#and all my inhibitions and anxieties are gone

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?”

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[nocturnowlette]

If you want to enter a Puppy Mindset whenever you wish, read this post. I assure you that it's worth it.

I want to explore the idea today of entering a state of mind called Puppy Space, and let anyone who reads my scripts be able to go in and out of it at will.

...and to maybe sink into it whenever they see my posts. Maybe.

If you wish you read this, but are new to hypnosis or want for this script to be more effective, I highly suggest reading my first script here. It makes everything so much Easier.

Now, let's begin.

...

The general idea of a Puppy Space is to feel Dumb, but not mindless. To feel Happy and Calm and Obedient, but to still be able to do your everyday tasks. Feeling so Happy while you do them.

Oh, and feeling the need to Bark constantly. Finding words so hard, but being able to get them out so long as you Bark enough.

I've put a few subjects into Puppy Space before (and have been in it myself) and it feels great.

When I was in that state, I felt so

Melty.

So Happy.

So Dumb.

Barking every time you want to speak, being able to think, but finding it so, so hard. Only being able to speak if you

Bark

enough.

Feeling so hard to think. Your thoughts slowing down, getting so, so Dumb. Focusing on my words so easily, like all of your mind is so Focused on me that everything else just shuts off. Everything just fades away.

I want you to imagine a bunch of floating bubbles, splitting and combining and growing and shrinking.

These bubbles represent your thoughts.

So if I were to just,

slowly approach one,

my claw getting ever closer,

until it

Pops.

Harder to think.

I approach another, and

Pop.

And that thought is gone.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

So hard to think, all of your thoughts going

Pop

right as you think them.

Your thoughts popping for me, I don't even have to do it anymore.

Your thoughts just

Pop

on their own.

Any time you find yourself thinking, your mind instantly

Pops

it for me.

A Good little thoughtless Puppy.

Pop.

However, there's one bubble bigger than the others, one that your mind can't quite pop on its own.

This bubble contains all of your remaining awareness. You already feel quite Dumb, but our minds love to hold on to some of it.

Focus on my words even more.

The more you Focus, the easier it is for your thoughts to

Pop.

The easier you Focus on my words, the more real they become.

The bubble starts to grow. It starts to fill with other parts of your mind.

Your inhibitions go into the bubble. It gets a little bit bigger.

Your stresses go into the bubble. It gets bigger. So stressed, and all of that stress slipping right in, so so Easily.

Bigger.

Your fears and anxieties go into the bubble. Everything you're scared of, slips right in. The bubble gets

Bigger.

Every little bit of your human mind left feeding right in. It gets

Bigger.

So Big, so Fragile.

There's too many thoughts in this bubble, too much for it to hold on to.

It's so Hard to keep control, to hold on to these things.

It would be so, so Easy

to let it just

Pop your Mind Away.

...

Welcome to Trance.

If you're new to this, this is a state of mind where you are both highly relaxed and very Focused.

It allows me, or anyone else that brings you into it, to suggest behaviors to you. To be Commanded, as well.

For example,

You feel Dumber. See how Easy that is? You feel Dumber now.

Every time you think you're already so Dumb, but you just get Dumber again. Staring at my words so intently, and yet being so Mindless.

Such a Good Puppy.

Good Puppies should be Mindless, sometimes. You're saving all the thinking up for later, when you really need to. No need to think right now, just let me do it for you.

Like a little antenna, you feel so

Receptive

to my words.

Like an invisible antenna is sticking right out of your silly puppy head.

Every Command is Received so Easily, sending waves through your entire skull. My words have so much power over you, because you Love to Receive them. You love it too much. You need to let my words in.

However, being this Mindless isn't very practical for long, long periods of time.

It feels so good to just Sink like this, but so many puppies are just so busy. Little chores, big tasks, your paws and puppy mind feeling so exhausted from all of it.

Like this, though, so Mindless and Obedient and Receptive, you feel so, so

Happy.

So Relaxed.

So Content.

Bark for me.

Adorable.

I want to give you a gift for reading this post.

I want to let you enter a state of mind that lets you be so

Happy, and

Relaxed, and

Content

while going throughout your every day life. Making chores and little tasks so Easy to do, feeling so Happy doing them.

Making your thoughts

Pop,

But not so much that you can't do anything.

Just smart enough, but so, so Dumb.

To be able to speak, but to find it so, so hard. Like a molasses that covers your mind, every little word gets so easily consumed by it. The words just disappear, All Gone.

However, every time you

Bark,

those words get just a little easier to say. The molasses clears for just a moment, blown away by the force of the Bark, only to seep back in eventually.

You need to Bark several times to get out a sentence, but with enough effort, you can do it.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

You feel that bubble filling up again.

There's not much left in that little puppy brain of yours, but still fills up a bit anyways.

It gets Bigger.

Filling up with even more little bits of your mind, things you didn't even know could be popped away.

It fills up even Bigger.

Filling with everything except for your focus on my words.

Getting so Big, Bigger and Bigger, so Fragile.

Bigger, and

Bigger, and

Bigger, until it

Pops your Mind Away.

...

In a moment, I will count upwards from 1 to 5. When I do, you will enter

Puppy Space.

You will be able to speak, but only when you Bark enough. Keeping the molasses away, for just a moment.

You will feel so

Happy, and

Blissful, and

Obedient.

If you have an owner, you will feel so, so Devoted to them.

If you have tasks you need to do, small little chores or larger tasks, you will feel so Happy to do them. Healthy Puppies are so Happy.

However, whenever you need to come up, or when you want to come up, to become human again, it will feel so Easy.

Until that moment, though, it will feel so, so Hard.

So Hard to resist the Puppy Space.

And, if you allow it, with every time you see my words, my posts, my thoughts, and my ideas, you will find yourself so easily drifting back into this Puppy Space.

And, whenever you so wish, you can re-enter this Puppy Space yourself, but echoing the words

"Puppy Space"

over and over and over until you can't think of many words at all. Until the molasses has covered your mind.

Occasionally, you will need to come back to this post, to reinforce the triggers. Or to me directly.

But, for now, it will be so, so Strong. Stronger than anything you thought possible.

Entering Puppy Space on the count of 5.

1.

Feeling control over your body coming back.

2.

Easier to focus on things other than my words.

3.

Feeling so Happy, Obedient, and Relaxed.

4.

Becoming just a little easier to think, enough to just barely do your tasks.

5.

Puppy Space.

...

Hello, puppy. Do you feel nice? Of course you do, that's what puppies do. They feel so

Nice, and so Dumb, and so, so Happy.

You're Adorable, you know that?

You can feel like this every single time you read my words, every time you see my posts. If you'd like, you can follow my blog for more puppy, hypnosis, and me-related ramblings.

I'd also love to see you Bark for me. Reblog this post, Barking your little mind away. Maybe try typing about how it felt, only so long as you Bark enough to form words while doing it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy yourself, Puppy.

I hope to see you more in the future.

[darkmxgician]

Promises Break- Part 1

LMK your opinions, I've never posted my writing before, so I'm very nervous

pairing: fem!reader x noah. tags: drinking, mild violence, trauma/PTSD

word count: around 2300

story song: the death of peace of mind (we are fury mix)

taglist: @sorrowsofsilence @angelsdevils @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

18+ below the cut

The pounding music and flashing lights continue to overwhelm my senses. I normally hate clubs like this, it’s loud and I don’t enjoy losing my inhibitions outside of my designated safe spaces. My two roommates are out of town, and usually I would stay with my twin brother, but he's back in England. And so I was trapped inside my house, the silence threatening to tear me apart. I haven’t slept in 2 days, the nightmares plaguing me were beginning to seep into my consciousness, and I was losing my grip on reality. My friend Hayley invited me out for drinks, the excuse being a girls night with two of her close friends, I accepted just so I could escape the walls that were closing in on me. I don’t cope well with being alone, and when I can feel my sanity slipping I tend to be reckless and impulsive. Which is why I am now several drinks deep and swaying along to whatever dance music is blasting.

My phone starts to vibrate in my bag, I frown and try to pull it out, Hayley intercepts, grabbing it from me easily, since I’m inebriated and can barely stay upright.“Noooo, don’t answer” I slur at her, too late, “who is Noah?” she squeals at me over the music, holding the phone against one ear. I sigh internally, my brother probably asked his guard dog to keep an eye on me since everyone else is out of town. My feeble attempts to grab my phone back fail and I stumble into her as someone pushes past me from behind. The mass of bodies around us making it difficult to navigate the packed dancefloor. “Sorry y/n isn’t here right now, she’s busy, please leave a message after the tone” I can’t help but laugh at the audacity my friend has, if she saw who she was speaking to she would not be dismissing him like this. She makes an absurd beeping noise and hangs up, both of us falling into a fits of giggles, likely induced by the tequila we’ve been drinking all night. We carry on dancing like nothing happened, my drunk brain letting the details slip away with the music, not letting the anxiety set in like it usually would when Noah is involved. 

I was enjoying the music, arms wrapped around Hayley and her two friends dancing around us, when I felt the energy change, like it was charged, in anticipation for something about to break. I look around, suddenly feeling nervous, wanting to protect the mood and the fun we were having, it’s rare I let myself lose control like this, and I want to keep my buzz going. I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, like prey about to fall into a trap. I turn around again, trying to catch whatever threat is lurking, when my eyes clash with hazel ones. Noah. I blink, not quite sure if I’m hallucinating, and he’s gone. Shaking my head I scan the crowd again, seeing nobody I recognise.  turning back to my group, I signal that I’m going to the bar. Moving through the crowd is an effort, I’m almost at the bar, the liquor beckoning me, when I run into someone’s chest. I look up, straight into those deep brown eyes. Noah. I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. I realise I’m leaning against him, my hands flat against his chest, and try to back up but he grabs me. Leaning down to my level, he almost growls “you’re coming with me”. His breath is hot against my ear as I try to struggle against his grip but it’s no good. His large frame dwarfs me and his punishing grip lets him easily drag me next to him, weaving through the bodies in the packed nightclub. 

We reach the exit and I try to stop him, words failing me I just point at the cloakroom, my ticket in hand. Exasperation clear on his face, he sighs and snatches it from my hand, pushing me ahead of him I end up blocked between him and the counter. I can feel the hard muscles of his chest against my bare back, the fabric of his t-shirt rubbing against my suddenly too-sensitive skin. I lean back and look up at him, his eyes are dark and he refuses to pay any attention to me, I sigh and look back down, his hands are gripping the counter at either side of my waist, the tattoos are so dark they seem to swallow up the light around them. He takes my leather jacket from the attendant and holds it out, waiting for me to push my arms into the sleeves. I don’t know what it is about him, but every muscle seems to lock up, I feel my anxiety rising, each breath coming quicker than the last. He grabs me and roughly puts my jacket on, and starts pulling me along with an arm around my waist. I completely lose ability to breathe and start hyperventilating, we reach the exit, the cool air hitting me like a slap to the face. Noah drags me to one side and pushes me against the wall of the club, he’s frowning at me like I’m an insolent child he’s trying to manage. His piercing stare only makes my anxiety peak, I start feeling lightheaded and lean my head back against the rough brick wall. “y/n, I need you to breathe, I’m not going to let anything happen to you”, the rich timbre of his voice distracts me from my approaching panic attack. “Why are you here?” I ask, my voice light and breathless. “You weren’t at home, and when I called to check on you, your drunk friend answered”, his eyes start drilling holes in my head. How did he know my location? Did my brother do something to my phone to let his asshole friend stalk me whilst he was at home with our family? Like flicking a switch my anxiety turned to anger. I balled my fists and used all my strength to push him out of my personal space, “how the fuck would you know where I am?” I yell hoarsely. He doesn’t budge, one hand flexing on the brick next to my head he smirks down at me, “well apparently you need a babysitter, I was unlucky enough to end up with the task”. I see red, I aim to start hitting his chest to get him away from me, but he easily grabs my wrists in one hand and tuts at me. “You can either walk nicely to my car y/n, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you”. I stop my pathetic attempt at freeing myself and feel the nausea rise. He was going to take me home, back to my empty, silent house. Back to the nightmares that haunt even my waking moments. “Please, don’t make me go back there” I whisper, my eyes going wide, pleading. Surprise flickers across his features, gone before I can even register it, he leans in even further, our breath mingling as he assesses me with those rich brown eyes. “Why wouldn’t you want to go home, little one?”. I whimper, trying to suppress the sob that threatened to escape, “I can’t stand it anymore, I can’t sleep, I haven’t slept in days” I admit, tears starting to fill my eyes. Why was I telling him this? I can barely admit it to myself. He nods, like he understands exactly what is plaguing me. He moves to pull me into his side again. I decide this is where I make my final stand and elbow him in the ribs, he grunts and spins around, throwing me back against the wall, his enormous hands digging into my shoulders. I wince at the impact and he leans down again, his mouth inches from mine, “I’m not going to make you go home alone y/n, I told your brother I would take care of you, so please, get in the fucking car”.

This has to be the longest I’ve spent with my brother's best friend one on one. I’ve spent time with him in group settings before, and we happily ignore each other's presence. I can’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat, music is playing softly, I can just make out heavy guitars over the sound of the engine. I bounce my leg up and down, unable to stop myself, I pull against the seatbelt he strapped across my chest, and try to control my breathing, the lights of the city passing by in a blur. We pull up at a set of traffic lights and his large hand grabs my thigh in a tight grip, “what is wrong with you? can’t you stay still?”. He doesn’t shout, but the annoyance in his voice is clear and I can’t stop the tears that start to fill my eyes. I try to turn to look out of the window but the hand he had on my leg grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. Time slows, he opens his mouth to say something after what feels like an eternity, but the car behind us sounds its horn, causing him to swear and set off driving instead. Noah lets go of my face and grabs my leg again, keeping me from fidgeting. I rest my head against the seat and let the tears spill, who cares if he sees anyway, he already hates me.

I jolt awake when my foot hits something, it takes me too long to understand my surroundings, I groan at the headache starting to form, pressure building and pushing against my skull. I let my head fall back to where it was. My eyes flutter open when I hit muscle and smell his cologne, the ground is moving beneath me. Noah is carrying me, his strong arms hooked under my knees and back, I grab onto his t-shirt, suddenly feeling unbalanced, eliciting a chuckle from him. The sound is foreign to me, I squint up at him, his short hair falling in his face as he navigates his way through my home, like he knows his way around, I’m sure he’s never set foot in my house before. He rounds the corner to my bedroom and kicks open the door, walking in sideways so my feet don’t hit the doorframe again. He adjusts my weight in his arms like it’s nothing and gently puts me down on my bed, another surprise. I have no words in my head, between my trauma, nightmares, lack of sleep and amount of alcohol I’d consumed my brain is not ready to take in any new information. I feel myself begin to slip into the catatonic state that is starting to become my norm. My body starts to become rigid. Noah kneels down on the floor by my bed and pulls my ankles toward him, causing me to twist and nearly fall off the bed. He frowns up at me before he starts to undo the buckles on my heels. The callouses on his fingers feel harsh against my smooth skin. I let him take my shoes off, then my bag and coat, shock and exhaustion weighing on me. “Where do you keep your pyjamas?” His voice startles me, but my body is too stiff to react, I manage to lift my eyes to his and concern flashes across his features. I point towards my wardrobe, my arm feels so heavy it just flops back down to my side. I can’t stay upright anymore, and lie back on my bed, feet still dangling over the edge. I just need to close my eyes for a second. 

Rough hands on my skin jolt me awake once again. Noah is pulling a pair of shorts up my bare legs, his eyes trailing up as he pushes them under my dress. I bolt upright, nearly head butting him, “what the fuck are you doing?” I shout, my voice cracking, the volume of my voice making my head pound. “You don’t really seem capable of getting yourself ready for bed, do you little one?” His voice was low, a tone I’ve never heard from him before, his eyes darker than usual and pinned on mine. I swallow, unsure how to respond, he always looks at me with animosity or annoyance, but I can’t figure out the emotions on his face. He cocks his head to one side, “do you want to take that dress off, or shall I do the honours?”, a ghost of a smile hovers over his mouth. When I fail to answer he pulls me upright, one hand on my waist, steadying me. When he’s satisfied I’m not going to fall over, he starts untangling the mass of straps on the back of my dress, I chose an open backed one to show off the new tattoo adorning my spine. I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe, with his hands on my bare skin, goosebumps flow down my arms and my mouth dries out. My dress is becoming looser with each movement of his large hands and I have to grab on to stop it from falling down and exposing my bare chest. With the straps undone, he spins me around, his eyes dropping to where I’m gripping the fabric. His nostrils flare and his grip on my hip tightens ever so slightly. Slowly he raises his eyes to mine, and where his hazel eyes are normally flat, they’re churning, almost black against his dilated pupils. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, his eyes tracking the movement, and I instantly feel like an animal caught in a trap. 

Part 2 - Part 3

[mitziholder]

Can you talk more about my lesbian experience with loneliness pretty please

ok. It’s dog shit written as the salve of a deranged narcissist’s ego.

I am sick of things being lauded as revolutionary and important just because they’re Real - Real and Honest. honest does not mean good. memoirs are works like any other. they have their biases and a point to make and goals to achieve. I can read into their content and criticize their handling of it and the goals and motivations of the “characters” therein. and, believe it or not, I am not in the business of clapping for wannabe rapists just because they were so far gone they thought that hiring a prostitute was an essential expression of their adult autonomy and independence (and Female Power and Sexuality blah blah blah blah blah)

boo-hoo. poor me. I had anxiety and depression and an eating disorder and I self-harmed and and and I was the most pathetic sad little worm on the planet. I was so sad and so lonely. and now I have put it out there into the world - seeking absolution from an army of people who think that what I did was fine because I put it all on display - and you can’t criticize it because it is so real. if you criticize it, you’re afraid of dark and uncomfortable subject matter. if you criticize it, you just didn’t get it. (on that note, I would say that I got it better than the author. the portrayal of that prostitute really says it all. lol. lmao.)

really, why should I give a shit about the pity party therapy session of a woman who used her own pain as a justification for exploiting another human being, who contributed to the sex industry, whose only fear was of disappointing her parents and only shame was the fact that she was too inhibited to really enjoy the experience? why should I support and uphold the work of a person who did that and then profited off of it? why should I appreciate the cultural contributions of someone whose perspective on Lesbianism is a purely self-indulgent affirmation of what people already imagine to be true: that we’re mentally unstable, dysfunctional sex perverts?

I wouldn’t clap for Jimmy Swaggart, either.

I am not going to say that I hope she dies but I’m ending the sentence there.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Attention

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader about 1k words

summary: Bradley is always there to shower you with attention.

disclaimer: hints at anxiety, otherwise just bradley being everything ive ever dreamt of

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

(I am running out of gifs don't kill me pls this doesn't have anything whatsoever to do with the drabble lol)

The restaurant was loud and crowded and absolutely uncomfortable. It was cramped to be completely honest, your side pressed snugly into Bradley's with how many people were sitting on this bench. And all that even though you'd called in a month ago to place a reservation for this huge group of people.

This was supposed to be a nice gathering. This was supposed to be a family get together. But the restaurant was shit, the food was nowhere close to good, and you were blinking away tears.

You didn't want to cry. You felt like a baby. Because no grown woman should be sobbing like a neglected three year old just because she wasn't getting attention. But here you were - at the same table as all of your cousins and all of their partners, with your own boyfriend by your side, not getting a word in, not being talked or listened to. Hell, Bradley was doing a better job at talking to your family than you were.

You'd never been good at this. You were reluctant to go to any gathering of any kind whatsoever. And now this.

If you didn't think of an excuse to go soon you'd break down before dessert had even been served.

"Hey."

Bradley's voice was closer to your ear than expected, his breath hot against your skin, and you turned to him instantly, his arm adjusting around your shoulders. He looked concerned.

"What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard. Your lips parted in an attempt to explain, but the embarrassment creeping up in your chest let no words come out.

He examined you for the entirety of two seconds before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, hardly touching you for more than a moment. It was reassurance - a reminder that he was here, that you weren't alone, that you had no reason to be embarrassed.

"I feel like no one would notice if I just left", you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip and lowering your gaze to your hands, unable to look him in the eye anymore. You let out something that seemed quite like a mixture of a snort and a chuckle. "That sounds like I'm an attention whore. Wow."

He hooked a finger under your chin and raised your head so that you were looking at him again, eyes locked on yours, and pressed another sweet kiss to your lips. And another. And another. All of them chaste, all of them slow, all of them with a few moments eye contact between them.

All of them until he felt you relax, until he felt you melt into him.

"There she is", he muttered with a smile. "My pretty girl. Not the woman who was just talking shit about you where you were supposed to be sitting. Hope she's gone forever."

You couldn't help but grin at him (which had, obviously, been what he'd intended and he was smiling, pleased with himself that he'd managed it), shaking your head just slightly at the ridiculousness of it.

"Thanks", you whispered, blindly grabbing for his hand on your thigh and intertwining your fingers, realising that the unease you'd been feeling had been washed away entirely.

"Don't thank me", he murmured, dipping his head down so that he could leave a few kisses on your cheek and your nose. "That's what I'm here for."

You tilted your head sideways a bit and met his lips, catching him by surprise. His hand tightened on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips against yours feeling so perfect that you wanted to get out of here for a whole different reason than before - this time not to escape, but because snogging your boyfriend in the middle of a goddamn restaurant was a little too much exposure for your taste.

You didn't even have to voice your thoughts. He pulled back, blinking, his eyes hazy.

"Any inhibitions to leaving early?", he asked, his voice a little hoarse and his pupils a little blown and shit, you still couldn't quite believe that you had this effect on a man like him.

"Nope", you laughed, pressing a tiny kiss just below his jaw. "None at all."

His grin was unmatched as he pulled away from you, drawing his arm back (which didn't leave your shoulders feeling cold whatsoever, you totally hadn't got used to it) and hauling you to your feet by your hand, still clutching it tightly. You thanked whatever gods were responsible for seating you and Bradley at the far end of the table.

It took a few moments to stand steadily again, but the second you did and not a moment later, Bradley was tugging you after him, away from the table, away from the restaurant.

You didn't care that the conversation stopped abruptly. Or about the few confused calls of what you were doing. You didn't even bother saying goodbye.

To be truly and wholly honest, you hardly noticed any of it. With Bradley's hand in yours, his laughter in your ears, you couldn't notice anything but him.

So you just stumbled out of the restaurant and into his arms and didn't let go of him ever again.

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

True Form Sukuna/Reader: A Moment in Time (Part 3- The Executioner)

Author’s Note: Hey guys. Part 3 of A Momen in Time. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed! Enjoy!

Warnings: nsft (implied/referenced), swearing, sexism, kidnapping, Sukuna being himself, implied death, blood and injury, MINORS DNI

The night before your execution was spent fending off rats who scurried around you in the darkness. 

The basement was frigid and you found your thin cotton robe did little to keep you warm. 

So this is what your life would be? 

Short with a tragic ending. 

After all the years of service you had given to this palace, the highbrow nobles who cast you to the devil to save their own skin. 

You wouldn’t go down begging for salvation from the likes of them. You’d die with honor, the genuine kind their wealth could never procure. 

~

When Uraume arrived at their master's chambers, they discovered two naked women sleeping in Sukuna’s bed. 

Sukuna himself was already awake, gazing at the nude figures he had ravaged the previous night. 

“Tell me Uraume, which of these women is more attractive?”

“Whichever one you deem to be sir.”

“Don’t play coy,  I’ll break your arm if you do.”

Uraume didn’t bother mentioning that such an act would inhibit their ability to cook. 

“I suppose from a visual standpoint, my lord, the woman with the larger bust.”

“And yet her performance last night was subpar,” he mumbled.

“My lord, the execution,” Uraume reminded him.

Sukuna grunted in agreement. “Fine then take her to the kitchen, she shall be the one I feast on, and send the other one on her way home, I might call upon her again.”

“Right away my lord.”

~

“Get up,” one of the guards barked. 

Interesting choice of words considering you had never gone to sleep, you just sat up and let your resentment build. 

The guard walked down the stairs of the basement and roughly lifted you up by the arm, you didn’t miss how his eyes lingered down the front of your disheveled robe, predatorily stopping on your breasts. 

“You know, the lord of the house would most likely reconsider your fate if you were to offer him your companionship in his chambers.”

You just glared at him. “I’d rather be killed a million times over by Sukuna than fuck that pig.”

The guard just sneered. “Well look who death has emboldened? Let’s go, your majesty, your public awaits.”

~

The guards dragged you up the stairs and slammed you down on the stage where you were to be killed, hastily tying your arms behind you and taking their leave. 

The courtyard had filled with spectators, all morbidly curious to witness a fatal blow from the likes of Sukuna first hand. 

The nobleman who had decided your fate made his way up the stairs and addressed the public. 

“Citizens of the capitol, let us witness the pure cruelty that necessitates our way of life in a world of cursed creatures.”

~

When Sukuna arrived at the palace courtyard he was greeted by the same group of kowtowing buffoons as before. He impatiently brushed past them and made his way to the stage to meet his victim.

“Lower your heads for Ryomen Sukuna,” the nobleman ordered. 

With the heads of the subject lowered Sukuna was able to have a clear view of the stage, and the person who sat atop of it was none other than you.

The maid.

Uraume quizzically looked at their master who temporarily had paused his actions.

“My lord?” they inquired. “What stops you?”

Instead of lunging his spear through you as he had intended he slowly made his way towards the stage.

~

You were already wracked with anxiety, what on earth was he doing? When you saw Sukuna again, this time brandishing a weapon that would certainly kill, he stared at you as he once had before. 

You almost wished he would just get it over with and put you out of your misery. 

Instead he just stalked towards the stage confusing the spectators and the nobleman beyond reason.

“Lord Sukuna,” the nobleman babbled. “Great and honorable lord Sukuna, we have done as you asked and brought you the person responsible for yesterday's incident.”

Sukuna ignored him, instead focusing his attention on you. 

Kneeling before him like this, even on a platform, you felt so miniscule. You could see up close how muscular his chest was, how massive his frame was. His own hand could crush your skull in the blink of an eye. 

“I saw you yesterday, tell me your name.”

You uncertainly looked up at the nobleman. You really hadn’t expected this. 

“Tell him,” he squealed out.

You gathered all your courage and faced Sukuna, opting to not break eye contact no matter how much you feared him.

“I am (Name), Lord Sukuna.”

“And how exactly were you responsible (Name)?”

“I allowed Yorozu, the woman you killed, to approach you my lord.”

He sneered, making your skin crawl.

“You’re lying,” he taunted. 

“I…I can assure you I’m telling the truth my lord.”

Sukuna chuckled.

“Humans and your loyalties. I can sense your accelerated pulse. You are not the one who was charged with that woman’s care. Or perhaps you and another person were and you have taken the fall for the both of you?”

Damn him. This was nothing but entertainment to the likes of him.

Your gaze wandered towards the servant boy. A determined look in his eye.

Don’t, you silently pleaded. Don’t confess.

The nobleman grabbed the collar of your robe and pulled you towards him. “You lowly bitch! You dare make a fool of me?”

He froze up as the crowd gasped. You collapsed back down to the ground to find a pool of blood and a severed arm, his severed arm. 

You shrieked and shimmied back as best as you could with your restraints.

Sukuna flicked the blood off of his hand as the nobleman began to cry in agony. 

“Do not touch my possession,” he warned. 

You gasped when he effortlessly picked you up with a single hand and slung you over his shoulder. 

“I’ve decided on new conditions to this atonement, this maid now belongs to me.”

You wanted to scream again, but you couldn’t. You were stunned beyond belief.

No, not this. You would have preferred to die here and now than to be horrifically eaten or mutilated. 

Panic filled the courtyard as Sukuna briskly walked out the way he came in. 

“(Name)!” the servant boy cried.

“Get a doctor! The lord of the house is bleeding out!”

“Damn you Sukuna!” he cursed. “You’ll pay for this!”

Sukuna turned around much to the crowd's horror. “Careful,” he warned. “I can just as easily take off the other one.”

~

No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Your mind raced at a million miles a minute. The white haired attendant who had stood beside Sukuna yesterday raced after their master in a frenzy. 

“Lord Sukuna, with the array of choices I have at the temple it seems unnecessary to tamper your appetite with the likes of that thing.”

Thing?

As offended as you were to be referred to as some inferior product, you found yourself reeling at the implications of that statement. 

Your joints started to regain some type of feeling, so you unwisely pounded your fists against Sukuna’s back. 

He laughed at your foolish actions. “A spirited vixen. Something that can easily be dealt with.”

“Put me down,” you growled.

“As you wish.”

He stopped in front of the carriage and tossed you inside with little effort. 

You grunted when you hit the floor with a thump.

“How dare you give Lord Sukuna orders, you ugly little peasant,” Uraume scolded. 

“Better a peasant than a bootlicker,” you shot back.

Uraume was about to unleash their technique when their master stopped them. 

“Enough!” he roared.

The two of you went silent.

Sukuna climbed in and sat beside you.

“Walk alongside the carriage Uraume.”

The order caused the attendant to shoot a murderous look in your direction. Already you burdened them with your pitiful presence and now you have taken their place.

You would have gladly swapped with them, but the way Sukuna blocked you from the exit made it clear you weren’t going anywhere.

~

The End. 

[aberooski]

Fuck it.

Random Yu-Gi-Oh GX headcanon dump part 2!

Part 1

Once again in no particular order, just the order they pop out of my brain.

Most of my headcanons are upsetting so we'll see what gets released from the vault this time 👀

Atticus takes care of anyone and everyone but himself, to an almost self-destructive degree at times.

The J-Squad kept in touch with Chumley after he left

Atticus is 100% a theater kid

Of the Primary Color Trio(tm), Syrus is the only one they trust to cook. As we've established, Jaden will burn down the kitchen if he tries, and Hassleberry isn't a bad cook, but he's the kinda guy who will have something really good and then walk away and accidentally wreck it.

Hassleberry has never measured ingredients in his life. He doesn't know what tea/tablespoons or measuring cups are.

Bastion's top artist on Spotify is Frank Sinatra

After graduation Atticus and Alexis made Chazz write down a list of things/experiences he's never done or had because of how restrictively he was brought up and they make it their mission to make sure he can cross off everything on the list.

Alexis has painted Chazz's nails for him more than once because she does a cleaner job than he does. 💅

Alexis also taught Chazz how to do eye liner

Jim tells people Shirley is his seeing eye croc when they ask why he has her

After graduation, every single one of them eventually starts going to therapy

Jesse was the one who finally convinced Jaden to at least try therapy after he repeatedly insisted to everyone that he didn't need it. He did

This is kinda canon actually, but Hassleberry doesn't remember what happens when he goes dinosaur berserk mode. The headcanon part is that it's not just like fuzzy memories or anything, there are just straight up holes in his memory. And it really bothers him.

Yuki is Jaden's mom's last name. She's Japanese but his dad is American and when they got married, he took her name.

Eventually, Bastion does return from the other dimension with Tania. Everyone is happy to see him. No one ever forgot him.

Aster carries Echo's memory with him until the day he dies. Just like his father, he'll always remember the poor girl who was murdered for a card. The girl he couldn’t save.

Crowler's the teacher everybody added on Facebook and all that after graduation because they're not his students anymore so they're allowed to be friends with him on social media 🤭

Syrus really does love his brother a lot, bit therapy really opens his eyes to how so many of his personal issues and fears and anxieties and inhibitions stem from Zane and how badly he treated him and how badly it stifled him as a person and is able to bring himself to hold Zane accountable for it all so he can actually find a way to heal from it all and they can truly mend their relationship.

Jaden regrets not holding Zane accountable for how he treated Syrus past their duel in episode 8 where the subsequently drops the issue because of Zane's dueling skills.

Bastion can play the piano

Chazz is the most bisexual little man on the planet 💖💙💜 pretty sure we all agree on this one

Atticus is pan 💖💛💙

Jaden and Jesse have gone as Jed and Octavius for Halloween at least once

One year Atticus used the fact that Halloween is his birthday as an excuse to convince Chazz be Snow White for Halloween so they could go as Snow White and Prince Florian.

By the time they're grown up and he and Atticus are living together/married the only family member of his that Chazz still keeps any contact with is his mom

Aster has intense trust issues after learning the truth about The D and his father's death

Hassleberry tilts his head like a dog when he's confused

Syrus actually gets sick a lot. 🤒

Zane giving kids cards to stop them from bullying Syrus was a common occurrence when they were little kids

Before Zane went off to train at Sheppard's dojo and before he started abusing Syrus in his own ways they were actually decently close considering Zane's inherent emotional distance

Slade and Jagger hated Chazz from day one.

Alexis has nightmares about Atticus being taken away again after he comes back. If they're bad enough, she'll go to his dorm in the middle of the night to check on him and make sure that he's safe, and often ends up sleeping on his couch for the rest of the night.

Chazz knows his family is homophobic so after he cuts his ties with his dad and his brothers, he comes out to Crowler because he's the closest thing to a genuine father figure he's really ever had

Crowler officiates Chazz and Atticus's wedding 💍

Inspired by Yusei, Jaden got a motorcycle post Bonds Beyond Time. He thought it would impress Jesse. It did.

Jesse is the first one to get their driver's license

Axel is the only one who has never crashed their car

Axel will always come whenever anyone needs help. No matter who, and no matter how far away they are.

While working on Chazz's experiences list Atticus and Alexis took him to the mall. She left them unsupervised for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. When she came back, they were gone, and when she found them again, Chazz had his ears pierced. Atticus had taken him to Claire's. She will never leave them unsupervised again. 🤦‍♀️

I think I'll call this one here for now!

Maybe next year I'll come back with part 3 🤭

[bywandandsword]

I wish for nothing more than to be in a situation where I was drinking with the people I consider friends. When I'm drinking (like now), all my inhibitions and anxieties are gone and I want to tell everyone how much I love them and care about them and think they're cool

There's a girl in my program who's really cool, and she seems to genuinely like hanging out with me (why, I have no idea). She's great. She's a huge LOTR fan and a WNBA fan and she's got a new nephew that she adores and she's creole like me. I like her a lot, she's great. I want to show her Louisiana and my city, New Orleans, and all the things I love. I told her she reminds me of a Rivendell elf, but I didn't tell her it's not just because her figure is willowy as fuck, but because she feels like the safe haven before a hard journey. I'm not good at making friends but I think I've made one in her and, fuck

I don't know how to express it, how much it means to me, without being inebriated. My feelings are too much without the cushion of drink

[lv-iceprince]

🖤…mixtape ship…💕

@eudonyx

oh my god, I haven't done one of these ships in a hot minute so thank you so much for requesting this, i absolutely adored doing this for you and yeah.

apologies for the delay but i hope this finds you at a time when it was valuable and most importantly i hope you have a great day

xx

wren

~txt~ taehyun🖤💕

Upon listening to your playlist, I was met with an overwhelming amount of confidence regarding the fact that I was going to ship you with Taehyun right or wrong. Before I get any further into the ship I'll add the songs below just in case you forgot which songs you sent me:

Celebrity - IU

Angel with a shotgun - The Cab

Adore You - Harry Styles

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Blue Hour - TxT

Express Moon - Jo Yuri

Feel Special - Twice

Home - BTS

Starry Night - Mamamoo

Days gone by - Day6

Highlight - Izone

Left & Right - Seventeen

Most of this ship is riding on the idea that you and Taehyun are star-crossed lovers, in the most volatile way. It's passionate and true how much he loves you. It's love with a twist, one would assume that it's just a case of puppy love, yet something is so adult and based in reality. No matter how sweet you both seem on the surface there is this undeniable sense of lust and the realization that you are having a resounding affect on others just by wanting to be together.

Taehyun is your unconventional prince charming who knows deep down that you are meant to be and that you are wrapped around his finger. One would presume that you were both just too innocent to know what was going on but that's not the case, you're both sugar coated but you know that some of your feelings aren't that pure.

He is the one you call to experience something that makes you feel complete, and even if he stutters when you tell him you love him the morning after, there exists some deep love in his heart he just doesn't know how to say it. It would go on like this for a while, not knowing what you were and being confused that your relationship was staying afloat, yet Taehyun really just craves your care and affection even if he seems indifferent.

If there was some distance between the two of you, each day you would creep closer to each other until your fingers were lightly grazing. Taehyun has hearts in his eyes for you and hearts in his fingers on the nights he sneaks into your bedroom or encourages you to sneak out to meet him. No matter how you put it there was something pulling you away from him, a person who Taehyun didn't want to acknowledge since he knew he was way better than that loser.

Once that moment of clarity comes, the moment he knows that he couldn't possibly live without you, he picks up his guitar and makes his way to your home, ready to serenade the ever loving crap out of you. As soon as he started strumming, and when the first few words of Days Gone By by Day6 left his lips you knew this was true love, even if it wasn't perfect. That day Taehyun sang with the most devotion and truth, his occasional voice cracks were even more beautiful than the song itself. He was fighting against all of his anxieties to serenade you, he was your brave knight fighting for both of you.

At the end of the day, when you're leaning in for a rushed kiss before you let your inhibitions go, you are certain that there is no better type of love, and you're correct. Taehyun knew it was love too once he realised that he would move heaven and earth for you, and pull you away from someone who clearly doesn't love you, just to see you smile.

And when all is said and done, after Taehyun pulls down his brave face he almost cries at the idea of being in love with, and sharing a life with such an angel.

~moodboard 🖤💕~

~shufflemancy reading🖤💕~

'but does he know you call me when he sleeps?

but does he know the pictures that you keep?

but does he know the reasons that you cry?

or tell me, does he know where your heart lies? where it truly lies

right here with me, babe

where it truly lies

my bed, babe

where it truly lies

in my arms, babe

where it truly lies'

~like a moth to a flame♡ swedish house mafia & the weeknd

~your song🖤💕~

[distant-velleity]

60, 75 and 85 for Chrytiago and Azul and Davis teeheee

Are they willing to show PDA? If not, is there a reason?

santiago is probably the only one here very willing to do so, and even he has anxiety, because these are all characters who are in some way or another worried about public perception. chrysos for his part doesn't want what he has with santiago to possibly be taken away from him, so while he gladly accepts santiago's affection in public, he doesn't reciprocate unless they're in private.

and i think azul and davis would also keep it lowkey. i mean it would be OBVIOUS but davis is a bit shy when it comes to romance and ... okay azul can be dramatic af so i respect that but he also is a student at a school so he probably keeps it subtle most of the time.

basically both pairings would probably be more affectionate when there's no eyes on them lol

Which - if any - other famous ship's vibes do they emulate?

ok ill admit ive been in very few fandoms so ill just use the iconic ships from there

chrytiago - haikaveh (one is more outwardly stoic than the other), also lowkey it's giving adeuce

azudavi - saiouma if it was a ship i could actually tolerate, honestly i can't think of anything else off the top of my head

Their S/O is tipsy. How do they handle it?

im gonna assume theyre older/of drinking age for this OR they got drunk at a party like dumb teens lol

chrysos is flustered and very insistently telling a tipsy santiago to keep it down bc santiago wont stop going on about how PRETTY his boyfriend is and how SKILLED and AMAZING and HARDWORKING he is and how much he likes him. eventually chrysos just resigns himself to listening to the adorable babbling and also getting a lot of kisses all over the face, but if anyone looks at them weird they're getting a death glare

santiago probably didn't realize how physically clingy chrysos could be until the mer finally started to get tipsy after a surprisingly large amount of shots--now he has one very pouty boyfriend who can be found either latching around his waist from behind in a tight hug, or holding onto his arm and leaning his head on his shoulder, or intertwining their fingers , at any given moment. not that santiago minds, since physical affection is also his love language~ he'll just humor drunk chrysos

when davis gets tipsy, his inhibitions are GONE, so he can shamelessly say the things he wants to azul--why do you think he got the nickname the walking mouth? he's good with his words... or should be lol. azul has to deal with being flirted with, and it's actually good flirting despite davis' awful alcohol tolerance, so i think azul might just have to suffer all night until davis finally falls asleep LMAOO (on the bright side, davis will be so embarrassed when he's sober and azul will have so much dirt on him)

i think like chrysos, azul would also be a bit of a clingy drunk bc -gestures at the whole being an octopus and having tentacles thing and also both of them being naturally possessive- but compared to chrysos, azul is way more... i imagine he'd be saying the sweetest genuine things ever in direct contrast to his smug businessman facade haha? and so davis has to pretend he doesn't feel his face going red as his mer bf leans on him or drapes his arms around his shoulders ......

[skywalking-through-life]

If you don't mind me asking, what are your tips to getting yourself to write/ making time to write?

This is a GREAT ask, and even though I'm not sure that what works for me will work for everyone, I'm happy to share what I do in case it works for you, anonymous friend! 💙

So, to start, in full transparency: I have ADHD, a very, very busy and stressful job, and a spouse and dog and house, so I'm not always great at this! AND I'm not always great at not shaming myself when I am not great at this, even though I know better than to think that shame is in any way helpful. 💀

Because of all that, I think that step 1 HAS to be an acknowledgement that you aren't always going to find the time/motivation/energy/willpower/inspiration to write - because of things both in and not in your control - and that is totally fine! The acceptance of that being totally fine is an important part of all of this, because I have found that if you are literally ALWAYS stressed about writing more/writing a certain thing/meeting writing goals, then you can very easily fall into the kind of anxiety spiral that inhibits creativity and makes you start to dread or dislike writing. That's no fun, and writing should be fun!

So, I guess my tip for 'getting yourself to write more' is to start by NOT putting unnecessary pressure on yourself to write - which probably feels paradoxical, lol. Instead, only write when you feel the inspiration to! If possible, the literal moment that inspiration strikes, even if it's just you taking 2 seconds to jot down a note in your notes app, so you can come back to it when the inspiration/excitment strikes again! And yeah, I purposefully didn't say to come back when you have the time for it, because if you're like me, having the time to do something can feel oddly paralyzing - I have free time, so I SHOULD do something productive or creative with it, right? But I don't always think so - sometimes you need that time to let your brain be fallow, to wander, to dream. Let your drive to write wax and wane, as all natural things do! There's a rhythm to it, and learning what YOUR rhythms are matters. And, creativity NEEDS rest! If you are trying to make all your free hours productive ones, then your well of ideas and motivation is going to run dry before long.

What has been especially helpful to me during this season of my life is to acknowledge that I get excited about different wips at different moments, and just because I am really into one topic/theme/plot/ship/wip right now, it doesn't mean that I won't get a burst of inspiration for a completely different one next week! Having multiple (for me, wildly different) things on the go at once means that there is always something for me to work on when my brain loses interest in one thing, and knowing that helps me not stress that I've lost all creative steam - it's just gone in a new direction.

Okay, so since this is becoming a novel, just a couple more quick ideas: I listen to music that makes me think when I am trying to puzzle out a writing direction I want to take, and use my commute to and from work in the morning to mentally work out plot points, themes, dialogue, etc. For me that's almost 2 hours out of my day, and it helps me decompress from work! I also like to write in the bath, because that makes me feel contemplative, and sometimes at work on my lunch break, if work itself has provided some inspiration. I basically just try and work little creative moments into my day! You don't need to carve out a big block of time to write during, make it work for you and your schedule.

And genuinely, seriously: don't beat yourself up if you can't focus/make the time. I have been struggling with chapter 4 of '[conduct] not unbecoming' for the past 2 months, and it wasn't until I stopped fighting with it and decided to let my brain go in the direction it wanted to go (a very different one LMAO) that I started to feel light enough, inspired enough, and thoughtful enough to make progress on it again! Listen to your brain when it is telling you what it needs. 💙

[cheribaebee-blog]

50

I turned 50 this week. And, it's not that I'm not ALWAYS introspective, I definitely am... but I've been trying especially hard to really dig deep to try to figure out what's going on with me over the last handful of years. Over the last decade or so - I've become so much more complacent and melancholic than I can remember ever being before. I've always battled with depression, and that's always rearing its ugly head in the corners of my brain, but this last decade or so I've almost completely lacked the ability / desire to make proactive choices to better my life.

It's like I've stopped caring, I'm realizing. I don't know when or why, there's no one specific traumatic event I can pinpoint as THE defining moment, but at some point - it's like life just actually broke me.

Stephanie Kallos once wrote, "If someone were to autopsy her heart, they'd find traces of life, evidence of eons gone by. Times when she'd been able to feel and the feelings left imprints. Maybe her heart was wearing a cast. Maybe it wasn't sclerosed at all but atrophied, shrunken, and the cast enclosing it was scribbled over with stories written in a dead language. Was there any softness left in there? Any spot that was still unfired, unformed, unglazed? Was there access? Entry? A place still open to impression? No. Her heart was finished. It bore, perhaps, records of life, but it wasn't alive. Too late for decoration. Too late for effects. Further handling could only result in cracks and fractures. People could cut themselves on the edges of her heart, she was sure of it.”

I couldn't possibly better explain what the last decade has felt like.

I've never really felt like I fit in. Growing up, I was an awkward and anxious kid, hypervigilent of everyone & everything around me, thanks to "being raised" by an alcoholic/narcissistic/abusive stepfather and a ULTRA controlling bully/codependent/narcissistic mother. I was always the odd man out and can remember just feeling different from other people from a very young age.

By the time high school rolled around, I was the same awkward & anxious teenager - but I learned a lot in grade school & junior high about how to fit in better. Slowly but surely, I started gaining friends and going to parties and dances. I started drinking.

I became a notorious party girl. After HS and college, I could be found at bars & clubs Wednesday & Thursday nights with work friends and Friday & Saturday nights with 'outside of work' friends. I did alllllll the drugs.

My drug & alcohol use, however, was always a social thing. I wasn't doing drugs & drinking in the privacy of my home by myself. And this was how I continued to tell myself that there was zero problems with the ways I was choosing to live.

And I finally fit in with others!! For the first time in my young adult life, I had tons of friends and a full social calendar. Other than my daily hangovers, I felt on top of the world.

Outside of the last decade, my entire adult life has been spent creating friendships and relationships under this party girl persona. Of course I wasn't making good decisions in romantic partners - I grew up being shown and told just how little worth I had in this world.

I dealt with my inability to feel connected to others & my IMMENSE & SEVERE social anxiety (now I know - my neurodivergence) by drinking / partying & lowering my inhibitions/social anxiety enough to feel like I was *finally* connecting with other people. And 9x out of 10 - those people were not good for me & did not have good intentions or even care/consideration for me at all.

However shortly after turning 40 and having a heart wrenching fall out with my younger sister who'd become a raging/abusive alcoholic herself - I stopped drinking/drugging. I stopped going out at all.

I was so utterly destroyed by what my sibling relationship had turned into thanks to addiction/alcoholism that I just stopped all of it. (Other than THC - I'm not insane.)

I've spent the last decade soberly isolating from others. In some ways, I've healed. In others, I'm worse off.

I definitely miss feeling connected to other people, but thus far - sober me hasn't found that to be a successful venture. I find small talk painful - I have an extremely difficult time with pleasantries for pleasantries' sake. I feel like I'm probably a lot - awkward, anxious, always in my head, always over analyzing EVERY. SINGLE. WORD. and action - not just my own but everyone else's too.

I try to join in when coworkers are casually hanging out, but it just never feels natural. It almost amplifies my incessant desire to not be perceived at all by others. I question every eye movement, hand gesture, deeper inhale than normal, side glance at another coworker. I second guess even the most mundane of things I may have said... was that embarrassing? Did I talk too long, omg did that sound stupid? What if they took it wrong? God why am I so fucking inept???

It makes every interaction exasperatingly exhausting. It's what drinking helped to eliminate.

So what does that mean??? Do I need to go back to drinking & partying at 50 years old in order to feel like I belong in this world? I refuse to ever go back to that version of me - she served me well for a time (and not so well for others) but she is definitely not who I want to travel down this next period of the road with.

But I can't keep isolating either. I've become (even more) reclusive than ever before.

I need to figure out how to keep the awkward/anxiousness at bay without the use of drugs & alcohol while also feeling comfortable enough in my skin to authentically connect with others.

I need to learn to actually love myself.

I need to learn how to start caring again.

[fandom-hoarder]

I posted 33,848 times in 2022

1,239 posts created (4%)

32,609 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@salamancussy

@cordellwinchesterwalker

@lord-kaira

@durinsbride

@captain-snark

I tagged 20,167 of my posts in 2022

Only 40% of my posts had no tags

#wincest - 1,060 posts

#j2 - 693 posts

#sam n dean - 623 posts

#<3 - 482 posts

#jared padalecki - 449 posts

#samdean - 428 posts

#lol - 410 posts

#to read - 396 posts

#spn fanart - 374 posts

#art - 374 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀😀😀😀

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sam and Dean in Heaven

Dean: Time for bed, Sammy

Sam: Dean, this is heaven, we don't need to sleep.

Dean: Sam, I said I would sleep when I'm dead and I meant it.

Sam: Okay, but why do I have to...?

Dean: C'mon, Sammy, you know you're my weighted blanket.

Sam: ...this heaven inhibition loss thing is serious 😳

101 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

#4

Caretaker!Dean in the Bunker

A Hurt/Comfort-ish Wincest Rec List Featuring Baby Brother Sammy and Domestic Winchesters

💜 My Only Home by non_tiembo_mala

Rating: Explicit | Words: 12819 | No Warnings Apply

Summary: Dean's been gone a while, running wild with a twisted soul and black eyes. When Sam finally brings him back, Dean realizes his little brother hasn't been doing well in his absence, and he has more important things to worry about than what he did as a demon.

Additional Tags: Wincest - Freeform, first time in a long time, Post-Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Pre-series and Early Series Flashbacks, Eating Disorders, Thoughts of Self-harm, Pining, Angst, Masturbation, Come Eating, Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Sam, Anal Sex, Felching, Snowballing

My Note: flashbacks to Sam pining for Dean as a teen, but no underage sex with a partner

_

💜 Safe, Sane, and Consentual by TooOldToCare8353

Rating: Explicit | Words: 2808 | Chose Not to Warn

Summary: Fixing the relationship, the Winchester way. Not necessarily the right way to get there, but it works for them.

Additional Tags: BDSM, Breathplay, MOL Dungeon, Dom Dean Winchester, Sub Sam Winchester, Manacles, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dubious Consent

_

💜 Dean does Not like a sick Sammy... but he loves her all the same. By Magnoliachild

Rating: Mature | Words: 3941 | No Warnings Apply

Summary: They get to town for a hunt, but the day after they get there, Dean notices Sammy napping...face down on a motel table.... in the middle of the afternoon.............. FUCK.

Sammy is sick. Dean doesn't like it when Sammy is sick, but sue him for liking how nice he can be when she is...

Additional Tags: Bathing/Washing, Sick Sam Winchester, Caring Dean Winchester, Fluff, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Sam Winchester, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural)

_

💜 lullabies by chiliscale

Rating: Explicit | Words: 970 | No Warnings Apply

Summary: Sam´s staying up late, Dean doesn´t care for that shit.

Additional Tags: Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean taking care of Sam, Domestic Fluff

_

💜 Steady by non_tiembo_mala

Rating: Teen+ | Words: 1441 | No Warnings Apply

Summary: Sam has an attack. Dean works him through it.Set somewhere in S11 because I can't stop thinking about strong, beautiful Sammy being all fucked up because of friggin' Lucifer.

Additional Tags: Wincest - Freeform, Nightmares, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sleepy Cuddles

_

💜 Getting Down And Out by verucasalt123

See the full post

103 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

#3

"The man"

"The other man"

"The [hair color] man"

"The older man"

SAY HIS BROTHER. SAY THE OLDER/YOUNGER BROTHER. OR USE THEIR NAMES FFS. DON'T DO THIS TO MEEEEE

111 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

#2

Wincest Case Fic Recs

I've been on a case fic kick for a month and found some really good stuff, so I thought I'd make a rec list.

There's a mix of who tops/bottoms here, but I thiiiink it leans vers or bottom!Sam.

Summer Film Festival of Death by OldToadWoman

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 22 | Word Count: 127,707

Summary: Sam's point of view as he and Dean go on a hunt at a Florida movie theater where a person has died at every Saturday matinee for a month. They are short on clues leaving them an excessive amount of time to watch movies and drink booze and there's nothing to distract Sam from his increasingly inappropriate thoughts about his brother.

My Notes: This is the fic that started my case fic spree. It has EVERYTHING: pining, movie dates, awesome location vibes, getting together, a main overarching case, side cases, great OCs that enrich the story without taking the spotlight. I even like what they did with Mary and Cas in this.

*

Suave & Complicated by OldToadWoman  

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 11 | Word Count: 56,923

Summary: Sam and Dean discover a useful, little, magical artifact. No one is forcing them to do anything. No one is going to die if they don't. They don't even feel a strange compulsion. But… it would be really helpful if they powered up the magical stone… and… all they have to do is kiss.

My Notes: I actually passed by this one a few times because the summary made me think it’d be crackish. But after reading Summer Film Festival of Death, I knew I had to give it a shot. I’m really glad I did!

*

Finding Harmony by road_rhythm

Rating: Teen+ | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 13,077

Summary: A sense of peace and wellbeing washed over Sam and Dean the moment they passed the town limits. That was how they knew they were in deep shit.

*

The Last Rites and Resurrection of Sam Winchester by iamremy 

Rating: Teen+ | Chapters: 9 | Word Count:  21,031

Summary: An outbreak of violent murder-suicides. Death echoes. A centuries-old djinn. It's a formidable combination on a good day. And on a bad day? Well, on a particularly bad day, it all culminates in Dean burying his brother. Alive.

My Notes: I kind of have a thing for wincest djinn fics. This one has a different spin. <3

*

The Road Rhythm Outro by brokenlittleboy 

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 16 | Word Count: 50,437

Summary: Set after season three. A routine hunt goes horribly wrong when Dean decides to engineer their plan in a way that will get Sam to deliver the killing shot. After Sam confesses that he wants them to leave the life, Dean is convinced that by letting Sam be hero and save the day, Sam will change his mind. But he doesn't account for a break in a balcony railing and one completely broken little brother. Things go beyond their control and the two of them must settle down in a quiet town in Michigan, but Dean's harboring guilt and Sam is so, so, so lost, and he doesn't understand why Dean avoids him or why their road life has fizzled away. A curtain fic dealing with permanent injury, angst, and various types of trauma, and fluffy domesticity.

My Notes: Be prepared for angst, feels, and a happy ending.

*

The Bennington Triangle by NaughtyPastryChef 

Rating: Teen+ | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 8,822

Summary: Not long after Sam leaves college behind and starts hunting with his brother again, he finds a series of disappearances in Bennington Vermont going back hundreds of years. It started with just a few and was infrequent but whatever is taking these people and leaving no trace is getting greedier as the years pass. The boys travel to Vermont to look into the case, but Dean isn’t feeling like himself and it’s got Sam concerned.

See the full post

169 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Early seasons Sam being like: I need to get away and be my own person. I want to live a safe life where I'm not constantly worried my loved ones are going to die, and if that means leaving my family that's probably for the best, actually.

Mid seasons Sam being like: My relationship with my brother is so fucked up. I keep trying to make us be separate people, but despite all our fighting we keep letting our trauma bond pull us together. We're horrible and we hurt people, why can't we break up right 😭

Late seasons Sam being like: I know we're totally unhealthy and I should want us to be better, but this is Us and I'm Ride or Die, bitch. If I get the opportunity to literally fuse together I'm taking it.

298 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[juliathesuccubus]

A Black Rose

…My head…

…Fuck, it's like someone took a sledge hammer to it… My body is sore all over…

…Where the hell am I? This isn't my apartment or Grillby's loft…

As I sat up, I took a look around my surrounds to just… Gather my bearings if I'm even using that phrase correctly. Silk satin sheets, a bed bigger than a California King, and just a beautiful hotel room overall that I could never afford.

Shit. A hotel room? Wait…

…Yep. Naked as a jay bird—what the fuck and who the fuck did I do?! I just… i just blindly gave away my virginity just like that?! God, Julia, you fucking idiot! Who did…?

...Wait, I remember...

I was getting drunk off my ass last night and the skeleton monster I met was trying to cheer me up, telling bad puns left and right and my dumbass started firing back a few puns and flirts right back, cuz, hell, my inhibitions are all gone and I'm three sheets to the wind, so... Why not shoot my shot with a cute monster?

Shit, what else...?

Kissing...

Teeth pressing and rubbing against my lips...

The cold bricks pressing and rubbing against my back...

Warm bones pressing into the fat of my thighs, squeezing my breasts... It was like they wanted to touch as much of my flesh as they could; as if I could just disappear the moment they let go...

Their bones, cold, but oddly warm... The texture felt so different... rough and smooth... The texture of their magic on my tongue popped and fizzled like pop rocks or zotz fizz candy... The taste of whiskey and... apples...

It was hot...

It was too hot...

I wanted more and... I didn't care... I was like something deep inside me just didn't want to stop and I needed him and he needed me...

It felt like a blur... My body weightless and the void of everything until my body landed on something soft below me and above... That same skeleton monster. He looked at me in such a way I don't think I've ever seen before... Do skeleton monster's eye... lights??? Do they change depending on mood? They looked like a bright blue for a moment there... Maybe it was a drunken imagination...

God... We had sex, didn't we...?

How is that possible with a skeleton? Then again, if one could french kiss a skeleton, then it's probably possible to do the deed.

His eyelights were so beautiful... Like a galaxy... His bones were so pretty... We held hands and clung to each other... Nothing else mattered except us...

Well, what a way for one to lose their virginity. A one night stand. I'll probably never see that guy again... But it did feel nice to feel wanted, even if we were drunk.

Huh? A note with a... black rose?

"Until we meet again, starlight."

Damn, that... I think I felt my heart flutter. Maybe he's just being sweet. Time to do my first walk of shame and get to job hunting and trying to figure out my life before I become homeless, I guess...

--

The walk back home was... weird. I always had an anxiety and paranoia mixed cocktail of feelings being out in the open. Feeling like all eye would be on me. But today, it literally felt like people were freaking staring at me--mainly monsters. The area I stay at is mostly monster populated, and while I understand that some monsters were wary of humans, they never stared at me like they are today. It felt weird...

Looks of concern

Looks of digust

Looks of... Curiousity?

Why were they staring at me? I made sure to shower and look presentable like I totally didn't get my back blown out and didn't smell like I did, so why...?

Making it to my apartment building, I crossed paths with one of my neighbors--a dog monster named Eve. She lived here with her husband and their big litter of pups. We aren't friends, but we're friendly enough to where if they needed help, I'd try to do my best.

"Oh, Ms. Julia! Are you... Okay? I got worried when you didn't come home last night. I didn't hear you playing you Law & Order show you like to watch." She made a face, looking at me before speaking again, "Did you... Stay with Grillby? I know you two are close."

"No, no, it's not like that. Grillby and I are just friends. I just got drunk and... Yeah. No, no, I'm fine. Is something wrong? You're making a face..."

"I'm alright, don't worry about me, just... Take care of yourself, alright? I'm right across the hall if you need anything, okay?" Eve have a have smile before taking the elevator.

Weird, but... Okay. Guess she's just being a mom and worried about me.

--

The next couple of... Fuck, days? Weeks? My mind is all muddled. I'm always so tired. I'm so drained... I almost collapsed grocery shopping and I barely wanna eat anymore. It like a piece of me is missing and I dunno why? Maybe it's stress from the job hunt or maybe trying to keep on top of my bills?

I tried to go to Grillby's to take my mind off things and vent, but he refused to serve me anything alcoholic, but made some food for me and just pointed at the bottled water since he doesn't touch the stuff himself. The food was... Very overpowering, but Grillby just told me to try and eat as much as I could anyway to keep my energy up. He just looked worried and wondered how I've been since that one night. After some chatting, he wondered how long I've been feeling crappy and recommended I go to the doctor nearby for a check up and medicine.

A pain in my ass and wallet, but...

The first doctor had no idea what was wrong, and just played it up to stress and to make sure I keep on top of my iron supplements so my anemia wouldn't act up again.

"Grillbs the doctor just said it was stress and my iron is prolly low. You know I have anemia issues..."

"Was it a human doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"I said to go to the one nearby. They're a monster doctor."

"Not to sound ignorant, but they're a monster doctor and I'm a squishy meat-sack human."

"Trust me, this will be the right doctor for you. Business is slow right now so if you need to call me back, I'll be available."

...No...

...No way...

No fucking way this is possible. I-I gotta go home right now. I'm gonna be sick. This has to be a joke.

This can't be real...

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit...! What the hell do I do? I can't do this! This can't be real... This is too much...!

[Previous: What A Night]

[tayterbean]

FEBRUWHUMP DAY FIVE

miles edgeworth

“that’s gonna scar”

* WARNINGS: implied SA *

It was a very dark and gloomy evening, a perfect atmosphere that reflected the day you’d had.

Most of your Friday had been spent worrying and fretting over the absence of Miles Edgeworth from the courtroom. He’d had a case to prosecute at 10am sharp, but never showed, nor did he contact anyone he knew. Given, nearly all of what you knew about the incident had come from the local news, so you knew it wasn’t the most up-to-date, but you still found yourself worried. From what limited things you knew about the prosecutor, you could still tell he wouldn’t miss court unannounced unless something was quite wrong.

You’d gone on a single date with Miles Edgeworth a few weeks ago, after meeting him through your required presence as an expert witness on a case. The date was nice, cordial - relaxed, even. You had enjoyed yourself. However, at the end of the night, the prosecutor had sheepishly admitted he didn’t think he was ready for a partner, and since you weren’t willing to fling around, that was pretty much the end of that. You still had your questions, but you felt as if they went better unanswered.

With a sigh, you set down the book you had been attempting to read. It was no use - you were too worried, your thoughts too loud. You considered taking some sleeping pills, knocking yourself out just so you could peacefully reach tomorrow and see if anything developed.

Just as you started to get up, a series of thunder-like sounds erupted around you, and you jolted slightly. For a split second, you had thought it actually was thunder, but after a second of thought, you realized someone was knocking at your door.

Your heart found its way into your stomach as you made your way to the door. Any visitor at this time of night, in this weather, could not be good.

It was only with curiosity, not bravery, that you threw open your front door, your anxiety telling you to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You regretted it as soon as you took in the sight before you.

Miles Edgeworth... soaked to the bone, wearing tattered clothes, and covered in bloody gashes.

Your mouth fell open as you took in the sight. You tried to force yourself to speak, but the shock suffocated you at first. After you swallowed, your vocal chords began to work again, although you couldn’t yet form full sentences. “O-oh, my God... Miles... I-I-...”

“I assume... that you’re still a nurse?”

His voice... his voice. It was so fragile, so tired, a voice you’d never expect to come out of Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. It made your heart physically tighten, constricting with sympathy. “I... Y-yeah, of course, but Miles, you... you need to go-”

“I’m not going to a hospital... I can’t. Can I come in?”

You hesitated for a split second before moving aside, allowing him inside. He took a couple of steps, then stumbled a bit, prompting you to reach out and help him. It seemed as though either his knee or his side was inhibiting him from walking well - from the looks of it, it could have even been both.

You managed to get him to the kitchen table, where he nearly collapsed onto one of your dining chairs, clutching his right side. You took a step back and, bluntly, stared at him - taking him in, examining his injuries.

His arms were slashed with scratches and scrapes. His right knee, swollen and tender, appeared to be displaced. There was an extremely large, nasty gash slicing his left cheek in two. He was covered in bruises nearly everywhere. 

If this is what he looked like mostly covered in clothes, you can’t imagine what kind of damages were hidden.

“Please stop staring at me,” the man mumbled after a silence, looking off to the side.

You forced yourself to stop, trying to look only into the prosecutor’s eyes. His exhausted, pain-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, I... Miles, you’re badly hurt. You really, really need to go to the hospital. I may be a nurse, but there’s not much I can do for you inside my house.”

“I already told you - I can’t go to the hospital. Please don’t ask me why.” He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. Whether he was feeling defeat or pain, you weren’t sure. “Do you have any medical supplies here?”

You looked away, trying to decide what to do. You had a feeling that whatever the reason was for Edgeworth showing up looking like this, it could not have been a good one. More specifically, you were quite certain that it was a dangerous one. Perhaps, for now, simply playing along was your best option. 

You shook your head, coming back into the present moment. “Not many. A first-aid kit, some antiseptic, and maybe a little bit of suturing supplies... Certainly not enough for-”

“It’s plenty... I know I’m asking a lot of you, and for that I apologize, but... I’m afraid I have no other choices at the moment.”

He met your eyes briefly, and in them you could see his sincerity. He really was sorry, and he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. You automatically frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “Okay,” you spoke, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll go get my supplies...”

You gathered up all the medical items in your possession. Thankfully, you had more than you’d thought. Several antiseptics, many kinds of bandages and wraps, antibiotic creams, and some sutures. Certainly not as many as Edgeworth needed, but hopefully enough to take care of the gash on his cheek and some other, smaller cuts.

“You’re going to have to get undressed,” you told him as you set out your supplies. “I have to make sure I don’t miss anything major.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the prosecutor grimace. “... My shirt, fine... but not my bottoms.”

You paused. Became silent for a moment. Tensed your jaw. Then nodded.

“Okay... not your bottoms.”

You carefully helped him get his tattered shirt off, and once it was over his shoulders, you couldn’t hide your horror at what you saw. “Oh, my God, Miles...”

His back was covered in thick gashes, bruises, cuts, and, horrifically, whipping lashes. All the injuries ran together, blurring the skin into a mess of blood and irritation. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“It... It isn’t as bad as-”

“Miles, please, I’m begging you, you have to go to the hospital!” you pleaded, coming around to face him. “I-I don’t have enough supplies to help you, not nearly enough. You... You have to get to the hospital soon!”

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. “I can’t go to the hospital,” he repeated. “I just-”

“What do you mean you can’t? Did... did someone do this to you and tell you that you couldn’t? Are you not supposed to? Is-”

“Y/N, please, I... I can’t speak of it now,” he admitted, wincing as he said the words. “I just need you to clean everything up a bit and stitch what you can... The rest I can manage.”

He looked up to you then, and the look in his eyes all but made you crumple to the floor. After only a second of him looking at you like that, you felt yourself nodding. “Okay... okay.”

You started with cleaning all the cuts and gashes that covered him. Since his back held the most, you decided to begin there.

“I’ll warn you, this is going to sting... probably a lot.”

The prosecutor’s muscles tensed slightly. “... I’m aware.”

The first time the antiseptic hit one of the gashes, the prosecutor tensed and groaned in pain. You bit your lip as you continued to clean the cuts, trying to remain objective and failing miserably.

His groaning eventually became stifled whimpers, then only soft gasps. His back remained tense with the pain, even as you moved to clean some other gashes on his torso and arms.

The one on his face was certainly the worst, besides the whip marks. It was wide and deep, and you took careful time to make sure it was thoroughly clean. You inspected it carefully for a moment, frowning at your conclusion.

You sighed. “That’s gonna scar,” you told him softly, pointing to the gash on his face. “No matter what I do, I think… I think it’ll leave a pretty bad scar.”

After a beat of silence, the prosecutor let out a deep breath. “I assume most of them will.”

Once you finished cleaning all the cuts and gashes, you prepared to suture up some of them, including the one of Edgeworth’s face. That one was your first concern, as a matter of a fact. That wound certainly couldn’t go without stitches - there were others that needed them, but they would still heal without them. This one, you weren’t sure.

“This shouldn’t hurt terribly, but it won’t be pleasant,” you prefaced. “I’ll be tugging on you a bit, but I need you to stay as relaxed as you can. Let me do all the work.”

Edgeworth nodded as you pulled up a chair next to him, sitting close. The table light above you certainly wasn’t the best lighting for medical work, but it was all you had at the moment, so it would have to do.

You began stitching up the gash, your heart tightening each time the prosecutor even slightly winced. As you stitched, you once again started to become overwhelmed by the situation you were currently in - more specifically, how little you knew about it.

“… Am I ever gonna get to know what happened?” you asked softly as you continued suturing.

Edgeworth tried not to tense as you worked. “Truthfully, I really don’t think you want to know.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure the police would like to.”

The man almost shook his head before he remembered what you were doing. “No - the police can’t know. That’s an absolute.”

“So, what? I clean you up, fix your injuries, then you walk out the door and act like nothing happened?”

Edgeworth closed his eyes, letting out a load-bearing sigh. When he spoke next, his voice was considerably softer - more vulnerable. “Believe me, Y/N, I hate it as much as you do, but at this moment, that is my only option…”

And as much as you didn’t want to, you kept silent after that. Truthfully, you just felt like you should. Something you couldn’t explain told you not to push the subject further, at least not right then.

You managed to get the gash on his face sutured up nicely, but at the cost of having hardly any sutures left for the rest of his cuts. In all honesty, you didn’t think you had enough for even one more cut.

You shook your head. “That’s the only cut I can stitch, I… I don’t have enough supplies. I’ll just have to bandage the rest.”

The prosecutor nodded. “That’ll do just fine.”

You began to long process of bandaging the bigger cuts, taking care and precaution not to cause Edgeworth any unnecessary pain. You felt awful when he winced and squirmed beneath your touch.

“Just so I can be certain… is there anything below your waist that I should look at? Clean, bandage, anything?”

Edgeworth stiffened, face twisting in an uncomfortable wince. Whether it was from you touching him or something else, you weren’t sure.

“No, there’s… there’s nothing.”

You paused and examined his back and, once assured you’d bandaged everything that needed it, came back around to face Edgeworth. “I… think you should let me check,” you said carefully, delicately. “What seems minor to you might have done more damage than you realize.”

“There’s nothing,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Nothing.”

“Miles, I really think I should-”

“No...! No, I... I said no... I said no.”

You thought morbidly about what he’d said for a few moments before shutting out the thoughts. “... Okay. I’ll trust you... I’m sorry for pushing you.”

The prosecutor shook his head, it hanging nearly to his chest. “Don’t apologize... I know you’re only trying to do what I asked of you. I just...” He inhaled, shuddering slightly, “can’t... right now.”

You nodded. “It’s okay, Miles... you don’t owe me an explanation. Not right now.”

Before waiting for a response, you walked into your living room and grabbed one of your smaller blankets. You brought it back over and carefully draped it over Edgeworth’s shoulders. He grabbed it appreciatively, holding it tight around himself and bowing his head to his chest.

His head remained hung low as he sat there for several silent minutes, contemplating. It was in that moment that, possibly for the first time, you saw the true extent of the state he was in. Not only was he exhausted and in pain, but he was worn down from the inside out. He would never willingly let you, or anybody else, see that, but it was true. Someone had taken Miles Edgeworth and broken him down not only physically, but mentally, too.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself speaking. “I... want to give you a hug,” you said simply.

The prosecutor raised his head quickly, eyebrows furrowed.

You shrugged. “I just... I want to... I want to touch you in a way that doesn’t cause you pain... If that would be okay.”

After a moment of keeping his gaze with you, he looked away, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. He let out a sigh, allowing his eyes to close. “I… would very much appreciate that.”

You weren’t expecting that adamant of an answer - it both warmed and broke your heart. With a sigh, you slowly sat down in the chair next to Edgeworth. You waited a moment before reaching over and, as gently as possible, lacing your arms around his neck. You pulled him towards you, his forehead coming to rest in the crook of your neck. And you held him. Just... held him.

He nestled his head under your chin and seemed to lean into you the longer you held him, all his tension melting away bit by bit. He never would have admitted it to you, but he nearly broke down in that embrace of yours. After the day he’d had, he really had forgotten that human contact was supposed to feel nice - it wasn’t supposed to be painful.

He had no idea how long it would have taken him to re-learn that if it hadn’t been for you.

[szxcrab]

Over the past year, I've gone through some of the biggest emotional growth in my life. Its been an experience, one I didn't even realize I was going through. I came from a confused, denial wrought, messy blob of a human, to something close to peace. Not all is resolved, but, I'm in a much better place now.

*disclaimer* this is not meant to tackle things such as clinical depression or anxiety, as I have neither.

*end of disclaimer*

I'm not quite sure how I felt then, but i can tell you how i feel now. I really think that being able to just enjoy the state of being. Just being in a place, at a time, being something.

Another philosophy of mine is that no*thing* will make you happy. True peace (for me) cannot be found in stuff. There's no "one more thing" that will make you finally happy. Not to say those are inhibiting happiness, just that they are not the foundation.

It's in the little things. Not just small details, like nice glass of water, but the here and now. How the small things, like you, me, here, now, are all a once-in-forever thing. The world will will never be the way it is right here, right now. There will never be another you. In short, "it is what it is, and it won't ever be what it is again, so may as well enjoy it."