#along with the fact that they thing therapy is stupid and just a waste of money

[tinyperson00-venting]

I think that this derealization-depersonalization thing wasn't just a one time thing...

I know it's been happening in like short bursts or episodes since around this time last year, and the first time it hapoened it took me about an hour to get out of it. I didn't know what it was up until a few months ago, and really didn't realize how often I keep getting these episodes until I looked back on it

The longest episode of this that has ever happened before was a month or so ago, and it lasted nearly 4 hours before I snapped back into reality

It's been happening more frequently and in longer episodes a lot recently, and even has started to physically hurt me too-

example, I started noticing deep bruises on my knees and until a few days ago I had no fucking Idea where they kept coming from. Then like Monday or something I realized that I was either coming out of or going into an episode, but I caught the fact that I was falling over, but since I've been trained in karate how to fall correctly, my body was just instinctively trying to do that instead of collapsing onto my face. However, since I was in one of those weird af episodes, I ended up falling down and landing directly on my knees, then it clicked in my mind that this must have happened before and was probably the cause of all the bruises on my knees that I have virtually no memory of getting.

even yesterday at my sleepover with Ace, I started going into a bad episode and I was already not feeling great, so I just used the excuse that I was getting tired and wanted to sleep soon even tho I could've easily pulled an all nighter with them if I wanted.

but I've started doing more research on it and apparently if left untreated this thing could morph into like an actual severe disorder that can take a really big toll on me if I don't get help. But guess what, it's me and my amazing parents! So guess who's not gonna be getting help? Me!!

[janetbrown711]

To My Alcoholic Friends

Despite the fact it never, ever ends well, Pigsy, Tang and Sandy spend another Friday night out on the town, drinking and dancing and losing all of their inhibitions before they know it. This can only end well

LMK Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Didn't Want to be Saved

tw for moderate gore, violence, homophobic slurs, hate crimes, anger issues, post traumatic stress, and some very tame horniness before everything goes to hell in a handbasket

Ao3 Link

Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy went out every Friday night, despite it almost ending in disaster every time. Tang would get shitfaced, Pigsy would run his mouth, and Sandy would get into a fight or two just about every other week. Frankly, it was a miracle they were even allowed in bars anymore, but the bar owners always said they'd seen worse, somehow. Pigsy had his doubts about the whole thing, but was glad to be able to go out and away from the pressures of society. After all, heaven knows Tang needs these nights out more than anyone, and someone had to watch Sandy's back to make sure he didn't get himself killed, so Pigsy was always glad to go along and pay the tab.

It was a delicate balance, the three of them, but Pigsy liked it that way. Everything felt right in the world when he was protecting those he cared about.

“UGH, God, if I have to deal with that professor nagging about how I shouldn’t use oxford commas one more time, I'm going to fall into an early grave,” Tang flung the door open to the bar, finding an empty stool and sitting with a huff.

Pigsy laughed. “See, this is why I say college is a waste of time. All that scholar talk's nothing but hogwash to make them all feel superior to guys like us,” he smirked, sitting next to him.

Tang rolled his eyes. “You know my father and mother are both professors, right?”

“Yeah, and they also suck ass, ergo…” Pigsy gestured vaguely, making his partner push him playfully before ordering shots for the group.

Sandy snorted. “That's one way to put it.”

“Parents, who needs ‘em?” Pigsy elbowed Tang as the shots were placed in front of them.

“Ugh, you can say that again,” Tang instantly downed his shot before his face twisted with regret. “Man, I hate tequila. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Because we’re broke as shit,” Pigsy teased.

“And because it’s cheaper than therapy,” Sandy added before slamming his.

“And God knows we can't get your piece of shit ‘father’ outta the paper if we tried,” Pigsy added, finally taking his shot too.

“You're telling me,” Tang grumbled. “And what's worse is I'm in that stupid photo– all day people have been walking up to me and talking about his achievements in space technology and blah blah blah– I'm sick of it! I'm sick of him! He's an asshole! Not someone who's going to unlock the cosmos!”

“Yeah, your pop's a real piece of work,” Pigsy cringed.

“More like a piece of shit. Tossing you out, and for what?” Sandy growled. “He's weak and pathetic, and if I ever see him in public, rest assured I'd teach him a lesson ‘bout respect,” Sandy swore, eyes dark and dangerous.

Tang scratched his neck. “I-I don't know if that's necessary, Sandy, but thanks,” He gave a pitiful smile, while the river demon just grunted.

“Right, well… another round, gentlemen?” Pigsy suggested.

“You know it,” Tang immediately agreed, going back to massaging his forehead. “I can't take another second of thinking about my stupid thesis or my parents, or this song, ugh,” he bemoaned, looking around the bar for a jukebox or whatever the music was coming from.

“Sandy?” Pigsy looked his way.

“Wouldn't be a Friday night without at least three shots of that horse shit,” the river demon agreed, slightly less dark in the eyes, and so another round was ordered.

However, by the time they were ready, Tang had already wandered off to fix his annoyance. It was hardly surprising, but made Pigsy shake his head nonetheless.

“You– uh– good on your own?” Pigsy asked.

Sandy chuckled. “Go find him. I'll be fine waiting until the smooch fest is over.”

“Har-har,” Pigsy rolled his eyes, taking his and Tang’s shots from the bar before beginning his search through the crowded bar.

It took a bit of weaving and bobbing, but eventually Pigsy found Tang standing by the jukebox with his coin purse out.

“Don’t tell me you hate this song that much you’d waste 50 mao– you could buy shitty ramen with that money,” Pigsy gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not allowed to buy shitty ramen anymore, remember?” Tang gave a little smirk, before going right back to the machine.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “You and your spending habits fascinate me.”

“Trust me, this song’s gonna be worth it,” Tang insisted before inserting the five mao and selecting the right number.

The scholar watched with a dumb smile as the little robot arm took out the old CD and swapped it with the new one, eyes lit up like new years. Pigsy couldn’t imagine having that much excitement about some dumb machine, but it was one of the things he liked about Tang; He had a spark Pigsy lost years ago.

“Oo! Okay– okay– it’s starting!” Tang clapped his hands and finally turned to Pigsy, and jumped as he realized he had been holding their shots the entire time. “Sorry about that– I was just so excited– here,” he apologized, taking the drink from Pigsy.

“No worries,” Pigsy couldn’t help but laugh. “Ganbei?”

“Ganbei!” Tang cheered, clinking his shot glass against Pigsy's before they both drank just as the music started playing.

Immediately Pigsy's ears perked up as the familiar synth started to climb, and he started practically doubling over with laughter once the drums started.

“See? I told you you'd love it,” Tang grinned all stupid and dorky, making Pigsy wish he didn't know any better so he could grab his waist and kiss him already.

“This song is so stupid,” Pigsy said instead.

“What? You don't agree? Don't wanna ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’?” Tang batted his eyelashes.

“Tang,” Pigsy's face got all red and hot with pleasure, embarrassment, and a smidge of the alcohol kicking in.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion~ lay all your love on me,” Tang sang along, swaying his hips and throwing his hands in the air like a total idiot.

“You are way too much of a lightweight, you know that?” Pigsy raised a very amused eyebrow.

“And you’re too much of a hardass! C’mon, let’s dance,” His partner didn’t care one bit, moving to the beat with drunken, and irresistibly enticing carelessness.

“C’mon Tang, you know we can’t–”

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck,’” Tang continued to sing, hands moving down his hips in an enticing way. “A little small talk, a smile, and I was stuck~”

Pigsy just rolled his eyes and stepped back, watching his partner with a stupid grin and hot face as he continued trying to serenade him.

“‘I still don’t know what you’ve done with me. A grown-up woman should never fall so easily,” Tang fake swooned, making Pigsy fold with laughter, the desire to join him growing stronger with each stupid flail and look.

“I feel a kind of fear, when I don’t have you near,” Tang batted his eyelashes. “Unsatisfied, I skip my pride, I beg you dear~” Tang extended his hand, and this time, with all inhibitions washed away with alcohol, Pigsy took it.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me~’” Pigsy sang along, and Tang looked so happy Pigsy could kiss him (but instead settled for placing his hands on his hips).

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me~” Tang sang too, his fingers crawling up Pigsy’s arms in a way that made him shiver with delight.

They danced the whole music break together, the music and lights and Tang's general Tang-ness making it harder and harder for the pig demon to keep his hands off of him. It didn't help that the alcohol was certainly kicking in by now, making him feel all giddy and unable to look away from Tang's shaggy hair or how his changpao swayed and clung to parts of his body.

Damn it– Pigsy couldn’t take it anymore, Tang was just too irresistible when he was like this– and with the look Tang was giving him he had to know he was driving Pigsy insane– he needed him– he needed Tang now–

And so, not caring that the last verse wasn't over, Pigsy grabbed Tang’s hand and dragged him out to the back alleyway where he immediately started making out with him, which the scholar didn’t protest in the slightest.

“You’re– like– really fucking hot when you sing, you know that?” Tang said between kisses with a smug little grin.

“And you’re hot when you dance,” Pigsy replied shortly, wanting him to shut up so he could kiss him more.

Tang giggled. “Maybe I should dance for you back at the apartment~”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will~”

“God, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh sir, yes sir~”

“Tang–”

“Pigsy~ Oh-!”

That worked.

“Hey!” A voice called from down the alley.

Pigsy ignored it, gripping Tang's hair and scratches tight under his fingers, completely lost in the enchanting taste of his lover. Besides, he could easily be talking to someone else.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! What the hell you two think you're doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck– okay, slow down Pigsy, maybe he’s just step back and breathe. He's another dipshit in a long line of dipshits. You can deal.

Pigsy muttered under his breath, wiping his lips before he turned to face the bozo ruining his makeout session, sure to stand in front of Tang as he did. “Yeah?”

“This look like a fuckin’ fag house to you two?” The man spat, fingers curled into fists.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Maybe you oughta mind your business. What we’re doin’ ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he glared, and Tang put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do this, Piggy, it’s not worth it,” his partner whispered, but Pigsy brushed it off.

“We don't need more of your kind muckin’ around and taintin’ all the good bars in town,” the man sneered. “Every where I fuckin’ look there's more and more of you peach eaters.”

“Pigsy, let's just go back inside,” Tang urged, squeezing his shoulder.

“Look man, we're not here to cause trouble. Just go inside and–”

“You…” the man suddenly straightened up and pointed right at Tang, who hid closer to Pigsy. “You're the son of that rich space guy on the news, the one who’s gonna ‘take us to Mars’. I didn't know his son's a fuckin’ fairy– oh imagine the scandal,” He laughed, making Pigsy's blood boil.

“You leave him outta this,” He growled.

“What? What is this? Some kinda ‘Sugar Daddy’ situation? You suck his cock and he pays your rent?” The man howled with laughter.

“Watch it, I'm warning you,” Pigsy bared his teeth.

“Or better yet– his father kicked his faggot ass out and you’re the son of a bitch paying that jiàn fucker to have sex with you,” The man smiled and stepped closer. “How much for ‘im, huh? Ten yuan? Twelve? Five for a blowie, seven for a hand job?”

Pigsy heard Tang wince, which made Pigsy angry enough to shove the man. “I said to leave him outta this.”

“Pigsy– wait–”

“Aww, c’mon? You jealous? Or do you just not want word gettin’ out about your little wh–”

Pigsy sucker punched the idiot right in the jaw before he could finish his sentence, but the man was deceptively strong and managed to keep his stance.

“Oh I see how it is,” The man spat out some blood. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Pigsy swiftly went for another punch, but the man managed to dodge, grabbing and twisting Pigsy’s arm. His arm burned with pain, but Pigsy managed to kick the guy in the shin and knee, getting him to let go. When the demon went in for another punch, though, the man dodged and countered with one of his own, which hit him pretty hard.

“Yeah, you like that, you sick fuck?!” The man licked his lips, before he stuck the back of Pigsy's knee hard, bringing it to the ground.

“Pigsy!” Tang cried, getting the attackers attention.

“Oh, I'm sorry lover boy, am I hurting your paycheck?” He asked before trying to kick Pigsy in the ribs, which he mostly succeeded in, though the pig tried to grab his leg to stop it.

“You… leave him outta this!” Pigsy growled, anger burning just bright enough for him to grab and toss the guy to the ground. He gave a hard kick to the ribs for good measure, before running to Tang.

“Tang–” he panted– “Tang– you gotta get out of here– go– I can handle ‘im,” he urged, grabbing his shoulders.

“Wha–? No! I'm not leaving you like this! W-we should go together,” Tang shook his head tearfully, taking Pigsy's hand and pulling.

“Go back inside and find Sandy, it's okay,” The demon stood firm just as he felt the man get up and grab his shirt collar. Pigsy immediately jerked his head back, freeing him from his grasp.

However, he needed a stupid second to recover from the choking sensation, which was just long enough for the man to grab Pigsy's front collar and shove him against the wall, punching him again and again and again– and not just in the face, but in the stomach, in the ribs– everywhere. There was even a loud CRACK at one point that made his lungs feel on fire, but the man just kept going and going–

Until he suddenly stopped, though kept Pigsy pressed against the wall.

“Hey sweetheart, let's make an offer, eh?” The man suddenly looked to Tang who was trembling on the ground and pulling on his scarf, eyes wide with terror. “Let's say I get to take your sweet little queer ass home in exchange for this little piggy to live, eh?”

“S-stop this-! Let him go!” Tang choked out, finally bursting into sobs.

“I will! Just let me have the honor of seein’ you do a little dance or two for me,” the man grinned all smug, spurring up Pigsy's rage once again.

“You leave ‘im outta this, you son of a bitch,” Pigsy spat blood on his attacker, who gripped his throat tighter.

“C'mon, sweet thing, it's either you or the pork,” his assailant reached into his pocket where he had a switchblade– fuck–

Pigsy saw Tang's eyes go wide and briefly meet the chef's own. Immediately Pigsy shook his head– he wasn't worth it– he won't leave you alone– I can still fix this– Go. Home– when out of the blue the man was pulled away from him and Pigsy fell to the ground.

He felt Tang rush to his side instantly, though was alarmed when he realized he heard his attacker screaming– though when he looked up, it wasn't a surprise as to why.

Sandy had grabbed him, bending his arm the wrong way before kicking him to the ground and pinning him down. The man instantly begged him to stop– that he would just forget he ever saw any of them and call it a day, Pigsy knew that look in Sandy's eyes, and the river demon started striking again and again and–

“Pigsy–! Can you hear me?! Are you okay?!” Tang had apparently been trying to talk to the demon, though when he finally met his eyes, it didn't seem to matter as Tang just hugged him anyway.

“I'm so sorry– I'm so sorry– I could've stopped him– I was scared– I'm so sorry, I could've lost you,” Tang hiccuped.

“It's okay, Tang, it's okay, its–”

CRACK

Pigsy and Tang froze at the sound as the night air went still and silent, except for the sound of Sandy grunting and continuing to punch the ma–

The man's skull was cracked open– blood and liquids and chipped pieces of bones flowing and splattering out while Sandy continued– punch after punch after punch it just got worse– blood coating his friend's fist– splashing up to his elbows. The body squelched and cracked in noises so unholy it had the demon praying to the heavens it would stop and he could just forget the look in his friend’s eye– the look of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated rage as he beat the dead man again and again and again. It didn’t matter if he was punching a corpse, Sandy wouldn’t stop (maybe even couldn’t) until his rage– his bloodlust was satisfied.

Pigsy had known Sandy had anger issues, but never anything like this before…

Eventually, Tang sniffled and broke the embrace. “W-well… we should probably get you home– or to a hospital,” he smiled, looking over his shoulder. “Sandy–”

An unholy sound escaped Tang, as he instantly fell back and away from Sandy, grabbing Pigsy's arm as he watched in rigid terror. The sound was enough to make the river demon finally stop and stand, unnaturally still.

Pigsy struggled to make sound, the noise trapped in his throat. He tried to stand, and despite the fact it filled his chest with the intense burning of a thousand suns, he eventually got up.

“Sandy– it's– we can fix this, w-we just gotta get outta here, alright?” He looked around anxiously. The music was still thumping from inside the bar so it was impossible to hear if anyone was nearby, but Pigsy– Pigsy was sure they could make it.

“Y-yeah, we'll just– we just need to get outta here, alright? We'll just toss– toss… it, and then go to the apartment and just--we'll figure it out from there, alright Sands?” He forced a smile at Sandy, who didn't meet his eyes.

“Tang– Tang, let's get you up, okay? It's fine, we're all good, it's– we'll get new clothes, move to a new city, get new names– a new life. It'll be okay, everything is okay,” Pigsy tried helping Tang up, but his partner shriveled away from his touch, actively shaking with the wildest eyes Pigsy had ever seen.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, it’s okay– we’ll just go home and lay low for awhile, it’s okay, please– just stand up and–”

“Pigsy, stop.” Sandy suddenly spoke up, deep voice cracking with emotion Pigsy couldn’t understand.

The pig blinked. “S-Sandy– Sandy, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay–”

“No. It won’t.” He looked at Pigsy, revealing a face and bear battered with blood and bits of Pigsy’s attacker– a man– a person who was now completely annihilated and unrecognizable at the hands of the river demon.

Pigsy shook the thought away– he needed to get Sandy and Tang out of here, and fast. They were currently at the bar on Ba De and Shengli roads– Pigsy’s restaurant wouldn’t be for a couple blocks, but if Tang stopped by a corner store and got some baby wipes–

“Pigsy, you can’t make this better. Stop trying,” Sandy growled, making the chef take a step back directly against the wall of the bar.

“No! This– this can be fixed, he was an asshole anyways, w-we can just– we’re gonna go back to my place– Tang’ll go and buy baby wipes to clean you up a-and we’ll just fucking chill the fuck out for a couple days, alright?! It’ll be fucking fine!” Pigsy demanded, though shrank back when he saw Sandy’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Pigsy, it’s fucking over. Take Tang, and go home,” Sandy ordered.

“No! It’s– it ain’t over until I say it’s over and I don’t say so, s-so–!” Pigsy couldn’t stand looking at his friend, but everywhere else was stained and oozing and making Pigsy’s breathing even worse than before.

“Pigsy, it’s over, goddammit!” Sandy shouted, fists clenched in rage. “That man is dead, I killed him, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“God, fucking– I didn't ask you to do this, Sandy!” Pigsy suddenly shouted, adrenaline pumping fast in his broken chest. “I had it handled! I coulda fixed this fucking problem all on my own but you had to be a fucking hero like you always do–”

“You really think if I hadn't arrived exactly when I did, your sorry ass wouldn't be bleeding out right now?” Sandy spat out a bitter laugh.

“I would've figured it out! But no! You have to go a-and make everything worse for yourself– and of course you won't let me fucking help you either! You're ridiculous!” Pigsy could laugh too, though it made him wince in pain.

“Take a look in a fucking mirror, Pigsy,” Sandy looked away and shook his head. “You need to get Tang and get outta here before you end up ruining not only your life, but Tang’s life too–”

“I didn't ask you to rescue me, alright?! You didn’t have to swoop in. I didn’t want this– I didn’t ask for this!” Pigsy’s voice cracked, and before he knew it tears started to form in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask for you to be such a dipshit you’d let yourself get caught again, but you know by now we don’t all get what we want now, do we?” Sandy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus– this is just like you, you know that?” Pigsy threw his hands up, exasperated. “I go outta my way to try and protect you, and this is all the thanks I get. Nice. Real nice, Sandy,” he spat.

“Pigsy–”

“No… No, you know what?” Pigsy laughed, wiping his face of hot tears. “Let’s just– just shut up and go home already. Once we’re home, we can cool off a-and think straight and then we’ll have a plan for what we’re gonna do and what we’re gonna say. We just gotta get home first, I’m sure my Nana’ll be to help,” Pigsy tried to assert and grab Tang’s arm, but Sandy interfered.

“What, so you’ll drag her down too into this whole fucking nightmare too? Tang and yourself not good enough?” Sandy’s voice rumbled low and dangerous.

“Dammit, Sandy! I’m not letting you throw your life away! Not like this!” Pigsy begged, a sob making a quick escape before being suppressed.

“Pigsy, go before I make you,” Sandy warned, completely unmoved by the onslaught of emotion.

“No! I don’t care! I am getting you outta here a-and we’re gonna go home– and we’re gon–” Pigsy’s rambling was cut off by Sandy’s fist that sent him flying down the alley, another terrible shriek escaping Tang.

Immediate ringing flooded Pigsy’s ears, a fuzziness that had been mild before increasing tenfold now. He could feel Tang on him, grabbing him, shaking him, trying to see if he was okay. When Pigsy opened his eyes though, all he saw was Sandy holding the dead man’s knife and glaring down silently.

After a good, hard look, Sandy whispered, “Leave,” and before Pigsy could accept or refuse, Tang grabbed his arm and forced him to run up and away.

They made it all the way to the opposite block before they stopped, Pigsy's sides stinging and head throbbing too much to go on like that. Once the fuzziness cleared and the ringing in his head stopped, he finally got a good look at Tang and–

Oh. Oh god– he was still shaking like an animal, eyes wide and muttering utter nonsense to himself, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face as he rubbed his arms up and down and up and down.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, you're okay,” Pigsy grabbed his shoulders, successfully getting his partner to look at him and loosen his shoulders a bit.

However, the second he relaxed he began to wretch and quickly stumbled to the nearest trash can where he puked his brains out while sobbing.

“Hey now, it's alright, you're okay Tang, I got you, you're alright,” Pigsy soothed tiredly, rubbing circles into his back while the scholar trembled at the effort.

It took ten minutes, but when he was done, Tang embraced his demonic partner, burying his head into his shoulder and sobbing out apologies and fears and worries and promises at lightning speeds. It made Pigsy feel like he was going to puncture a rib, but let Tang have his words, pressing a soft kiss against his head he didn't care if anyone saw and nuzzling close.

“It's alright, Tang. I got you. You're safe. It'll be okay,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes yet again. He couldn't have chosen a more blatant lie in his life– his best friend killed someone, and was just left facing it all alone– it wasn't right! It wasn't fair! And by God was it infuriating.

Sandy was probably going to be sentenced to death for his crime, meaning the last interaction the two would ever have was him punching Pigsy in his stupid face.

Pigsy clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in Tang's scarf, finally letting out a loud sob.

His best friend was going to die because of him.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #57

It is Valentine's Day in my part of the world! I cannot stress enough that my feelings for you are strictly platonic. But all the same, I'll wish you a happy Valentine's Day. And I hope you'll do your best to remember that your existence is one of the things that puts the necessary strength and courage in my bones so that I can, against all odds, rise up and face another day in this weird, sad, broken, but still beautiful world that I live in. As far as we of my world have been made aware, you have no interest in romantic or sexual relationships, right? So I hope that today, you'll take the time to reflect fondly upon the friendships you shared with Zack, Genesis, and Angeal. I hope that today, you'll reflect upon all the ways you are cared for and needed in both your world and in mine.

Today, my husbands and I went out to get lunch! It's nice that almost no one where we live seems too troubled by the fact that we are a trio. I got a burger that I thought would be good, but it had unexpected barbecue sauce on it (though barbecue-flavored things are very popular where I live, I strongly dislike that flavor for some reason…). I finished it anyway because the chef did his best (it's not his fault that I don't like barbecue sauce!) and I dislike wasting food even more than I dislike barbecue sauce.

But I got some fried green tomatoes that… I…!!! am…!!! …just now realizing!!! many hours after the fact…!!! that I didn't take a picture of for you!!! because fried green tomatoes are one of my favorite things and I scarfed it down before I thought to snap a photo, oh no!!! 😵

I'm very sorry. 😖 But I'll tell you what!!! Next time we go to this place (which will be soon, because it's very close to Physical Therapy, where I have to go once a week anyway because my cartilage is apparently made of freaking noodles, good grief…), I will make sure I take a good picture of the fried green tomatoes! Count on it!!

I did, however, think to take a picture of this place's weekly crème brûlée! It's a new flavor every week! This week, it was mixed berry! And oh my goodness, it was delicious!!! I wish I could have shared some with you!

Physical Therapy came and went, and now I have fancy kinesiology tape applied to my ribs and collarbone, to try to keep the relevant bones in their sockets so that they don't wander around all stupid. Success is mixed, but it's better than nothing. I'll lie down on the floor on the Backpod before bed and hope that helps a little more.

And now, I am in Somerset, Pennsylvania! This is very unusual!! Because I live around 7 hours away by car! But we are here because one of my husbands (we'll call him J) is learning how to fly airplanes, and he wants to make a trip across the country in honor of his brother, who died. I'll give you additional context later. But: in order to make this trip, J needs his own airplane. A small airplane is CRAZY expensive, but he's been working hard and saving up. Recently, he found one that is at a reasonable(ish) price near Somerset. And so here we are, so that J can look it over and make sure it's not a rusted bucket of bolts that'll come undone as soon as we get off the ground!

My other husband (we'll call him M), who typically does not like to go very far from home, is at the house with the cats, holding the fort, so to speak! M is extremely introverted, so I'm sure that having the house to himself for a day or two will be very refreshing for him!

I have gone along with J, in part because I like seeing new places and new things, and also in part because someone has to make sure that J eats proper food and sleeps in an actual bed. I can trust him to drink water nowadays, but still, if left to his own devices, he'll likely sleep in the car and only eat bread, and then get upset and destabilized because he didn't sleep well and hasn't had a balanced meal. In addition, J has a tendency to spiral into anxiety and self-loathing if left by himself for too long. I'm not much different from him in that regard; for both of us, it stems from low self-esteem, but we're working on it!

M does not have either of these troubles; though he has social anxiety, his self-esteem is very much intact, and it's beautiful! I can also trust that M will sleep where it's comfy for him and eat when he's hungry. But M does not like to be away from home for very long, and his legs get very uncomfortable if they've gotta be cramped in the car for a long time. I do not mind being away from home, and I do not mind a long car trip. So I go in order to help keep J balanced, stable, and safe, and M makes sure everything at home is chill.

Like all humans, the three of us all have our weaknesses. But when we work together, we can cover each other's weaknesses with our strengths so that we can do together what would otherwise seem unimaginable as individuals! The three of us complement each other very nicely, and with our powers combined, we keep each other functional and sane! Hahaha! We do all struggle with our respective mental health issues, but our dynamic is healthy and based on mutual care and respect.

So… J and I have been in the car together for the last seven hours, talking about various things and looking at the various sights. It was awesome! But J had to do all the driving; he drives a car with a manual transmission. Between the dyspraxia making it difficult to coordinate the movements for that, and the rib injury making it difficult for me to use my right arm without a lot of pain, learning how to drive with a manual transmission just isn't in the cards for me right now. So when J drives, my role is usually to navigate and to take pictures when I can! I took a bunch, but I'm not sure how good they came out, given that they were taken in a moving vehicle by a dyspraxic weirdo; I suppose I'll let you be the judge, hm?

J and I were still too full from lunch to stop and get anything more substantial than snacks. But guess what! You'll never guess, so I'll tell you!! I found snacks out here that we don't have where I live, up in New York State! Check 'em out:

These are CHEESEBURGER FLAVORED SUNFLOWER SEEDS!!! And also PIZZA FLAVORED SUNFLOWER SEEDS!!! And chocolate cups filled with Jello pudding! And I was SO EXCITED!!! Because they looked novel and awesome!!! And!!! As it turns out!!! ALL THREE OF THESE THINGS TASTED LIKE DISAPPOINTMENT!!! Ahahahaha~!! 🤣

Ah well! Not all of the things we try can work out, right? 😁 It keeps things interesting! And now I never have to wonder about these things again! Because now I know!

Also, I was very much hoping that the cheeseburger flavored sunflower seeds might be a viable replacement for the cheeseburger flavored Doritos that used to exist a long time ago:

They were SO GOOD!!! I have NO IDEA why they stopped making them!!! But now they are nothing but a distant memory, and the sunflower seeds cannot even begin to compare to them. Alas.

On the bright side, the tea-flavored gummies were absolutely delightful! I wish I could share them with you! I wish I could share lots of things with you. This continues to be a non-trivial source of grief for me. Ah well; I don't mind to carry it if it means that at very least I get to know that you exist (in a sense, anyway).

Anyhoot. I am at the place where we're gonna sleep now. J decided to take a picture of me, with my messy hair and weird rainbow socks (I never wear the same sock on each foot; this is on purpose!), as I composed today's letter to you! I'll send it along so that you can know I'm in one piece!

I wonder what your socks look like. Do you have secret rainbow-colored socks under all your black clothing? It would be neat if you do! And it would be neat if you don't, too! 😄

In any case, if I gotta stay in one piece, then you gotta stay in one piece too, got it? Because if you disappear, lots of people (myself included) will never be the same, in the worst possible way. Please stay safe out there. Please remember that you're loved and come back to us. We'll be waiting for you. Or at very least, I will wait for you, as long as it takes you to turn yourself around.

I don't know what tomorrow is going to look like; it will be in an unfamiliar place and full of uncertainty. But one thing that is certain is that I will make the time to write to you. Count on it.

Your friend, Lumine

[fountainpenguin]

What got you into watching / liking / writing fanfics for FOP?

A large part of it I think is the fact that I didn't grow up watching the show, so it was completely new to me to analyze and I had the chance to binge all 9 seasons that were out at the time (And the first couple episodes of Season 10 that had dropped).

Growing up, I glimpsed a few episodes like "The Switch Glitch," "My Big Super Hero Wish," "Mr. Right," and "The Big Scoop" but I didn't remember much of them. I also saw the last few minutes of "Abra-Catastrophe" when I was young (at a pizza place, muted but with subtitles, which is also where I first saw all of the above).

When I was high school aged, I stumbled across a post somewhere that was someone commenting about how wild it is that FOP straight-up just dropped the lore one day that Timmy froze the timestream for 50 years. Someone's response to that post was "WHAT??" and OP wrote a brief explanation about "Timmy's Secret Wish."

Immediately, my mind was captured. I was sunk. Suddenly, this random episodic kids' show that I'd never had an interest in became something that - as far as I knew from that post I'd seen - had been carefully crafted with incredible lore.

About two months after that (?), I left my room one day to find my sister watching "Abra-Catastrophe," which was playing live on TV. It was at the start and I hadn't seen it before, so I decided to watch an episode... not realizing this thing was movie-length. She didn't stay for long, but I didn't turn it off and watched the whole thing.

After that, I spent a while searching for a way to watch the show. I'd watch in between study sessions and would often stay up late to watch "just a couple more episodes" on my phone in bed, which wasn't something I've done before or since. I was already interested in psychology (got a bachelor's degree in it) and was incredibly charmed by this show about a kid who carried the weight of things like trauma, abuse, and neglect on his shoulders.

I just loved the way this children's show casually portrayed these things, such as by dropping in mentions of Timmy going to therapy when he was 5, and it all weaves into this story about how he's a troubled kid and how his fairy godparents care for him. I hold so much love for "School's Out - The Musical" and a lot of that probably has to do with the fact that I was lying in bed crying over it at 3 AM, ha ha.

It took weeks and weeks of watching, but I finally made it to "Timmy's Secret Wish" and I had a blast. I love it... I've heard it's not everyone's favorite for X or Y reason, but to me, "Secret Wish" was THE reason I found a spark in FOP. I binged the entire series knowing full well that "omg, one day Timmy's going to reveal that he freaking FROZE TIME FOR 50 YEARS, WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK, they really DID THAT AND I CAN'T WAIT" and it was extremely cathartic to watch that episode unfold, while I had known all along that someday he'd get called out for what he did.

I still adore that episode so much, I love the stupidity of Foop trying to erase Poof's existence, he wins the court case, and finally Jorgen turns to him and points out that Foop is about to die and he starts freaking out and acting like a scared little kid. I love his stupid face as he tries to bribe the Fairy Council for his life with a one dollar bill.

I love the dark drama of these ancient fae ripping children out of existence. They are children. They did not waste time with good-byes. Foop didn't even have his parents in the room, he just got sucked into a vortex and disintegrated from existence. That's so messed up, I love it. And the Fairy Council took away Cosmo and Wanda's memory of losing their child, but they left freaking Jorgen to deal with that guilt on his own - dealing with the fact that he's partly responsible for getting his best friends' kid wiped from existence - and that's also super messed up.

It's literally always hilarious that FOP lore allows time travel in multiple episodes, to the point that Jorgen even straight-up tells Timmy that he's "free to muck around in the past as long as he doesn't touch March 15th, 1972 again" and I absolutely love the fact that Timmy made this secret wish and carried this massive secret, unable to tell anyone, unable to speak up as the world around him was stuck in a loop, and MAN....... man, man, man I love it so much. It's so good, this already traumatized and panicky kid had to deal with this on his own for 50 years and it's so messed up.

I love FOP because it appeals to the inner child me who never saw this goofy slapstick show growing up, it appeals to the author in me who loves the characters and worldbuilding, and it appeals to the psychology lover in me who really enjoys how Timmy's home life is portrayed and how he changes through the years.

There's just so much that can be said about Timmy and his fairies, like how Cosmo and Wanda are supposed to be treating Timmy as just another job but they keep getting pulled in deeper and deeper to the point that their attachment to him starts interfering with their work, but they don't want to stop loving him... and so much can be said about Timmy and the fact that he made the deliberate choice to stall everyone's aging for 50 years because he didn't want to let go.

Just... idk, the sense of peace and confidence that it must have brought him to know he could wake up day after day and never age, and the MASSIVE guilt-trip that must have dropped on his head when he got dragged to Fairy Court, forced to confess, and he watched everything started falling apart... watched his godbrother get ripped from reality... Like, that must have really messed him up and I am absolutely HERE for it. Last man on earth, more like only person on the planet who's conscious about how much time is passing and he watches everyone around him celebrate the same new year, the same birthday, over and over and over for 50. flipping. years and he tells nobody. Geez.

Where else can I go to see this kind of content? Where else can I go to see "the characters never age and are trapped in a time loop" become actual canon, and furthermore where can I go to see this piece of canon get treated as the absolutely twisted, un-okay decision it was? Nowhere else. I love this show. I love "Secret Wish."

I also love the frozen timestream because it's just messed up on so many levels in such delightful ways. For example, Chloe's parents are absent so often that it's implied she raised herself watching Fair Bears cartoons. She's so oblivious to the outside world that she didn't even know who Catman was, and he's one of the in-universe equivalents for Batman.

When you take this in the context of the frozen timestream, you're forced to face the fact that oh, yeah... This girl totally just spent 50 years raising herself on kids' cartoons, no biggie. It makes her distant relationship with her parents so much darker if they couldn't make time for her for 50 years instead of just 2 or 3.

Also while yeah, I don't totally love Timmy's parents sliding off the deep end in their flanderized, over the top way, I do really like toying with the idea that they got burned out on raising a kid because they were raising him for over 60 years straight without a break when obviously he should have moved out a long time ago if time had kept progressing. Their later personalities are not my favorite, but I can acknowledge the exhaustion they must have felt after running themselves ragged with childcare for an extra 50 years without their consent. They didn't ask for that. It was more than they could handle.

Foop's in the exact same boat with the repeating timestream. He was sentenced to solitary confinement in a maximum security prison from the day he was born. The day he got out of there, he accidentally fell into a "portal of oblivion" and isn't seen again until the first day he goes to school. Like. bruh. Geez. No matter which way you slice it, you've got 50 years you have to sort out for his backstory, so he either spent a huge portion of his childhood in solitary confinement, a huge portion in the void, or both. It's very messed up and I love that for him.

There's so much lore that I love, and so many good episodes I treasure. The Juandissimo arc is definitely something to behold, because this guy went from "I live and breathe Da Rules" to this massive depressive spiral after losing Remy where he literally was unable to hold a job because he just kept sobbing over his ex-godson, and then when Remy gets stranded on a deserted island and kicked aside by his parents, Juandissimo finally snaps and says "Screw the freaking rules, I love my godson and he's mine now, I'm giving his memories back and his parents can't have him." I'm so obsessed. Juandissimo for godfather of the year, doing the right thing for a miserable child no matter what Da Rules say.

I love the implications this has in future episodes too, because Juandissimo and Remy reunited in Season 5, and we have confirmation that they're still together in Season 7 (after Crocker kidnaps Juandissimo from Remy's mansion)... I'm glad that was a long-lasting bond for them.

But also the episode "Jerk of All Trades" gets me reeling because Jorgen made it explicitly clear in "Cosmo Rules" that only a member of the von Strangle bloodline was worthy to be Keeper of Da Rules, which is why he needed Cosmo to fill in while he was sick because Cosmo is a member of that bloodline. Yeah, the Fairy Council HATES Cosmo and when Jorgen got fired in Season 9, they really turned around and said "Juandissimo, you're in charge" which is MIND-BOGGLING because they straight-up went "Yeah, the guy who broke Da Rules is more worthy of being Keeper than Cosmo is" and the sheer POLITICS that would be involved in that backhanded move are insane, sdlfkj.

Love me some good fae politics, they know what they did. And then when they end up firing Juandissimo, they take his HOUSE so he goes crawling back to his ex, only for Cosmo to throw him in the freezer, it's so hilarious, it's so insane, Juandissimo takes the biggest freaking Fs...

Also just while we're talking about how much I love Juandissimo, shout out to him backing the heck away from Wanda when she was under influence of a Cupid arrow and fell in love with him, she tried to kiss him and this man really went "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope" and took off running down the street, love that for him slkdjfs. He might still be in love with his ex but he definitely wanted her old personality back, good on you bro.

I freaking love this show, it's fun and layered and silly and shallow and deep and dumb and incredible and I love flopping into it like a snowdrift and just letting it sink under my skin.

I just love thinking about this show, its psychology, and the effect the frozen timestream had on its characters. I love the joy I get out of digging up weird pieces of extra content like the OG episode scripts on Scribd, or the old games or comics - I can't get enough of H.P. and Sanderson almost running over Vicky with a squad car and then arguing with her about how they really are police officers, skldfjs - I love thinking about Da Rules, making even the obscure ones as canon as possible, and fleshing out the worldbuilding.

I like thinking about life for Fairies who just, y'know, go about their daily business and they have flipping Anti-Fairy counterparts who just. exist. Imagine if that was your life, you had this identical twin who opposes you in every way, and they're locked up behind a magical barrier so you might go your entire life without even meeting yours. Wild.

FOP is a unique flavor for me to write, especially with the canon time manipulation. That level of "10-year-old desperate to not be ripped apart from his foster family so he bends reality and keeps it quiet for 50 years" is a vibe I wouldn't be able to capture in original projects, and I just really enjoy writing 'fics for the series because I can't have this anywhere else <3 It's a goofy fairy show but it's MY goofy fairy show and I adore it for what it is. I love the characters, I love the world, and I freaking love "Timmy's Secret Wish."

[battlevann]

do u guys want to hear about Novo (caine) being a terrible father and U.V, suffering because of it? no? Too bad!

novo being genuinely awful under the cut (he gets better i swear, also this is far from fleshed out so its probably inconsistent)

U.V. is not human, which is a blessing for Novo and a curse for the robot itself.

Novo created the assistant out of longing, all he wanted was an entertainer, a toy, a cheap imitation of a son he had long ago that would serve as a doll and follow directions. He had not anticipated it to gain sentience, to stray from Novo's vision of what was once his son, and is now a blurred memory.

Every time U.V. diverged from his directed path of 'entertain, serve, assist' Novo would dismantle it. He used to be gentle about it, but it got frustrating after a period, leaving him to simply brutalize him out of anger. He would of course blame the fact that he is a demon afflicted with vampirism, two things that aren't supposed to mix, for his violence, along with grief.

He knows that's not true. He is simply an impatient and violent man who knows he has created something he shouldn't have. U.V. sparked that violence, where it gained the name Ultra Violence, Its creator's actions to it always reflected upon it. U.V., upon sentience, would continue to call him father.

circling back to the start of this post, Novo views U.V. being a robot as a blessing because, in his ignorant mind, U.V. can not process real emotion, only emulate it, he can program it out.

he is wrong.

U.V. never stopped feeling, never stopped thinking, but after about the twelfth time of living through his father tearing him open and trying to 'fix' him, he started pretending he couldn't. He doesn't know if Novo knew he maintained all previous memories from being rebuilt and left them there on purpose, or if he simply neglected to remove the files, but he's too afraid to ask.

Novo will tear his faceplate away and reach down to disconnect his neck hydraulics most brutally, and not a single word will pass his lips. There will be no reassurance, no apologies, not even an 'i'm doing this for your own good'. just silence and metal.

The demon isn't stupid, he figures it out eventually. He doesn't lash out, not this time, this iteration is too compliant, it'd be a waste to destroy it.

Novo tries to better himself, shockingly, and it works enough for U.V. to exist without fear of deconstruction around him.

He's forced into therapy by one of the million splinters of the greater entity death, but he just calls this one Death.

Death takes U.V. for a few years, the robot seems to stagnate at a mental age of 14, but it's undetermined. it's best to just keep treating it like a teen. Death can't help but notice U.V's yearning for its creator, its father, despite nearly all of their interactions being negative. they also notice U.V calling them mom, but they choose not to comment on it.

Novo(caine) is not 'fixed' or 'cured' and none of his actions are excused by his apologies, but, U.V. accepts them anyways. Death and Novo share custody, Death having primary custody, keeping the robot close while Novo works out his grief and works on developing healthy coping skills. He doesn't trust Novo with U.V. for a long long time, understandably. Novo works on his emotional regulation, works on his physical habits when it comes to seeking pleasure to drown out the rest of his mind, and eventually, he talks to U.V. about it, a real apology this time, not one to make himself feel better.

He is frustrated when U.V. forgives him so easily. He looks into the blank faceplate of the robot and for the first time, he does not perceive it as an imitation of his son, just... his son. He can not fathom how he could be forgiven, how the person he has brutalized over and over continues to love him.

U.V. isn't stupid, but dear lord he is forgiving, and for once, Novo does not attribute an aspect of his creation to himself. He knows he could never bring himself to program something to love him unconditionally, that's all U.V.

Death never leaves, they fall into a strange and ill-defined relationship with Novo as they continue to parent U.V., they become a far from functional family but they exist as a unit nonetheless. they are not to be separated.

----

ok this is rushed and bad and I left out stuff but u get the point. Also there's a period where Novo overcorrects his previous behavior and becomes (accidentally) demeaningly soft with U.V., but that ends up being their first normal bit of conflict resolution and healthy communication where u.v. tells him to stop and he does (he still struggles not to be, he is terrified of hurting his son and starting at square one)

Also u.v. used to assist him with Novo's self experimentation where he'd try to cure his vampirism but novo doesn't do that anymore on account of it being incredibly damaging to both of their mental states and novo's physical state. He still calls u.v. his assistant though, it likes feeling like it has a designated purpose, robot stuff I guess

he helps death out a lot though, walking with her when she guides souls to the ferrymen and sends them off. that is significantly less traumatizing

[cosmic-kinglet]

So...I have more already.

No Ruin this time, but instead a little post-protocol interaction between Eclipse and Ruin Eclipse. Yeah, I still don't have a shorter name for him to differentiate between him and Ruin. So, prepare to maybe get confused at some point, but definitely prepare to read 'Eclipse' a LOT.

Also, same 15+ warning I gave before, for the same reason.

     "Shoot! Another one fried!" Ruin Eclipse had tried several times to fix this particularly pesky machine. He stood, weary from his hours of trying and failing to get this machine working. Just as he was about to collapse in defeat on his new furniture, he spotted someone climbing the staircase.

     Eclipse emerged from the top of the staircase. He was just returning to his 'room' after his daily report to Moon. The hand pressed against the top of his faceplate made this fact clear enough.

     Ruin Eclipse could tell that Eclipse was not in the best of spirits. But, really, when was he ever? He knew he likely shouldn't bother, but Ruin Eclipse still felt the need to try checking in on him. As Eclipse drew nearer, Ruin Eclipse stepped forward to meet him the middle.

     Eclipse stopped, glaring down at Ruin Eclipse. He groaned. "What do you want?"

     Ruin Eclipse fought against his desire to back away. "I...I just wanted to ch-check on you. I um...I suppose you just reported to Moon?"

     Eclipse pushed past Ruin Eclipse. "Oh, don't waste my time with that crap! The less I think about that waste of scrap, the better!"

     Ruin Eclipse chased after Eclipse. "Fine! Fine! We won't talk about him! I still want to talk. Seeing as we're both here, and I know you cannot harm me, I would like to at least try to get to know you better."

     Eclipse stopped in his tracks. He turned back quickly. "Why?" he began, in a mocking tone, "Still want to try and fix me? Give me therapy? Make me all better?"

     'You make it difficult to want to do anything for you,' Ruin Eclipse thought to himself. "No. I'm afraid I could never provide adequate help for you." He took a few steps closer. "I really just want to spend some time with you. I've heard so many things that you've done, and yet I don't really know anything about you. Besides," he motioned toward the entire area of the West Arcade, "neither one of us has much to do here." His gaze then wandered back to the machine he had spent hours trying to fix. "Aha!" Ruin Eclipse raced over to the machine and then waved Eclipse over to join him.

     Eclipse wasn't sure why, but he felt the smallest inclination to go along with this stupid 'hangout'. He really didn't have much to do at that moment. He rolled his eyes, but he still slunk over to the machine that Ruin Eclipse had moved toward. As he reached Ruin Eclipse's side, he felt a sudden jolt run through his body. He stumbled slightly as he felt it flow through every one of his limbs, and he let out a small grunt of shock. 'What the hell?' he thought. The strangest part was that it didn't feel bad. It didn't feel bad at all. But what was it?

     Ruin Eclipse quickly reached out to stabilize Eclipse. "Eclipse! What happened? Are you alright?"

     Eclipse groaned as he regained his balance. "I'm fine."

     "You're sure? Did you trip?" Ruin Eclipse took a cursory glance the floor around them. "I don't see anything that might have-"

     "I said I'm fine!"

     Ruin Eclipse's head jolted back up to meet Eclipse's gaze, and he raised both hands up to chest level. "Alright. Sorry."

     Eclipse sighed. "So, why did you call me over here?"

     Ruin Eclipse perked up instantly at the reminder, "Oh! Yes!" He gestured toward the machine. "This arcade machine has been giving me trouble for a very long time. No matter how many times I go to that arcade machine dimension and grab parts for it, something always goes wrong!" He looked back up at Eclipse. "Since you showed up at a convenient time, and you're more skilled with machines than I am, I thought maybe you could take a look at it. I'm not asking you to fix it yourself! I just thought maybe you could tell me what I'm doing wrong, and maybe we could have some idle chit-chat in the process?"

     Eclipse sighed. He was already right by the machine. Why not? Without saying a word, he crouched down to peer inside. He felt the jolt again. Another involuntary sound escaped his voice box. What. The. Hell. Was happening?

     "Eclipse? Is something wrong?"

     "No!" Eclipse's response was made intense by a combination of confusion and embarrassment. As much as he knew something was wrong, it almost seemed to settle into him after the immediate pulse, and it felt really good. He tried to push those thoughts away by focusing on the arcade machine. He couldn't immediately spot anything wrong. "I'm not seeing anything right away." He really didn't care, but he still felt a desire to ask. "How long have you been working on this?"

     Ruin Eclipse was slightly surprised to hear Eclipse engage in small talk. "Today? About five hours, I believe. In total, 3 months. I only recently gained access to an arcade machine dimension, and that's given me a lot more to work with than what I had originally."

     A smaller jolt. The feeling went through him again. It urged him to keep the conversation going with a promise to deliver more. "An arcade machine dimension? What; it's just nothing but arcade machines?"

     "As far as I can tell; yes."

     Another jolt. Eclipse had to try and not show that anything was happening. "I...don't think I ever knew of a dimension like that. Although, I never cared much for dimensions other than my own. That much I do remember."

     "Yes, well," Ruin Eclipse's tone softened, "some dimensions are...less than pleasant. I may not have any memory of my dimension after the virus took hold, but I've been told that, when Sun and M-" he stopped himself, remembering that Eclipse didn't want to be reminded of Moon's existence, "when they were sent there in October, it was near its destructive end. It's likely gone at this point."

     Those wonderful feelings began to engulf Eclipse completely. This was good. This talk with Ruin Eclipse was good. It must be. "Right. I guess the whole missing memory thing is something we have in common."

     Ruin Eclipse chuckled, but it held a melancholy feeling. "Yes. I suppose it is." He paused. "You know...I actually had a gap in my memory much more recently. Just over a month ago, I want to say."

     Eclipse was violently snapped out of his bliss. Did Ruin Eclipse know that the virus was still there? That Ruin would still take over at times? How much did he know? Eclipse tried to maintain a calm facade as he replied. "Really? How do you know?"

     "Well," Ruin Eclipse began, "apparently two days after I was rescu-..." He trailed off, not wanting to tarnish the moment. He mimicked a cough. "Anyway! Two days later, I apparently revealed some brilliant plan to...um...deal with you. I found um...you know who...carrying a box of parts the next day, but I didn't even realize that the previous day had happened." Ruin Eclipse's voice began trembling slightly. "I was missing an entire day, and in that time, I suggested...killing you..."

     Any remaining pleasant feelings were now replaced with fury. 'He wanted me dead?! He thought he'd just act all buddy-buddy with me while actively planning to kill me?! I'd rip his voicebox out of his chest if I could!'

     "E-Eclipse?"

     Eclipse had been so distracted by his thoughts that he hadn't noticed his growls. He also didn't notice he had snapped a wire that he'd ended up holding. He simulated a deep breath in. "So...I'm assuming Moon didn't find anything when he checked your systems after that, right?"

     Stunned silence followed for a moment. "That's right. The firewall was still too strong to get past."

     Eclipse huffed. "Figures." He stood slowly. "Well, I couldn't find a clear problem with what you'd done," he ignored the feelings rushing through again as he continued, "and I actually ended up making it more broken."

     Ruin Eclipse took a step closer as he reassured Eclipse. "Oh, no! It's fine! We still had a nice conversation, and that was all I really wanted."

     Eclipse turned to leave, but then he felt metal finger tips press gently against the back of his hand. He snatched his hand away from the unexpected touch and turned back toward Ruin Eclipse, who was visibly startled.

     "Sorry! I just...it seemed like you knew something. About my gap in memory, I mean." He stepped closed, looking up to lock eyes with Eclipse. "Eclipse, if that thing is still inside me, please tell me!"

     "I..." Eclipse stood, uncertain. He felt such a strong desire to tell what he knew, especially after learning that Ruin had planned to kill him. And yet, there seemed to be something stopping him. There was something that wouldn't allow him to reveal Ruin. There was obvious strain in his voice as he replied. "I...I can't. Can't say..."

     "You...can't?" Ruin Eclipse tilted his head slightly. "As in you don't know? Or can you really not tell me?"

     Eclipse shook his head. "Really...really can't. Something...in me...in my systems."

     "Oh! Oh, that's...that's very bad! Very, very, very bad! I know you hate him, but Moon might-"

     Eclipse suddenly lunged forward. "I'm not going to Moon! And I'm not going to that goody-good knockoff either! I'll figure it out on my own!" He stormed off, not wanting to give Ruin Eclipse a single chance to stop him from leaving. He didn't care what happened to him; Eclipse was going to kill Ruin.

[ollieblogs-stuff]

(No. 3)

bitter.

"I miss you, sometimes. When it's late and I'm by myself. I shouldn't have called, but you didn't pick up, so I guess it's fine,” her small voice whispered through the phone. 

She sighed, the exhalation barely audible over the hissing white noise in the background. 

“Sometimes I wish I’d fought for you harder. A lot of times, actually. But I get it, you know? I’ve had to live with myself since the day I was born. If I could escape myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” 

Spencer wished Marlee had fought for them. All they’d needed was clear communication.

“I’m sorry for calling out of the blue like this. I don’t deserve your time, but I impose myself in it anyway. Classic me.” 

Reverting to self-deprecation to hide her true feelings - classic Marlee. Spencer hadn’t heard that phrase before dating Marlee, but they still used it every other day.

“Maybe I knew, subconsciously, that you wouldn’t pick up. Maybe that’s why I finally called… Spencer, I’m - I’m not great.”

Understatement of the century.

“I never imagined it would turn out like this,” she confessed with a trembling voice. “It arrives so suddenly, the bitterness inside you.” 

A pause. A loud rustling blared through the phone speakers as she assumedly readjusted her grip on the device. When she spoke again, her whisper boomed. 

“Well, actually it builds over a long time. Days that turn into weeks, months, and years, until you don’t recognise your inner self over the plague of bitterness residing inside. It builds so gradually that it feels like it happened overnight. It’s unnerving.” 

The sound of cars drifted faintly through the air in between her heavy breaths. 

“Anyway, I snapped at my kids today at work. It was unnecessarily and unfairly biting. When I looked inwards to try and figure out what the fuck stemmed that reaction, I was overwhelmed by the bitterness festering inside me. Not at them! Not at anyone other than myself, really, but it was overwhelming and terrifying.” 

“I fear I no longer exist. I’m scared that the bitterness is all that is left. All I’ll be remembered for. All my stupid existence has equated to. I haven’t felt alive in a long time, but I lived in blissful ignorance until today. No matter how hard I try, I can’t ‘un-know’ the rotten core that resides inside me.” 

“Existing shouldn’t be this difficult, Spencer. And the thing is, objectively, I realise I’ve lived a very privileged life. This fact just makes me feel even more guilty for failing so miserably at life and complaining about it… I’m a waste of oxygen. Of carbon. Of time.” 

It was now that tears fell from Spencer. No matter how many times they listened to the voicemail. Their broken voice whispered along with Marlee’s rising hysteria.

“Sometimes I find myself wishing I don’t wake up in the morning. That my life energy is returned to the universe to someone or something who will actually make something of themselves. Maybe that’s why I called you, knowing you wouldn’t pick up. I can say I tried. I can say my attempt to reach out failed. I’m sorry to leave this burden on you. I love you, you know? Loved, I guess. Alas, the bitterness has overtaken me. I’d be lying if I said I would have regretted leaving in such a selfish way - hurt memories lingering. At least I’ll be remembered.” 

The message cut off there. 

Spencer had let the missed call notification sit unopened at the top of their notification bar for a week until they were alerted of Marlee’s death. They’d scrambled frantically to listen to the message then, hyperventilating breaths increasing rapidly. They’d listened to Marlee’s voice on repeat that first night. 

And the next. 

Mid-grief google searches led to Spencer saving the voice mail, much to the disapproval of others in their life. They’d listened to the message until they could mouth along with the words. They’d even played it in therapy. That had taken a long time to unpack. 

Six years later, Spencer regularly forgot about Marlee’s final message until an innocent song or phrase triggered the painful return of memories. In these moments of weakness, they listened to the message again, at least once. Mouthing along with the words silently as they stared at their wall. 

They tried desperately to ignore the rising feeling bubbling under the surface, demanding their attention. Under the depersonalisation, the procrastination, the anxiety, the depression, the trauma, lurked a vile and vicious bitterness.

~ O.M.A

Random Prompts 18

"I love you." "I know you do. I love you too. But we both know this isn't working."

"I can't stay." "I know." "I'll call you." "I know."

"I miss you, sometimes. When it's late and I'm by myself. I shouldn't have called, but you didn't pick up, so I guess it's fine."

"Did I do the right thing?" "I don't know." "I feel so lost without them, but it wasn't working, and..." "It's okay to cry, if you need to."

"It's been two years and you haven't dated anyone since?" "That's none of your fucking business."

"They're married." "What?" "They got married."

"I... Hey." "Hi."

"I hate them, I hate them so fucking much, I wish I never met them!" "You know you don't mean that." "I wish I did!"

"I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of missing them."

"I loved them, dad/mom. I loved them so much and it wasn't enough."

[passionfruitmango]

Gonna do a vent post, thank you if you choose to read, I respect if you choose to keep scrolling! 💖

Oh my god today is so hard. Even finding the words to describe is embarrassingly hard.

Kinda broke down to my boss this morning. I don't know if I had a full mental break but I got really close. I want to say she heard me but I also have this feeling that until I'm screaming and crying my mental health isn't taken seriously.

I'm tired of consistently starting my week having to finish someone else's job before I can even start mine, so many of the previous shifts assigned job duties have become mine (because obviously your fryer won't heat up if the vents aren't fuckimg turned on, among countless other things) and I have been telling my boss for going on a year now where this coworker needs to be talked to about improvement. This person is the type to improve in one area and drastically reduce in another. Why do they still have a job genuinely? Because my boss is more worried about finding someone to replace them than writing them up for their mistakes. Boss is "scared they'll quit" LIKE FUCKING GOOD. PLEASE. LET THEM GO.

Any time the morning shift coworker does something theyre "supposed to" it's like they find a way to do it wrong enough that it makes more work for me. What has me fucked up is this coworker ASKED ME TO TEACH THEM WHAT I WANT LEFT FOR ME WHEN I COME IN, I TAUGHT THIS COWORKER, AND THEY BLATANTLY DISREGARDED MY TEACHING UPON DOING IT THEMSELF. so why waste my fucking time? Disrespectful as fuck.

I genuinely have gotten past the point of rage to full blown dissociating. It's either that or I'm crying as I'm trying to do my job.

Could I tolerate this all if I at least got some kind of positive reinforcement from someone with a title or even a teammate? Possibly.

Am I aware I deserve better than this job has me feeling? Gods yes but we all know when you live in a small town and have been working somewhere for eons, it's not exactly easy to find another job at the same base pay youre currently at.

Idk. Boss told me they'll take it upon themself to make sure everything is done but that's not the point. That's a band aid fix and I told them that (im also almost certain we had the same discussion 6 months ago and here I am again) If I come in tomorrow and have to deal with the same shit I've been dealing with for the last year? I'm just going home. I have hundreds of hours of sick time, im going to start using them when I'm sick of the shit I'm dealing with. Ffs im not getting a prize or even a happy team of coworkers by burning myself like this. "If I don't do it-who will" headass stupid fucking expression I used to gaslight myself into thinking this is okay

ITS FUCKING NOT OKAY. I'm stressed in my personal life and need change and the fact I've had to spell that shit out to my boss countless times??? Fuck outta here I could take a month off with solid sick time and still have enough left to do it for another month. Suck my ass im done being your bitch, figure out how to fix your store or figure out how to replace an employee that ACTUALLY does their job along with the one that doesnt!!!

I feel great having let that all out via text but im still struggling so fucking much. I just want to go home and sleep. And that's bad. I know I have things to do but I can't muster the energy because I'm using it all to fake normal through my work day. This isn't living. And I want to escape. All my old vices are begging me to come home. How do you tell your loved ones you're struggling when it's like they don't hear the words as they leave your mouth?

Genuinely. I feel like my mental health won't be taken seriously until I break. Why do I have to break first?

Buy a multivitamin, use the therapy light, keep on keeping on because everyone's fight is just as bad as mine. I'm just stuck in the dumps about it.

Do I need a friend? Or will they turn me into their shoulder to cry on when I ask if they'll be mine?

Editing to add other things on my mind that I'm only irritated about when I'm already feeling low:

Its been probably a month now since I paid someone for something I still haven't recieved? Like I understand life gets in the way and external circumstances, but telling me twice that I'll be getting tracking the next day and both times I've not gotten tracking? Atp just ask if I want my money back, honestly willing to cut my losses because the person I paid has gifted me shit for the same amount I'm currently out, I'm just feeling awkward and having trauma triggered because I've already asked what's up twice. And I'm pretty sure my reply from last time is still unopened and unread. :/

On the same topic, different person I paid, commissioned some art and it's also been multiple months with no updates. I reached out to their business page thinking it was something on my end I forgot to get to, yeah they have also not checked their business page. Again, I respect life happens. But a little communication would be DIVINE. Another situation where I will most likely be cutting my losses because I have learned not to spend/give more money than you're willing to lose. But im still irritated about it.

[bakusdumptruck]

Bakusquad Crack Post Pt.2

Hello you beautiful bitches �� hope you had a good day today! I was stuck on what I was going to write and decided to make a side story on what happened with the LoV in the first part! So now i’ll give you high bakusquad ft. The LoV🤩

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Pairing: Aged up Bakusquad x gn!Y/n x LoV 

Warnings: Use of marijuana, swearing, injuries, slight manga spoilers

Summary: Bakusquad gets kidnapped by the Lov, but it turns out better than expected.  

✨QUICK RECAP ✨

You and the Bakusquad were v e r y faded chilling on a hill watching the stars 

A nomu pops out of no where and you all start attacking, but completely miss

The nomu starts chasing you and ends up knocking everyone out 

OKAY NOW LETS GET IT 😈

So... you got kidnapped by the infamous League of Villains

B💥: *waking up* “Fucking shit what hap- oh shit hey crusty 😏 never thought i’d be here again.”

ST(Shiggy)🧴: “Never thought you’d be this easy to catch you little bitch”

B💥: “WHO YOU CALLIN A LITTLE BITCH YOU FLAKEY FU-”

Y/n🥵: *evil/scary ass voice* “Bakugou if you don’t shut the fuck up right now i’ll let his flakey ass disintegrate you. You’re beING TOO FUCKING LOUD 😃🔪”

B💥: “uh... where’d you get that knife from :D”

K💪🏼: “Hey guys, sorry to ruin your moment but shouldn’t we be concerned that we got kidnapped.”

M💅🏽: “I agree... We literally got kidnapped by the people who want to kill us.”

S🕷: “Oh shit, that’s who they are? No wonder they looked so familiar.”

All: 👁👄👁

ST🧴: “Ya’ll are dumber than I expected... anyway we want you guys to join us. You all have powerful quirks, especially you Baku-”

B💥: “YAWWNNNN. No thank you. I already said no.”

ST🧴: “Did you just s a y the word yawn 🙃 *scratching neck* You’re pissing me off. I’ll just kill you then.”

S🕷: “Hold on mr.saltine, before you kill bakubro can we smoke our last joint? This weed was expensive and I AM NOT letting it go to waste. Plus I have even more and it needs to be gone before I die.” 

M💅🏽: “Sero please tell me you didn’t bring your stoner pack.”

S🕷: *pulls out his so called “Seros Super Stoner Pack”*

Shiggy’s starting to regret his life choices.

All of a sudden Dabi pops out of no where

DB🔥: “Is that weed? I smell weed. Where is it.”

 Sero had the most amazing idea, but not for them to escape no, he has had the most amazing idea to make sure he finishes his weed.

S🕷: “...Wanna smoke with us 👀 I already rolled a joint and I can roll at least 4 more. Don’t wanna let it all go to waste 😃”

DB🔥: “Let them out of the cuffs. I need to smoke.”

At this point Shigaraki is over everything and decides to smoke to distract himself from the stupidity.

So, ya know, Sero does his thing and hands yall the other papers to roll up

*30 minutes and 5 joints later...*

DB🔥: “NO BUT LIKE ENDEAVOR IS A FUCKING B I T C H. HE CAN KISS MY BURNT ASS.”

 This smoke session somehow turned into a therapy session. 

DB🔥: “I KNOW HE’S MY DAD BUT HOLY SHIT. FUCKER PUSHED ME INTO FAKING MY OWN FUCKING DEATH AND NOW HERE I AM. IM BURNT, MUSTY, AND STUCK WITH THIS CRUSTY ASS BITCH.”

Y/n🥵: *patting his back* “There there, let it out... uhuh just like that”

DB🔥: “I CAN’T EVEN FUCKING CRY. MY TEAR DUCTS ARE BURNT AND I FEEL DUMB AS FUCK CRYING WITH NO TEARS. I LOOK FUCKING CONSTIPATED.”

ST🧴: “Bitch please, you look constipated all the time.”

DB🔥: “Square the fuck up. 😃 Right now.”

D⚡️: “So... we just gon ignore the fact that he’s Endeavors “dead” son?”

Eventually Dabi lets everything off of his chest and goes off pouting in your arms

To lighten up the mood Sero connects his phone to his speaker and picks whatever song came up first 

It was WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.

Denki was the first one to get up and starts to rap the first verse. He knew it word for word.

Sero joined in after but also started dancing

Mans was MOVING them hips. Them shits were swaying like it was nobody’s business 💅🏽

WAIT SO HEAR ME OUT,  I feel like Bakugou would be a completely different person when he’s high

Yeah he’s still angry and shit but he’d be sooooo fucking funny

 This bitch would get up all of a sudden and be like 

B💥: “YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG FUCKER. THIS IS HOW YOU FUCKING MOVE”

Then he starts aggressively twerking anyway he can 😭

He’s twerking on the wall, on the floor, ON PEOPLE  

You all eventually form a circle around him and start hyping him up

LMAOO ITS LIKE THAT DANCE CIRCLE AT SCHOOL DANCES AND EVERYONE HAS THEIR PHONE OUT

Y/n🥵: “BEST FRIEND SHOW EM YOUR MOVES”

K:💪🏼: “GO, OUUU YUH GET IT I GUESS 💅🏽... OKAY IM NEXT BEST FRIEND. GET THE CAMERA 🤩”

KIRI FUCKING PUSHES HIM OUT 

K💪🏼: “dougie 🤪 hype me up 😤🥵”

He does it REALLY bad, but that’s not gonna stop the hype 

ST🧴: “AHAHAHA WHY HE MOVIN LIKE THAT. MANS STIFF AS FUCK”

M💅🏽: “Like you can do any better than that 😗”

ST🧴: “Baby please, watch this”

Shiggy starts voguing... and he’s really fucking good. 

All: “💀”

DB🔥: “HOLY SHIT THIS IS FUCKING GOLD . YO GUYS GET THE FUCK OUT YOUR ROOMS. Hehe he’s gonna regret doing this. ”

The rest of the LoV members come out and are shocked 

They don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or be disgusted 

TG🔪: “Dabi... is he okay, wait a minute... wHEN DID THEY GET HERE”

SP🐊: “...I’m going back to my room.”

TW👺: “OUU YUH SHIGGY. GET IT BITCH- this is so fucking disgusting.”

Mr.Compress and Kurogiri don’t even bother to see whats happening

Once the most iconic part of the song pops up YOU AND MINA GO OFF.

M💅🏽: “OUT OF THE WAY BITCHES. ITS THE BADDIES TURN.”

Holy fuck can y/n and Mina marry me already. p l e a s e.

Yall hitting every beat, every move, THE ATTITUDE. Yes. A+. 1000/10

Everyone was screaming their asses off and jumping around

After WAP, Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low played

DB🔥: “OHHH SHIT ITS MY TIME WHORES”

Dabi pulls out a guitar and amp out of thin air and plays his fucking heart out.

Bakugou finds drums and plays like theres no tomorrow

Sero finds a bass and joins in 

Y/n🥵: “What the fuck 😃 why is this so good 😃”

The rest of you starts head banging and singing along

K💪🏼: “TAKE A BREATH DONT IT SOUND SO EASY, NEVER HAD A DOUBT NOW IM GOING CRAZY WATCHING FROM THE FLOOR”

M💅🏽: “waYMENT- I THOUGHT HE COULDN’T SING. WHERE DID THAT COME FROM 😳”

Denki adds harmony to the next part

K💪🏼D⚡️: “TAKE A BREATH AND LET THE REST COME EASY, NEVER SETTLE DOWN CAUSE THE CASH FLOW LEAVES ME. ALWAYS, WANTING MORE”

Y/n🥵: “DENKI YOU TOO??? I’m going to pass away. This is too muCH. I’M GOING TO SIMP PLEASE.”

Oop, the best part’s coming up... who’s singing next?👀

DB🔥: “IT WAS NEVER A PHASE MOM. ITS A LIFE STYLE- CAUSE I GOT YOUR PICTURE IM COMING WITH YOU DEAR MARIA COUNT ME IN THERES A STORY AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS BOTTLE AND IM THE PEN.”

That shit was chefs fucking kiss. Dabi has the perfect voice for this song.

At this point you, Mina, and Shiggy were on the floor with tears streaming down your faces.

When yall thought it couldn’t get any better, Bakugou and Sero start harmonizing for the last part 💅🏽

B💥S🕷: MAKE IT COUNt WHEN IM THE ONE WHOS SELLING YOU OUT CAUSE IT FEELS LIKE STEALING HEARTS CALLING YOUR NAME FROM THE CROWD”

Dead. You flat lined. Your limit has been passed and now you’re a hard core simp. 

Mina was so glad she started recording because there definitely won’t be another opportunity.  

Y/n🥵: “Guys... WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. HOW CAN YOU PULL INSTRUMENTS OUT OF YOUR ASSES AND PLAY PERFECTLY. KIRI WHERE THE HELL DID THE VOICE COME FROM.”

The boys were sweating and out of breath. They just did a whole performance in the hide out with zero practice.

They stared at each other at the end for a little bit and excitedly hyped themselves up. 

Dabi spoke about starting a band forgetting about his occupation and why the bakusquad was there in the first place

Honestly this moment was precious. The villains and aspiring hero’s were getting along because of the weed in their system. This just proves how weed can solve all your problems 💅🏽

*knock knock* “Doordash delivery”

ST🧴: “Oh, when did you guys order food?”

S🕷: “We didn’t order food...”

ST🧴: “... FUCKING SHIT NOT AGA-”

The pro hero’s busted in 🤩

DB🔥: “KUROGIRIIII. GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”

And just like the the LoV escaped

M💅🏽: “Ya kno what, I honestly forgot where we were.”

B💥: “Same.”

K💪🏼: “We were having too much fun...”

D⚡️: “Ughhh why’d they come so early 😫 we were boutta start a band 🥺”

S🕷: “Wait... why were we here again??”

Y/n🥵: “Sero...baby, maybe you should lay off the weed for a bit 💀”

Aizawa walked in and shot his scarf out to all of you. He made sure to make them uncomfortably tight and pulled you guys right to him.

A🐱: 👺👹*gremlin noises*👺👹

Lol you guys are fucked. 

HELLOOOOO I hope you guys enjoyed this story of what went on when the squad got kidnapped!! Honestly my account is gonna have ALOT of bakusquad scenarios since I literally love all of them so much. Not a day goes by where I’m not thinking about hanging out with them 😭 Credits to jazzmonster for the gif 😌 once I saw it I knew I had to use it. Anywayy thank you all so much for the support :’-) I didn’t think people would actually like the stuff I write since its all over the place 😫 Hope you have a good rest of your day/night 🖤

[manyfictionsmusings]

Pull Me Like A Ripcord

Summary:

This story takes place immediately after the events of X-Men Apocalypse, where Peter decides against going back to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, despite seeking his father’s attention prior. This fic will just be growing and “mutating” as I write but promising lots of Dad/son angst, hurt/comfort etc.

Chapter 1: AfterEffects

As naïve as it was, Peter had hoped Erik would somehow realize he was his son, now that idea seemed cold and stupid. Why would Erik magically know who he was? He wasn’t Charles, a mind reader, and this wasn’t a fantasy kingdom where the orphan got his father in the end of the story.

Peter pulled his legs up to his chest, or at least he would have if he could have moved his shattered knee, the pain, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the long day sent him easily to tears. He wasn’t used to losing, he wasn’t used to being physically injured. The finale of the Egyptian battle had seen the x-men triumph, but Peter himself had lost…lost another chance to connect with Erik, if only he’d been able to get the better of the Immortal it might have impressed his father enough to take note of him, but instead if it hadn’t been for Raven’s distractions, the Beast’s strength and his own father’s shift in loyalties, he would have been just another victim in the note book of Apocalypse.

Peter drew a shaky breath, trying to force the events to wash over him, normally things didn’t bother him, but the last few months he’d changed, the others here at the school, or what was left of the school…he didn’t want to call them family but that’s what they felt like to him. It scared him and it was too much to hope for, he’d been disappointed to many times to open up like that. Which was why he’d told Beast to take him to a regular hospital in Cairo and he’d make his own way home once he was healed.

Beast had had his reservations about it, leaving the scrawny, pale kid who’d been with them since he’d saved literally everyone at Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters seemed a shitty way to repay him, but he’d finally consented to it, only after Peter had gotten angry and started yelling.

He felt lonely now, in the hospital bed, with an oxygen tube in his nose and his injured leg casted and hoisted by a sling, a thousand miles from anyone he knew, but the pain was reminding him of his failures as one of the x-men and the isolation served to remind him why he didn’t bother with people, especially his father.

They always left. Or were never there to begin with.

He deserved this.

“You don’t deserve any of this, Peter.”

Peter jolted, startled for only a second by the gentle voice, there was only one person it could be, to know what precisely he was thinking. He hurriedly wiped tears off his face before Charles came any closer.

“I told Beast I was fine. I don’t want anyone wasting any more time on me.”

“Beast didn’t tell your secret, but I was worried about you, Peter. You think I was going to just leave Egypt without you? I wouldn’t leave here without any of you.” Charles stepped closer, softly he took his hand and squeezed gently.  “You all mean so much to me. I owe you my life, Peter.”

He removed his hand and crossed his arms. “I didn’t do anything, if…if Erik hadn’t stepped in, we all would have been killed-including you.”

Charles glanced towards the monitors attached to the young man, before his eyes roamed across the physical state of Peter, in contemplation. “It was a group effort; it took all of us.” He finally spoke after a moment of hesitation. “I know you seek his attention and yet you’re afraid of it…Lehnsherr is coming back with us to New York, he’s going to help me rebuild the institution.”

Peter glanced up, his eyes reflecting a youthful hope the professor hadn’t seen for some time. “I thought he left.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s a way to…perhaps earn his attention, little by little anyway. What do you think? Will you return with me?”

Peter grimaced. “I’m not in great shape professor, encase you haven’t noticed. I might swing in when I’m up and around.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I know all your pains, I’m sorry. I put your life in such horrific danger-”

“I came along on the mission of my own free will, no one forced me,” Peter interrupted.

Charles gripped his shoulder suddenly with an assertive intention. “Let me oversee your recovery, Maximoff, please, it’s the least I can do. I won’t leave here until you agree to be transferred to a hospital in New York, preferably close to Salem Center. You don’t have to be bothered by anyone from the school. But knowing you aren’t in Egypt would put my mind at ease.”

Peter sighed, he was feeling it again, the warm sensation that made him relaxed and somehow extremely uncomfortable at the same time. Family was something he would never be able to hold on to. He was going to mess it up, he knew that. He could already feel the threads slipping between pale, desperate, grasping fingers. But in the meantime, Charles cared about him enough to hunt him down in one of many Cairo hospitals, and he’d checked in under an alias. The professor cared enough to come back, or had he never left in the first place? His caring nature was beyond consolation to Peter’s broken, cold body, so comforting in fact he felt tears welling up again!

He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his brow before their return, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

Professor Xavier had kept his word, medically and financially he’d arranged for everything to be taken care of, transporting Peter from Cairo to New York. He’d also arranged for him to have his own private room in Sheeran Hospital—a private hospital in upstate New York, forty-five miles from the current disaster of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

Over the next two weeks physically Peter’s injuries slowly healed but mentally he felt wrecked beyond compare. He started having reoccurring nightmares that he couldn’t run; his ability had been fractured when the monstrosity had snapped his leg like a twig under his boot. In the dream he was trying to run away from someone, his first thought was that it was Apocalypse but a couple nights later he realized it was just a shadowy figure, one he could never outrun. Each time he fell, immobilized as pain shot through his leg, the sound of his own bones crunching reverberated in his ears, just as it had that day.

The nurses had unfortunately taken note of his mood, though Peter hadn’t put much effort into hiding his grim attitude, he’d slipped in a snarky remark about getting some extra drugs for an overdose. The nurse didn’t find his dark humor amusing and Charles suspiciously showed up the very next day.

He didn’t say much at first, just sat near Peter’s bed, looking out the enormous rectangle window that looked west, on a glowing sunset. “You have a good view though,” he finally spoke.

Peter pursed his lips. “I do appreciate your hospitality Professor, but I’m fine, you don’t have to check in on me. Just... really bored here you know, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in one place this long…it’s wearing on me, I feel weird being at this speed.”

Charles turned his chair to face him, hands in his pockets, yet concern on his features. “Must be very uncomfortable to be forced to slow down. How’s physical therapy going?”

Peter avoided the older man’s gaze for some reason and snorted. “I mean it’s slow, I’m not the patience type or a patient for that matter…”

Charles nodded. “But the sooner you’re hobbling around, the sooner I can get you out of here.”

“And take me where?” Maximoff snipped with his signature deep-set frown.

Charles chuckled, “You’d be surprised what several telekinetic mutants can accomplish when it comes to construction. The east wing is already rebuilt, for now we’re using it for sleeping quarters. It’s a little crowded but…”

“…Anything is better than the smell of hospital?” Peter finished, trying to keep his mind in constant motion—moving from thought to thought. He didn’t know how much the professor knew about what he was thinking but Xavier had already noted his inward conception about seeking Erik’s attention in Egypt, so his guess was he was an open book, but Peter’s thoughts could be about as fast as his movement when we wanted them to be. “Well sounds like I need to hit therapy harder, if you’re actually going to get me out of here.”

As much as Peter didn’t intend to be shambling around a cramped wing in the school, Charles’ visit served to kick him in the butt about getting out of Sheeran soon, regardless of where he went afterward. And if he was being honest, he had never planned to go back to the school, though he also wasn’t ready to face his reasoning for not returning there.

No one was going to miss him, well not the one person that mattered, because he couldn’t even see Peter for who he was. A new plan had quickly formulated—get his leg in good enough shape to slip off before Charles came back for him and circumvent the entire situation altogether.

The nightmares continued to plague him, as day after day he added a little weight to the tender broken leg, between tears and a lump that had formed on his lip from how many times he had bit it to deal with the pain, he started making it all the way through the routes the therapist had set up for him. Once he realized he could make it to the end of the routine he had to mentally stop himself from trying out his true speed. He continually checked himself, forced himself to be normal, move slowly. He embraced the pain wholly, promising himself a whole box of Lemonheads when he got out of here.

A week and two days after Charles’ visit, Peter decided he was going. He’d woke up from his worst nightmare by far, clutching his throat, covered in sweat, his heart was beating hard enough his chest ached. His leg was throbbing with shadow pain from Apocalypse breaking it, only in this dream he hadn’t been saved before the giant mutant had slit his throat and tossed him aside like trash. His father hadn’t even noticed or cared.

Peter swallowed painfully, still tracing his fingers across the smooth, blanched flesh of his neck as he slipped out of bed. His x-men costume had been lost somewhere in the shuffle, or maybe the professor had taken it, either way Charles had been kind enough to replace it with his current pajamas and a change of clothing. Not the usual silver tinted clothing but considering he still wasn’t up to his Quicksilver speed, it seemed fitting to pull on the dark blue jeans and faded orange hoodie. Peter sighed in comfort at the velvety worn state of both items as they contacted his skin, though he tried to ignore how billowy the clothes were on him, he’d lost a significant amount of weight since Egypt—which the nurses had been lecturing him over—but what could you expect when there was only hospital food and no snacks to be seen.

Next Peter attempted to calm his silvery hair, by brushing his fingers through it repeatedly, which only seemed to make it worse. Between the wild shock of hair and the dark rimmed eyes, his reflection looked ghostly, coupled with the dim hospital lighting.

Peter exhaled calmly before grabbing the only items that had made it back with him from Egypt, his googles and his earphones, he stuck one of the foreign crutches under each armpit and silently slipped out of Sheeran Hospital…

[the-final-sif]

My head produced a scene, basically what happens after the ending to my blue core Katsuki vs Overhaul post where Dabi captures Katsuki after Katsuki defeated Overhaul. The whole fight/fights were broadcast out, and the heroes get free too late to stop Dabi from taking the heavily weakened Katsuki.

So, the LOV/PLF now have Katsuki. He’s still heavily weakened and injured, but they patch him up as best they can and he’s put on painkillers, which have the added benefit of keeping him hazy so escaping his harder for him. 

Aizawa is losing his fucking mind, as are a lot of class 1-A, but unlike before they have no leads on where Katsuki is, given that the league now has way more resources to keep him hidden.

Or at least, they think they have no leads.

Hawks, a double agent, is working on fixing that. Sort of. It doesn’t take him long to find out where Katsuki is. The league is wary about letting him have any information on the matter, but Hawks is a charmer and convinces them he just likes the kid and wants to be sure he’s okay.

Finally, Hawks gets down to where Katsuki is being kept. He’s meant to stay quiet so Katsuki doesn’t notice him. That was his plan anyways.

His plan did not involve a wide eyed Dabi being in the cell already.

Katsuki is high on painkillers, gaze bleary as he recounts his mother’s anger and blame after the last time he got kidnapped. His words are slurred and voice quiet, sad, weak. Towards the end of his story, he refocuses, red eyes seeming to see Dabi again, for just long enough for him to get out a single sentence.

“Guess you'd understand what that's like, huh Touya?”

And then he’s passed out. Leaving Hawks and Dabi both equally stunned and confused.

Dabi recovers first, pushing his way out of the cell almost in a frenzy, brushing past everyone else to get up to the roof. Desperate for fresh air and to be alone. He is not alone. Hawks is stunned for several seconds longer, but once he regains himself, once all the puzzle pieces fall into place, he’s surging after Dabi, frantic to not lose him. Not again.

When Hawks gets to the roof, Dabi is on the far side of it, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling off the side. The door was silent, Hawks was silent, Dabi is not looking at him. That doesn’t stop Dabi from speaking the moment Hawks pauses in indecision.

"I know you're there."

Throwing on a smile Hawks tries to play it off, stepping forward as if nothing is wrong. As if this doesn’t change everything.

"Hey, uh, sorry, didn't mean to intrude, I just saw you and you looked kinda upset-"

"Don't lie to me, spy. I know who you are. I know you heard him."

Hawks blood freezes, but Dabi's made no move to attack him, so he steps a little closer against his better judgment. He’s not afraid. How could he be?

"... So I'm guessing the kid got it right?"

"... Go away."

"That's a yes then."

Hawks is still a few steps back, and he's got so many mixed emotions but in the end, he's a hero. He does what he does best. Besides, there’s no way he could walk away from this. Not again.

"Listen, I don't know what hap-"

"Fuck off. I'm not doing this. I'm not someone you can save, Hawks. Don't waste your time. Just take the kid and go. I figured out you're a spy, your cover was blown, blah blah, so you didn't have any other choice but to cut your losses and save who you could."

Hawks' eyes soften, hesitation slipping away as he steps forward, hopping up onto the roof's edge to sit next to Dabi. They’re sitting too close together, but Dabi doesn’t try to move away despite his words. Both their gazes look out over the horizon as Hawks tone shifts to something regretful.

"I can't save him."

That gets Dabi to look at him, blue eyes angry and accusing.

"The fuck are you talking about? You could cut those damn chains and be gone before the damn alarm even sounds."

His words, an odd hostile vote of confidence, only serve to make Hawks' expression fall further into soft apologetic sadness.

"You’re right, I could do that, but I can't save him.” He pauses for a moment. “I figured out his location two days ago. I've been lying to the Commission about it since I found out. I’m going to keep lying to them about it."

Now Dabi just looks confused, eyes narrowed and face scrunched up as he tries to figure out Hawks’ game.

"Why the hell would you do that? What's stopping you from just taking his ass back to his shitty high school?"

Hawks' voice turned cold, eyes hallow. He looks more defeated than Dabi had ever seen him, which isn’t saying much. But he also looks more defeated than Touya had ever seen him, and that says a lot more.

"Because if I bring him back, if any hero brings him back, he won't be returning to UA. At all."

Then after a beat, almost as an afterthought, Hawks continued. There’s too casual a tone to his words, as if he’s on the news giving an update on a bad situation while trying not to let his mask break.

"The Commission saw the broadcast. Everyone did. Everyone saw a 16 year old unleash the equivalent of a small nuclear weapon in under 10 seconds. According to one of his classmates, the kid can do it with no real prep and a 12 to 24 hour recovery. No long lasting damage if the attacks are spaced out enough. After the Commission saw that, they gave me new orders."

It takes a moment for Dabi to process that. He's almost gaping at Hawks in horror and revulsion. Hawks doesn’t need to say what his orders are. Both of them already know what the Commission does.

"They can't- I mean I know they'd fucking try it, but UA wouldn't give up one of their best students. Fuck, that homeroom teacher of his wouldn't put up with that shit."

"His parents already signed the forms. Hardly took anything to convince them. UA has no legal ground to stop anything.”

Dabi tries a different approach, still unwilling to believe it.

"It wouldn't work. He's too old, you know how stubborn that damn kid is. I can tell you for a fact we aren’t gonna be able to break him, and they sure as hell won’t either."

"They can. They’ll make it work. One way or another.”

That’s all Hawks has to say, both of them know how true it is.

“The public wouldn’t-”

Hawks barks out a laugh, and it is an ugly, angry sound of resentment.

"They've got it all planned out, No matter what state he's in when he's recovered, the story is he got brainwashed by you lot and required a specialized recovery program along with extensive therapy. That excuses the personality change and sudden cooperation. UA can't do shit about it, even with their PR influence, they let the kid get kidnapped twice and the public is already upset with how they’ve handled him."

Hawks' gaze turns bitter and his voice is near venomous.

"The Commissions’ already got a new name picked out for him and everything. ‘Firecracker’ because they thought it'd ‘create positive associations’ and ‘make him more marketable to children’."

Both of them need a moment after that. Dabi looks away, furious now. Hawks takes a deep breath and gives him a watery grin of helplessness.

"Like I said, I could get the kid out of here, but I can't save him."

Dabi takes a deep breath too. Then another. His anger focuses, turning from unfiltered rage to a targeted fury. He knows what Hawks was saying now. Knows just how this story goes. How it’s already gone. But things are not the same as they were back then, and Dabi is sick of this fucking story.

"Alright. So, the kid can't go back until those fucks are out of the way. We're sitting on the roof of a fucking villain organization that's already trying to bring down the government. I'm one of it's fucking commanders. That’s not a problem. Or at least it won’t be for very long."

For the first time since he got the orders, hope sparks in Hawks' chest, and it's his turn to be wide eyed. If it was anyone else- anyone in the fucking world, there’d be no way. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Dabi. This is Touya. But doubt still taints his voice.

"I- It's not just one person. It's dozens and dozens, and they're all heavily protected.”

"So? We aren't one person either. There's a whole damn army here waiting to go."

Hawks bites his lip, but the hope only grows stronger. He used to have dreams of getting free. Of ending the people who trapped him here. It’d been a long time since he had those dreams. They’d been foolish, he had no where else to go but his pretty gilded cage. Nobody to turn to. No help, no savior. But that wasn’t true, maybe it never really had been. He’d gotten a feeling that someone had been bailing him out when he’d almost slipped up a few times as a double agent. Maybe someone had been.

"Will the kid be safe here in the meantime? This won't happen quickly. Even with all the resources in the world."

Dabi considers it, well and truly, before he nods firmly.

"Yeah, it'll be a pain to actually keep him here. Word going around is that he's a little escape artist. But Tomura's not gonna hurt him, he’s given a standing no harm order and nobody around here’s stupid enough to go against that. I'll keep my eye on him too. Just in case."

Then he pauses, plans taking shape in his head, growing and spinning, forming more completely.

"All we'll need from you is names and faces. We need to know who needs to go."

It's terrifying, it’s the wrong choice, it’s a stupid idea, but Hawks nods in agreement after a few seconds of internal debate. He wouldn't under any other circumstances- but fuck. He can't let them do what they did to him to someone else. He just can't. Hawks wants out of his cage, and he sure as fuck isn’t letting them drag another kid into it.

“I- I can do that. Give me a day to get everything together, I don’t know all the names, but I can get code names if nothing else.”

Dabi nods once more to affirm the plan, and the two of them sit in silence for a few more heartbeats, unsaid word lingering between them. It's Dabi who breaks the silence, an uncharacteristic softness to his voice.

"God, I can't believe you finally find out my name, and what, fucking five minutes later we're already back on our bullshit."

Hawks laughs, but this time it's light and childish like it used to be. Like it should be. He kicks his legs out, stretching out his wings behind him.

"What can I say? There was a reason the Commission hated it when I hung out with you, isn't that right Touya?"

It brings back memories Dabi had been suppressing for months now, pretending that they meant nothing to him, even as he let Hawks into the league, covered for him, erased camera footage and lied to protect him. He can't help but laugh too. His laugh is raspy from years of smoke and burned lungs. Hawks can’t help but take joy in hearing it again.

"I supposed so. You really haven't changed at all Keigo."

It's the first time in nearly 10 years Hawks heard that name, and it makes him grin ear to ear, silly and open and feeling comfortable like he hasn't since the last time he was called that. The last time he was Keigo.

Dabi takes another deep breath in and then twists to hop back onto the main part of the roof, pausing to meet Hawks' eyes with a long lost mischievous grin on his face.

"Come on slowpoke, we've got shit to do."

It’s not the first time he’s been called that. It’s the first time in a long time, but it’s just like every time before.

Just like every time before, Hawks' wings flutter in indignation (Touya was the only one who ever called him that, because he thought it was ever so funny how affronted Keigo got, so much so that no matter how fast he got, Touya refused to let it drop).

“You are the worst.”

Hawks grumbled, rolling his eyes as he hopped to his feet, snagging Dabi's hand to tug him back towards the door. Dabi is laughing at him again, but Hawks can't find it in himself to be actually annoyed.

How could he be? For the first time in too many years, he had his Touya back with him. He was allowed to be Keigo again, even if it was only for a short period. And for once, he had a feeling that things might be okay after all.

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

Re-post from r/MeehanSurvivors Reddit Community. An Enthusiastic Sobriety Counselor Survivor Story.

TW: References to child pornography, conversion therapy, homophobia, masturbation, and sex.

I would love nothing more than to preserve my admiration for the program, if only for the reason that it would be easier to do so, but after years of being deceived, I find it utterly absurd to disregard any contempt on the basis of the misplaced gratitude that it saved my life. While the program undoubtedly contributed to my success in a number of ways, it has nevertheless become clear that I’ve walked away with trauma that, even after all of this time, I fail to wholly understand. What I do know, however, is that my disillusionment with enthusiastic sobriety is heavily rooted in how I was treated, as the people who claimed to love me evidently made it their mission to eradicate who I was and, likewise, transform me into a duller, lesser version of themselves. I will never know who I could’ve been had they honored the parts of myself that needed nurturing, only who I am today and the damage I’ve since been left with.

From the moment I joined the program, I knew exactly what its expectations were. It was made abundantly clear throughout the treatment process, where I was bombarded with endless conversations about what it meant to be a winner - a concept given context far beyond a sober individual working the twelve steps. I was not only told how to behave, but what to believe about every area of my life. It did not matter if those areas were deeply personal, as evidenced by the countless discussions related to sex; in fact, I would not only learn who we could and could not fantasize about while masturbating, but what we could and could not do sexually - as if we could not be trusted to determine for ourselves the actions we take in our own bedrooms. I also found myself on the receiving end of many conversations revolving around whether or not it was acceptable to shave one’s own pubic region, as was a commonly held belief that a shaved pubic region was not only unnecessary, but a product of one’s own vanity that, incidentally, mimics child pornography. Perhaps more disturbing, however, was the ideology surrounding pornography, in general, that we were ordinarily subjected to. We were first told that no self-respecting woman would want to be with a man who’s actively watching porn; then, we were told that it alters a man’s behavior so much that women will be able to recognize whether or not they watch it. The possibility of romance was used as a weapon against us by the counselors, as well as group members, to conform to their principles, rather than allowing us to establish our own and when that didn’t work, personal attacks were their next best option. I remember being asked if I really wanted to be the guy who’s strung out on porn the rest of his life, as if it was some kind of crippling addiction that would keep me from getting anything I ever wanted out of life. Even more importantly, however, it was through these frequent exchanges that I became familiarized with “Pavlov’s Dog Theory,” a scientific study so bastardized by the counselors that it existed solely to explain away the possibility of any non-heterosexual orientation. Being insecure with my own sexuality, it was of course music to my ears to discover that my attraction to the same sex, a perversion as I then recognized it, was the result of watching too much porn and could be easily resolved by the work outlined by the program. For the next few years, I would work endlessly to alter my sexual orientation back to “normal” and apparently did so well enough that I was eventually asked to attend the Meehan Institute of Counselor Training.

When I was in counselor training, most of what we discussed had very little to do with counseling; in fact, the information required to pass the state-mandated test was tossed aside in exchange for the radically inappropriate teachings that came directly from the program itself. Examples of this, of course, include the explanation that non-heterosexual orientations were not only “unnatural” but an expression of one’s perverse desire for instant gratification, usually resulting from either their addiction to porn, as I had already learned in outpatient, or their unresolved childhood trauma. It was also reasoned that an attraction to the same sex was often a natural consequence of being in an abusive relationship with a member of the opposite sex, a belief supported only by the theory that the person, in question, had unlikely resolved their own fear of getting hurt again. Some people were just “pussies” that had decided to seek the “easier, softer way,” an almost comical assumption given that there is nothing “easier” or “softer” about being queer. I would actually be referred to as a “pussy” while sharing to one of the program's many directors that I had sexual thoughts about other men. His solution for me was that since “there is nothing romantic about two men butt fucking each other,” I should spend the time wasted fantasizing about that on where I would like to take a girl on a date. It’s these ways of thinking that we, who’s families spend $5,600 to send us to counselor training, learn for the three months that we’re there. It’s these three months, where we are taught that absurdity is a natural substitute for science, that earn us the right to then counsel others, many of whom are children. I never could've imagined the abuse that would follow, despite the seeds that had been sown throughout the better part of my recovery.

A few weeks after I graduated from counselor training, when I was working the Step One shift, a couple of the program's directors took me away from it to smoke cigars with them. It was there that they talked to me about how I needed to work on developing more masculine qualities, perhaps by engaging in a hobby that was, according to them, “outside of my comfort zone.” Later on, one of my coworkers would lecture me for the way I had reached out to a girl in the group, explaining that she, along with others, might think that I’m gay for agreeing to watch a “chick flick” with her. Another coworker would make fun of me for crying to a song that reminded me of my dead parent, for the reason that it was, according to her, a “gay” thing to do. In one of the monthly purpose meetings, the director made jokes about me being “inside” of another male counselor - something that was received only with laughter. Bob Meehan himself would even tell the training class following my own that while I deserved the upmost respect for taking everyone’s shit, I was probably gay. When I would share how I felt, in reference to these incidents, I was told that my options were either to “change it” or to “own it.” I began to internalize all of this and, due to my own desire to be accepted, I began working even harder to change these qualities that had been deemed unacceptable by those around me. I would later be celebrated in a purpose for denouncing a dramatic television show for the reason that when I watched it, it made me feel like a “faggot;” however, even that wouldn’t satisfy those around me, as my sponsor, who was also my coworker, would suggest that I stop watching Friends, as well, due to the fact that it was the kind of show his wife watched. I would experience similar criticism from yet another coworker who suggested that I only liked “girly shit” for “shock value” and that it was nothing more than my ego attempting to differentiate myself from everyone else. If by now you’re wondering why I even participated in these conversations, all I can say is that it was always in pursuit of becoming a better man and I trusted that the staff had those answers. I couldn't have been more wrong, as I can't help but notice today that what I was subjected to is in direct opposition of the very laws that protect employees from this kind of treatment by their employers; however, in the program, what’s illegal is classified as “spiritual.”

For years, I felt relegated to a subclass of human existence and for what reason? I spent years working on the things that made my life unmanageable primarily because the people around me decided that it was. Furthermore, I was promised that if I stopped watching porn, which I did for years, my brain would rewire itself and I would no longer be attracted to men. As stupid as that sounds now, why wouldn’t I, as an 18 year old, believe what I was hearing from who I only presumed to be trained professionals? I trusted them and really worked hard to take their every suggestion, going as far as becoming a member of Sexaholics Anonymous, despite the fact that I had never even had sex at that point. It was nothing if not incredibly painful to do the same thing over and over again, only to be told to get up and try again by the very people who would describe that as insanity in any other case. I was never once told that what I was doing wasn’t working for me; instead, I was told to try harder. In all of the time I spent in the program, I was never even given the option to try something different until after quitting, when someone told me that my sexual orientation, whatever it may be, was perfectly acceptable and far from a determining factor in my ability to effectively work a program. It took years to hear that, the majority of which were spent somewhere that I definitely should have. That is not only unacceptable but they should be absolutely ashamed of themselves.

Alas, the problem I have with the program is not necessarily that they’ll never apologize to me, but that they lack the self-awareness to even consider it. When I shared my concerns about the program with one of their counselors, he dismissed them with the statement that it’s a perfect program ran by imperfect people and that I should judge them not by their actions, but by their intentions, which coincidentally, contradicts the program’s reliance on a quote from the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous that states exactly the opposite. He also told me that I was angry and resentful, despite the fact that I was neither. When I shared my concerns with another counselor, he dismissed them with the suggestion that perhaps the counseling I received, in regards to my sexual orientation, resulted from how I presented it to the staff. His feedback was not only highly insulting, but a complete bastardization of the facts. Not only was I brutally honest about that area of my life, so much that it's all I spoke of, but I was the client and it was far from my role to ensure that the counselors did their job. I was little more than a child at the time; nevertheless, the implication that my negative experiences were all my fault only served as evidence that any attempt to cooperate with the program, and convince them of the ways in which I was harmed, is futile. Why would I want to, anyway, after years of watching any criticism of the program be rationalized as the delusions of “bailed kids” or “disgruntled ex-staff?” The only answer would be to prevent it from happening again, although to think that outcome is even a possibility appears naïve at best. They’ve made it abundantly clear where they stand, that they’re right, everyone else is wrong, and there’s no reason for them to change anything - lest of course it threatens their credibility, which in that case they only become more insidious in their transgressions.

TLDR: The program not only intrusively dictates the sex lives of their clients, but has proven itself to be particularly unloving toward those who are LGBTQIA+. It is a cultural issue that can not be reduced to a few examples of bad counseling. It is clear that they see no reason whatsoever to change this.

[dappercritter]

Random She-Ra Season 5 Thoughts: THE FINAL RAMBLING

Yep. I finally got all my crazy absurd thoughts about this gay adventure-romance-drama cartoon summarized into one incoherent yet fun to read computer document/article! ...four months after the show itself ended. Oh well, no one’s perfect. Anyways, there are a whole lot more insane observations than ever before, so I had to put it below a link so this thing didn’t back up my blog or any of yours. Hope you enjoy reading through these as much I enjoyed spouting them for no discernible reason other than I felt like it!

-I feel that since is the last season, I ought to talk about an important part of the show that I’ve been putting off: the animation. It’s… okay. It’s definitely smoother than what the original 80’s show and it’s brother series (heheh) looked like, but at the same time it still seems to suffer from similar limitations which causes some distracting moments of stiffness. But other than that, it’s pretty good. It’s no Titmouse or Studio Mir but it looks good and it gets the job done.

         -After all, let’s not forget: “Imperfection is beautiful!”

-Even when things are at their lowest, Adora is a jock with a heart of gold.

-Horde Prime and the Galactic Horde’s aesthetic feels like a mixture of Catholicism, Scientology, Heaven’s Gate, and modern Microsoft, and honestly, that just makes him creepier.

-Speaking of Horde Prime, he didn’t waste any time with destroying Bright Moon. …apparently.

-Furthermore, on the topic of his giant holographic messages, WAS THAT A FREAKING MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE MOVIE REFERENCE?!

-Boy, Glimmer and Catra sure got along quickly! It’s almost like they magically understand each other because they both assumed leadership roles and screwed up big time! …I guess.

         -Either that or this season is going to be a speedrun.

-Wow, the Rebellion sure got used to having a once-thought-dead king as well as a known enemy general/abuser running around their camp awful fast, didn’t they?

-Mara’s got a spaceship, a cyber girlfriend, a magic grandma, a dragon, a tragic backstory, AND a force ghost?! Dang, even in death, the girl’s got it all. No wonder everyone likes her!

-(*me looking at the TV rating at the start of episode*) “Why is language in there? Is there surprise cuss words or something in this season?” (*sees Horde Prime seize control of a clone for the first time*) “HOLY FREAKING SH—oh that’s why.”

-Applause to the crew for making the “dinner with Prime” scene for making a meal between a sparkly princess, a catgirl, and alien cult leader feel even more uncomfortable than it had a right to.

-(*me throughout the season whenever a clone was onscreen*) Is that Hordak? Is that him? Is that him? Is that him right there? Oh it is—oh no wait. … Is that h—

-Extra applause for having Glimmer learn from her grey-area wetwipe phase and refusing to sell out her friends again whilst telling the imperialist cult leader where to stick it.

-I would pay a sizeable portion of my life savings to hear what a Scorpia and Swift Wind duet would sound like.

         -In fact, I’d double it if it was just Scorpia singing.

         -Ah what the heck. I would triple it for an entire She-Ra musical!

-As happy as I am to see to see Entrapta interacting with the other princesses again, I have to say that their big reunion left me with some mixed feelings. Here’s a quick rundown:

         -Entrapta, a grown autistic woman, being led around on a leash by non-neurodivergent teenagers—again: that’s bad.

         -The Princesses confronting Entrapta about joining the Horde: that’s good!

         -The Princesses blaming all their problems with the Horde bots on Entrapta’s actions and her hyper fixations alone: that’s bad.

         -Entrapta explaining herself, admitting that she regrets her mistakes, and getting the Princesses to understand that she thinks and communicates differently, but in spite of that, she really does want help find Glimmer: that’s good!

         -Entrapta never gets to call out the Princesses for how poorly they treated her: that’s bad.

         -Entrapta saves the day and goes to space: that’s good!

         -Scorpia and Entrapta still haven’t interacted even though the former is with the Rebellion in the first place because she went to look for her because she is her best friend: …can I go home now?

-How nice! Michah finally got to shapeshift!

         -And he’s rocking that She-Ra outfit to boot!

-So is Darla a back up of Light Hope or do they just run on the same operating system and have the same voice?

-I could watch an entire season of Adora, Bow, and Entrapta going on space adventure in a rundown ship with their custom-made spacesuits, tbh.

-Is anyone else weirded out that Catra’s younger self looked at her in her flashback(?).

         -Actually what WAS happening there, anyhow?

-(*watching Bow’s spacewalk to save Glimmer*) “Is that a Gravity reference?” asked the man who never saw Gravity.

-Speaking of spacewalks, how did Glimmer survive those precious few seconds in space? Does the teleporter teleport a breathable atmosphere too?

         -Also, Catra, WHY did you think it would be a good idea to teleport Glimmer into space? I know you had a plan and the ship was right there but… Ah, never mind.

-Not that I’m complaining but Glimmer’s apology to the rest of the friend squad for her HORRIBLE plan last season went… surprisingly quickly.

-You know as cool as The Star Siblings are, being a quirky band of space-travelling siblings with cool powers and some trans rep to boot, I only have one small problem with them: weren’t there already Star Sisters on Etheria back in season 1?

         -That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about Masters of the Universe characters to dispute it.

-Entrapta confirmed pan, objectum, AND horny on main. Dang girl, you’re gonna have fun whether you got Hordak back or not…

-“The Velvet Glove” is both a menacing and stupid name for a decadent overlord’s mothership.

         -Wait, it’s from the 80’s canon? Oh. That kind of explains it, actually.

-Goshdangit, I wanted Catra to face punishment for her crimes, but I didn’t think that would involve going to evil alien conversion therapy!

         -Nor did I want her to die! For a second. Actually, since it obviously wasn’t going to last I was… weirdly okay with that part???

-Horde Prime seems awfully okay with Catradora. I mean he’s still super creepy and manipulative about it, but also oddly progressive for an evil brainwashing cult leader.

-(*Adora transforms into a She-Ra through seer will*) First of all, called it. Second of all, WOAH MAMA now that’s a glow up!

-Wrong Hordak did not have to be a thing, and yet, I’m glad that he is.

-Hordak remembers the LUVD crystal and Entrapta… Hordak remembers Entrap—! It’s happening! Oh my gosh, it’s happening! Everybody stay calm!

-Wow, Entrapta didn’t have to be so forgiving of Catra for everything she’s done to her but she did. Only I’m not sure if that was Entrapta taking the high road or the low road.

         -Or which road the crew took for that matter.

-I remember when I thought those “Chipped AUs” floating around here on tumblr were just something the fans came up with and that chipping people was not an actual despicable thing Prime does in canon. I miss those days.

-I know it’s not the same as before or the original design, but True She-Ra’s designs and powers? I think they slappin’.

-Hooray, Adora and Catra are finally making up! And it only took four and half seasons worth of communication failures, toxic villainous behaviour, and physical violence for Catra to snap out of it!

         -…We can go back to Entrapdak now, right?

-Poor Elberon. First they unknowingly adopt a double agent then get invaded by the Horde and now they’re getting brainwashed and chipped by the Galactic Horde. They might be a cute village, but they got some pretty lousy security.

-You know it’s cute that Micah is doing his best to be friends with Frosta and get back in touch with his dad-side, but look I can’t be the only one worried about how the local King is a less proactive leader than the princesses or the known war criminal/abuser, right?

-“The Perils of Peekablue” or as I like to call it, “You Thought ‘Boys Night Out’ Caught You Emotionally Off-guard? Hah! Watch This.”

-You know I didn’t think Scorpfuma would be a thing aside that one moment of flirting near the end of season 4, but they really pushed for it to be a thing! This is… actually pretty great! Perfuma’s not perfect, and I would have appreciated giving them a little more time to bond and form some real chemistry, but at least she reciprocates Scorpia’s sweetness instead of rebuffing it in increasingly aggressive fashion.

-I’m not sure what’s more concerning: that Mermista set a boat on fire, that it’s worded like she had a fling as part of some experimental phase, or that Sea Hawk is turned on by this.

-Peekablue might not be real, (I think?) but he is one dapper dude! Female-to-male redesigns could learn a thing or two from him.

-It involved them getting stung and seizuring, but that was a heck of a way to reintroduce Double Trouble! I swear I got watching them cycle through their transformations in some sort of physical reaction.

         -Or maybe that was just me worrying about their wellbeing…

-Okay, I get the Chips are huge, and actually rather clever threat, but how do these characters get chipped in the first place? I get there are chipped people who spread the chips throught the population but where do they get those from???

         -Do one of those Horde Prime drones just sneak behind someone, slap a chip on their nape then hand them a whole bagfull and say, “Beep boop beep, Horde Prime’s Light, blah blah blah. Alright have fun, kiddo”?

         -Or is it some sort of Alien: Covenant deal where they’re just floating around and Lord help you if one sticks to you?

-HOLY CRAP THEY ACTUALLY GOT SCORPIA TO SING! AND SHE WAS GREAT!

         -Oh shoot. Guess I owe the crew twice my life savings now…

-Entrapdak might be what got me into this show, but it’s Double Trouble that kept me around, so you can imagine how happy I was to see them make their grand reappearance!

-Conversly, you can imagine my disappointment when they just disappeared until the finale.

         -And on that note: HOW DID YOU GUYS LOSE DOUBLE TROUBLE?!

                  -You forgot to cherish them, didn’t you?

-So, Scorpia sacrifices herself just after finding a new girlfriend and gaining some newfound confidence, Mermista and Sea Hawk are split up,and Double Trouble didn’t join the main cast. Why can’t you just have fun like a normal cartoon, show?

-Gosh, I love me some shifting title cards!

-Is it just me or did they sneak in some more Annihilation references on Krytis?

         (-Said the guy who was too chicken to watch the movie and just read about it and watched a few clips online.)

-(*audibly sighs*) FINE. I guess I like Catradora now. Are you happy now, SPOP Crew? ARE YOU?!

-Hooray, Catra’s got a emotional support animal! And they’re a shapeshifting magic alien cat. Those are the best kind!

-Is it weird that I knew that weird glowing stuff on Krytis was just magic all along, or was it just not hidden very well. Anyways, I like Krytis. I like that we got to see a truly alien world with its own form of magic.

-Plus, we got a logical advancement of the magic versus science subtheme with magic being Horde Prime’s weakness! Neato!

-Getting back on the “which is worse?” wagon for a second, I don’t know what feels less right: that Wrong Hordak’s big revelation and his resolution to free himself and his brothers and friends from Horde Prime’s control is played humorously, or that Real Hordak should be the one having this moment.

-That bit with Castaspella and Shadow Weaver where she tells Casta about Etheria being a living thing with inherent magical property, or whatever, while we got a peaceful shot of some boar creatures sleeping was actually kind of nice. It would have been nicer though if it wasn’t part of a power hungry abuser’s obvious scheme. If only there was a kindly old witch lady character who was in touch with nature and knew just what to say when someone was feeling downOH WAIT.

-Furthermore… Why did Shadow Weaver and Castaspella need to have romantic tension?

-Seriously though, where’s our Madame Razz quota this season? Where’s my supportive magic grandma timelord at, yo?

-Yup, they speedran this season.

-I’m actually really disappointed we didn’t see more of an intergalactic new rebellion rising up to fight Horde Prime’s forces across the universe. Especially if it meant we got to see more Star Sibling action!

-Again, I adore Wrong Hordak but I keep wondering what was keeping the crew from just bringing in Original Flavour Hordak. (You know, aside from teasing us Entrapdak fans and trying to distract us with a loveable new character in the meantime.) I mean he could have done the whole infiltrating the clone squads and tricking them bit, too.

         -Heck, he could have done the wink, too!

-I’d gleefully point out Loo-Kee’s cameo this season but apparently, they already made some several seasons ago. That’s what I get for not rewatching the 80’s show and training my eyes first.

-(*sees Erelandians*) Are those freaking Toads and Toadettes?

-So, what’s keeping them from just hitting Spinerella’s chip again? Besides emotional baggage and gale force winds, I mean.

-Perfuma coming out of a cave scared out of her wits, demanding to know who’s there, clinging to her friends as soon as they come back, and balling her eyes out is a big, BIG mood.

-Frosta absolutely decking Catra in the face was nestled somewhere between cathartic and excessive.

         -Netossa spraying her with a bottle of water on the other hand…

-Oh, so Greyskull was the name of a Rebel Squad! I think. Meh, the important thing is we got an explanation and it still sounds cool.

-Leave it to a couple of dads to make a secret message out of a dad joke.

-You know I made fun of Light Hope for being creepy, but I swear that avatar from the Spire is even creepier. I don’t know if it’s her face—those dang blank eyes, man—or just that it she’s less animated than the real thing, but it just felt… off.

-Aww, Noelle made Netossa’s princess weakness illustrations! So cute!

-Forget episodes that deserves Emmys, Keston John deserves one for voicing Hordak, Horde Prime, all the clones, and several minor villains and giving each and every single one a distinct voice! Where my king’s respect, eh?

-Yes, Catra you had a small disagreement with Hordak. …Over sending his girlfriend and your “friend” to DIE IN A LITERAL LIVING HELL.

         -Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.

-Why does Perfuma get pressured to get angry and go wild when Entrapta’s the one who’s had it the worst out of all them? Why can’t my gamer girl go berserk, dammit!?

-Okay, but really, how do these fricking chips work??? Are they parasite devices who store Horde Prime’s Baptizing Dew then slowly pump it into their host’s bodies? Do they have their own nervous systems? Are they technorganic? Also, how and why do we need to make these chips are bigger threat then they need to be?

-Horde Prime showing up on Hordak’s throne in grand Killing Joke style and casually throwing shades at his brother’s overblown attempts to impress him is pretty awesome, but it feels strangely underdeveloped. Hordak’s not there to have his hard work insulted and we never got to see Adora have any similar encounter with Hordak here before, so unless you look at it from the perspective of someone who has been here before in the Horde story like Catra it lacks the dramatic weight it should have had.

-Scorpia resisting the chip to save her new friends was pretty great, though.

-I swear, when they got to the scene where Adora and the others figured out that Shadow Weaver was grooming her so she could use her to get to the Heart of Etheria, I was mouthing “You B***H” through the whole thing.

-They really brought back Etherian deep magic just so they had something to make Micah threatening. …okay.

-Okay, the rest of “Failsafe” messed me up, so here’s a rundown on all the other messy thoughts I had while the show ripped my heart and ground it to dog food:

         -Entrapta and Hordak reuniting: Yay!

         -Swift Wind yanking her away before she can get through to him: Boo.

         -Catra encouraging Adora to try and take care of herself for a change: Yay!

         -Adora hurts Catra and she runs away: Boo.

         -Adora finally calling out Shadow Weaver on what an utterly horrible person she is: Yay!

         -Adora resolves to risk sacrificing herself to save the world: Bo—okay, seriously, was all this suffering really necessary, show?

-I know I mentioned in my previous She-Ra random thoughts that I supported Glimmadora, but I am okay with Catradora and Glimbow ending up canon. The only problem I have is how rushed they feel—moreso with Glimbow. With Catradora, the crew had an entire season to make it work again and they took it. Glimbow it feels like they were down to the last few episodes and went, “Oh right, we were gonna do something with these two!” then did their darndest to fit in some chemistry in between all the other stuff going down.

-As ominous as it was, the music where Horde Prime starts hacking Etheria honestly SLAPS.

-Okay, I know everyone is magic or something, but I am legit surprised getting electrocuted in water didn’t kill the heroes right then and there.

-Sea Hawk tries to flirt with his girl even as she’s trying to kill him. Truly, he is a man of taste.

-What do you know, Shadow Weaver can only do good when she’s (canonically!) punch drunk.

-You know a whole lot of this could have been avoided if Holo-Mara was Adora’s mentor instead of Light Hope.

-When I think about it, it was actually really clever to make Horde Prime the final villain for Adora to face: a domineering decadent man who’s been in power forever against a humble emotionally vulnerable compassionate young woman.

         -Not to mention the divide between cult-like oppression and progressive freedom. Or something.

-Holy crap, did the First Ones get a great freaking a Great Old One for a guard dog?!

-So, you guys seriously didn’t bring Angella back to reunite with her family OR mention her all season after the impact her death had on everyone all last season until Glimmer needs a power-up at the last possible minute and then you never bring her up again. That is absolutely a dick move in bird culture.

-Entrapta’s hacker sticker gives me life. Gamer girl gremlin princess forever!

-On the one hand, I’m disappointed that Adora and Catra don’t get to have an awesome couple battle against the security monster and win. On the other hand, Shadow Weaver is finally dead. YAY!

         -With apologies to the writers and especially Lorraine Toussaint. She did splendidly bringing this character to life and even if I hated Shadow Weaver, I adored the effort she put into making her one of the most emotionally complex villains I’ve ever seen.

-Words cannot, will not, and will never describe the pure joy that I experienced when I first saw Hordak’s big scene: standing up to and disowning his tyrant brother, saving Entrapta, declaring his love to her (albeit in a nicely lowkey fashion), and then throwing Horde Prime to his apparent doom Disney style with Entrapta cheering him with sheer glee. GOSH, it was everything I could have hoped for from this season!

         -Now if only they kept the deleted scene where they got a moment to themselves before Prime body-jacked him again like the creepy sonuvabich he is.

-Horde Prime just wouldn’t be a religious villain if he didn’t tell everyone to burn.

         -Bonus points for actually trying to burn the frigging planet.

-Aside from the idea of Adora switching to wearing a She-Ra themed dress everywhere in the future, the future vision was really quite sweet, and seeing Prime step in to ruin it made it all the more impactful.

-Can I just say that it’s absolutely wonderful that the show, for all it’s flaws, said  “**** senseless heroic sacrifices”?

-BREAKING: Lesbian cat finally makes up with her jock ex, has a canon kiss so pure it saves the world!

         -In other news, Catradora fans are still spoiled rotten.

-Wow, look at all those character comebacks they skipped through! Look, there’s the chefs from Dryl, Double Trouble, Huntara, the Horde Trio, Imp, Madame Razz—are you kidding me?!

-Grumbling aside, I actually find the idea of the Horde Trio and Imp getting involved in a G-rated science-fantasy version of the first Hangover movie quite amusing.

-Oh dang, they pulled a Castle in the Sky with the Velvet Glove!

-As nice as it was to see Aodra save Hordak from Horde Prime and destroy the latter through exorcism via sheer compassion, I’m rather disappointed we never got to see She-Ra go full Metal Gear Solid Rising: Revengence on any creepy old cult leaders.

         -Yeah, it would have gone against the “love conquers all” set up, but love takes on many forms, does it not? So, why can it not manifest as cleaving your mortal enemies with extreme prejudice to save your loved ones?

-Furthermore, in addition to Holo-Mara being a better mentor, Hordak raising Adora instead Shadow Weaver could have prevented a lot of similar problems. Maybe. Possibly.

         -Eh whatever, he has a lifetime’s worth of fanfiction to make up for it.

-ENTRAPDAK IS CANON, ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD.

-And so is Catradora and Glimbow! That’s nice, too.

-Aww, how sweet of them to skip through Catra and Scorpia, and Glimmer and Micah’s big reunions! It’s not like we’ve been waiting forever for this stuff or anything. HahahahAHAHAHDHAHAHFHAFHKSADJHFKAJHDfine.

-And so it all ends with everyone either friends, in love, or both, as heroes decide to make up for it all with a grandiose sequel promising more exciting space adventures we probably won’t see! HOORAY!

-All snarky ranting aside, I actually really enjoyed the finale. It was exciting, heartwarming, and above all it ended on happy, hopeful note without leaving too many frustrating questions unanswered. (*glares with utmost contempt at Voltron and Star vs. The Forces of Evil*)

-You know, this wasn’t bad for a final season, but I think this might have worked better as two seasons. Not in Netflix’s cheap “split a regular 13-episode season in two 6-7 episode long seasons” strategy, but I mean two full seasons with their own storylines leading up to the grand finale:

         -First, one that starts out with Horde Prime’s arrival the downfall of Etheria, focuses on the space adventures, ends with their return to Etheria and gives the characters time to recuperate from season 4.

         -Then, we have one final season that focuses on the Best Friend Squad’s Return to Etheria, Horde Prime’s plan, gives everyone more time to properly reconcile before ¾ of the entire cast gets chipped, sets up a new Rebellion made up of Princess Alliance and former Etherian Horde members, maybe even set up a proper Hordak redemption arc or something, and then our big happy ending.

-On a mostly unrelated note, I also feel that the whole show could have turned out even better if it had been either a dedicated science-fantasy war drama with some levity (like the good Star Wars shows or Avatar: The Last Airbender) or a lighthearted yet empowering slice-of-life action-adventure romcom (i.e. basically a well-made remake of the original show in the style of Adventure Time and Parks and Rec or something).

-My final random thought for this whole thing: we really could have used a triumphant end credits song or something. Aside from obviously recommending Fabulous Secret Powers, I would have also recommended the original 4 Non Blondes “What’s Going On,” a reprise of “Warriors,” Gorillaz’s “We Got the Power,” or (my favourite) Talking Head’s “(Nothing But) Flowers” since the ending scenes remind me of it.

Thanks again to the crew for giving me something to live for and/or complain about!

Now, let’s hope the He-Man reboots do as well...

[anika-ann]

Tall as the Skyline, Roots Like a Tree (S.R.)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     

Word Count: 11,150 (oh, oh no)

Summary: You are one step from officially becoming a SHILED agent. Involved in a secret relationship with Captain America, you feel like the world might lie at your fingertips. Until it doesn’t because of your stupid inexplicable phobia.

Steve’s friend might be able to help… except it would take an open mind and a huge leap of faith on your part.

You wonder… how much can one endure to get where they want?

A/N: for a challenge hosted by @tilltheendwilliwrite​​. Congratulation to your rightfully earned milestone! Your writings are a work of wonder and you deserve evry single one of those followers *✧･

Prompt: Phobias - What if your phobias are based off how you died in a past life.

Warnings: !! Some might be extremely upsetting I’m afraid:  - elements of horror, talk about phobias (dogs and needles), character death (past lives), use of lethal injection, mention of murder, canon-typical violence (brief), swearing… French and fluff 

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ 

For the briefest moment, you allowed yourself to smirk as the door to the lab slid open, shuffling along the bodies two unconscious guards.

You knew cockiness was an enemy, but you the security system yielded after less than a minute of work. Was that supposed to be… hard? You guessed that taking the class that called anything but Hacking 101 bore fruit after all.

Also, you could smirk all you wanted – that obnoxious facemask you wore as a security measure might be obnoxious, narrowing your field of vision, but hiding your expression was a sweet perk of it.

Your smile slipped upon seeing the lab, upon being reminded of how much you hated the environment. The three scientists and two more guards staring at you did not help.

The alarm started blaring instantly.

Before the guards near the door could draw their guns, you sprang forward, kicking one of them to his knee and elbowed his face, causing him to fall to one knee with an unmistakable ‘crack’ in the joint. You twisted his gun from his right hand, using him as a shield as the other one fired his weapon.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the scientists gather by the wall, opening a small vault and placing a container that was doubtlessly that container there. Shit.

The first guard fell to the ground and you quickly aimed at the other one’s arm. He yelled and grabbed at his wound as crimson painted his already dark sleeve black, but didn’t release the weapon. Grimacing, you fired again, this time with more success. The gun clanked as it fell on the ground and you strode towards your opponent rapidly, knocking him out with a well-aimed punch to his temple before he could use the knife he pulled out from his sheath.

You turned on your heels, only to see the scientists had hogged improvised weapons; two of them armed themselves with those round flasks and started throwing them at you. You quickly ducked, swearing out loud when one of them grazed your arm. Luckily, you could barely feel the sting of the shards, barely sparing the injury a glance, crouching behind a counter instead.

Firing without much aim, you managed to hit something behind them, sending them to the ground as they tried to avoid the spray of sparks flying from the machine.

The third one, the only one with grey hair, was the one who nearly stopped your heart when he grabbed a dark bottle of something. You gulped in fright; you definitely didn’t want to be hit by that, whatever was the content.

Focus. Breathe, you chastised yourself mentally, narrowing your eyes at the last man standing, the senior scientist readjusting his hold. The moment was enough for you.

Two shots rang in the lab, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a scream. You peeked from your hideout, seeing crimson staining the snow-white lab coat, while the man tried his best to discard his stained shoes – or what was left of them – without touching the chemical with his bare hands.

Checking on your surroundings, making sure everyone else was still down, you paced to the scientist, grabbing a metal platter on your way, unceremoniously striking him in his head. He dropped to the ground and your path clear at last.

The vault made you sweat a bit, approximately two minutes passing before you managed to crack it. But here you were, pulling your gloves on – and you carefully extracted the container with three vial.

This time, you allowed yourself to smile fully.

“Bingo,” you mumbled to yourself, satisfaction rumbling deep in your chest.

The Sigma virus. Friggin’ jackpot.

Wasting no more time with revelling in your victory, you headed to the exit, container in one hand, gun in the other, just to make sure.

The sudden vice-strong grip on your ankle took you by surprise.

You weren’t proud of it, but you nearly yelped at the sensation, instinctively jerking your foot to free yourself as your gaze shot towards the attacker.

All of sudden, the world spun, your heartbeat skyrocketing, loud pounding echoing in your ears.

It was only one of the younger men in a lab coat, easily to be ridded off, unlike a guard, except-- except-

You felt your knees wobble, your chest constricting so tightly that when you tried to breathe in, it hurt. The gun slipped from your hand as did the container at the sudden wave of faintness.

No, no, no, please no--

The tip of the long needle rested against your calf, thick enough to pierce through your tactical suit, the liquid in it crystal clear, glimmering in the fluorescent light-

Your stomach made a quick somersault, your ribcage aching, darkness swimming in front of you-- it embraced you almost peacefully, as did the feeling of a free fall and then… then you felt nothing.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

A dull ache pondered at the back of your head, rush of blood in your temples, as you slowly realized you were lying on something soft – relatively soft –, dim lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. With each second passing, memories of what happened poked at your brain, causing you to groan.

Fucking shit, of course it would happen to you.

You passed out during your final exam – one that would officially saw you as a SHIELD agent. You royally fucked up.

Your heart raced, the headache only growing more intense with your anger rising. You were raging, in fact, the feeling bitter on your tongue, heavy in your stomach.

You had just ruined your shot at your dream job, because of a stupid fear of needles. There you were; a badass wannabe SHIELD agent, afraid of a harmless pointy object.

Just recalling the ugly thick thing brought nausea that told you the item was as far from harmless as you could imagine, but that wasn’t the point. The content of the syringe could be pure water for all you cared; you still fell apart like a house of cards under the slightest breeze, only seeing the needle too close to your body – and it meant that you failed.

Fuck needles. Fuck you.

“Hey, you with me?” a male voice asked, so gentle and careful it made you want to cry, startling you all the same, because him being here – wherever exactly ‘here’ was – was the last thing you expected.

“What are ya’ doin’ here?” you asked, throat unpleasantly dry, your tongue feeling like sandpaper, sticking to the roof of your mouth. In response, warm fingers closed around your bicep, shortly squeezing.

Your eyes snapped open, surprised by the touch; every minute ever since you had come clear about your mutual attraction, about your feelings for each other, you had tried to keep physical contact – or any contact at all – on minimum, at least in places where it could bring unwanted attention.

After all, Captain America had no business dating a to-be SHIELD agent. Better yet, the said to-be agent should not as much as try pursuing a relationship with Captain America.

But here you were, four months in, four months since your first date that left you with no doubt that you were quickly falling for the man behind the shield, exactly one person besides you and Steve knowing about it for they had eyes of the sharpest female spy known to the world.

And now Steve was here, by your bedside, touching you, no less-- well, not anymore. However, his concerned blue eyes fixed on your face still spoke volumes. One corner of his lips rose in a lopsided smile.

“Well, I’m checking on one of my best recruits. I was worried a bit,” Steve explained as if it was clear as day. Then, he sobered up a little. “No one is in the room. What they can’t see doesn’t hurt them… or us.”

You smiled at him weakly, shifting in the bed, testing the strength in your arms so you could sit up. It was embarrassing really – hell, it was maddening.

You couldn’t believe you had done that. You had passed fucking out. Because of your stupid phobia of needles. It had been in you since you could remember, ever-present. Most of the time, you could deal with it somehow, distracting yourself, making a deal with your hospital attendant to use peroral medication… or to simply made sure you were out of consciousness when needles couldn’t be avoided.

You weren’t a complete idiot; you knew it posed a problem, especially considering your career choices, but nothing seemed to work, any kind of therapy, not even exposure therapy. And you weren’t really into hypnosis, the idea of someone having power over your mind truly terrifying.

What drove you even crazier though was that you couldn’t recall why you should freak out at the sight of a needle alone in the first place. Your fear was absolutely laughable and you hated it from the bottom of your heart. However, that didn’t change the fact it was there, seeped deeply into your bones, just a glance at a damn needle causing your heart to hammer in your chest.

And seeing that-- that thing near you, the man’s finger ready to pump the whatever in you-

You trembled at the intense shiver that ran down your spine, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Steve’s voice snapped you from your trance, salvaging you from the spiral of self-depreciation and unpleasant memories.

“How do you feel?”

You almost wanted to scoff at the routine question, no matter how valid one it was.

“Tired. My ego is hurt. I’m mad at myself. Kinda glad you’re here,” you listed, answering honestly, unable to resist the pinch of sarcasm.

Steve smirked, yet his gaze remained kind.

“I’m kinda glad too… and hey, don’t be mad. You can’t help it. You did your best and from what I saw, you were absolutely amazing. I’m sure Cortez will still clear you for service.”

His optimism and support would be sweet hadn’t you been a realist.

“Steve, I literally passed out in the middle of a mission to retrieve vials with a dangerous virus. I’m pretty sure I dropped the container, actually,” you deadpanned, earning a grin. What was so funny?

“It didn’t break.” Okay, now you understood. But still. “You were about ten seconds from the end of the simulation. You might not pass with flying colours, but I have a firm belief that you will.”

You pondered for a second, staring at Steve’s expression; he was genuine in his effort to cheer you up, but also appeared perfectly serious on a professional level. He meant what he said. Against your will, a flicker of hope fluttered in your chest – and you could tell he noticed the change, the blue of his eyes diluted by a green twinkle of joy.

“If you say so…” you mumbled, now fully seated up, scooting so your back was resting against the headboard just in case your body betrayed you again.

“I say so. How about staying at my place tonight?”

You hesitated for a moment, weighting up your options; no matter the ray of hope he had provided, you had no doubt that your failure would come back to haunt you. Which meant that you would sulk at home, stuck with wanting to punch things, but being too exhausted to do so, because hello, passed out, and with crying yourself to sleep, possibly with a tub of ice-cream. Or you could do all that in Steve’s arms, which sounded more pleasant for sure, except it meant he might see a side of you he wasn’t ready for – and you weren’t ready to show him.

Steve’s eyes never left your face, hypnotizing, patiently waiting for you to think it through; but you did notice the minute fall of the corners of his lips when you hesitated a minute too long.

Oh no, you don’t.

“Sounds great,” you blurted out, a tired smile finding its way on your face as well, quickly turning brighter when Steve’s face lit up again. How could you even think about saying no? “Where can I find a doctor to tell them I’m completely fine and ready to sign discharge papers?”

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

An hour later, you were meeting Steve in the underground car park, relieved to find it empty except for your boyfriend. You slid to the front seat, softly returning his barely audible ‘hey’. The ride was silent, something heavy hanging in the air, something neither of you wanted to address; Steve was clutching the wheel tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white, but you didn’t find the courage to comment on it, wondering what that was about instead.

He had told you to meet him in the garage in an hour, saying that he only had one errand to run. It didn’t take you long to figure out what kind of an errant, however the idea of calling him out on his actions caused your stomach to twist unpleasantly.

You hadn’t talked until you were snuggled on the couch, mindlessly watching the TV – what was on again? – a steaming mug of tea in front of each of you.

“He’s not letting me pass, is he?”

Steve’s fingers stopped their periodic motion on the skin of your arm, his body tensing, his heart speeding up under your cheek just enough for you to notice as you had nestled your head on his chest.

The absence of immediate verbal answer was an answer on its own, his body language all you needed to catch on.

The pit in your stomach was now gaping open, a gnawing pain; a voice in your head whispered your dreams were in shambles. Tears burned in your eyes, but you kept them at bay.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t deserve to pass anyway.”

Steve instantly straightened in his position, his palms sprawling on your arms to pull you up as well, leaning down a bit in attempt to catch your gaze. Vain effort, naturally.

“Hey now, that’s not fair. They used your biggest weakness against you. It was—it was a real low blow,“ Steve argued, squeezing your arms firmer, probably trying to reassure you and get you to look at him.

You had to swallow against the lump forming in your throat, your gaze flickering to meet his gaze only to avert it again, unable to bear it.

“Well, had it been a real mission, I’d be dead or captured, spilling the agency’s secrets. It’s only fair.”

You heard Steve gulp in the silence that followed – he couldn’t argue with what you said.

“They are gonna use it again if I retake. But I’ll be more prepared next time, knowing it’s coming. I’ll-“ you stopped in the middle of a sentence, shaking your head with a bitter chuckle. The words tasted almost disgusting as you knew you were bullshiting yourself completely.

You had tried to fight it, to get rid of it, to swallow your fear, to bury it so deep it would never crawl out again. You had tried so many times. But the phobia just wasn’t going away, that stubborn piece of shit-!

You hated it so much. You hated it, because it kept getting in your way to happiness. You had dreamed of being an agent since you were twelve, feeling it in your bones like a damn calling. It only intensified when you met Steve, the desire growing practically unbearable once you started dating.

This wasn’t only about your pride anymore. This was about him being proud of you. This was about you being worthy of being by his side. You would be no Avenger by any means, but you’d be a SHIELD agent.

The rational part of you argued that love wasn’t to be bought by titles; your gut was telling you that despite the relatively short time you and Steve were an item – a rather stealthy one, but still an item – Steve wouldn’t leave you just because you didn’t succeed. He would love you just the same had you been a SHIELD agent, a doctor, a librarian, an artist, a worker in retail, a mechanic, anything. He wouldn’t care.

However, another part of you suggested that people talked and you’d hate to have Steve deal with that shit. Not to even mention that eventually, it might lead to him leaving you nonetheless because of the constant pressure, his heart be damned. Captain America and a SHIELD agent simply had a better ring to it than Captain America and a failed SHIELD agent.

Goddamnit, you had to succeed, for both you and him, because he was the best damn man you had ever met and he loved you, if his words of two weeks prior and his behaviour were anything to go by. And you loved him too.

You couldn’t lose him and you couldn’t lose against something as ridiculous as a needle.

But how?

You groaned, pressing the heal of your palm to your temple, feeling your headache return. “I’ll deal with it. It’s a Tomorrow Me problem.”

Steve chuckled at your antics and pressed a light kiss to the top of your head, sweet and loving, one of his hands moving to cradle your cheek, causing your eyes to flutter close, a warm feeling of contentment sneakily replacing your agitation.

“And Tomorrow Me.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, blatantly staring at him.

Really? Tomorrow Him? What was he going to do? Out your relationship to Director Fury and start a battle for favouritism? No thank you.

You’d hate to be the woman who got somewhere because of her boyfriend’s connections. For one, it would be about as humiliating as passing out at the sight of a syringe. For second, it wouldn’t solve the problem of your phobia and – more importantly – the potential dangers it posed in the field.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Steve,” you hissed before you could think twice of it, before you could realize how absurd that thought was.

Steve would never do that; it went against what he believed in and he knew you’d never accept it.

Your jaw clenched when it hit you just how hurtful your words might have been, shame filling every fibre of your being, your gaze falling to your lap where your restless fingers fumbled together. You were acting like a little ungrateful piece of shit. Steve was only trying to help. He was only being here for you, declaring his support.

An apology already on your lips, his hand slipped under your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek before he applied the slightest pressure and raised your head to face him, his expression serious.

“This isn’t that,” he said, voice laced with severity. It caused your body feel as heavy as made of lead and yet unbearably weightless.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he added in a light joke then, his gaze locking with yours. “But I’d like to fight your battles with you. We’ll figure something out.”

He kept you in the beautiful prison of his eyes until you finally nodded, not voicing your doubts, not saying you were only convinced to a point.

You stretched out, catching the corner of his mouth with yours to express your gratitude and settled back into his chest with something dangerously resembling a smile tugging at your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words no less true despite the battle raging inside of your head. Of that you were certain. Of your future, not so much.

“I love you too.”

Despite the few stray tears that soaked into his shirt several minutes later, these were the last words spoken before you drifted off to sleep.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Sensation of a free fall and an instinctive jerk of your foot snapped you from your restless sleep.

Your eyes opened to the darkness, a groan dying in your throat when you came to yourself enough to feel strong arms around you, ones belonging to a man you loved and whose sleep you sure as hell didn’t want to disturb. Less so since you were obviously lying in his bed where he had had to move you since you had fallen asleep on the couch.

You couldn’t remember what you dreamed of, but it must have been nothing pleasant.

However, Steve’s arms winding around you tighter, bringing you close to his warm bare chest definitely did count as pleasant and you hoped for an early return to the dreamland.

The lightest of kisses landed in the crook of your neck, whispers barely audible, mumbled to your skin.

“You alright?”

You grimaced, snuggling further into Steve’s form, your hand settling over his on your stomach.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you,” you said at the very same volume, wishing not to ruin the peace of the night any further.

“You didn’t.”

His reassurance eased your guilt only for a moment – only until you realized that what he said carried two different meanings.

You shifted in his arms, rolling over to look at him, finding his face without any trace of sleep… as if he never even tried to get a shut-eye in the first place. His eyes were like reflectors even in the dark of his bedroom, intense blue shining with something you couldn’t quite grasp. In only fed the guilt suddenly gnawing at your chest, for not only waking him up, but actually keeping him awake the whole time, his serum-boosted brain even more restless than yours.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you apologized sincerely, your hand leaving the warmth of the sheets to lay on his cheek.

He smiled at you softly, covering your hand with his palm, bringing yours to his lips to show you he didn’t blame you, no matter how clear it was that you were the reason for him losing sleep. The guilt stabbed you again, your momentarily fully frantic mind racing, your lips quick to peck his shoulder, his sternum, his chin in silent apology.

“I’ve been simply… thinking. That’s not on you, mon cœur.”

Despite yourself, you smiled against his skin; his ‘mon cœur’ never failed to make you smile and feel warm all over. You had learned about his decent French when one of the recruits snapped at him, calling him an asshole in his mother tongue, clearly not expecting a comeback; a smart one, not necessarily a rude one, but certainly a hot one.

Steve then let casually slip a word or two in conversations, calling you his heart as if his French alone wasn’t turning you putty in his hands, and you were a goner.

“Nice attempt at distracting me,” you praised him, nestling your chin on his chest to face him. “What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

He hesitated, watching you for long moments as if assessing whether he should tell you or keep you in your blissful ignorance. You hoped that he wouldn’t shut you out, especially if his thoughts concerned you.

“I’m thinking… about Wanda,” Steve whispered finally, causing your heart to jump in your chest in surprise, your body going rigid. His eyes widened at instant, a groan leaving his throat, rumbling under your chin. “That came out so wrong— don’t look at me like that, it’s always you-“

“Sure am,” you snorted silently, relieved and actually rather amused. For all his smooth lines, he could be just as awkward as your next guy.

He swatted your rear lightly to shut you up, wordlessly telling you to quit being a smartass.

“Sorry. Please, go ahead, talk about your gorgeous Avengers recruit,” you encouraged him, earning a glare. “She’s gorgeous, you can’t deny that. And if not that, she’s definitely at least cute. Anyway. Speak up. I’m listening, Steve. It must be serious if it’s keeping you awake.”

He licked his lips, his gaze rising to the ceiling, his thumb drawing a circle on your bare arm.

“When we were fighting Ultron – Tony’s genius murder robot –, before Wanda joined our side… there was this fight and she… entered our mind, sort-of. She… she trapped us in visions, showing us our deepest fears. She offered a glimpse at things we were trying to keep buried inside for no one to see. The fear of… not being enough, not belonging, fear of missed chances that would never come back.”

You listened, gulping at the mentions of visions, of his very own fear lying in the open, simultaneously dreading where he was going with talking about it. You had a good idea that it wouldn’t get any more pleasant.

You squeezed his arm softly to ground him, noticing his breath hitching, determined to hear him out nonetheless.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you crooned sympathetically, even if it could barely make him feel any better.

He still seemed to appreciate it, gently threading his fingers through your hair, taking a deep calming breath.

“I’m here. The thing is, she showed us something else too, something more… primal, I suppose? Carnal? Like… fear of spiders, dark, drowning, things like that…?”

You stiffened, sensing that now he was much closer to hitting home that you liked. But you supposed he was about to make a point, so you tried to keep your voice neutral despite your curiosity about what that specifically meant for him.

“Okay?”

“You can ask what she showed me.”

You shifted in his embrace, frowning as he glanced at you – slightly uncomfortable, but definitely sincere.

“What… what did you see?” you asked lowly, your hand sliding down his arm to interlace your fingers with his.

His heart sped up under your chin, his Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still told you.

“I was torn apart by wolves. Dogs maybe, I’m not sure. I just remember claws and sharp teeth-“

“Jesus,” you breathed out at the vivid image appearing in front of your eyes, squeezing his hand tighter.

At the same time, your mind raced as much as his heart did.

Was Steve afraid of dogs? That would be… strange. For one, there was a reason he was compared to a golden retriever at times, but the idea was even more surprising because you had seen him interact with dogs on occasion. He was… maybe not enthusiastic exactly, but alright.

Why would he be scared of them anyway? Was there a story? A childhood memory perhaps? You of all people should know that phobias often had been caused by a negative experience in childhood – it was one of the reasons you hated yours so much, because you couldn’t pinpoint the moment that had caused it.

But this wasn’t about you. Not yet anyway, you guessed.

You remained silent as Steve gathered his thoughts, his eyes misted as he lost himself in a memory.

“I’m still not great with them, but I… manage. Wanda was the one to help me achieve that.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a jealous bitch of a voice whined. You shushed it mentally, trying to follow his train of thought. The conclusion was ridiculously clear.

“You think she can help me too,” you stated the obvious, finding Steve fully in the present again, gazing at you intensely.

“Only if you want to try. You… you don’t know what your fear is based on exactly, right? No concrete memory?”

You shook your head automatically. “No clue. One of my past therapists thought that it was the reason why our sessions weren’t working, not even after repeated exposure. We never got to the bottom of it.”

Steve was still watching you with almost unnerving intensity. There was more to what he was suggesting, you could tell. You only didn’t know what – was it about the nature of Wanda’s powers?

You wouldn’t lie – the idea of someone intruding your mind scared the hell out of you, but here you were… growing desperate to get rid of the only thing holding you back.

“She might be able to help then. But… eh, hear me out before passing judgement, okay?”

That caused you to frown deeply – wasn’t it what you were doing?

“Okay?”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, wavering again and you sighed, propping yourself on your elbow, staring down at him in utter confusion and with a healthy amount of expectancy.

“Some people believe that-- no, uhm- what Wanda did was that she made me see the very cause of my fear, the exact memory. And this might not be making any sense at first, but— I was seeing it from my perspective, it was definitely me… and my hand was— it was a black man’s hand.”

“…huh?”

Colour you fucking clueless.

What the hell was he talking about?

Steve grimaced helplessly, his explanation apparently not turning out the way he wanted to.

“Some people believe that our fears are based… on the way we died in our past life,” he finally admitted and you… froze.

Your eyes grew wide, your body tensing and for a brief second, you wondered if Steve had gone completely mad, because the look on his face was deadly serious.

Past life?

Seriously? Steve, of all people, the very rational guy desperate for factfulness, was talking about reincarnation?

What. The actual. Fuck.

Steve, the guy who had scientists pump his body with supersoldier serum – by needles, of all things, seriously, the procedure sounded downright terrifying and reading about it made you respect him even more –, a guy who survived being frozen thanks to science, was trying to convince you that past lives existed.

Your mind went entirely blank.

The worst thing about it was that he had a solid reason to believe this thing, that was if he was telling the truth and he had been able to lessen his fear. And if Steve believed something, then for the reasons you had listed to yourself, there must have been a damn good portion of truth in it.

It was just a lot to wrap your head around.

You cleared your throat, feeling Steve’s eyes burning a hole into your head as he awaited your reaction, possibly with dread, which was perfectly justified.

It sounded insane… but.

“So… let me get this straight. You think that the origin of my fear lies in… some past life of mine. A life which ended, because of a-- a needle?” you choked out, the words sounding even crazier when spoken out loud.

You shook your head, still processing the information when Steve confirmed it. “Well… yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You lowered yourself back to the cushions, rolling over to your back, staring at the ceiling instead. You could feel Steve fidget next to you nervously, his eyes still on you.

“You think I’m crazy.”

The corner of your lips twitched, your chest rising and falling calmly, the sentence easing the pressure that built there during his explanation.

“Well, yeah, but I knew that before you told me all that, so-“

“Hey-!“

You slapped your hand over his as it neared you, pinning it to the mattress and casting a grin in his direction, a strange feeling of contentment spreading through your body.

Maybe you fear wasn’t your fault. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that you needed help. Hell, even the great Steve Rogers, the bravest man you knew, had sought assistance – and then he had won.

Knowing that felt so damn liberating.

Mostly because maybe, just maybe, you had a chance of overcoming this. Maybe you could still become a SHIELD agent.

You were lying here in the bed, side by side, hand in hand, head turn to side, gazes locked, and while you were smiling, Steve’s lips slowly spread in a hesitant smile as well.

God, you loved this man so much, more than words could express.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Steve,” you said simply, but from the very bottom of your heart.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Does that mean you’re… willing to give it a shot?”

You shrugged, scooting closer to him and he eagerly opened his arms for you, contentedly wrapping you in his embrace again as you pressed a kiss to his sternum.

“Not gonna lie. It might be a very long shot and the idea of someone raking through my mind is… unsettling to say at least, but if you trust her enough to let her do that… I trust you, Steve. I trust your judgement and I believe you wouldn’t come up with something like this just for laughs. So yeah. I’m willing to give it a shot.”

His hand found its way under your chin to tilt your head back, chasing your mouth with his, sealing the deal with a surprisingly sensual kiss which turned into another and another… gradually growing lazier and sloppier until you settled for one last kiss goodnight, melting into each other like you belonged there and nowhere else.

Maybe you did – for all you knew, you could be lovers who reincarnated time and time again only to find each other across time and space.

The thought made you chuckle, the breathless sound escaping your lips before you finally fell asleep.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat on the couch, one you had taken after anxiously pacing the living room for what felt like forever. Steve had called Wanda the first thing in the morning-- well, almost the first thing, and she had agreed to meet you this very day, accepting the offer to be picked up after lunch.

One light meal later, because you could barely swallow anything with your throat tight and stomach twisted, and one unpleasant call later in which you learned you officially failed the exam, oh joy, here you were, waiting in Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn.

For the millionth time you thanked heavens for Steve wanting to have his own space outside the compound. You really didn’t want to deal with this near everyone and you weren’t certain you were comfortable with the woman you didn’t know at all in your crampy apartment.

The lock clicked and you jumped to your feet, instantly making your way to the door. You stopped in your tracks when you realized you would probably freak her out right from the start.

Better let Steve handle this part. And the introduction-

Shit, can she read my thoughts right now?!

Naturally, your mind suddenly filled with the most embarrassing moments of your life and you wanted to scream in frustration, mentally apologizing to the young ‘witch’.

Yep, still weird to think that.

One sweetly familiar and one foreign voice reached your ears, the female one chuckling silently and you just knew she heard every single one of your thoughts.

Well. Worse things had happened, you guessed.

You sighed, took a deep breath and tried to fix an inviting smile that wouldn’t seem too desperate and awkward as hell. You probably failed, but you would take what you could get.

“I still can’t believe Sam challenged you to a flying contest. I really thought he’s a sensible guy,” Steve said as they entered the common space and you wiped your sweaty palms to your jeans, searching his face first.

His lips were smiling, but if you looked into his eyes closely, you could read the hints of anxiety you felt yourself.

Your gaze shifted to his companion then; the pretty brunette with shade of red in her hair shrugged at Steve’s remark, smirking.

“Who am I to argue with him if he wants to have his behind handed to him?”

If you were being honest, you had been slightly intimidated at the mere idea of meeting the Scarlet Witch; however, you took an instant liking to her.

She was young and while her eyes carried pain of her complicated past, she radiated strength and positive energy, a glow of something extraordinary that had nothing to do with her powers, but more with her personality.

She met your gaze, smiling at you kindly and you shook yourself, registering Steve making his way to you, dropping a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hi,” he whispered and you returned the sentiment, brushing his hand before deciding to grab it firmly and squeeze in greeting.

“Hello, miss Maximoff. I’d say ‘welcome’, but I’m not sure I have the right since this is Steve’s apartment,” you rambled, mentally cursing yourself for it. You couldn’t just keep your cool, could you?

The woman only smiled wider as you went and offered your hand to shake along with introducing yourself.

“I appreciate the sentiment anyway. And please, call me Wanda. It’s nice to meet you. I only heard good things.”

You frowned slightly, trying to imagine how much Steve could tell her about you during the ride, when Wanda subtly pointed to her head.

Oh. OH.

What should you even say to that? She had seen you before and possibly knew things about you she didn’t ask for (was that how that worked, people throwing thoughts on her without her will, or-) without even meeting you.

You gulped and from the corner of your eye, you noticed a slight hint of red to Steve’s cheeks. Interesting.

“Likewise. Uhm… I’m sorry to meet you like this though. I—we barely introduced and… I’m already asking for your help,” you said apologetically, honestly ashamed for that. “I’m sorry.”

It might have been a mutual decision of Steve and you to lay low with your relationship, which meant postponing meeting his friends to later, however it didn’t change the fact you felt like you were using Wanda.

It was not the best feeling in the world. This was how low you had steeped-

“Please, don’t even worry about it. Steve’s… friends are my friends as well. I’ll be happy to try and help, more so to help people that make Steve happy.”

A twinkle of mischief appeared in her eye and Steve next to you cleared his throat loudly, rushing to be a good host.

“Anything I can offer you, Wanda? Water, tea, coffee…?”

You did not miss the pointed look he gave her and the beautiful creature she was, she grinned at him, amusement dancing across her face.

“Tea would be great. Shall we sit?” she beckoned to the couch and you nodded, asking Steve for a cup of tea as well. Coffee and talked about your phobia did not sound like a good mix after all. “Alright. Let’s see what can we do about your situation.”

Steve had told her most of the essential information, obviously including the fact you didn’t know when the phobia developed.

“Okay. Are you comfortable with me trying to reach out into your mind? To create a mental connection of sort?” she asked after a while, sitting in an armchair opposite to you, while Steve nestled next to you in respectable distance, not touching you at all, letting you choose how much of a physical contact you wanted.

You greatly appreciated both Steve and Wanda for respecting your boundaries and allowing you to push them whichever direction as you seemed fit.

Because having Wanda probing in your head was fucking terrifying.

Steve trusts her, you reminded yourself, and she gave you no reason not to trust her either. She was in fact so welcoming you could cry.

Wanda smiled at you patiently and you felt heat rising into your cheeks, once again realizing she could probably hear your hesitance as well as seeing it.

“Yes. Tell me what to do,” you decided, hoping you sounded at least twice as firm as you felt. “…that is if I need to do something.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if you did, I’m sure you would like that better too. Once you do what I say, you will feel certain nudge, my mind reaching out – please, try to let me in. Now I want to you to close your eyes and imagine a safe space. A truly safe space, somewhere you feel like nothing can touch you, can’t hurt you in any way, not physical one, not emotional one. Just a completely safe place,” she coaxed you gently.

With a deep breath, you eyed Steve, catching his supportive smile before following her instructions.

Your first thought was of your childhood bedroom. You were surprised how sharp the memory felt – probably an effect of Wanda’s powers.

You stood there, as if truly there, looking at your desk, papers with amateur doodles scattered all over it, and you couldn’t but smile at the memory of your notebooks being filled with little results of boredom. And then the angry male voice reached your ears, followed by a shout from a woman, and the illusion shattered just like the plate that hit the ground, causing your eyes to snap open to reality.

The intense weight on your chest startled you, the fights you had heard from the relative safety of your room during your early years crushing your ribcage with each breath you tried to take.

You met Wanda’s kind eyes, feeling Steve’s hand gently brush the back of yours which was gripping the edge of the couch.

The young witch shook her head lightly, your gazes locked with such strength you felt like she was staring into your soul through a looking glass – and boy, did you feel like Alice in wonderland yourself.

“There’s no rush,” Wanda assured you, voice low. “You don’t need to force it. Breathe in, breathe out. In and out, how many times you need. Close your eyes and try to remember. When was the last time you felt truly safe?”

Steve’s hand squeezed yours before withdrawing and leaving you to your own thoughts again as you took several calming breaths and let your eyes flutter shut.

You honestly had no idea why you had thought of your childhood first, when you in fact only felt safe once you left to pursue your dream career. You loved your tiny apartment much more – because it was your space, your safe space.

Your couch bought on extra sale because of the horrendous colour, that bookshelf that remembered better days, but still didn’t yield under the weight of your books, the three pitiful plants you got only to shut your friend up… you walked to the poor excuse for a kitchen cabinets, involuntarily smiling at the mismatched door that your neighbour was able to get you and installed after the original one nearly knocked you out as if fell off without warning.

Your fingers traced the counter when a pair of strong hands landed softly on your hips, an arm sneaking around your stomach, a kiss pressed into the crook of your neck. It didn’t startle you, a sense of comfort enveloping you instead, Steve’s lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Tu m’as manqué, mon cœur,” he admitted and you couldn’t but melt into his form, a content smile tugging on your lips.

“Missed you too.”

His grip grew stronger before he allowed you to turn in his embrace so you could give him a welcome kiss. He had been on a mission for a week and you somehow found yourself at that stage in a relationship where you felt comfortable enough to admit you fell hard for each other, while retaining that sense of your time together being precious and too limited no matter how much of it you actually spent together. Or at least that was what this was for you – judging by the satisfied smile painted on Steve’s lips when you withdrew to catch your breath, the feeling was mutual.

“…though that phrase is still not making a damn sense,” you complained, earning a chuckle and another kiss, his arms lifting you so you barely stood on your tiptoes.

You were an independent and a dare to say badass woman, but hey, you would not deny that such display of strength made your toes curl.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked once he set you back down, though he never released you from the cage of his arms.

The sudden dull pressure in the back of your head surprised you, but wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

More than anything else, it brought you back to reality a little; this was nothing but a memory. Steve appearing as if his motions slowed down only proved that.

Unsure what to do, you massaged the back of your head and stepped back, Steve’s arms easily falling; his gaze remained fixed on your though, patient. A game your mind had built, you realized, a mirage created with the witch’s help.

Let me in, Wanda had said. Yeah well, a manual to follow would be nice.

Willing yourself to relax as much as possible, you felt a slight pop and the pressure disappeared.

Before you could question it, a voice sounded somewhere, close but yet far.

“Thank you for letting me in,” Wanda said simply, causing you to jump few inches above the floor.

But the Steve in your memory nodded and you focused on breathing in and out, trying to take in his comforting presence in the safety of your apartment rather than focusing on Wanda, the intruder you invited.

The thought of the witch seeing this however felt anything but comforting – embarrassment filled your being instead. A part of you couldn’t quite believe Steve, your boyfriend of barely four months, belonged to your safe place as much as anything else.

You were honest with each other, but how would he react if he knew that? What Wanda must have been thinking?

“There is no reason to be ashamed,” her voice reassured you softly, sounding as if she was smiling a bit. This really was awkward. “I won’t tell on you either way, but you must know you are on his mind often. I believe I was being clear on that earlier. He would be – and he should be – honoured by this. Plus, it’s still your apartment, he’s just an addition.”

Letting her words sink in, you noticed a strange red glow by the edge of your couch, just a flicker of something that certainly didn’t belong – and sure as well wasn’t making you feel safe.

In fact, simply watching it caused your stomach to somersault.

“Think of your fear for a bit. What you see is a rift to the world you’re trying to reach.”

Balling your hands into fists, you gulped and reluctantly did as Wanda told you.

Needles. Christ, why.

The glimmer of red energy pulsated, growing in size considerably – and with it, so did the cold sensation in your stomach. Your breathing picked up, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gentle fingers curled around your wrist, causing you to look at Steve, having been ignoring him for a while. He swept his thumb over the sensitive skin on your inner wrist, a smile spreading on his lips when your eyes met.

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged you and you briefly wondered if this was your imagination, Wanda’s doing or actual real-life Steve touching you.

Whichever it was, it grounded you, your ribcage expanding easier despite the pain.

The rift stretched to your height, its powerful presence feeling like a punch in your solar plexus, making your skin crawl, your body shrinking into itself. The wave of nausea that hit you didn’t help either.

Your hand was lifted, lips brushing your palm before letting go.

“You’re going to hate this, but I need you to touch it,” Wanda instructed you and indeed, you hated the mere idea of coming closer to that thing. But what other option did you have?

Steve smiled at you again, supportive and understanding, and you clenched your jaw, forcing your feet, suddenly feeling like made of lead, to move.

“Once you touch it, you’ll find yourself in the memory. Sadly, I can’t follow you there, but trust me – and trust Steve –, we will pull you back. It’s nothing but a memory,” Wanda explained and that truly did not ease your building anxiety at all.

You supposed it shouldn’t have, she was only stating facts, but the remark about her and Steve did give you strength as did looking around your apartment again.

All you had to do was to touch that-- weird thing… and relive your death. Death involving needles. Charming.

You took another shaky step, every fibre on your being screaming at you to run the opposite direction instead. Leaning onto the couch for support as your legs turned wobbly, you let the familiar sensation of the fabric sooth you.

You had to do this. You could do this.

You casted one more glance at Steve, who crossed the short distance you had walked and placed his hand on your shoulder, clearly not having any difficulty approaching the rift. It made sense, you supposed – this was your fear you were dealing with, not his.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his palm sliding down your back, its warmth so damn pleasant against the goosebumps that rose on your skin. “And you’ve got this, mon cœur.”

“Damn you,” you mumbled and that bastard had the audacity to chuckle and squeeze your hip.

“Go. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Easier said than done.

With a suffocating lump in your throat, you forced yourself to take the last step and reached out your trembling hand towards the pulsing red energy.

A scream ripped from your throat when that thing gripped you fiercely and sucked you in.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

The lights were bright, burning in your eyes as did the unshed tears. After the dark corridors you had walked with a man at each of your side, both shorter than you, and another man behind your back, the startling clinical white made you nauseous.

Or maybe that was just knowing the inevitability of fate. Bile rose to your throat, the world spinning, shadows of the hall following you like claws of death, already reading for you at the mere thought of what waited in this room.

You didn’t try to run; each of your steps felt too heavy for that.

You didn’t try to break free of the men’s hold on your veiny arms; they felt like made of lead, weak and clammy from the lack of sleep and sustenance.

You didn’t try to insist on your innocence anymore; there was no point in talking if words fell on deaf ears.

People always heard what they wanted to hear. People always saw what they wanted to see.

Truth was a matter of circumstances and death was the only certitude a man had.

The door fell shut behind your group of gloom, the white walls closing on around you, the hairs on the back of neck standing at attention. The icy tone of the room barely aggravated the cold seeped in your core, in your very bones. Each step echoed in the almost empty room, every breath – as much as your last would.

You had practised yesterday; you knew the drill. Enter the room slowly. Don’t look at the one-way glass as it might startle the high representative of state whose daughter you had (supposedly) violated and strangled to death. Lie down and let them strap you to the table.

When you had obediently sat down and one of the guards – Franz they called him, decent guy you thought – met your gaze, a warning in his eyes mingling with regret as you laid down.

Staring onto the ceiling, tears gathering in your eyes, your heart was beating its way out of your chest, anger, so much anger at the injustice once again battling with the feeling of resignation. Justice didn’t exist int his world; they had found their scapegoat. Your innocence virtually didn’t exist. Your testimony was a lie, everyone thought so.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the buckles at your feet, a torturously loud sound in the silent room and then your feet were restrained. Your chest right under your armpits came next; the guard fastened it harshly, so tight your eyes snapped open in surprise.

You stared into the eyes of a guilty man, a man whose face held no remorse for wrecking and taking two lives. You remembered the black orbits from the night you saw them widened with wildness, a savage pleasure gleaming in the dark, noticing your figure behind the beams.

Strange, you pondered. The restraint on your chest felt like a tickle in comparison to the pressure on your chest when you looked into those eyes, your breath hitching in your throat, suffocating weigh squeezing your lungs and heart; was this how it was going to feel? You had heard rumours.

Like a liquid fire running in your veins, slowly licking until it reached your heart. You wondered – who spread the tale? Everyone with this treatment met their death, didn’t they? Then how could people know?

Was it something made up so the inmates died a bit by bit, every minute before even feeling the pinch of the needles?

A violent shudder shook your whole body, but you didn’t think you moved at all.

Your limbs didn’t belong to you anymore as they uncuffed your wrists in order to strap them to the table instead.

God, it was so so cold- what was the last time you were warm?

Your eyes followed Adams’ hands, hands painted in invisible blood, invisible tonight as least, as they fixed the strap on your right wrist and moved to your head, jerking it so you faced the blinding light instead.

You couldn’t plead Satan to take the true killer anymore; you were out of time. You prayed instead.

You prayed for your soul to find peace and justice, for the light to engulf you quickly, before you could feel the fire in your veins in stark contrast to the ice in them present now.

Now I lay me down to sleep

To an eternal sleep. To death. This was your end. Tears ran down your cheeks, silent and useless.  Shame on a man who cries for himself – but you lied to yourself, just this one time, that you were crying for the unjust world where lies and deceit won over the truth.

I pray the Lord my Soul to keep

Your gaze blurry, your head restrained, you could still make up the needles piercing the skin of your forearms, attached to the bags on the IV poles. The liquid in them was clear, pure like water, seemingly so innocent – as much as the inmate on the table.

If I should die before I wake

It was a strange dichotomy – the numbness spreading from one side, the burning heat from the other. Your fingers twitched and closed into a tight fist at the sudden surge of pain, gnawing, blinding.

Oh God, please, please-

I pray the Lord my Soul to take

A scream filled the blank room, a sound so animalistic it couldn’t belong to a human being, deafening to your ears. You couldn’t breath as the fire burned its way through your arm, leaving ashes in its wake-

“-the fuck-“

“What’s-“

“Just--it! ---thing!”

The fire subdued as the world lost its colour, everything swallowed by blackness, a bleary image of a spasming arm with a glint of thin piece of metal flickering before disappearing altogether.

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Your throat burned from the scream ripping from your its depth, a blurry image of a woman in front of you casing you to back out into the bed— no, you were sitting up now, the room wasn’t white, was darker-- the scream was definitely not male anymore, no, it was a female one, it was yours-

The room spun and disappeared, replaced by a sharp image of an apartment, your apartment, and you looked around frantically, catching a glimpse of a tall blonde figure in the corner of the room, your heart, hammering so painfully in your aching ribcage fluttering in relief. Your gaze swiftly returned to the man, like a drowning person to the sun glimmering on the surface of water.

Steve.

Your apartment and Steve.

Your name was being called silently and you realized that the scream had died down, only your harsh breathing remaining.

“You’re safe. Remember? Nothing can touch you here, no one can, not unless you let them,” Wanda’s voice soothed you, causing your eyes to flutter shut in respite, your knees giving out.

Despite having been standing several feet from you, Steve was suddenly there to catch you, scooping you into his arms, enveloping you in a protective embrace while you sobbed into his shirt, his soft voice whispering sweet nonsense, not saying a word of complaint about how desperately you were clinging to him, inhaling his aftershave and detergent and him.

You’re safe. I’ve got you.

Je te protègerai toujours, mon cœur.

I’ve got you, I’ve got you.

I love you.

When you opened your eyes again, the images blended together. His heart was beating vigorously against your cheek, his lips pressed into your hair, but you could hear Wanda moving around – you were in Steve’s apartment, back to reality.

Upon realizing that, you gripped him with all you had and whispered a shaky sorry, which only resulted in his embrace growing tighter.

It took you another hour to settle down enough to discuss what would be your next steps, ones that certainly wouldn’t be taken today.

“I know how hard this is to hear, but I won’t just magically snap my fingers to make it go away – I mean, I could, but no one can tell the consequences in the long run. It will take several sessions, short though, when we dull your very understandable fear a bit. You’re strong – I believe we can deal with this. Thank you for trusting me,” Wanda said nonsensically, as if she wasn’t the one helping you.

Even if her help so far felt entirely awful.

“Thank you, Wanda. Truly. It means a lot.”

“Thank you,” you echoed Steve’s words lamely and heard a hint of a smile in Wanda’s voice when she was leaving the apartment.

“You’re welcome. Get some rest. I can get to the compound on my own – I need to practise for the match with Sam anyway.”

Involuntarily, the corners of your lips twitched at the image of Wanda floating above the city and landing in front of Steve’s gobsmacked friend, cursing himself for challenging a witch. About thirty seconds later, you were laughing, practically doubled over with the force of it, tears still streaming down your face.

To be fair, you did deserve to be hysterical all you wanted.

Much later, you fell into an uneasy sleep, Steve’s voice laced with amusement and concern at the same time as he read to you about adventures of a young telekinetic girl, about her sweet teacher and the terrible headmistress bullying them both.

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You might have been fiddling with your fingers, anxious about what you were about to face, but you couldn’t’ quite shush the excitement spurting in you with each joyous beat of your heart.

You eyed Steve in search for silent support – or any support really – but if his expression was anything to go by, he was highly amused at your antics. The corners of his lips were twitching as he stared ahead, ignoring your very pointed glare.

You elbowed his ribs playfully, but made sure to dig you bone into him. Cocky little shit.

He actually chuckled at that, fully aware that you probably hurt yourself more than you hurt him, because his damn serum turned his abs into stone. A very hot stone in both senses of the word, a stone sensitive as hell when you ran your fingers over it (or your mouth, for that matter), but still.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he let out between his chuckles and you didn’t believe him one bit.

You knew that you were being a tiny bit ridiculous, but… he didn’t have to rude about it.

“Likely story,” you muttered grumpily, trying to recall just when had the anxious but fully supportive Steve turned into a laughing mess.

It must have been when you passed your fucking exam. Finally!

After weeks of Wanda working her magic on you – and of your work on yourself, being very brave and determined, as she had never forgot to mention, as did Steve – you had been able to retake your exam, the last one in the line of group missions and tests. You could have been done long before today, but truthfully, you couldn’t be happier with the result.

Besides passing your exams and officially becoming a SHIELD agent, you had learned how to control your phobia. Not entirely, but considerably, just enough to do your damn job.

Your dream job.

The fact that it meant you and Steve not having to be shy about your relationship anymore was an entirely pleasant bonus. By no means you had been shy when you succeeded – you had assaulted him right in front of Director Fury, jumping into your very secret boyfriend’s arms. Thank god for Steve’s reflexes, because while he had seemed utterly shocked at your lunge, he still hadn’t dropped you. Needless to say, you both had to collect your jaws from the floor when the director just snorted in amusement, a knowing look in his eye. Apparently, nothing escaped this man’s attention. It was almost funny, actually.

Naturally, with majority of your friend being off to missions, because they had graduated spy school at their first attempts, you were left with Steve to celebrate with; no complaints were filed though, celebrating in Steve style was very much glorious. One might say you even saw fireworks.

Anyway, since his friends were in town for once, he decided that the time had come for you to meet them, with not having to hide your relationship anymore and all that.

Hence you being worked up again; you were about to meet Steve friends. The Avengers.

You had every right to be slightly terrified. What if they didn’t like you? SHIELD agent or not, how would you face an angry Hulk? Or a demigod? Hell, Barton or Romanoff—okay, Romanoff at least knew you existed, occasionally catching your gaze in the corridor or during training, but-? And Wilson could fly in that get-up of his-! Not to mention the android!

Steve’s arm winded around your waist, pulling you to his side and spinning you to him until you were chest to chest. That did effectively snap you from your gloomy thoughts.

“You just defeated your phobia and showed everyone what a great agent you will make. You can handle a bunch of people with the same goal as yours,” Steve reasoned with you, smiling down at you widely, even dropping a kiss on your forehead. “Plus, they are excited to meet you.”

Was that supposed to make you feel better? Because your stomach dropped even lower and you sighed, meeting Steve’s eyes, soft and yet joyful.

His enthusiasm was infectious. Plus, you did become a SHIELD agent today… Steve had shown you his appreciating in many ways… plenty of reasons to be happy.

“What did you tell them about me?”

“All the good things. Stop worrying, they have to be nice to you anyway, it’s your day after all.” A smile spread on your face at the reminder and Steve’s arm tightened around you. “The moment we started to plan the reunion, they knew celebrating your big break would be on agenda.”

You leaned your head onto Steve’s chest contentedly and closed your eyes, showing him how sweet you thought he was being. In the back of your mind, you wondered just how long one elevator ride could be, even if it was to the top of the Avengers Tower, and if the AI running the building happened to slow it down just so you could try and calm your nerves.

Which was exactly why it took a moment for Steve’s words to truly register. Your eyes snapped open in horror and you quickly retreated, not missing the shit-eating grin forming on your boyfriend’s lips.

“Steve… when did you start planning this get-together?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes at him and swallowing the luckily unnecessary panic.

“Four days ago. Why?”

He knew damn well why!

You slapped his left peck with vigour, half-angry, half-moved by his stunt. He chuckled and placed his palm over yours, pinning it to his chest, shaking with hushed laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Steve!” you argued only half-heartedly, because to his utter luck, things worked out. “What if I have failed? That would be so-”

He removed his hand from yours in order to cradle your jaw. You wanted to be angry with him, you did. Furious, in fact, but he was making it really hard and you officially got your dream job today and- yeah, he was hard to be mad at, especially when he spoke with sincerity that took your breath away.

“I knew you wouldn’t. I had faith in my girl.”

Steve pecked your lips as you sputtered a curse, frustrated with your inability to chastise him properly when he was being charming and melting your heart with every word.

“You know, everyone keeps saying that you’re reckless…” you grumbled and one corner of his lips rose higher in a lopsided smile, twinkling eyes watching you with a blend of admiration and amusement and love and how could you resist him? “Punk…”

His fingers sneaked to your nape, pulling you in for a deep kiss; lips parting, tongues meeting just because you couldn’t get enough of each other and of the delight you tasted on each other with every kiss.

His arm just lifted you from the ground a few inches, causing your stomach to flutter in the most pleasant way, when the elevator doors slid open and a snarky comment welcomed you.

“Rude.”

You jerked away from Steve, startled, but the ball was in his court as he had to place you back on the ground. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment when your gaze fell on a smirking Tony Stark.

Well, shit. As far as first impressions went, this could have happened much better…

“You sure you want to celebrate here and not somewhere else?” the Ironman himself continued, gesturing his hand in a so-so motion and you wished to face hundreds of needles rather than him and the rest of Steve’s friend who had just got a free show. A rather PG one, but a show nevertheless.

“Stark, quit being a dick,” a female voice stuck up for you, rendering you speechless as it didn’t come from Wanda, but from Natasha Romanoff. “Congratulations!”

The rest of the team had various mixture of amusement and surprise written over their faces, but neither of them seemed hostile. In fact, they did look eager to meet you despite your dramatic entrance. Wanda smiled at you reassuringly from behind the android – Vision, you believed – and nodded, probably hearing your thoughts practically scream at her.

You smiled back at the witch before turning to the Black Widow herself.

“Thank you, Agent Romanoff,” you replied politely and a grin that told you that one day, you might even become friends, appeared on her face.

“You’re welcome, Agent 18.”

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S.R.masterlist

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Title taken from Halsey’s Haunting. Pics used are not mine, credit to original creators.

Also: yes, Steve was reading Matilda to our brave to-be SHLED agent as a comfort book.

Thank you for reading!

(If you at least a bit and you’re a fan of Wanda being awesome, please consider reading Walpurgis Night. It’s a result of rereading too much of T’s work anyway.)

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Tags:  @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​ @cxptain​ @patzammit​ @kayteewritessteve​

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Fake dating with razz and mutt?

FAKE DATING YANDERE RAZZ AND MUTT WOULD INCLUDE:

~You need to realize first that Mutt and Razz are very different individuals, so they would treat you both very differently, depending on who you are with at the time, let alone, if you three are all together.

~Mutt’s the flirty and playful fake boyfriend that will always try to have his arms around you and will tell you how amazing you are while everyone else is around.

~Meanwhile Razz is the gentle and proper fake boyfriend that will act like you are royalty while everyone is around.

~Of course, they are much more different in private. 

~In public, Mutt’s the best friend lover that anyone and everyone would want, the one that people are jealous of.

~Meanwhile in private, he’s lazy, apathetic, and even aggressive at times. 

~He’ll only call you when he’s short on cash and needs you to pay for something.

~He’ll only invite you out for dinner only if you are paying and he won’t even be talking to you but would be on his phone throughout it all.

~He’ll also get extremely angry with you for no reason and if he’s stressed, you are the first person he’ll go and start a fight with.

~In public, Razz is the lover that everyone wants to have when they want to be appreciated and adored.

~Razz is just the perfect lover, and how wrong everyone is.

~In private, Razz treats you like you are less than trash.

~He makes it very clear that he would never actually date you and that you couldn’t even lick the ground he walks if he didn’t need you right now.

~He’ll always force you to do all the dirty work for him, and if you live with them, you are like the slave/servant of the house.

~He doesn’t respect you, and he will nitpick at everything you do just to make your life an absolute living hell.

~In general, they both are very different, but they are honestly the worse with you, while you are fake dating them.

~The moment they start falling for you is... Well, it’s something.

~For Mutt, it’s the moment that you start telling him that he needs therapy and to stop treating you like shit.

~Mutt will be even angrier with you, of course, but he’ll start leaving you alone, too annoyed with you.

~At some point, he would probably get annoyed by the fact that you aren’t paying for his things anymore, so he would humor you and say that he would go to therapy but only if you go along with him.

~What would really start to make him feel something for you is when you would start to show actual want to help him.

~Actually going with him, playing for his therapy lessons, and even congratulating him when he starts to get better. 

~If he started off by going there annoyed as hell, and making fun of you, he would end up going with you while holding your hand, talking to you about what’s happening in his life, and asking about how you are doing and such.

~He would probably start finding a job, somewhere close to where you are, so he could always come and have lunch with you.

~He would also start paying you back for all the money that you wasted on him and even adding extras like gifts, and money to them.

~He would start inviting you out for dinner and would actually act with you as if you two are dating.

~His favorite thing would become going to therapy with you and just spending time with you because he really did start to fall for you. 

~You were the one who was hurt by him the most, yet you still believed in him and never gave up on him. How could he not fall for you?

~” You’re the best babe... I swear, I would kill for you if you would ever ask me to” ~” Aww, come on, you know that I love you. Why wouldn’t I buy you this? We can now match collars too!”

~” What does matching collars mean? Don’t worry about it! Just know that I love you very much”

~To remind you all, matching collars for fell universes means something along the lines of being engaged/mated/married.

~Meanwhile, Razz would fall for you a little bit differently.

~The fact that you would start getting closer to his brother would tick him off.

~He honestly couldn’t understand what’s wrong with that stupid problem of his. 

~He would start trying to find any fault in you to prove to his brother.

~But the more he would try to get along with you to find your flaws, the more he would feel actually close to you.

~He never knew you two had so many hobbies in common.

~Or the fact that you two were both so passionate about your profession/studies.

~He also... never knew that you had someone you liked, that wasn’t the brothers.

~Because of how Razz started to see you differently, he would start feeling such comfort and familiarity with you.

~You’ve been with them for so long, and you even have a matching collar from Mutt.

~You simply can’t have someone else that you like.

~You’re being controlled and manipulated, ruined of course, by that other person.

~Because Razz wants the best for you and his baby brother, he’ll make sure that that person is gone for good.

~If you ever tried to break up with them...

~Well, it wouldn’t end up all that well for you, let me just tell you that.

~” Are you fucking kidding me, babe?? We’re supposed to be together forever, don’t think I’ll let you leave like this!”

~” You must be confused again. No worries, I’ll just make sure everyone who you are close is gone from your life, that way, you’ll start to think straight again”

~” Babe, you are the only one who believes in me... If you think you can leave, then you sure are stupid”

~” Oh, there is no reason to cry, my love. They were just ruining your mind. I’m sure you’ll get over this”

~” ... I know babe, I’ll believe you too now. I believe that with enough love and imprisonment, you’ll start to realize who you really love. That’s me, of course”

~” I know this is sudden, but don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to help you realize how much you love me and my brother”

[thisadhdlife]

Medication 💊 isn’t for everyone. But, sometimes, it works as intended. This is my experience.

Disclaimer: I am someone who has a BA in General Psychology, and an MA in Clinical Psychology. So, unlike a lot of people with uninformed/misguided opinions on the subject matter, I actually DO know what I'm talking about when it comes to something like ADHD and mental health. I’m not a licensed counselor. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a psychologist. Nothing I say/write here is medical advice. If you have concerns, I recommend you speak to your own medical and/or psychological professional.

With that out of the way, I’d like to start by asking: What was your first experience of taking the (CORRECT & APPROPRIATELY PRESCRIBED) ADHD medication like?

The following is my personal experience. Your experience may vary.

I’m between 30-35 years old at the time of writing this.

I was diagnosed with ADHD after age 30, pretty recently in fact.

The first time I tried a (stimulant) medication 💊 for this condition (exactly as prescribed), the sensation I felt as it kicked-in was that of which I’d liken to... peace.

Tranquility.

Calmness.

The kind of stuff I’d only ever read about and listened to in books bout calming the mind, and meditating. I’d tried everything for more than a decade now: diet, exercise, meditation supplements. NOTHING had ever worked the way the medication for treating ADHD worked on day-1.

I often wonder if THIS is how neurotypical brains 🧠 feel ALL the time. This ease of focus, this deliberate ability to switch from one-task-to-another with ease. This ability to simply use what people have been referring to as “willpower” all my life to do things like put down the phone, start a class, finish a project, clean the apartment. Is this how people who don’t have ADHD experience the world?

And then, I felt... empathy. Empathy for all the people who’d ever told me to shape up, to get it for their, to have some drive and willpower and make something out of myself.

If it’s THIS easy to use willpower for them (those who do not have ADHD), to organize things, and get started on stuff... then that means that neurotypical brains play the game of life on EASY mode without even realizing that they’ve got a lower difficulty setting enabled, 24/7/365. 🎮

At least that’s how it felt like to me. Your experience/opinion may vary. “Of course they’d think I was lazy, or unwilling to work”, I said to myself. If your experience of the world is to be able to do things and keep focus THIS easily, of course you’d think that everyone else who couldn’t do it was somehow lazy, or had some kind of deficit of conviction or even morality.

I’ve been taking my medication for more than a week now. In that time, I’ve been able to do things that took a Herculean effort before for me. But... the thing is... I didn’t know that my effort was Herculean. I just knew that I kept failing at the “easy” stuff that everyone was just able to do somehow. But this also shocked me a bit: If I put in the amount off effort I've been putting into things before my diagnosis, but that effort can be directed, focused, regulated, and managed properly because of that medication... doesn’t that mean that I can, truly, for the first time EVER in my life, achieve anything I set my mind to? Doesn’t this mean that I've never truly been “stupid” as everyone around me has called me, or implied when referring to me?

The medication, more than any amount of dieting, exercising, supplements, and meditation... saved my life.

My doctor, the one who believed me when I told her and described to her my condition and my suffering, saved my life. Of that I have no doubt now. Before, it felt like I was drowning in the deepest part of a really wide river. Unable to swim, but everyone on the shoreline yelling at me to “swim harder!” And then, from the first day I took the medication... I felt like Neo, from The Matrix. “I know kung-fu.” (Yes, yes, yes, I know. It’s overdone and clichè).

Except, for me, it was “I know how to swim. I can swim. I can focus on swimming, one movement at a time, but I KNOW this, I can do this.” And then, I did. I started to be able to focus. For the first time in decades, I have clarity. And I'm not just talking about clarity of mind (from the “fog” that people often describe when it comes to ADHD)... but also clarity of purpose. I KNOW without a shadow of a doubt what I want to do in life. No ands-ifs-or-buts. I know what I was born to do, what I was put on this earth to do. The longer I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve been kicking myself for wasting my time with trivial things. But no more. I know I mentioned “clarity of purpose”, but that portion is for a different post, I’ll write later.

Also, while I'm on the topic of medication: I’d like to address something utterly incomprehensible. Dear neurotypical brains, your inability to comprehend how it feels to have ADHD does not make it any less real, nor does it automatically negate the effects that ADHD has on our lives, along with the multitude of ways it can make us suffer.

Do you tell a diabetic to not take their insulin because they use needles to inject the insulin into their body? Drug addicts also use needles. But, if you’re a rational and compassionate human being, you’ll be able to distinguish between the two. And yet, where does that rational brain go when it comes to ADHD medication? Because some idiots abuse the medication, doesn’t mean that the medication doesn’t work when taken AS DIRECTED, under the strict guidance of a physician.

On the other-hand: NOBODY should be made to feel that they NEED to take the medication. No one should ever be forced by anyone to take medication for ADHD either. It’s a personal decision, to be discussed and made between you and your doctor. Medication, in combination with therapy, is the most effective way of managing ADHD that we have as of the date of me writing this. My body, my mind, my medical/mental diagnosis, my life, my money, my doctor, my (informed) consent, my choice. Your opinion DOES NOT matter to me. 

That’s all I have to say on the matter.

For most conditions, the diagnosis is the day peoples lives start to come undone. For people with ADHD, in my opinion, I think the day we get an official diagnosis... our lives finally start to come together. At least that’s what it felt like for me.

I don’t even know if anyone else will read this looonnnggg blog post. Or if anyone else can empathize with this. But I can’t help but write, because it’s the way I process my thoughts: I write them out. Sometimes I post them, other times I don’t. But I usually write out things.

Take care of yourself.

Until next time.