.

You sat up fast, head spinning a bit, “I can’t just ask him. We haven’t even been seeing each other that long. Like he hasn’t even kissed me or anything. No relationship definition at all.” 

She joined you on the bed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but you actually really like this guy, right?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I’m such a hypocrite, but I really do.”

“Then ask him. You said the dates were getting better with each one. You’ve seen him every weekend for a month and some weeknights since you don’t have Friday classes.” 

“What if he says no,” you whispered, “I think that’s why I’m most worried. It’ll really really hurt if he says no.”

She bit her lip, thinking, “Okay, if he asked you to be his date at some event in Oxford, would you go?”

You answered without hesitation, “I would.” 

“Then ask. If he says no, I’ll go as your date and we’ll drink and have fun. But all you can assume is that he likes you as much as you like him, and he’ll say yes.” 

“You’re right,” you admitted, standing from her bed, resolved, “I’m going to ask him.” 

Hey Cameron, got a minute?

He answered quickly.

Sure, what’s up?

So you called him, and he answered on the second ring. Deep down you were very pleased about that.

“Hey,” he answered, “something wrong?”

“Not really, I just had a question for you.” 

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve done it over text so if he did reject you, it wouldn’t be where he could actually hear your response. But the reasoning you called is so that if you got a no it wouldn’t be in a text where you could reread and over analyze that night.

“Fire away,” he cut off your spiral.

You sighed, “Okay so a few people in my major that I’ve done group projects with before are throwing a Christmas party. We all get plus ones, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

He hummed, “What’s the date?”

“Um, I think December 18th. If you’re going home before then, that’s totally fine. I just wanted to ask.”

“You’re willing to bring a hotty toddy to a bulldog Christmas party,” he teased, “I’m honored.”

You snorted, “Unfortunately, I am. If you want to at least, please don’t feel pressured.”

“I don’t. And I’m not going home for Christmas. I haven’t since freshman year. The reason I asked was because some of the guys in my pledge class are having a get together of our own. We did Secret Santa and it’s on the 21st so I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Oh,” you paused, “so you’ll come with me?”

“Of course,” his voice was soft, “you sound surprised.”

Your cheeks heated up, “I mean, I was kind of expecting you to say no.”

Rafe went silent, you could almost hear the gears in his head spinning as he tried to come up with a response. You were about to ask if he was okay before he responded, “You know that I like spending time with you, right?”

You tried to play your anxiety off, “I mean, I’d hope so the amount of weekends we’ve spent together so far.” 

“Good. So then why do you think I’d say no?” 

“I don’t know,” you chewed on your lip, “I guess we just haven’t really talked about what this is and I wasn’t sure where you are or how you feel.”

He hummed, “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry for not communicating better.” 

“It’s okay, I should’ve done better too.”

“Well, now that we’re on the same page. Tell me exactly when the party is and I’ll be there.” 

You hesitated, “Do you want to come the night before and stay?”

His voice was warm, when he answered, “Absolutely.”

-

“Thank god,” your roommate had said when you told her, “now I can go home early.”

Her partner was from her hometown, and they didn’t get to see each other often. She’d come to visit a few times since you and your roommate had lived together, so you had at least met her before.

“Tell her I said hey. Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I need to pick up dessert for the party anyway, so I’ll drive you to Jackson and go to Target there.”

The two of you woke up at 3 a.m. to get her to the airport by 5:30. She talked a little about her Christmas plans and then the two of you rode mostly in silence. It was kind of calming, despite being super tired.

Before she got out of the car, your roommate pulled something out of her backpack and held it out to you. You took it, frown on your face, “Is this mistletoe?” 

“It is. You said Rafe hadn’t kissed you yet, put this to use.”

You shook your head, huffing out a laugh, “I don’t know about that one.”

“He’ll be at the apartment all weekend, just hang it up in the kitchen or like in the hallway leading to your room.”

“It seems cheesy.”

“It is, but that’s what makes it fun,” she insisted.

Taking the mistletoe, you set it in the cupholder, “Fine. I’ll think about it.” 

She nodded, pleased enough, “Thank you.”

-

You didn’t hang the mistletoe up, but to be fair you got totally distracted by stress cleaning and baking the desserts for the party you decided to make from scratch instead of buying store bought.

Rafe wasn’t supposed to show up until that night, but there was a knock at your apartment door at 2:30, startling you. He was smiling sheepishly on the other side, “I know I’m early, but I didn’t see any point in waiting longer.”

Grinning, you stepped aside to let him in. He looked around, taking in the decorations you and your roommate set up the day after Thanksgiving. You pointed toward the hallway your room was down, “If you want to set your stuff down, my room is at the end of that hall.” 

“Thanks,” he answered, bending down to kiss you on the cheeks, something he’d been doing since date three.

Walking back to the kitchen you immediately picked the stress baking back up where you’d left it to answer the door. Rafe was gone for a while, using the bathroom you assumed, and when he came back, he was changed, and you couldn’t help but stare.

“What?” he asked, a weird look on his face.

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen you out of like jeans or slacks.” 

He glanced down at himself, sweatshirt with his frat letters on them and grey sweatpants, before looking up at you, “I figured since we were staying in I could get comfy.” 

“Yeah definitely,” you reassured, “I like it, just was surprised, that’s all.”

“You like it, huh?” he teased and stepped fully into the kitchen, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, “That’s noted.”

-

Rafe did dress back up for the party, which you were expecting. Jeans and a nice sweater. You smiled at him and tugged gently at the sweater, “This is cute.”

“Bought it just for the party. It’s even maroon, see?” 

“I do see. Didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not.”

“Nope, fully intentional.” 

It felt like a good time to kiss him, mistletoe or not, but before you got up the courage, he was stepping away to grab one of the desserts off the counter. You sighed internally and grabbed the other with the hand not holding your keys.

“Alright, I’m parked in the back lot, opposite direction of visitor parking.”

“Cool, after you.”

Sitting in the car, you plugged your phone into the aux. Rafe buckled up and got comfy in the passenger’s seat. You smiled at him, it felt natural for him to be invading your space the way he was. But he was giving you a bit of a complex with the whole not interested in kissing thing.

He glanced down at the cupholder and did a double take. You cursed yourself for forgetting to take the mistletoe out of your car when he asked, “Is that mistletoe.”

“Um, yep.”

“Why do you have it?”

“I meant to give it to my roommate when she flew out, but it was so early it totally slipped my mind,” you lied smoothly.

Rafe nodded, totally believing it, and you sighed. Maybe you should bring it in, hang it up when he’s in the shower or something. But deep down you knew you wouldn’t. You didn’t want Rafe to kiss you out of obligation for some stupid tradition. You wanted him to mean it.

The drive went by quickly, the boy hosting lived at an apartment complex just up the road, and you found parking easily, recognizing a few cars in the visitors' spaces meaning you weren’t the first ones to show up. 

Rafe got out and took in all the MSU merch hanging from balconies and on cars with a grimace, “Y’all have almost too much spirit.”

“We aren’t snobby enough to think it’s tacky and above us,” you responded, taking a clear shot at Ole Miss.

“Fair enough. It’s just a lot of talk for a school who’s so bad at sports.” 

Your jaw dropped, “I know an Ole Miss football fan isn’t speaking right now. Are you aboard the Lane Train?” you asked, mockingly.

Rafe rolled his eyes and shook his head, reaching down to ruffle your hair playfully, “With that record? Absolutely not.”

“And not because  he’s a piece of shit?”

“Well, that too.”

He grabbed both containers in one hand and your hand in the other, lacing your fingers together as you led the two of you to the right building. His palms were sweating a little, and you squeezed gently, “All good?”

“A bit nervous, just don’t want to look stupid in front of your friends.”

“Why would you,” you were confused, unsure how he’d reached that conclusion.

“I mean, you’re all like STEM majors, right?”

“Yeah?”

“And I am not.”

There was so much to unpack there, so you tried to go for a joke, “I mean we aren’t going to just talk about like anatomy and biology all night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He snorted, “Maybe a little. I just feel out of my depth.”

“I promise, it’s going to be okay. You’re really smart too, just in a different way. But we aren’t really here to show off our intelligence. It’s more to drink and eat and bitch about our professors.”

“See, that’s super specific,” he complained.

“Well, yeah, I guess. But most of us are dating out of our majors, just hop on the bandwagon like they do and you’ll win ‘em over in no time.”

By the time you’d finished reassuring him, the two of you had arrived at his door. You squeezed one last time and he smiled, seeming more at ease. Reaching up to knock, it swung open before you could, a guy named Justin grinning widely, “Welcome welcome to the annual Bitchmas Party.”

Rafe snorted and let you step in first. Justin set his drink down on the table by the door and held his hands out, I’ll take your coats and your keys please.”

Handing them over, he escorted you through the entranceway to the living room, stopping you right as the tile changed to carpet. You squinted at him, “What?”

Wordlessly, he pointed up and you saw mistletoe, your blood running cold. Rafe made a noise and bent down to kiss your cheek, close to the corner of your mouth but not quite.

“Boo,” Justin jeered, “but close enough, come on through.”

Your stomach sank. Again. And Rafe leaned down, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I mean, you could’ve kissed me.” Your words came out a lot sharper than you intended, but before Rafe could question you, Ashton was stepping in to ask the two of you about drinks. Rafe asked for a soda and you got spiked eggnog. May as well to sort through the mess of feelings in your stomach.

Someone spread out the food and everyone lined up to get plates before settling in the assortment of chairs all over the room. You sat on the couch and Rafe sat on the floor, leaned back next to your legs. Justin gave him a weird look and offered a chair, but Rafe declined, saying he was fine.

At some point, he wrapped an arm around your closest leg and leaned his head on your thigh, nodding along to the conversation. You brushed your hand through his hair that you’d convinced him to leave ungelled, and complained about your animal sciences professor who’d made the tests way harder than necessary and not offered bonus opportunities.

Rafe actually interrupted, “Okay wait, she put questions on information not taught in class and not readily available in your textbook?”

“Correct.”

“So how were you supposed to know you were going to be tested on it.”

“You weren’t,” Justin answered him, drily, “That was her whole point. Be prepared for anything.”

“She should’ve just given us papers on those topics.”

“Agreed,” a girl named Emily chipped in, “I would’ve so much preferred that than literally guessing on a test.”

Rafe made a face, “I mean, for my history courses we were expected to do the readings and then like additional research, but she told us the topics beforehand so we’d know what to research.”

Ashton’s girlfriend leaned forward at his words, “You’re a history major?”

“Yeah,” Rafe answered, his grip on your leg tightening.

“Me too,” she looked excited, “what do you want to do?”

He leaned forward eagerly, “I want to teach, European if possible. I haven’t decided if I want to do like Advanced Placement courses in high school or just go get a masters and be a professor. What do you want to do?”

“I want to do research so I’ll definitely be going after a PhD. But I figure at least that way, I’ll be doing something while Ash is in vet school.”

Rafe looked around, “Is everyone here going to vet school?”

Mostly everyone in your group was, so they all nodded, including you. Justin spoke up, “Buncha nerds in this bunch. We all grouped together pretty much since day one since we all had the same plans. We’ve lost a few along the way.”

“Rest in peace Jasmine and Brady,” you added, solemnly.

“Do you all want to stay here?” Rafe asked, clearly curious about everyone’s plans.

A few people around the group nodded, but some shook their heads. Rafe hummed, taking in the information before looking over his shoulder at you. You nodded, “Yeah, I like MSU’s vet school, I want to stay.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Good to know.”

Justin gave you a weird look and you shrugged, just as confused.

-

Four cups of eggnog later, the party was winding down, and you were happily tipsy. Rafe, still sober, had an arm around your waist to keep you steady. He led you toward the door, passing under the mistletoe again without stopping and you sighed.

Glancing down at you, he made a face, “Clearly something is on your mind.”

“Clearly,” you muttered back sarcastically. He opened the passenger door for you to climb in and you asked, “You know how to get back?”

“It’s just up the road, I don’t think it’s that hard.”

You rolled your eyes, “Just a question, no need to get so offended.”

The ride back was in uncomfortable silence, so unlike the drive there that you were squirming in the passenger seat. Rafe glanced over at a red light, “Are you about to puke?”

Offended, you answered, “No, I can handle my fucking alcohol.”

“Okay,” he muttered, “no need to get defensive.”

You hated how weird it felt between the two of you, but you weren’t sure how to fix it. Unless he just magically decided you were kissable, but you didn’t foresee that happening in the near future, so instead, you pouted.

Rafe parked and turned the car off but stayed seated, so you did too, feeling uneasy. He looked over at you, “What’s up. Why have you been so weird tonight?”

“I haven’t.”

“You have. And I think it actually started yesterday when I got here. Is it just me being in your space? Like am I invading it or something? I can go home tonight if I need to.”

Maybe you weren’t in the ideal state to have this conversation, but you also figured this was probably the state you were most likely to let the honest truth slip.

“No. The problem is you aren’t taking up enough space.”

Which in hindsight didn’t make much sense, you couldn’t blame him for the confused, “What does that mean?”

“It means that you won’t kiss me and I’m not sure why.”

“I-” and for once, for once in your whole goddamn relationship (or whatever you were calling it) Rafe was speechless, “I thought you didn’t want me to.”

Then it was your turn to be shocked, “What? When did I say that?”

“On our first date, you talked about only kissing when it got serious.”

“Yes.”

“And when I brought up the Christmas party in Oxford, you didn’t ask about a plus one. Hell, you still won’t come to Oxford at all.”

“How was I supposed to know I’m supposed to invite myself to a Christmas party with the boys? And sure, I was opposed to Oxford at first, but I think we’ve been seeing each other long enough for me to actually make that trip,” you answered incredulously, startled at all the assumptions he’d jumped to.

He squinted, “You never said.”

“You never said,” you fired back, “I invited you to a party with my friends, I thought that would be hint enough that I think this is serious.”

“I need it outright said,” he mumbled.

“Clearly.”

“Hey,” he protested, “it’s not just me. In fact, you never brought it up either.”

“Okay, Cameron, to be fair, you never brought up anything about that party other than that it was Secret Santa for some guys in your pledge class. Not only do I not want to be the only girl there, I especially don’t want to be an MSU girl there with a bunch of drunk Ole Miss frat boys.” 

Rafe snorted, “Fair, that’s totally fair. So, I guess I should ask, do you want to come? There will be girlfriends and boyfriends. Secret Santa is just a small part.”

“Sure, I need to come see your apartment anyway, I should know what I’m getting into.”

He laughed loudly, “I’m not sure if I’m okay with that.”

You poked him teasingly, “Hey, you can’t take it back now, buddy.”

“I’d never.”

And with that, he got out of the car. You felt significantly better as he jogged around to grab the door for you. His arm went around your shoulders immediately, and you weren’t sure if it was an attempt to keep you standing straight or not.

“I’m not that drunk,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrows, “Okay four cups. I could smell the booze in that eggnog, it was strong.”

“Well you hurt my feelings, what else was I supposed to do besides drink?”

Rafe snorted, “Talk to me.”

“In front of everyone? At a party?”

“Bathroom.”

“So Justin could think we were hooking up in his bathroom.”

He squinted at you a few seconds, “Okay so it wasn’t the most conducive situation for a serious talk.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The two of you climbed the stairs to your third floor apartment. Rafe behind you so you wouldn’t fall and hurt yourself. He was a little offended when you muttered that you’d just take him down with you, “I could definitely catch you.” 

“Okay buddy,” you patted his shoulder. 

He made you drink four glasses of water in the kitchen and by the time the two of you were walking to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you were significantly sobered up. You tried to get to the sink first and Rafe playfully hip checked you out of the way to get his toothbrush.

“Nooo,” you complained, “my skincare routine is so much longer than yours, you can wait.”

“Guests first,” he argued, successfully keeping you away from the sink.

You gave up pushing against him to pout, “At least pass me my makeup remover.”

“Fine,” he grabbed the bottle from the sink and passed it over, “I guess you can at least start.” 

“Oh thanks for your permission,” you responded sarcastically.

The next five minutes of him washing his face and getting ready, you kept trying to nudge him out of the way, but he wasn’t budging. Finally, you dug your fingers into his side and he yelped, twisting away enough for you to get some space in front of the mirror.

Your eyes lit up, “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” he denied, just a little too fast.

“Liar.”

You reached out to him again and he grabbed your hand pulling you into his chest. So caught off guard, you didn’t register him tilting your chin up or lowering his head to kiss you. And then his lips were on yours for the first time, and you made a noise, leaning into it.

He smiled and you could feel his heart racing where your hand was pressed against his chest. In the proximity, you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into his side again. He jerked away, joking glare on his face, “Watch it, mamas. I’ll make you pay for it.”

“Promise?” you teased, finally catching him off guard enough to get mirror space.

Rafe stepped over to sit on the closed toilet lid to wait his turn again and laughed. You turned to look at him, mid-washing your face, and gave him a questioning look.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the squashed mistletoe, “Guess I don’t need this.”

“You were going to use the mistletoe to kiss me?”

“I figured if your roommate wasn’t going to use it, we could.”

“Oh I lied,” you admitted, turning back to rinse your face.

“What?” he asked while you were drying.

You nodded, “She gave it to me to get you to kiss me.”

“Oh,” he perked up, “well I guess it kinda worked. Make sure to thank her for me.”

“No, absolutely not,” you insisted, “she does not need that ego boost.”

He laughed, holding his hands up, “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

“As we should always.”

He laughed again and hip checked you over toward the wall so he could get back closer to the sink. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that you could get used to this.

~

day 3 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: mistletoe

[phantomchick]

Naruto Fic Rec Masterpost!

The Last To Know by KuriQuinn Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up, Team Seven, Sakura and Sasuke, Sakura and Team 7, Canon Compliant, Angst with a Happy Ending, trust, broken trust, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, this fic is fantastic and made me have so many feels for the characters as well as the bonds between them, Character Dynamics,

Summary: As usual, telling her the truth happens as though by afterthought. And this time, she's not taking it.

i'll always be there for you by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, sibling feels, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Big Brother Uchiha Itachi, a part of me niggles over team 7 failing a mission but I pretend that they ran into the hunter nin afterwards and Kakashi got the scroll back, it do be like that sometimes, Good big brother Itachi, Bad big brother Itachi, it’s complicated, Feels,

Summary:

He’s pressed against something warm. There are fingers carding gently through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke whispers.

The hand in his hair freezes.

Sasuke gets thrown into a frozen lake. Itachi doesn't know how to stop being a big brother, even when he's supposed to be pretending he doesn't care.

The Beautiful Orange Thing by zafiro Oneshot, Gen, Naruto and Kurama, Naruto is a very lonely kid and the kyubi is a very lonely bijuu, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, chibi-Naruto, Naruto loves Orange, Kurama tolerates Naruto because he is Cute, sweetness and light, angst and fluff, so cute I wanna physically hug this fic to my chest

Summary: Naruto arrives at a weird place and finds something wonderful there.

Maslow by FriendshipCastle Oneshot, Gen, T for cursing, canonical child neglect, Iruka feels, Naruto feels, implied/referenced child abuse, but nothing worse than what’s in canon, angst, hurt/comfort,

Summary: The first four tiers of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs applied to Naruto’s depressing childhood. Alternatively: Iruka slowly becomes the best replacement mother a ninja could have.

take the fight from the kid by theformerone Oneshot, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Team 7, Canon Compliant, but can be read as divergent, Post Wave arc, Pre-Chuunin Exams,  

Summary: Training with his team is different than it was before the mission to Wave. Sasuke notices how things have changed.

A Clean Break by GwendolynStacy Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up,  Hatake Kakashi and Team 7, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Team Fluff, Kakashi feels, Self-Harm via compulsive hand washing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Happy Ending,

Summary: Every member of Team 7 has their personal set of demons to haunt them. While Kakashi is always prepared to lend his students a listening ear, he still hasn’t quite figured out how to ask for help when he’s the one crumbling.

The Beginning and the End by QuinsValoria Oneshot, short oneshot, gen, THIS HAD ME SOBBING OVER KUSHINA AGAIN EVEN THOUGH IT’S SO SHORT, pre-canon era, angst, Dont worry kushina, Your baby makes it out just fine, cries into laptop screen, Hurt/Comfort,

Summary:

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” —Robert Browning

Uzumaki Kushina is an amazing mother, even in the very short time she has left.

OR

Kushina comforts her baby.

The Prince Of Leaves And Deep Water by RayShippouUchiha Ongoing, 3 chapter fic, do you ever read a fic with language that is so pretty and evocative that you just want to lean into it, like a kid listening to a piece of folklore that’s been passed down, it’s just beautiful to read? And the words slice and cut into your feelings in the best of ways, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, Kushina feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Uzumaki Lore, well worth the read even as a stand alone should it never update again, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canonical Child Neglect, Uzushio feels,

Summary: ‘Protect him,’ Kushina prays in the quiet of her own mind as she leaves; pleading silently to the old spirits from her childhood, to the things that the Uzumaki Elders used to whisper about in hushed tones.

‘Love him,’ Kushina begs of the things she only knows from instinct and half remembered stories, those things filled with the power of salt and sun and deep deep waters.  Those things that live and thrive in the heart and soul of every Uzumaki who has ever breathed and battled and bled.  'Guide him, keep him safe for always.  But love him most of all. My little prince of eddies and leaves.’

Left behind, left alone and cold where before there was only a soft sort of warmth and a steady kind of safety, Naruto wails.

Final Evaluation by Do_the_Cool_Whip Completed, 5 Chapter Fic, Gen, Umino Iruka & The Rookie Nine, Iruka-Sensei, Feels, fluffy, I have so many emotions about Iruka being the best teacher in the elemental nations and this fic brought them all out to play, Excellence, Kakashi is a troll, a huge troll, like, he’s such a troll he’s a mountain troll, Asuma is a lesser troll, like he’s mostly decent but still infuriating so he’s a bridge troll, Kurenai is so cool that even when she’s trolling as is her right and duty as the jounin elite she is, the person she’s trolling still respects her for it, a river troll, the kids are so cute and young here, you can really feel Iruka’s affection for them, please revel in the wonderful that is this entire fic, revel I say

Summary: Progress evaluations are one-on-one consultation meetings between academy students and their teacher. Their purpose is to inform academy students of their strengths and weaknesses and guide them down their ideal path to becoming a strong shinobi. Upon graduating the academy and passing their jounin-sensei test, new genin return to the academy for one final consultation. (Or: The story of what happens when Umino Iruka uses his final meetings with his students as way to send them off to become the best shinobi they can possibly be.)

it takes a village by quillofferings Oneshot, Gen, snapshot series, angst, character insight, konoha 12, rookie 9, team Gai, team 10, team 8, team 7, repeating patterns and revelations, kinda gives a sense of the culture of a childhood in Konoha in a way that’s very quietly tragic, this story was written well before shippuden came out but it still reads mostly true to me, A Classic of the Fandom,

Summary: A Naruto snapshot series in the form of a oneshot.

spirals by nescione Gen, Oneshot, Team Seven, Generations, Team 7, Dai Nana Han, Spirals, Repeating Patterns, things happening the same across generations in repeating patterns is a big theme in the canon and lots of fic delve into it and play with the whole idea as a result, but this fic does it especially well, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, A Classic of the Fandom, Summary: From the sannin to the present- a look at how history repeats itself, and how it doesn't.

this, and love too, will ruin us by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, Naruto Feels, Short and Sweet, Angst, Whump, Brother Feels, Sibling feels, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Naruto Uzumaki Needs a Hug,

Summary: Naruto remembers the first time he saw Sasuke and Itachi.

He remembers looking at them and thinking, I wish I had someone who loved me like that.

Ten Facts About Team Yamato by Lisse Oneshot, Gen, short and sweet, Team 7 feels, Team as Family, Dai Nana Han, Team Seven, Team Yamato, characterisation, short but solid, Ficlet,

Summary: On paper, their team doesn't exist.

Troubling New Developments by SicTransitGloria Oneshot, Teen and Up, hilarious, pre-shippuden, Team as Family, Kakashi pov, Team 7, AHAHAHAHA,  Puberty hits the genin,

Summary: Kakashi takes a moment to wrap his mind around equating Ino’s chest with enemy shinobi while Asuma begins beating his head against the table and groaning about how he didn’t sign up for this. Rated for language and the general horror that is puberty

Of Harrowed Hearts by Sable_Scribe Ongoing and possibly (probably) Abandoned, Gen, Long Fic, we’re at 36 chapters in as of the time I’m posting this, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix It, Families of Choice, Team Seven, Team as Family, Bamf Kakashi, Good Teacher! Kakashi, Angst, Uzushio Lore, Fluff, Uzushio Feels, Uzumaki heritage, Bamf Team 7, BAMF Rookie Nine, Naruto's ability to make friends with giant chakra demons surfaces early, Rookie Nine, Rookie 9, Konoha 12, Naruto and Kurama,

Summary Naruto has been hearing the rumbling growl in the back of his head for as long as he can remember. He’s seven when he tries to talk to it for the first time. He’s the dead last, the failure at everything, so he doesn’t actually expect to succeed. And when he’s suddenly standing, knee deep in murky water and face to face with a demon, he has no idea what to expect. As it turns out, the world could use something unexpected.

Automatic by Dayadhvam Oneshot, Gen, Sand Siblings, Fluff, Team as Family, but also, Family as Family, Short and Sweet, A Classic of The Fandom

Summary: Gaara's shield defense is automatic: he has never had to consciously think about ordering the sand where it is needed. Kankurou and Temari have always known this.

As Is the Sea Marvelous by blackkat Mature, Gen, Eleven Chapter Fic, Warring States Era, Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama, Izuna Lives AU, everybody lives nobody dies, Hurt/Comfort, brotherly feels, sibling relationships, Angst With A Happy Ending, Insecurity, Self-Sacrifice, Imprisonment, Fix-It

Summary: Tobirama is willing to give absolutely anything for Hashirama and his dream. Including his life.

A Lesson In Trust by Live Gen, Oneshot, Shikamaru & Naruto friendship, academy days, trust exercise, fluff

Summary: All Iruka wants is for his class to start trusting each other, too bad Shikamaru would rather watch the clouds...

Snow Is Serious Business When Your Business Is Being A Kid by vulcanhighblood Gen, Oneshot, Iruka and Naruto, Umino Iruka is a Good Teacher, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, Fluff, Snow

Summary: Iruka's trying to teach his class, but the first snowfall of the year makes keeping their attention more difficult than he would have liked.

The Consequences of Winning by tabjoy13 Oneshot, Gen, Team 7, Protective Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Good Teacher, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Wave Mission

Summary: Three days. It had been three days since Zabuza’s attack, since Kakashi passed out, and since Team Seven took refuge in the bridge builder’s home. Three days and Kakashi hadn’t shown a sign of stirring. Three young genin are left with the question: now what? Cross posted on FF.net.

discendo docemus by llamallamaduck Mature, Ongoing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Trauma/Ptsd, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Good Orochimaru, A lot of talk about depression and mental instability, Also Sharingan fuckery and assorted eye-trauma, rarepair, Itachi & Sasuke, eventual Sasuke/Ukitake, Itachi & Tsunade, 

Summary: There are some things a seven-year-old psyche is not ready to endure. An S-ranked torture technique preformed by a traumatized thirteen-year-old is one of those things. Sasuke doesn’t enjoy hallucinating memories of his murdered family day in and day out, but he’s learned to be philosophical about such things. It’s everything else that’s the problem, really.

Nidaime Otokage by DuskBeforeDawn Ongoing, inspired by nukenin, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Protective Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Dai-nana-han,Team 7, Team as Family, Non-Konoha Shinobi Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Troll, Kage level Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi-centric, fluff, adventure, crack, mature, fun read

Summary: No one knew him.His father was still alive.His Sharingan acted like it had always been his.Kakashi was twenty-two years in the past of a different world.

French Kissing, the End of the World, and Other Impossible Ordeals by Tsume_Yuki Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel, Uchiha Sasuke Being an Asshole, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel Fix-It, Smitten Uchiha Sasuke, grumpy asshole/cheerful optimist, this fic is literally just Sasuke being soft for Naruto, Mature but like it’s fiiine the author could’ve left it at teen and up and it would’ve gotten a pass at least from me

Summary: This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline. The ancestors must be rolling in their graves. In which Sasuke is smitten, Naruto is a badass, and time travel happens.

No Tomorrow by Authorship Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Clan, Shisui Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Longfic, Completed, Found Family, Fix It, Mature, Time Travel, Fuck Danzo

Summary: The water was crushing, pummelling Shisui's broken form, even as it swept him further and further from Konoha. 

And then Shisui woke up.

It's two months until the day he died. Two months to change the current of his life, of his Clan, of his village. And Shisui has no intention of letting history run its course.

¦ part 1 ¦ part 2 ¦ part 3 ¦

[copperbadge]

Hi. I love your blog! I’m in the middle of a second major depressive episode (my first was in my teens) and like you were, I’m unemployed and living with my parents. I’m now on medication and getting help and applying for jobs, but no luck so far. How did you ‘turn your life around’ and how long did it take you – going from depressed to starting a successful career in the non-profit world? Any advice on how I could do the same?

Oh, Anon. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but in no way did I turn my life around, and I definitely didn’t build a career intentionally. 

A lot of the below is general advice -- you are already doing great! -- but I figure some people who are where you are but not quite as far along could be helped by it. Thanks for the opportunity :)

So, here’s the thing: depression is the kind of mental illness that can just be with you for the rest of your life even when it’s not impacting your life. Some depression is situational and therefore (theoretically) escapable, but some of us are just never going to forge enough serotonin on a regular enough schedule. So it’s not a matter of beating depression or backing away from it, but of learning good coping mechanisms: how to recognize an episode is coming, how to keep functioning in a depressive episode, when to ask for help. 

And unfortunately while I can tell you what works for me, this is going to vary by person. Some people feel sad all the time; some people feel numb; some people feel okay but are overly impacted by minor setbacks or frustrations, or can do normal life stuff but any deviation from routine sends them into a spiral. These are just examples; there are more. My methods of coping are stuff like building lists, making sure that those lists have stuff like “communicate with friends” on them, being on specific platforms that make that communication easy, and inasmuch as I can, avoiding drama and volatile emotions. Doing the bare minimum of housework to keep myself from being MORE depressed. Making sure my work gets done so that I keep my job, even if I feel like other parts of my life might be out of control. 

And as I’ve recently mentioned, I write fiction as a stress response. If I’m not writing but I’m doing okay -- keeping my house clean, feeling good, having fun -- that’s fine. Not optimal, I like writing, but it’s fine. If I’m writing, I’m probably a little stressed, but I’m managing it. If I’m not writing AND I’m not functioning well, or I know I’m unhappy, then I know that the depression is probably worse than I think it is, and I need to go into survival mode. 

Some people need meds -- taken year round, even when you’re not depressed. There’s no shame in that and if you aren’t currently using medication, I would recommend at least investigating its use to see if it could help. [ETA: Sorry I 100% missed the part where you are on medication, but this is still useful for others so I’m leaving it in.]

So like...”how long did it take me” is a tough question to answer because I’m still in it. I will be, all my life, and once I came to accept that, I could figure out ways to keep it from devastating me. How long it took me to establish good coping mechanisms? Well, I was diagnosed at 17, which is a rough age to be when it starts happening, but I managed to survive college (barely) and I feel like I had a pretty good handle on managing it by the time I was, I guess about 25. The point at which I was unemployed and living with my parents was the absolute low point of my life, when I was 23-24, but that was compounded by external factors. As soon as I got out of my parents’ house, things improved; as soon as I had a job, even a truly shitty one, I felt like life was survivable. (A huge coping mechanism in those days was actually Netflix, back when it was a mail-you-a-DVD service, because I knew at least a few times a week I would get mail addressed to me with a nice surprise in it.) 

And the thing about being here now is -- my parents gave me three grand to get out of the house, find a place of my own, and survive 2-3 months until I could find a job. I couldn’t have done any of what I’ve done without three solid thousand dollars, and even then I got lucky. I quit my first, super shitty job (the only time I have EVER quit a job) and got a job with my last place of work literally two week before the 2008 financial crisis hit. That job happened to be a very visible if very ground-floor administrative position, and from there I was able to impress people who wanted to hire me up to the next administrative level, and from there I was promoted into the department because I showed an active and visible interest in the work they did. That was intentional, but literally nothing before it was anything other than “I need a job and this one offers health insurance.”  

Once you have a job in which advancement is possible, which again is a matter somewhat of luck, advancing is just a matter of maintaining a good work-life balance while doing good work and showing you’re interested in supporting the mission of the company. Documenting the work you do, asking for raises, asking or applying for advancement -- putting yourself forward. That’s not so hard. But that’s kind of like starting on third base and telling someone you just need to run 90 feet. You’ve got to get to third base first and for me that was a lot of luck. 

But here’s the kicker: you can’t win the lottery unless you buy a ticket. So for you, right now, waiting on that opportunity, your job is to keep yourself alive and reasonably looked-after, gather all the energy you have, and start figuring out a game plan. Whether that’s a shitty job that you agree with yourself you’ll only do for a year, or asking your parents for a huge financial leap of faith if they’re able -- three grand was a LOT for my parents but they knew it was probably going to save my life -- or applying to better jobs that could push you up the ladder. And of course we’re in a pandemic so like, fuck the world, all of this is just that much harder. But people are being hired, and people are moving into apartments, and going to therapy, and doing their best. So there’s hope, as long as you start homebrewing it first. 

The thing that has helped me the most in the last twenty years, and which I think may be most helpful and simultaneously most frustrating to you, is that I never just said “I don’t like where I am or what I’m feeling”. I started there, absolutely, but then I asked, “What can I change to stop feeling this way?”

You have to rule out “nothing” as an answer. You probably will have to sit with the question for a while, maybe even a few weeks. You may need to google some weird shit to figure it out. And maybe what you do is a stupid stop-gap like buying yourself a $1 blind box toy once a week so you can feel surprise at something again. Maybe you admit that right now you need to pass the baton and you unfollow or blacklist political activism and activists and just fill your social media with people making dumb dad jokes and posting cat pictures. Maybe that gives your brain breathing room to find more permanent solutions.

But once you get in the habit of “how can I change this”, solutions do start to appear. 

So, yeah. Truth is I worked super hard but I also got super lucky. But part of being lucky was being there when the luck finally hit. So I’m wishing you, wholeheartedly, the best of luck. 

(Also if your parents have money and aren’t assholes I can’t recommend “Make them give you a long-term loan to get on your feet” strongly enough.)

[evesbeve]

Hey there, you said your ask box was open for Justin Min's whole thing? I guess I just slept through the whole thing, honestly - could you just go over a gist of everything that happened? I get that it seems like a PR team didn't know how to use twitter (which, mood) and f-ed things up for him, but what were they "cleaning up" in the first place, who's Anna what did they do that warranted such a bizarre thread from the PR team, etc...? 😳

Hey! Okay so this is going to be a lot, so buckle up.

Right off the bat, I just want to say that Justin isn’t cancelled. The situation has been mostly resolved right now (more on that later).

So around a week ago, Justin Min started deleting his replies to fans. Depending on whether you’re on Twitter or not, you might know that Justin is one of the most interactive people of the cast. He knows a lot of fans by name, he has inside jokes with us, and he just interacts a lot with his fanbase. So you can imagine why him suddenly starting to delete his replies was a bit upsetting. There was nothing we could do about it though.

And suddenly, two days ago, Justin deactivated his account out of nowhere, which caused all kinds of drama to go down.

People started pointing the finger at specific accounts saying it was their fault that Justin deactivated (don’t even get me started on that logic; why a grown-ass adult deactivate because of a few teenagers is above me, it literally made no sense), even sending death threats. Others suspected that he got suspended because Twitter’s algorithm saw all these tweets get deleted and was like “welp, bot time.” Long story short, lots of misinformation was going around.

And then out of the blue, Justin’s account was reactivated, and he made a thread directed at Anna.

Now, who is Anna? Anna is a stan on twitter, whose @ I won’t be sharing for privacy, but here’s how they’re relevant in this:

Remember when I mentioned the inside jokes? Well, one of them was between a fan called Matt and Justin. Matt kept commenting on Justin’s tweets asking him to say trans rights. On the one year anniversary of Matt asking Justin to say trans rights, Justin finally said it. Then, Matt made a poll asking other stans what he should have Justin say next, and lesbian rights won.

Around a month ago, Matt replied to one of Justin’s tweets, and Justin responded with something along the lines of “haha, i know this is just an attempt to get me to say lesbian rights,” referencing the inside joke. People started commenting that the way he phrased it was a bit :/ so then he replied to his own tweet with something like “well, i’ll delete this before i get cancelled,” and that’s when things spiraled.

[id: Justin Min’s tweet #1: i see that you are trying to butter me up to say lesbian rights, nice try, matt. nice try.

Justin Min’s tweet #2: oh, here we go. this is an inside joke between myself and matt, if you’ve been a part o fthis fandom for more than a few weeks. but alas, i will have to delete this now before i’m cancelled by the end of the day. keep loving, everyone.]

Lesbians get spoken over and looked down upon not only by straight people, but also the LGBT community. So when Justin tweeted that, lesbians were like “this sounds as if you care more about your own self image rather than our community.” Then, non-lesbians got involved and started either a) calling Justin lesbophobic (which lesbians never did) or b) blindly defending Justin and saying he did nothing wrong.

(Side note: I am not a lesbian, and I’m not trying to speak over lesbians in this situation. But I did talk about this to some of my friends who are lesbians, and they told me that what Justin did wasn’t as big of a deal as Twitter made it out to be. These are their words, not mine. All I know is that it was definitely not bad-intentioned, just a huge misunderstanding.)

Anyway, Anna made a thread explaining to Justin why him defending himself came out as harmful towards the lesbian community, and then Justin apologised and that was it.

Which brings us back to yesterday (26/9/2020).

Everyone is freaking out, posting misinformation, panicking. I don’t exactly,,, know how, but the #justinminisoverparty hashtag started being used for actual hate towards Justin for deactivating, and some people (including Anna, though I think their tweet was in the context of a joke? please take this with a grain of salt though. update: it was in the context of a joke) mentioned that Justin is a lesbophobe.

A few hours later, Justin reactivated his account, tagged Anna, and said this (though it was actually his PR team, more on that later):

[id: Justin’s Tweet: @ [redacted] quickly jumping back on here from my twt break because i’m receiving messages that you’re continuing to spread misinformation, so i want to clarify.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 1. all of my interactions with you were deleted because of the need to set clear boundaries due to the fact that your incessant messages and replies from multiple accounts over the last several months were veering into stalking/harassment.

2. for someone who appears to pride themselves on reminding their friends/followers on a daily basis to be careful of the language they use on this app, you seem to be fine with flippantly labeling someone as homophobic/lesbophobic as if they’re cute little adjectives to give to someone, not realizing that such labels have real-life consequences.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 3. also noting here than in your original thread, you stated that you neither considered me nor my words to actually be lesbophobic, so a bit confused as to why your story has suddenly changed.

4. i realize you’re young, so i’m genuinely hoping you use this opportunity to learn and grow andbe a little more mindful the next time you decide to tweet.]

The next twenty minutes were pure chaos. Justin deactivated again, everyone started freaking out because that was very out of character for him. People were cancelling him because this could have easily been resolved in DMs, or tweeted without the mention of Anna (a minor) from a mainstream Twitter account.

And then, Justin Min DMed another fan on Instagram (her name is Em) about the situation.

Who is Em? For starters, I’d like to say that I personally know Em and that she’s one of my best friends. I’ve known her for more than a year now, and I can personally vouch for her. Everything that she posted is 100% true (if you want the thread where she posts proof of the DMs, please send me a different ask because I’m scared tumblr will not post this in the tag if I include it here).

The reason Justin DMed her out of all people is because he also kinda knows her? As I mentioned, Justin interacts with us on Twitter a lot, and Em is the one person he’s responded to the most, so he knows who she is. (He’s tagged her more times than other cast members, at least before all his tweets were deleted by his PR team.)

Anyway, this is what Em tweeted:

[id: Em’s tweets: please read this !!!

justin dmed me on instagram and basically the gist of it is that he hired a pr team and they tweeted the thread at anna without knowing everyone could see it. all of the tweets being deleted/ him deactivating was also them.]

Below is the image Em attached to the tweet:

[id: Justin’s DM to Em: hey. this is justin. i’m just hearing about what’s happening on twitter right now. for context, i was asked to work with a team of people to “clean up” my twitter in the past few weeks. they’ve taken the liberty of deleting a bunch of my responses and posts in order to safeguard me (whatever that means) as well as deactivating my account to comb through other things.i believe they accidentally sent anna a message and mistakenly believed the function for her to comment only would mean that she would be the only one to see it as well. needless to say, i’m no longer working with this team and want to personally apologize to her. do you know any way i can get into contact with her?]

And then, in a follow-up tweet:

[id: Em’s text at Justin: sorry for dming you again. is there any other way i can help? i just feel really bad about this whole thing and i know how quickly this stuff can spread if it’s not taken care of

Justin’s text: i mean, i guess you can share the information i’ve given you? it’ll take a bit of time for me to take back ownership on everything as i sever ties with that team, so maybe the sooner the better people know.

Em’s text: okay ! is it okay if i tweet a screenshot

Justin’s text: sure.]

Then Justin’s account got reactivated an hour ago (almost 24hs after Em’s tweets), and he tweeted this:

[id: Justin’s tweet: hi. it’s me. thank you for all your messages. this has been an incredibly tough week for me on multiple fronts. some things you might already be aware of; many other things you don’t know about.asking for a bit of privacy as i take sometime to unplug. hoping to be back soon.]

And that’s all, I think? There’s lots we don’t know about what happened yet, so please please please try not to spread misinformation. This is a stressful situation for us on Twitter, and especially for Justin, and misinformation going around is the last thing we need right now.

tl;dr: Justin Min hired a PR Team that started deleting all of his tweets and deactivated his account. Misinformation started spreading, people started cancelling Justin for no reason. The PR Team decided to respond to Anna, made the response public, deactivated again. Justin DMed Em and explained the situation, and an hour ago, he reactivated and said he’s taking a small break to sort things out.

If anyone has any other questions/clarifications, my askbox is open! Hope this shed some light on the situation <3

UPDATE 28/9/2020: Justin has DMed and apologised to Anna for the situation, and Anna has accepted the apology. Anna posted all of it on their account, but again, if you want a link, send me an ask!

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Eleven

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! 5K

Masterpost

“Oh my god.” You say and turn to him. “Oh my god!”

“Oh my god!” He squeals and picks you up to spin you around. “We’re gonna have a baby!” He sets you down carefully. “Okay, from this point on, this house is a no stress zone. You’re not lifting a finger, I’ll-“

“Harry, Harry!” You put your hands up. “Please, it’s okay. Don’t spiral.” You giggle. “We need to make an appointment with my OBGYN first, take a proper test. She can tell me how far along I am.”

“I wonder if it was the night in your office.” He smirks. “Pumped yeh good that night.”

“Jesus.” You swat an arm at him and wipe some tears from your eyes. “I’ll call tomorrow to see when they can squeeze me in.” He grabs your face and kisses you over and over again.

“Thank you for waiting until I got home. I couldn’t cancel on that client.” You both walk out to the living room and he sees the papers from the university on the coffee table. “What’s all this, lovie?” You both sit down on the couch.

“Well…Dr. Harrison, who I met with today, told me there’s going to be an open position in the Communication Department for the spring semester. She wants me to consider applying. The position is going to open at the end of the month.”

“So it’s not a guarantee if you get it?”

“Something tells me it would be a formality. I was looking over everything, and I’d be able to take classes for free after my first six months, I could go for my PhD.”

“That would be amazing!”

“But where does a new baby fit into all of this?”

“Well, think of how much easier it would be for you to take time off. You may not even need to work every day of the week.”

“I don’t think you get that privilege as a junior faculty.”

“Still, plus you’d have summers off, right?”

“Yeah, major upside. Plus, the winter break is like six weeks long.”

“Oh my god, think of how much time we could spend in London with my mum. The baby would really be able to spend time with her.”

“I know! I was looking over the benefits and they’re actually better than Mark It’s. I think I’m ready for the change. I could at least apply and see what happens, right?”

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea.”

“If I have this baby when I think I will, I wouldn’t need to use the maternity leave right away because I’d be off contract for the summer, so I could just teach online next fall or use it then.”

“Look at you finding the loopholes already.” He smirks. “I’m really proud of you, this is huge.”

“It just feels right, I think. I mean, Niall’s about to leave, him and Sarah live in their house now, and they’re engaged. I feel like we’re all forming our own little lives and growing up more and more. Rachel even said she was thinking of proposing to Mariah soon, Isaac and Seth seem to be moving in that direction just the same. I don’t wanna get stuck in the past, you know?”

“No, I get it. I think this could be a really good move for you, for us.” He puts his hand on yours. “Apply, see what happens. Stay in contact with Dr. Harrison too, she could help you with the application or coach you through the interview.”

“I’m gonna talk to the doctor too, all of this could add so much stress…but I appreciate you being so supportive.”

“Always.” He takes your hand and kisses it. “I can’t believe that test said pregnant on it. I’m so happy.”

“Me too, babe.”

//

The next day at work you were in the middle of a meeting when you had to get up to leave. You rushed down the hall to the bathroom and threw up. Niall rushed after you to make sure you were okay.

“I won’t come in unless yeh need me to.” He says from outside the door.

“I’m fine!” You get up and rinse your mouth out. You open the door and see the concerned look on his face.

“Are you sick?” He gives your back a little rub.

“Not in the way you think…we’re keeping things quiet for now, just in case, but…I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon…we think I could be pregnant.” You whisper.

“Oh my god!” He gasps and then he quiets himself. “That’s amazing.” He whispers.

“I took the test yesterday, but the doctor will really be able to confirm it. I’ve been nauseous all morning, I guess this is just the beginning.”

“Well, whatever time off yeh need don’t be afraid to ask for it. I got your back.”

“Thanks.”

Around 3PM you leave to meet Harry at your doctor’s office. He dropped Buster off at home beforehand. Your name gets called and Harry gets up to go in with you. The nurse gives him a funny look.

“He, uh, I want him in there with me…” You tell the nurse, and she nods.

Harry had never been to the OBGYN with you before, why would he have needed to? He found it interesting that they made you pee the second you got there. He supposed it was the best way to tell if you’re pregnant or not.

“Alright, Y/N, what’s going on today?” The nurse asks.

“Well…I think I’m pregnant. I took a home test yesterday and it said so. And I’ve thrown up a few times in the last couple of days.”

“Any fever or anything like that?”

“Nope, just nauseous, really nauseous.”

“Alright.” The nurse makes a few notes and looks over your chart. “And this is your…?”

“Husband, Harry is my husband.” You smile at him. “We just got married in April.”

“Oh, congratulations!” She smiles. “Here, put this on, you know the drill. Dr. Johnson will be in with you shortly.”

The nurse steps out and leaves you to change into the hospital gown.

“Why would you need to put that on? Isn’t she just going to look at your stomach?”

“No, she’s going to examine me as well, make sure everything’s alright. It’s pretty standard.”

“Even for this kind of visit.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you putting it on backwards?”

“It’s easier for them when it’s open in the front. Harry…” You sigh. “I’ve been coming here for over ten years, I know what do.” You cling to the front of the gown and hop back up on the bed. There’s a knock on the door.

“Hi Y/N, oh!” She looks at Harry. “We have a visitor today.”

“Dr. Johnson, this is my husband, Harry.” The two shake hands.

“Very nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things over the years.” She looks at you. “Heard we’re feeling a bit nauseous today?”

“The last couple days, actually. As you know we’ve been trying to get pregnant basically since the end of April. I took a test yesterday and it came back positive.”

“I looked over your urine sample.” She beams. Harry stands up to hold your hand. “You’re pregnant, Y/N.”

You and Harry get teary eyed as you look at each other and smile.

“Congratulations.” She puts some gloves on. “You’re only about six weeks along. Now, Harry, I need to take a peek at your wife, and I’m sure you love looking, but-“

“I’ll sit down.” He says.

You lay back as she quickly examines you, making sure everything was fine. She examines your breasts next.

“You’re going to want to take these out if you plan to breastfeed. If you don’t then it doesn’t matter. Your belly piercing for sure you’ll want to remove though, and soon.” She covers your breasts back up. “No lumps or bumps, looking good.” She smiles and gets the ultrasound ready. You wave Harry back over to hold your hand. “This’ll feel cold at first, I’m sorry.” You jolt slightly from the cold jelly on the end of the ultrasound. She moves it around a bit. “Since you are six weeks, we may be able to hear the heartbeat today. There! See that tiny dot on the screen?” She points to it. “That’s your baby.”

“Harry, look.” You sniffle.

“I know.” He also sniffles. You both start to hear something. “Is that it? That’s the heartbeat?”

“Yes.” She smiles at the two of you. “I’ll send you home with the little clip, and we’ll print up some sonograms for you.”

She takes the ultrasound off and wipes your belly clean. She makes some notes on her laptop before sitting down to look at the two of you.

“Now, I know it took us some time for this to happen, so there are some precautions you’ll want to take. Y/N, you’re an active person. I want you to stick to walks and low weight exercises. Maybe even try some yoga to keep yourself relaxed. Is your job very stressful?”

“It can be…my biggest stress right now is that I might be changing jobs. I’ve been asked to apply for a teaching position at my old college.”

“That’s wonderful! Do you think all of that will be too much for you?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Something tells me I’ll get the job if I apply. It’s mostly the unknowns, like switching insurances and a new commute, stuff like that.” Dr. Johnson nods and looks at Harry. “And what do you do for work again? You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah, I own my own studio. We do really well.”

“Good, so you can be home for her when she needs it? Help out with things?”

“I already offered and she told me to calm down.” He chuckles.

“Y/N, I want you to let Harry help you. I know you like things a certain way, but let him pick up the slack alright? I wanna get you through this first trimester. I’m gonna give you a list of vitamins and nutrients you’ll need, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I want you to know though, if for any reason something happens, and…well…you miscarry, it’s not because you did anything wrong, okay? I’m sending positive vibes, but just be aware that those things happen.”

You shudder at the thought, but know she’s right.

“Maybe we should wait to tell our families and friends then…just until I’m farther along.” You say to Harry.

“Good idea. Although, didn’t you throw up at working this morning?”

“Okay, so Niall has an idea, but other than that let’s keep it quiet.”

“Okay.” He smiles and looks at the doctor. “Anything else?”

“Come see me again in three weeks. You can make an appointment on the way out. If anything feels weird though, come see me sooner.”

“Thanks, Dr. Johnson.” You smile as she exits the room.

You hop off the bed and get dressed. The woman at checkout hands you the sonogram prints and the copy of the video of the baby’s heart beating. She gives you an appointment card and out the door you go.

“So, should we head to the market and get you some pickles and sourcrout?” He jokes. He wipes a few tears from his glossy eyes.

“No.” You laugh. “I don’t have any cravings yet, but we should go to the store and get some of the vitamins on this list. I don’t have any of this stuff at home.”

“Alright.” He puts his hand on your thigh as he drives off. “I’m trying not to be too excited because I know things could…not go the way we plan, but-“

“I think it’s okay to be excited. We shouldn’t worry about something that could easily not happen. We just need to be careful.”

“Shit, I should’ve asked her if it was okay to have sex or not right now.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Harry.”

“Six weeks ago, what was six weeks ago?” He furrows his brows. “That was definitely the night in your office, it had to have been.”

“What does it matter?” You laugh.

“I’d just like to know so when I’m old and grey and have to give some type of speech I can embarrass the kid and say they were conceived on mummy’s office floor.”

“Harry.” You pinch your nose. “If you ever-“

“Relax, I’m only kidding.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Half kidding.” He grins.

//

After that, Harry started taking your picture every week. He’d have you stand in front of a blank wall with your shirt up in the same clothes so you could look back and see the progress.

“When you get to be farther along we should do a maternity shoot. I can set something nice up down here for you so you won’t have to climb the stairs.”

“That would be really nice.”

Before you’re able to roll your shirt down he comes over to you and kneels. He kisses on your lower stomach and hugs you before standing up.

“Was it sad taking all your piercings out?”

“A little…I can always have them put back in if I want later. I’m kind of glad I took the nipple ones, my boobs have been so tender.” You go into the kitchen to fill up your water bottle.

“My poor baby, I wish I could like absorb all your discomfort.” He pouts.

“I know, and I appreciate that.”

“What size is it this week?”

“Let’s consult the app. At twelve weeks, it’s the size of a passion fruit.” You smirk as you show him the picture.

“Oh wow! That’s kind of big.”

“Still just a fetus though, it’s not really a baby yet.”

“Can you believe the end of this week will be the end of your first trimester?”

“I’m so happy, I’m sick of throwing up all the time. I was talking with Eleanor and she said her second trimester was much better. I’m sorry I haven’t really been in the mood lately.” You wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s okay, I understand.” He kisses your forehead. “Have you heard back from the school yet?”

“They said they’d be contacting me soon for a second interview.” You smile. “I’m really excited.”

“They know you’re pregnant?”

“Just Dr. Harrison. She said it’s not something I need to disclose yet.”

“I can’t believe Niall’s leaving Mark It soon too.”

“I know.” You frown. “I’m really going to miss him, but it’s what’s for the best. The startup that approached him is such a good opportunity for him, and he’ll be the director of their marketing department. It’s what he deserves. His last day is in two weeks.”

“That’s so wild, I remember when he started working there. He’s got like two years on you?”

“Mhm.”

“Harry, this really pretty girl started workin’ with me. She’s really funny too!” He says in Niall’s accent.

“Would you stop?” You laugh and nudge your husband. “It was platonic love at first sight.” You giggle.

Harry makes you both some dinner and you decide to eat on the sofa. You get a call from Seth.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I asked Isaac to marry me, and he said yes!”

“What?!” You spit out the food in your mouth. “That’s amazing! How did you do it?!” You put the phone on speaker. “Hold on, I have you on speaker, Harry’s here too.”

“Okay, so I took him out for a walk to our favorite park near our place. You know the one.”

“I do.”

“And I just got down on one knee and asked him. He cried, I cried. It was really nice.”

“I’m so happy for the both of you!”

“Me too, mate, that’s amazing!” Harry exclaims.

“Harry?!” You both laugh when you hear Isaac’s voice.

“Congratulations!” You both say at the same time.

“Can I have the phone back, sorry, he’s very excited.” Seth laughs. “Rightfully so, I’m a great catch after all.”

“Remind me to vomit later.” You roll your eyes.

“Anyways, we’ve been talking about it for a while. We both wanna just do the courthouse thing, we don’t want a big ceremony, but we’ll definitely have a party to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t have a party.”

“Exactly. We’re making the rounds calling everyone. We’ll keep you up to date on everything.”

“Sounds good! Congrats again!” You hang up the phone.

“Okay, Rachel and Mariah are next for sure.” Harry says.

“I’m so happy for them. Oh my goodness! Sarah and Niall set a date too, did he tell you?”

“What?! No! When?”

“Next fall! October 20th I think. He just told me today.”

“If he didn’t already know about the baby, I’d say let’s keep the news from him the longest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Speaking of that…why not invite our friends over soon for a little lunch so we can tell them the good news. I know we’re going to my mum’s this Sunday to tell her and my siblings. And then we’ll FaceTime your mum and Gemma. We need to call Nannie too.”

“I think havin’ the crew over is a great idea.” He kisses your temple and leans back into the couch.

//

Your mother cried when you told her you were pregnant. Your siblings were all really happy for you. It turns out Erica had also been keeping her pregnancy to herself and was 15-weeks along. It was a really nice day with family. You stopped off at your dad’s house as well, and he was thrilled to hear the news. When you got home you FaceTimed with Anne and Gemma. Anne was trying not to sob as she was absolutely overjoyed.

Your Nannie cried on the phone as well. She couldn’t believe two of her granddaughters were having babies at the same time. You were able to celebrate so many things with your friends when they came over. Niall’s last day at Mark It and his first day at his new job, Isaac and Seth’s recent engagement, and Rachel and Mariah officially passing in adoption forms with an agency.

“Okay, so I know you’re all here and it feels like we’re here for a ton of different reasons…” You start. “Harry, is the FaceTime set up?”

“Mhm, Lou and El are here.”

“Hi guys!” Louis exclaims from the phone.

“Great, well…” You turn to the side and rub your lower stomach.

Rachel and Sarah gasp and squeal and rush to you to hug you.

“Oh my goodness! How far along are you? You literally can’t tell.” Sarah says.

“Thirteen weeks, I’m officially in my second trimester.”

“That’s amazing!” Rachel wipes a few tears away. “I can’t believe it.” She hugs you again. “You’re gonna be such a great mom.”

“I can’t wait to be an auntie.” Sarah says. “For the both of you of course. Still keeping my fingers crossed for the two of you with this agency.”

“Thanks.” Mariah says. She gives Harry a hug and kiss. “Congrats, I’m so happy for the both of you.”

“Seriously, it’s amazing.” Seth says. He gives you a hug next. “This kid is gonna be so loved.”

“Do you think Buster will get jealous?” Isaac jokes.

“If he’s anything like his father, which we all know he is, then yes.” Niall says.

“Oi! I’m not that clingy.”

Everyone laughs including Louis and Eleanor from the phone. You were happy everyone was finally in the know. Your doctor’s appointments were going really well. Everything was good.

//

“Harry.” You whisper in the middle of the night. “Baby.” You nudge him and he groans. “Honey, please, I need you.” His eyes flutter open. He got slightly excited because he thought maybe your hormones were making you a little needy.

“What’s up?”

“Could you go to the corner store, the 24-hour one? I really need a slim-Jim.”

“Y/N, you don’t eat meat.”

“I know, but I really need a slim-Jim. I can’t get it out of my head. Please? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can’t sleep.” You pout.

“Alright.” He yawns and sits up. “Anything else you need?”

“No, just a slim-Jim.” You smile. “You’re amazing, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Harry slips out to head to the corner store. You sit up in anticipation. This was one of the first real cravings you had. You weren’t sure what it was, you just needed the disgusting, processed meat. He returns with it shortly and you devour it.

“Oh my god, thank you. That really hit the spot.”

“Probably shouldn’t eat those all the time. Maybe that vegan bacon we have could suffice.” He says as he climbs back into bed. “Sure that’s all yeh needed?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason.”

He was desperate for you. He loved the way your body was making slight changes. But he didn’t want you to feel pressured because he was the reason your body was changing.

The next day you had your second interview at the university. The faculty were really impressed with you. They told you a final decision would be made soon and you’d hear from them either way. You were extremely excited. Work had gotten boring without Niall. You two would text each other throughout the day, and you’d even FaceTime a couple times a week during lunch breaks.

As the days got shorter and colder, you found yourself feeling needy for cuddles. You either had Buster with you every second, or you had Harry’s arms around you. You still hadn’t quite gotten your sex drive back. You wanted to offer to blow him, but even that you, for the first time since you’ve known him, just couldn’t bring yourself to do. You felt terrible.

“I have to work late tonight, honey.” He says on the phone. “I’ve got an evening shoot for a family.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll grab myself something for dinner.”

“When do you think you’ll be home?”

“Maybe around nine? I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you need to do what you need to do.”

You found yourself turning in earlier to bed as you noticed yourself getting more tired easily. You tried reading to tire your eyes out, but you felt something in the pit of your stomach that just wouldn’t go away. You look over and see the bare spot next to you and sigh. You wanted Harry. Oh shit, you really wanted Harry.

“Fuck.” You groan and get up.

You go into the closet and pull down your special box. You sigh when you grab your little bullet vibrator. You couldn’t even remember the last time you used it. You wiggle your pajama pants off and get back on the bed. You touch yourself with your hand first before turning the device on.

Harry was just coming in from his session, getting home a tad earlier than he expected. He even picked up a new jar of pickles to put in the fridge for you. As he walked down the hall to the bedroom he heard soft whimpers.

“What the…” He says to himself as he opens the door. His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees you.

“Harry!” You throw the vibrator somewhere else on the bed out of embarrassment.

“Sorry!” He nearly walks out of the room and then shakes his head at himself. “Wait a second, why am I leaving?” He asks himself more so than you. You reach for the bullet and turn it off. “So…has this been what you’ve been doing?” He sits on the edge of the bed. “Instead of with me?”

“What?! No! This is the first time I’ve even wanted to…and you weren’t home, and well…” Your cheeks were beat red. “I’m sorry, ugh, I’m so embarrassed.” You hide your face in your hands, but he pulls them away.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s okay. What made you want to use it?”

“I don’t know, I was missing you, and then I realized how much I was really missing you, and I just wanted you. And the damn thing wasn’t even doing it for me anyways.” You pout.

“Well, I’m here now.” He perks up. “You still in the mood?”

“Very much so. I’m sorry things have been so stagnant between us these last couple of months. I’ve just felt gross and nauseous and all of the above. I’ve wanted to do things for you, but-“

“It’s alright, I really understand. When El was pregnant with Eliza May, Louis sort of told me this might happen. I was prepared for it. I know it really doesn’t have much to do with me.”

“It really doesn’t, but I think I’m over that hump now. I love you so much, I hope you know that.”

“I do, and I love you too. You’re sacrificing a lot to grow this little one.” He gives your lower belly a little pat. He stands up and undresses down to his boxers, and gets your shirt off so you’re completely naked.

“I feel bad, you just got home. Did you eat and all that?”

“I did. Don’t worry, there’s really nothing else I’d rather be doing than lovin’ on my wife.”

He gets back on the bed and kisses you. It’s a slow kiss, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, licking into your mouth. Doing all the things he knows you like. Even though you didn’t love all of the changes your body was making, Harry still, somehow, made you feel beautiful and sexy. He kisses down your chest, and plants nice wet kisses down your belly. His head gets between your legs and he gets to work.

You feel him groan against you as he licks into for the first time in ages.

“Got this wet thinkin’ of me?” He smirks and you push his head back down.

“Get over yourself, will you?” You laugh. “And yes, I did.” His tongue explores your folds before sucking on your clit. “Oh fuck, oh my god.” Your hands grip at his hair, and your legs start to shake. It didn’t take him long since you were already wound up. “Shit.” You breathe as he gets himself settled against the headboard.

“Come here, baby girl.”

You straddle his lap, and line yourself up with his hard dick, his boxers now long gone. You slowly sink down on him and moan out loudly when he bottoms out.

“Feel okay?” He grunts, desperately hoping he doesn’t come too soon.

“Feels amazing.” Your slot your mouth over his as you move up and down on him. You couldn’t get enough of him right now. All your senses were heightened.

“Y/N.” He moans as he thrusts up into you.

“Harry.” You moan back.

His hands grip your ass to help you move faster on him. You cling to his shoulders to give him full control of the pace. You both had the bed shaking as you took him so well.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You throw your head back as you release again, his come spurting up inside you at the same time. “Holy shit.” You press your forehead to his shoulder as he catches his breath. “I’m so sorry.” You kiss him. “How awful of me to make you wait like that.” You kiss him again. “Never again.” You kiss him a third time.

“Babe, babe! It’s okay.” He chuckles. “I’ve missed yeh like crazy, but don’t feel bad, alright?”

“You’re so amazing, I’m…I just love you.” You start tearing up. Another side effect of being pregnant. You cried all the time. He holds you close and rubs your back.

“I love you too.” He coos. “Come on, I bought you a fresh jar of pickles.”

“You did?!” You slide off of him and get your feet on the floor.

“Mhm.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

//

Things with you and Harry had gotten really got and heavy during your second trimester. You had even gotten to a point of sexting him at work. You just couldn’t help it. You had never wanted him so badly before. And he was always right there, ready to give it to you. You both would often only wear underwear around your apartment to have easier access.

Just as you were getting home one night, you got the call you had been waiting for.

“Dr. Harrison, great hear from you!” You get upstairs and into your living room.

“Hi, Y/N! How have you been feeling?”

“Much better, thanks. The nausea has definitely stopped.”

“Glad to hear it. The search committee has made a decision.” You take a deep breath, knowing this phone call could go one of two ways. “And we’d like to offer you the position.”

“Oh my god! Are you serious?! That’s amazing!”

“I’m glad to hear you’re excited.” She chuckles.

“I’ll just need to chat things over with my husband. I know he’ll be just as excited.”

“Great! Do you think we could schedule a meeting for Friday? There are a lot of things we’ll need to go over, especially with HR since you may not end up teaching in the fall. Luckily, you’ll have the entire winter break to prep up for the courses we’ll need you for this spring.”

“Yeah! Uh, what time Friday? I could probably leave work around three, and get to campus for like 3:30 if that works for you.”

“I’m open!”

“Wonderful, thank you so much. I’m very excited.”

You hang up the phone and squeal. Just as you’re celebrating with yourself, Harry walks in with Buster. He rushes over to you excitedly. You run over to Harry and give him a big hug and kiss.

“Guess who just got offered the job of being a junior faculty member?!”

“Shut up, are you serious?!”

“I am! I have a meeting with Dr. Harrison Friday to go over a ton of things. And I’ll have the entire winter break to prep up for the classes I’ll be teaching. I’ll be able to negotiate my salary too, they know what I’m expecting, and I won’t take anything less. We have a baby on the way after all.” You rub your hands over your lower belly where the cutest bump was finally starting to form.

“I’m so fucking happy for you. This is amazing! We should celebrate.”

“We can this weekend. Let me get everything finalized first. But…I know another way we can celebrate right now.” You wrap your arms around his neck.

“I really like this whole thing of you not gettin’ your period for nine months. It’s nice to just do it whenever.” He kisses you.

“I was looking up some safe positions we can try too.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.” You wink at him and you both shuffle down to the bedroom.

You were amazed at Harry’s stamina. He was never too tired to fuck you when you asked. Sometimes you wouldn’t even need to ask, he could just tell you wanted it sometimes, like he could smell it on you. He truthfully couldn’t get enough of you, and he was happy that you seemed to be back in the groove of feeling the same way.

He loved going to work with fresh scratch marks or love bites. He’d love when you’d send him a risky text in the middle of the day. The second trimester was treating him very well.

[lihikainanea]

does tiger ever have those days where absolutely nothing is going right and absolutely everything is pissing her off? the kind of day where she lets everything get so pent up that, like, her pen falling onto the floor prompts a breakdown? classes just started up for me and i don’t even have that much work yet, but that’s how i feel.

Oh man, the mood this week is fussy friends.

And I think, selfishly so, that when tiger is having a week where nothing is going right, that’s kind of her default state.

It doesn’t even have to be anything big, you know? I think sometimes we all just get a bit overwhelmed, and something that we usually have no problem handling all of a sudden becomes a huge deal and we just...we just can’t.

Those quiet fussy days are just the worst. Tiger is completely in her own head, and there’s no major reason that provoked it. She’s had a lump in her throat all day, and she just feels like she’s one more mildly shitty instance away from just bursting into tears. She’s frowning, that little raincloud over her head and her brow pinched in concern, she has a headache, she just doesn’t feel well at all and she’s angry and fidgety and on edge but also sad and emotional. There’s just so many feelings, all of them buzzing with intensity in her and she can’t quiet them. She can’t sit still.

And it’s all just snowballing on her, as Bill quietly hovers in the distance keeping an eye on all of it. He’s going to step in, he just needs to finish one or two things so that he can really devote all of his attention to her. And he needs to....let her get a little worse, actually. It sounds weird to say, but Bill needs her to get just a little worse so that when he steps in, she’s more open to it. She’ll let him help. She’s steadfastly working herself into an awful state, and it’s the little things. She’ll forget her phone in the living room, but when she goes to get it then she leaves her coffee mug in the living room and has to go back. She made a to-do list, but she can’t remember where she put it. Her pen runs out of ink in the middle of an important Skype meeting. She can’t find her other sock. Her favourite sweater is in the laundry bin but there’s not enough dirty clothes to actually do laundry.

It’s all very minor, but it’s just all wrong and tiger is getting increasingly more fussy and upset and is just this little black cloud of negativity.

And Bill, bless his heart. He knows to be soft about it, when she’s like this. Usually tiger needs that gentle but firm dominance, something louder than her brain that can shut it up, but nothing harsh enough to have her crawling for her safety closet. Unless she sasses him, unless she’s in full brat mode--when she’s genuinely fussy, Bill needs to be gentle. Firm and dominating, but gentle.

And I’ll bet when that crease in her forehead gets a little deeper, when her lips are permanently pursed in a frown, he’ll clear his throat and step in.

And he won’t even say anything. Not a word. But he’ll square his shoulders, set his jaw, and then he’ll flick her on switch: he’ll snap his fingers.

Tiger’s attention sets on him immediately, and the way her body sags just a little in relief is not lost on him. She watches him with big eyes, fixated on him, waiting for his instructions.

Bill is still silent, but there’s no mistaking the way the air is shifting. When Bill is in charge, tiger knows it. She feels it immediately--he just has that presence about him.

Two fingers wag her over and she rises instantly, makes her way to him. She stops when she’s in front of him and she knows what to do next--but she wants him to tell her.

One long finger, slender and elegant, points to the floor. Tiger sinks slowly to her knees like the good girl she is for him.

He sighs, resting his hands in his pockets. His poor girl, she really works herself into a complete meltdown sometimes--but god, his heart melts when he can step in like this for her. He lets the silence hang heavy for a minute, lets her just rest there on her knees where her mind shuts up a bit, and he just looms over her. He lets her register how big he is, how small she is on the floor like that in front of him, this glorious feeling of submission, of being on her knees in front of him without a single word ever being spoken. All of that--it plays on her mind, and it helps her. Just the very act of being on her knees, of being put gently on her knees and of having a strong, soft but dominating force challenging her is just...it’s bliss. Bill can see her start to relax already. Her eyes close briefly, her breathing is getting much deeper and more steady, and her shoulders are not all bunched up by her ears.

“Eyes up,” he commands--and it’s soft, but it’s firm. It’s an unmistakable order, and her eyes snap to his. And that pleading look she gets, that soft but desperate look that is reserved only for him--it buckles his knees, every time.

And you know, part of him wants to punish her. He wants to punish her for not coming to him and telling him that she needed his help to calm down, but in actuality--when tiger is fussy like this, she can’t come to him for help. Because that is just one more thing she needs to take charge of and handle for herself, which is exactly what spiralled her into this headspace to begin with. Punishing her for that would be completely counter productive. When she’s deep in her own head like this, she relies on Bill to step in without her having to ask. That’s what she needs from him.

But Bill also recognizes that when she’s like this, a light spanking really does help her. It just helps her mind go a little more blank, helps her relax, helps her get back on track. It helps her throw all of her worries at HIM, to let go of them and put them in his hands and his care, so he can handle them.

“That head of yours,” he murmurs, “It’s a mess today, isn’t it?”

She’s stoic, just staring up at him with those big eyes. He sets his jaw sternly, and grabs a firm hold of her chin.

“Answer me,” he reminds her, and she snaps out of it.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she mumbles quietly, “And....yes.”

He rests a thumb on her lips and she exhales a deep sigh, kissing it lightly, and he pushes it inside.

“Are you going to let me fix it, sweet girl?” he asks her, “Let me worry about it?”

She nods, and he uses his other fingers to stroke lightly under her chin.

"Do you want me to make it go away?”

Another enthusiastic nod. He brushes his hand through her hair, but when he goes to retract the one by her mouth she whines. She raises up, biting down on his thumb and grabbing his wrist to keep it there. Bill could just die--he could melt into a puddle right there--but that’s not what she needs from him right now. She needs sternness. Correction. Steadiness.

So she gets a tap on the nose instead, a warning look, and she sinks back down lower and glides her mouth off of his thumb--but she lets out a petulant whine. Bill puts his hands back in his pockets and then he bends--he bends nearly in half--until his face is in front of hers; he glares at her and quirks a challenging brow. It’s stern. It’s dominating. And she’s maintaining his gaze for a second or two, but then he gets what he wants--she backs down. Averts her gaze downwards, focuses on her lap, physically makes herself a little smaller. Bill stands back to his full height. He leaves for a second--she knows better than to whine, now--and when he comes back he drops a notepad and a pencil in front of her.

“Write it out,” he says.

“What?” she asks.

“Write it out,” he repeats, “Every single thing you have to do today, that is stressing you out. Write it for me.”

She goes to rise to her feet but he clicks his tongue at her, a big hand pressing down gently on her shoulder to put her back on her knees. She bites her lip, starts to think--and then the pencil starts to fly. Bill stands there hovering over her and he makes a point not to fidget, to just stand there calm and still, as she lists everything out. When she’s done she hands the notepad to him--and he takes it, going to take a seat on the couch. Tiger doesn’t move--until his fingers snap and he beckons her over. “On your knees for me again sweet girl,” he says, and she kneels between his legs. 

He takes his time reading over the list--there’s about 27 things on it--and he’s not shocked, but none of them are life-altering. The things that work her into a tizzy rarely are. The top three are the most important, and they’re the things that he can't do for her. She has to do them. The rest? The rest are easy. It’s shit like washing her workout clothes, because she wore her last ones this morning and needs clean ones for tomorrow. It’s shit like packing up the leftovers in the fridge and putting them into the freezer so they don’t go bad. It’s shit like dusting the chandelier in her room--which absolutely does not need to be done that exact day and probably hasn’t been done ever, but it’s on the list because she’ll just freak out about anything when this mood starts. She’s quiet as he reads through the list item by item, maybe she sneaks a small kiss to his knee and nuzzles him a bit there.

Bill is always careful to control a lot of his tells in these situations--and he does it for her, so that all she’ll feel and see in him is calmness. His eyebrows don’t shoot up in surprise at the length of the list. They don’t furrow at some of the asinine items on the list. He just calmly reads through it--and when he’s done, he tears the paper after the top three items and hands that small piece back to her.

“That’s yours now,” he says, “That’s what you need to do today.”

“But the rest of--”

“Those are mine,” he interrupts, “All of that is mine now. Mine to do, mine to worry about, mine to complete. Not yours. Understand?”

She looks at him, confused. His eyebrows lift expectantly.

“Am I talking to myself?” he asks as he flicks her nose, and she flinches.

“But....the rest of the things I have to do--”

“You don’t have to do them anymore,” he says, and he holds up his portion of the list, “You’re giving those to me. You’re giving all of the stress of getting those done to me. That’s not yours anymore.”

“There’s a lot on--”

“Tiger, I’m not asking,” he reminds sternly, and she shuts up, “These will all get done by tomorrow morning. But you just worry about what’s on your list, now.”

She nods softly, and he tucks some hair behind her ears. Spreading his knees a bit wider, he sits up straight and pats his thigh.

“Come here sweet girl,” he says softly, “You know better.”

He has to be real soft about this part. Tiger knows what’s coming and she rises slowly, climbs onto the sofa and settles across his lap. This is not a punishment--at least it’s really not a strict one. Bill just wants to get his message across, and he knows she needs to be spanked. She didn’t do anything wrong so he’s not spanking her for punishment, and in all honesty she couldn’t handle anything that hard now anyway. This is just a bit of correction, a bit of grounding, a teeny tiny bit of the pain she likes just to help get her back acting right.

And he tells her that. Winding a loose fist in her hair as he drags her panties down, he’ll tell her this is not a punishment. This is more for her pleasure, to snap her out of it, just set her straight a little bit again. He doesn’t go hard at all, light smacks in comparison to how hard she can take it when she’s being punished, but hard enough that she can feel and that it breaks through this fog she’s been in.

But you know, if he catches her stressing about something over the course of the day--something that is on HIS list--then she is punished. Because that’s against the rules. When she gives him something, she’s not ever supposed to worry about it or take back the stress of trying to get it done. Because that’s his, that’s his responsibility--and he doesn’t ever let her down.

skjhfuhdfufhdugdug GOOD DUDE BILL EH