#and had i not been fucked by car insurance and being an adult i would have gone

[bunni-bun]

🙃.

[lovelywyenn]

“Oh m-my goddddd” you moan out, a manicured hand desperately pressing against Hange’s abdomen. But your partner was so fucking strong and easily swatted your hands away, grabbing right at your throat and pulling your back flush against their chest. But their hips don’t stop. Of course they don’t fucking stop. The mean pummeling they were giving speeds up.

A wickedly happy laugh falls from Hange’s lips as they stare at your reaction in the mirror. Poor thing, you were a mess. Mascara streaking down your cheeks, she almost felt bad. Seeing the fat globs of tears welling up in your eyes. But they knew you both needed this.

“Why are you runnin’ from it sweetheart, thought you wanted to get pounded?” Hange coos. The sweet words are so confusing, filled with fake kindness. If they were really as giddy as they sounded, why were your guts being rearranged?

Your eyes roll back in your head as Hange’s pulsing tip nudged right against your sweet spot, and if it weren’t for that tight grip on your neck you would have fallen over as your knees buckled.

“Right there, huh baby” and you start to squirm from the spotlight on your g-spot, you shouldn’t have been so fucking loud, because now they weren’t letting up on you. “Yeah, I know mama, you like it when I bully that spot?”

Your voice is barely coherent as you answer them, the desperateness clouding your brain speaking for you, “Yesssss” you keen.

“This all you needed isn’t it, missed me pounding some sense back into you.” Hange speaks and you cry out as they punctuate each hardened word with a mean and rough thrust, each one digging deeper into your quivering hole.

“D-Didn’t mean it” you try to explain, gasping for air, But Hange wasn’t having it. “I don’t care if you meant it or not” they sneer, “No reason I should ever come home and see you in lingerie right next to my best friend.” The humor was completely gone from their voice, and their thrusts held no care in them anymore. Hange was fucking you silly. You needed a good reminder of who you fucking belonged to.

“J-Just wanted y-your attention baby, I s-swear” you stutter.

And Hange gets it. They have been so busy at work lately. Spending long nights in the office so they could afford this big house for you. All the endless name brands you asked for. The insurance for that pretty pink car you drive.

They knew you loved attention, craved it from them. But dammit, loving you was frustrating. You could be so immature sometimes and it left Hange with no choice but to take their anger out on you in the only way they ever did. Pounding your poor pussy raw.

“I know” they finally answer you, grip on your neck growing gentle as they make you look at them. “I wish you’d just be patient sweetheart, I work so hard for you ya know?”

Your eyes flutter close as a gentle kiss is pressed against your cheeks. But those mean ass hips don’t stop moving.

“But if you miss me all you have to do is call, you know that” They say.

You knew your actions were childish. You and hange were grown adults. You shouldn’t be pulling shit like rubbing all up on Levi just cause you felt neglected. And it was a bit shameful you had to be pounded like this, legs quivering and thighs sticky with a filthy mixture of hange’s precum and your juices.

“M-M’sorry” you apologize in that sweet little voice. “I don’t want him, you know I don’t baby. Just want you”

It wasn’t often you apologized, and Hange knew you were sincere. Plus, you knew how to fuel your partner’s ego. And those pretty claims of not wanting Levi went straight to the cock throbbing inside of you.

You were getting closer, Hange could tell by how your walls were squeezing around them. No matter how many times Hange fucked you loose you would always tighten up again. Every time was like the first and it only ever drove Hange closer to their own orgasm.

“It’s okay darling”Hange mummers, pressing kisses along your shoulder. A sneaky hand runs along your body, soon joined by another. One teases around your nipple, touch feather light to the point you could barely feel it. But just enough that it stole some of your sanity. The other traces the delicate curves of your body until it reaches your pretty little bud, perked up and begging for attention.

You cry out as soon as Hange rolls their pointer finger around your clit, and your partner knows they’ve done you in. “Go on sweetheart, make it up to me and cum on my cock, you can do that for me right?”

The words do you over, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Hange’s thrusts send fire throughout your body and you can’t even moan from how fucking deep they were inside of you. You cum with a silent cry, pussy spasming as the squelching in the room only grows louder.

If it weren’t for Hange holding your limp body up, you would have fallen right on your buckled knees.

“F-Fuck woman, ya milkin’ me here darling “Hange stutters, finally giving into the pleasure they had been desperately holding back to teach you a damn good lesson.

You swear you cum again when you feel splashes of white, hot cum ill your hole. And Hange doesn’t stop fucking it into you, just pushing it deeper and deeper until you were sure your birth control would be rendered ineffective.

If being a brat got your pussy stuffed like this…

You would be sure to do it more often.

[gutsyns]

Summary: Ridiculously indulgent. I was curious about what Johnnys personality might be like if he had survived the fire and went to prison, etc, and this was the result.

Moving to Tulsa was definitely not on your bucket list of things to do during your first official year of being an adult, and yet here you were.

The place was a paradox; divided between the upper class suburban areas where people paraded around in poodle skirts and pearls, and the other side of things where the houses were worn down, some as far as decrepit, and the glint of steel from a drawn switchblade was more common than a simple, “Hey, how are ya?”

You glance around, weary, as your father and sister unload the van. Once upon a time, you may have found yourself living on the other side of things, rubbing elbows with future soccer moms of Tulsa, making nice with all of the high school baseball stars that would one day take over their fathers car insurance companies, but not anymore. Not since the years of hospital bills, that had built up to the point that college was a mere dream to be scoffed at.

You sigh, kick some dirt. Squint at your new ‘home’. It’s almost identical to all the others around the block, small and kind of run down looking, but at least all the windows are intact and there’s a decent sized porch. Summers in Tulsa, at least, were supposed to be hot and you could almost picture it already; sprawled out on a deck chair, ice cold lemonade in your hand.

If you weren’t working all of the hours that god sends, that is.

“Are you going to stand there looking dim, or are you going to come help us?” Your sister snaps from the back of the van, a few boxes already stacked in her arms.

You scowl at her, but dutifully move forward and take the boxes out of her arms. She sighs, rubbing her forearm against her damp face. Her hair is lank with sweat, face flushed, but she’s still as pretty as she ever is. Blonde and blue eyed, she’s the perfect specimen for California, but you’re not sure how that’s going to translate here in Tulsa. It makes you pause, staring at her as you worry your lip.

“What?” She asks, sharp. “What are you looking at? God, you’re being so strange today.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” You snip back, “Not like we’ve just uprooted our entire lives to move to the bum-fuck of nowhere.”

Your sister scowls at your defensiveness and you glower back, but there’s a sad little voice in your head that wonders at how the two of you got here. You used to be so close. Twins, after all, were generally each others first best friends. And that’s what you had been, for a long time, before your hangout sessions began to be held in hospital rooms instead of the mall, and instead of your biggest worries being what you were going to wear to prom, it was now how were you both going to hold together all of your fathers broken parts?

“Girls.” The aforementioned man chimes in. “That’s enough.”

He sounds disappointed enough that you break eye contact with your sister- a sign of weakness that normally couldn’t be afforded- and scrutinise him. His plaid shirt hangs from his slight frame, and theres a bone-tired air that seems to cling to him. The dark circles under his eyes whisper that there’s not much left of the day for him to see, so you relent and take a pointed step back.

Your father smiles slightly- or, at least tries to. It comes out as more of a grimace, than anything.

“This is supposed to be our new start. Just-“ he breaks off, hissing through his teeth. “Just try to pretend you like each other, okay? At least until we get unpacked, that’s all I ask.”

Guilt tugs at you, so you nod your head without another word and begin to make the trek into the house with the boxes. You plop them down in what you assume will be the living room, glancing around at the cobwebs and dust trails along the window pane.

California suddenly feels like a lifetime away, and a yearning fills you that nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs. You wonder, idly, what your friends back home are doing right now. You picture them laughing, skin warm and glistening under the ever-present sunshine. You close your eyes, and can almost smell the salt of the ocean, feel the warm glow of sunshine against your skin.

But then you open your eyes and you are still here, in this dust infested, shell of a house. You watch your father and sister struggle to get the boxes from the van, bickering under their breaths with one another, and something inside of you seems to go quiet. You shut out the feeling of the sunshine, because what good is it here, in this place?

You push it down, into the same box that you’ve locked away the sound of your mothers laugh, the smell of her favourite perfume, and you shove it deep, deep down. Your fathers right; this is supposed to be a new start.

There’s no room for the past here.

-

It’s six in the evening before you make your way downstairs, a thin sheet of sweat coating your entire body and pounding in your temples that won’t seem to go away, no matter how much water you throw back.

Between you, your father and your sister, you all managed to make a good amount of progress to the house. It wasn’t even close to being finished, but nothing more would be done tonight.

You comb through the rooms, looking for your sister. You’d left her downstairs around an hour ago as you’d hauled your father, exhausted and heavy limbed, to bed. The two of you had shared a knowing glance when his eyes had started to droop, and it hadn’t taken long for him to succumb to his exhaustion. Unfortunately this was just a new part of normal life, and something that you both inevitably had to deal with.

The downstairs is quiet, no sign of life. You cock your head, ears straining and… is that music?

You follow the low thrum, and it brings your out onto the porch. Your deck chairs from back home have been pushed onto it clumsily, and theres a small table placed between them, portable radio and two tumblr glasses shoved onto it.

Your sister is sprawled out on of the chairs and, when you make a low noise of questioning, she blinks up at you lazily and gestures with a bottle of bourbon.

“Want one?” She questions, and it’s the white flag that’s needed.

“Or ten.” You sigh, sliding into the chair beside her.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the low thrum of the music and the tinkling of glass against glass. The night air is pleasant, warm, and as you shotgun your drink and gesture for another, you almost feel at peace.

“He sleeping?” You sister asks eventually, voice muted.

“Mhm. Gone before his head hit the pillow. He’ll be out until the morning.”

She hums in response, and it is quiet again. You stretch out in your chair, preening in the fading sunlight. The alcohol is making you more relaxed, pliable, and a small smile tugs at your lips as you shield your eyes from the daylight.

“What are you doing out here anyway?”

“Trying to pretend I’m still home.” Your sister says, wistful. “People watching.”

You look at her then, eyebrow arched in question, and she gestures vaguely towards the other side of the street. You lean up on your elbows, squinting, and then finally see what she means.

Across the way is a house that, outwardly, looks much the same as your own. There’s a group of boys out the front of it though, rowdy and boyish as they holler at one another, jumping on each others back, even going as far as to wrestle each other to the dirt. One boy has another in a headlock, while another shouts at them to behave from the front door. Two of them are simply laughing at them from the porch, trails of smoke billowing as the light up their cigarettes.

“Huh.” You comment, interest peaked despite yourself.

Your sister senses this, of course, and sends you a sly grin as she pours you both another drink.

“Should we go say hi?”

You shake your head almost instantaneously.

“Aw, come on.” She pouts. “We’re here for the long haul. Might as well make friends, right?”

You don’t even have time to say just how much of a bad idea that is before she’s jumping up, adjusting her skirt and fluffing her hair as she does so. She stumbles, ever so slightly, and you send a fleeting glance at the bottle of bourbon on the table. Just how many of those had she had before you’d come downstairs?

“How do I look?” She asks, smiling coyly.

Perfect, you don’t say, like always.

Your sister already has an over-blown ego, there’s absolutely no need for you to inflate it any further.

“This is a bad idea.” You say instead. “The people around here aren’t like the ones at home. You heard uncle Miles, this place can be dangerous. Like, real dangerous. Like, killed dead dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes and sends a pointed look towards the boys across the way. They’ve migrated away from jumping on each-other, and are now having a contest to see who can do the best back-flip off of a car. Someone is eating a whole chocolate cake with a fork.

“Yeah, they look real dangerous.” She drawls, shrugging at your dumbfounded face. “Suit yourself. Enjoy trailing around our dust-infested house. I’m going to go find myself some fun.”

She grabs the bottle of bourbon and flounces off the porch without another word. You stare after her for a moment, temples pounding with an on-coming tension headache. It’s a hard burden to bear, being the only person in your family with a lick of common sense.

Stubbornness flares in you as you seethe, watching as your sister hollers a greeting to the bewildered boys, who stop what they’re doing rather abruptly as they watch her approach. You take a small sip of your drink, then another larger one as you watch them hesitantly approach her at the gate.

Screw it, you think, let her make her own mistakes. Why should you always be the one to clean up her messes? So, you stay on the porch and you watch. You watch as she gradually wrangles an invitation into the garden, you watch as the sun begins to fade away and they pass the bottle of bourbon around, you watch as she does her own perfectly executed flip off of one of the cars- which makes you roll your eyes, because you were the one who taught her that- and you watch as, eventually, they all begin to migrate into the house.

And that is where you draw the line- because uncle Miles was very detailed with his warnings about your new found home, and as annoying as she might be on any given day, you’re not about to allow your sister to become a statistic.

Steeling yourself, you force yourself out of the safety of your front porch, and make your way to the other house. It’s about as dark as it’s going to get now, and a cool breeze nips at the exposed skin on your legs. You curse yourself for a moment, forgetting that you were still only in a soft pair of shorts and a tank, but there’s no time to change.

There’s a warm glow coming from the windows of the house, and you can hear rambunctious laughter coming from inside. Gritting your teeth you knock the door, soft at first, then louder when you get no response. There’s a pause in the laughter, soft mumbling, and then light pours into the darkness as the front door opens.

“Well hey there, darlin’.” A clearly inebriated man drawls. “What can we do for ya?”

You take him in for a moment, eyes trailing from his well-worn Mickey Mouse shirt, to his dishevelled greased hair. You blink, fumble for a moment, before finding your words.

“I’d like my sister back, if that’s okay.” You deadpan, leaning forward to knock the door away from his sprawled arm, almost making him topple forward in the process.

“Hey, just wait a damn minute-“ he yelps, affronted, but you push past him and storm into the house.

Multiple pairs of bewildered eyes stare at you but you ignore them, scanning the room for your sister. As soon as you do, you resist the urge to smack a hand to your forehead and grind your teeth once more.

She’s perched in the lap of a man- a man who is giving you an extremely nasty glare- and she is absolutely wasted. Her skirt is askew, blonde hair dishevelled and her eyes narrow in on you, glassy, as she gives you a dopey smile and a little two-fingered salute.

“Oh hey twin!” She crows, words slurring. “You finally made it to the party.”

“Twin?” You hear someone mumble. “They sure don’t look like twins.”

You flush, despite yourself. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it prods at old insecurities and gets your back up all the same. You glare at the general direction of where the voice came from, before focusing back on your sister.

“Home. Now.” Your voice leaves no room for argument, but she’s not picking up on it.

“Don’t be a party pooper.” She pouts, twirling a strand of the mans blonde hair around her finger. He responds with a cool, measured smile that makes your temper skyrocket.

Without warning you charge further into the room and towards your sister, cheeks flushed.

“Are you actually kidding me right now? We have an entire store to set up tomorrow- or should I say I do, since you’re going to be too hungover to be worth a damn.”

At that your sister stills, before sending you a cutting smile that is all to familiar. You brace yourself, but the words still sting all the same.

“Worth a damn,” She parrots, voice cruel. “We all know the only reason you’re on my ass so much is because, out of the two of us, mom knew I was the only one who would be worth a damn.”

And, god, you know that she’s drunk. You know that she wouldn’t say this sober but, the thing about your sister when drunk, is that she is cuttingly honest. She has a reputation for it and, well, maybe deep down there’s a little voice that’s telling you she isn’t wrong.

It takes the breath from you and you gasp, eyes stinging with tears you refuse to let fall. She too blinks, seeming to realise what she’s said. Her hand flies to her mouth, but you shake your head.

“Go home, now. “ You say softly, voice breaking around the edges. “Or so help me god, I will tell dad about every shady stunt you ever pulled back in California. You want to be the one to explain to him why exactly I bailed you out of jail so many times?”

Her eyes narrow, any hint of remorse disappearing in an instant.

“You wouldn’t.” She hisses.

You send her a measured smile, cocking a brow.

“Try me.”

She jumps up from the boys lap, squealing in frustration. Her shoulder knocks roughly into yours as she storms towards the doorway, and you watch half in dismay and half in exasperation as she totters across the road, stumbling and falling a few times. She was going to give you holy hell tomorrow if her legs were scratched up.

You let out a bark of laughter, though it is sucked dry of any humour. There’s absolutely nothing funny about this entire situation- shit, about your entire life.

“God, this day sucks.” You say to no one in particular.

There’s an extraordinarily loud silence in the room, and then-

“Uh- hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. Anything we can do to help ya?” A voice says, sounding unsure and half terrified.

You blink, glancing around the room. Multiple pairs of eyes stare back at you, looking absolutely horrified. You feel a sudden dampness on your face and, with no small feat of embarrassment, realise that you’re crying in a room full of strange men that you have to share your new neighbourhood with.

The one that spoke just has to be about the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen; golden hair, soft and fine, and the most expressive eyes. His full lips are turned down into a sympathetic expression as he stares at you, and you feel yourself flush a bright, brilliant red in response.

“Uh, no, I’m good.” You stutter out, mortified. “I’m awfully sorry about barging in like this.”

The full extent of your actions hit you like a brick to the gut, and you’re so embarrassed that you find you can’t look any of them in the eye.

“S’all right. Lord knows it’s been gettin’ awful tame ‘round these parts. We were all overdo a bit of excitement.” His tone is encouraging, but you don’t dare look at him again.

“I should really get back.” You stutter out, staring determinedly at the wall. “Y’know, make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure.” His soft voice returns. “Hey, Johnnycakes, you mind walking her back?”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary-“

You say, at the same time the mean looking blonde pipes up.

“Why’s Johnny gotta do the charity work?”

Someone steps forward though, directly into your line of vision, and you gasp when you see them. A dark haired boy, tall in a lanky- stretched out kind of way. He’s clad in denim jeans and a black t-shirt, dark skin scattered with discoloured markings that your brain somehow associates with those of burns.

His eyes assess you as you take him in- and, god. His eyes. You’ve never seen eyes like that, so dark that they’re basically black, framed with lashes that would make any girl green with envy. It’s his facial expression that gets you more than anything though: completely stoic, not letting anything in or out.

He’s just about the most intimidating person you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t mind none.” He says, voice deep and raspy. “S’long as you don’t.”

You feel as though this is a test, somehow. He’s watching you, eyes flat and blank, but it’s like he’s waiting for something. What, you don’t know, but it feels important nonetheless.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Johnny.” A younger looking boy pipes up, smiling shyly when you make eye contact with him. “He’s the best of us, really.”

You take a deep breath, eyeing Johnny. He stares back, impassive, then quirks an eyebrow in question.

“Well- sure, then. I guess. Thank you.”

He nods once as he grabs a denim jacket from the sofa, still impassive and then makes an aborted gesture towards the door. You follow him, shaky, but a voice stops you before you can fully exit the threshold.

“Hey, wait a sec.”

An older man approaches, tall and muscular. He looks the oldest of the bunch, maybe mid-twenties and he’s sporting an apologetic look on his face, hand outstretched with a full bottle of bourbon in it.

“Take this. Them hooligans in there just about polished off the whole of your bottle, s’only fair.”

You stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before shaking your head in protest.

“Oh no, really, it’s fine. Looks like my sister certainly had her fair share of it anyway.”

There’s no point in trying to explain that there’s never exactly a shortage of liquor at your place, that you all share the same vices when it comes to coping with life- or, more specifically, the curveballs that it liked to throw.

The man is insistent though, going as far as to lean forward and press the bottle into your hands.

“Take it as a sorry then. We’re really not that bad over here, honest. I’m Darry. That one there is my brother Soda-pop.“ He gestures to the handsome one with the soft voice, who smiles, then to the little shy one. “And that there’s my other kid brother, Ponyboy.”

You blink at him, wondering if you’re being taken. When his expression doesn’t change, you offer a wry smile.

“Unique names.”

“You bet.” He offers a smile in return, then hesitates. “We really are sorry ‘bout your sister. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, she just seemed like she was looking for a friendly face.”

You snort at that, grasping the bottle none-too gently and giving a short eye roll.

“That she was. I’m just glad she found you guys instead of-“

You break off, not wanting to offend them. Darry nods though, grim understanding painted on his face. He scrubs a hand through his hair and gives a curt nod towards your house.

“Nah, you’re right to worry. Ain’t much good about this neighbourhood, but we’re not the ones to be worried about. Get on home now, yeah? Johnny won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.”

He looks at the other boy- man?- over your shoulder, who gives a curt nod in response. With a small smile, Darry shuts the door, taking any of the light that was pooling through with him. You take a sharp breath, suddenly unnerved, and feel Johnny’s eyes on you in the night.

Christ, this whole situation is insane. Why did you agree to let a strange man walk you home? The normal, rational part of your head is screaming at you right now. This is exactly how every horror movie starts, and you’ve walked yourself right into it.

“You fixin’ on sleeping on the Curtis’ porch tonight, or am I walkin’ ya home?”

His raspy voice brings you out of your own head and you gasp, spinning so that you’re now facing him. You can’t see what his expression is doing, but his words make you think he might be making fun of you. Though his voice stays perfectly blank, there’s something in it that you pick up on as nearly taunting.

“Well?” He presses once more, and you glower at him.

“Alright, Jesus. Let’s go then.”

Both of you are silent as you walk, the shifting of gravel under your feet seeming louder than usual. There’s a loud holler from down the street, followed by the smashing of glass and you jump, glancing frantically in the direction it came from.

“S’alright.” Johnny says. “It’s way on down the street. They won’t bother ya. Only fight that types got these days is with each-other.”

You glance up at him, and half of his face is lit up by the streetlights. He glaring straight ahead, jaw tight, clearly uncomfortable. You can’t help but feel bad.

“I really am sorry about all of this.”

Johnny’s jaw loses some of its tension, and he side-eyes you.

“It ain’t a problem. I really don’t mind walkin’ ya home. I’ll be headin’ back myself anyways.”

“Seems a bit silly to be walking me across the street though, no?” You ask, hesitant, but curious now that he seems to be opening up a little to conversation.

Johnny gives a small huff, eyes darting around the empty streets as he does so.

“Round these parts? Ya can never be too careful, doll.”

Something in your brains freezes, restarts and then goes on overdrive at his casual use of the pet name. You can practically feel your face glow, and it doesn’t help that you just know his eyes are on you. You choke slightly and trip over your own two feet, but strong hands grip your forearms and stop you from falling on your face. You glance up, and Johnny is looking right back at you. There’s something a little warmer in that obsidian than before, and it has your stomach doing confusing somersaults.

“Easy there.” He says quietly. “Ya alright?”

“Peachy.” You breathe. “You?”

He stares at you for a beat, confused maybe by the question, before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m alright. You go and get yourself inside now, okay? No more roamin’ around in the dark.”

When you glance up, the both of you are standing outside of your house. The porch light is still on, the radio from before still playing lowly on the table. You can see that light in the room your sister has claimed is still on, but the likely hood of her actually being awake is probably slim-to- none. Your fathers room remains dark, just as you left it. It’s strange to think that he could have slept through all of this; he never would have before.

An odd ache of loneliness creeps through your bones, wholly unexpected. You glance up at Johnny who looks like he’s getting ready to turn on his heel, contemplating.

“Do you want to come in?” You blurt out, not giving yourself a chance to take the words back.

Johnnys eyebrows all but crawl into his hairline. It’s the most expressive you’ve seen him all night. His dark skin flushes and, shit, it’s only then that you realise the double-standard behind your words.

“Not like that-“ you flounder, “I just meant-“

Soft laughter cuts you off and, in that moment, you wish furiously that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Anything would be better than this humiliation.

“Probably best I don’t.” He replies, gallantly attempting to taper off his amusement. “It’s late and I’ve work in the mornin’. “

“Yeah. Gotcha.” You choke out. “Look, thank you for walking me home. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

You’re about to spin around and launch yourself into the house but quick, deft fingers loop around your wrist and hold you steady. Johnny’s fingers brush lightly against your pulse point and, when you get the courage to glance up him once more, there’s something tentative in his expression. His dark eyes churn, and an almost-smile tugs slightly at his lips.

“See ya around.” He echos, thumb brushing your wrist firmly once more before he lets go, turning on his heel and striding down the dark street.

You stand there for a moment, dumbfounded, and watch him disappear. The moment is quickly shattered when another scream echoes down the street, however, followed by a deafening crash. You hurry up the porch, rushing into the house and locking the door behind you.

For a moment you remain still, back pressed against the front door. Your heart is thudding against your chest, and it’s not from fear- well, not exactly. You don’t know how to categorise this feeling. The only word that springs to mind is the very thing you spent your entire night trying to prevent;

Trouble.

[pokequirks]

category: dumbair

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: katsuki getting serious, trip to korea and his concerns.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: +18.

note: second of category. third chapter of the series (should i make a masterlist?)

You two spent the rest of the morning together, at least what was left of it. Watching news, ordering food delivery and taking advantage of the free day that you both share. 

"I should turn on my phone" You said, heading to your belongins under Katsuki's gaze. Numerous buzzes and notifications. "Ah, shit..." You whisper.

"What's wrong?" Katsuki asks, clearly annoyed, being almost sure it was your shitty ex.

"Kijun, he's been calling like crazy" You sigh "I'll have to go to Korea."

Katsuki briefly felt like all that was built yesterday night was falling into pieces. What if you two made up? What if he finds a way to make you stay? What if he's again left there with a broken heart?

"I'm serius with you."

"Wanna go with me?"

You both speak at the same time. Katsuki's confussion and worriness disguised with his frown. Your gentle smile and eyes looking at him from above.

"I mean, if you want to go, we should sleep at my apartment. That motherfucker thinks he has some right over it".

"I'll talk to Deku,'' Katsuki said, standing and holding his phone. "I'm really serius with you. I don't want you to leave me here again for a shitty clown. Don't know how ya’ feel about marriage now, but in the future if you feel it's fine please let me know."

Katsuki finished and excused himself in order to call Deku and inform him about his trip with you and that he would be taking an extra day off, since he always took just one.

From the office Midoriya smiled happily for Katsuki and you. Finally taking place where you both belonged. With each other. Of course, he was alredy aware of the broken compromise between you and your Korean fianceé.

And you, you were left there thinking about marriage. Marriage with Katsuki. The sensation of hot cheeks as you thought about getting married to him. However, you know you have things to talk to a terapist and heal some others. So, yeah, you wouldn't probably think a lot about getting married in the near future.

For now you will only focus on being a good hero, reconnect with old friends and...

"It's done," Katsuki announced, getting out of his bedroom.

Him.

You and Katsuki had arrived at the café where you and Kijun had decided to speak. Quick kiss on his lips before separating, he going to a kinda far table, still in your vision range, and you sitting in front of the man that once was your fianceé.

"So in the end I was always right, huh?" He asks with a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"We remainded friends until the night I flew back after taking you out of my apartment" He clenched his jaw, "Katsuki fucked me really well that night and he'll do the same tonight."

"I think we should sell and split the money," he changes the subject "after all, it is under our names."

"You only paid the first two three months of maintenance fee, I gave the entrace and the rest of the apartment because you 'weren't a pro hero and didn't make as much money as me', am I wrong?"

"Ahg, then give me the car and the months I paid."

"You serious? I paid for the car, the only thing you paid was the insurance and this last month you asked me to pay it," Kijun throwed his head back and complained. On the other tables people started to whisper looking at your table. "Be an adult and keep it quiet."

"Then what do you want me to do? Wanna leave me here with nothing?"

"Even after what you did I do not wish you anything bad," you sighed "I suppose you're living with the journalist and I think I can sell you the car at market price minus the amount of insurance you have paid."

"I guess that's fine..."

You reunited with Katsuki after finishing the chat with your ex. He had finished his coffee and even took your recommendation on the strawberry cheesecake. He gave you the last bite as he saw that fucker heading out the café.

"Hey look at me," Bright green eyes looking at him, lashes bating and blushed cheeks "I love you, Tsukipie."

"Uhm? I love you too," he responds, caresing the palm of your hand "What deal did the shitman and you make?"

You playfully roll your eyes and look at him, "I'll sell him the car, I'm not gonna need it since I'll only come back in order to do community work in rural areas."

Katsuki hummed and nodded.

"You could come with me and take vacations at the farms."

"I would like that."

You took Katsuki to eat street food and convenience store noodles, things you usually eated while studying and working. Maybe that was the reason why you were able to save up a good amount of money. Been now aware of your bad habits during your living in Korea Katsuki wasn't really happy about it.

"Did you really eat this shit for years?"

"Yeah, and well, not like years, for field work we were sent to towns with farms and a metheorological agency," you explained "in my free time I went to these farms and help elders with rain and harvesting the crops."

"Sure they gave you marital proposses" Katsuki whispered as you two walked down the street to wait for the bus.

"Yeah," you giggle, holding his hand "I already had Kijun and before I had you..."

"You always had me, dumbair."

"You used to call me that before you fell with me!" You took a seat at the parade, Katsuki beside you.

"Yeah, ya fell with me too." 

"Yes, I did" You kiss one of his cheeks and giggle at the sight of rosy color in them.

You took out your phone, briefly going through news on the local main app and telling Katsuki about them, like the idol you like and showcases held. Until one catched Katsuki's attention.

"That one has your hero name."

"Uh?"

You click on it and it displays a whole article about your café visit. They called him your boyfriend and others actually revealed that he is Dynamight, the number 2 in Japan.

"What does it say about me?"

"That you're my boyfriend and hero number 2 in Japan, they put nice pics of you," you show him "my boyfriend is really handsome."

Bakugo proudly smiled at your commentary, of course he is. Katsuki saw the bus approaching and indicated to you to stand up.

Once at your apartment and before Katsuki entered the bathroom you took his wrist.

"Can we try something?"

Now you were both naked. Katsuki seated with oppened legs and hands on your ass as you devour his mouth and roll your hips over his tip. Tits at his neck level. Quiet moans on his lips as you work through your orgam.

"Wanna be inside...," He whispers, breaking the conection with your lips and taking care of your tits "so bad."

You hummed, feeling all over the place. Your hands running over his muscular shoulders and blonde hair, barely taking time to think before holding his dick and putting it inside you.

"Ah, fuck," you moan, hips rolling even harder until Bakugo cruelly holds your body still and pulls it againts him, "shit, Kats, let me..."

"Kats? Dunno him" he teases, sucking on your tits, "say my name, dumbair."

"Tsukipie, wanna come, please, Tsuki" You beg and he smiles at your desesperation.

He puts you down, legs on his shoulders as he violently penetrates your pussy, one hand messing with your clit and the other holding you still. You squirm under his touch, strong hold on the bed sheets, tears running down your cheeks and pleads comming out your lips.

"Oh my God, Katsuki!" You scream loudly and he pulls out finishing on your clit.

He touches you, your skin twitches at every little friction. Chest going up and down as you tried to recover. He comes to you after a while, starts cleaning his art on your pussy. Then he pulls you closer and you smell him.

"Tired," you whisper.

"Sleep baby, you were awesome," Katsuki whispers too and he leaves a kiss on your forehead.

Katsuki's eyes traveled to the window, he could see the moon shining. And you are lying by his side. He wondered how much that bliss was going to last, how much time you were going to be with him. Utterly concerned for the future, after all...

"Tsukipie..."

"Hum?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[pinksunsetsandstarrynights]

Adamsapple Harvest: Urban Legends

So this fill has nothing to do with the Human AU I wrote about in my other fills. I got the idea for this one while watching a Papa Meat video about asylums and one of the images in the video looked quite different from the corner of my eye...

Just a heads-up the Adamsapple is very light in this one.

"Remember to watch where you step," Adam warned his younger cousin, "and keep your grip on your flashlight, Butterfingers!"

"I'm not going to drop it," Peter answered back, annoyed. "I drop one of Emily's figurines one time…"

"I mean it, Peter. These abandoned places can be dangerous if you're not careful." Adam was really starting to wish that Emily hadn't insisted that he let Peter tag along for some "much needed family bonding."

Yeah, right.

Adam knew she just wanted her brother to be out the house so she could have a date over. It was good timing too since Aunt Sera would still be out of town for another day. Now normally Adam wouldn't mind helping Emily out so she could score some pussy, but he wasn’t checking out an old house this time.

It was a three story mental asylum miles outside of town with a long history of malpractice and patient death until it finally closed its doors sixty years ago thanks to a basement fire. The kids trying to scare their friends liked to say that the fire was the result of dark rituals that used the patients as sacrifices. Obviously that was bullshit. The story that the adults liked to gossip about was that it was arson, done to collect insurance on the property.

In Adam’s opinion, it was caused by probably the most overlooked and boring theory: an electrical fire that got out of hand. The asylum had become more run down in its later years, so faulty wiring wouldn't be unexpected.

But whatever reasoning for the asylum's closure, it wasn't the kind of place anyone would take their skittish teenage cousin. And honestly, it wasn't the kind of place a braver person should visit alone either. Adam had been planning to explore the place with his best friend, Lute, but she bailed on him at the very last minute. Just before Emily suggested that he take Peter instead.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Lute changed her mind.

He wasn't mad about that, but damn it, Peter was not a good substitute. Adam wouldn't be surprised if their trip ended up being cut ridiculously short because Peter freaked out over some rats scurrying around. And if it did, then Lute was going to owe him big time.

---

It was so far so good, surprisingly.

There wasn't much inside, most of the furniture was gone. Strangely, there was no graffiti indoors, even though the outside was tagged to hell. Adam guessed that the stories were enough to keep taggers from actually going inside. Peter was still looking anxious, but when he was asked if he wanted to wait in the car, he insisted on staying.

Whatever. As long as Peter didn't start screaming his ear off, Adam will ignore the teenager's obvious trembling.

Less natural light was shining through the windows and the flashlights were now being kept on. Sunset was coming, so they would have to leave soon. But there was one more place Adam wanted to get a look at first...

"The basement-?!" Peter cried out before stifling himself, his eyes darting around the administration office. "But Adam," he continued in a frightened whisper, "that's where they killed those poor people for blood sacrifices!"

For fuck’s sake…

"Dude, there were no evil rituals in the basement. There's no such thing as black magic," Adam firmly told him. "The only creepy shit that happened here was just normal shitty people doing fucked up treatments and that ended years ago."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Look, how about we both go down the staircase together and if you see anything before we get off the stairs, we'll turn right around and go home. Sound fair?"

"…I'm not going into the basement even if I don't see anything, " Peter stated quietly.

"Then you don't have to. Just stay on the stairs and shine some extra light for me."

Peter agreed and surprisingly took the lead down the staircase. "So I can keep an eye out better."

They took it slow, much to Adam's chagrin. At this rate, it was going to be pitch black outside by the time they leave. After fucking forever, Peter reached the bottom of the staircase, the beam of his flashlight moved frantically around the basement before suddenly freezing on one spot.

"Uh, Peter...?" Adam asked. "Do you see something?"

Peter didn't answer, instead turning around and shoving Adam out of his way back up the stairs.

Adam ended up tripping on the final steps and landed hard onto the floor. Pain lit up his senses as the taste of iron filled his mouth. The sound of Peter's retreating steps was echoing in his ears.

Did that fucker seriously just shove him and leave him here?! Adam huffed, yeah he so wasn't contributing to Peter's college fund after this bullshit. Fucking asshole.

He got himself back onto his feet, ignoring the stinging on his palms and knees. It was dark as hell here. Thankfully there was a beam of light cutting through the dark. Adam was lucky his flashlight didn’t shut off from the fall. He spat out the blood in his mouth and took a few steps toward the light. He grabbed his flashlight and aimed the beam around the basement. Now what did Peter see that made him bolt out like that. It better not have been a damn piece of burnt furniture...

That wasn't burnt furniture.

Adam felt sick. His heart began to race and his hands became clammy.

Furniture wasn't made up of charred bones.

Oh god, he could see a face...

There was fresh, red blood right on its lips, the stretched skin of which were frozen in mid-wail. Fuck his life, he desecrated a corpse...

Alright, Adam, just stay calm. You just need to get out of here and then you can call 911 to report the body. Okay? That's the game plan. Now turn around and leave.

What was that?

D-did those fingers just twitch...?

No, he's just stressed. It's not everyday you find a body. He should probably stop looking at-

Adam dropped his flashlight and took off running back toward the stairs.

Corpses don't lick blood off their lips!

He practically flew up the steps and didn't stop running once he reached the top. He needed to get the fuck out of here. There was still just enough sunlight that Adam could see where he was going.

Right.

Left.

Left.

He can see the front lobby!

His lungs were burning, but that didn't matter. He only needed ten more feet to reach freedom!

Adam's fingers skimmed the door knob of the exit.

So close!

Strong limbs wrapped themselves around him and yanked him back.

"Nooo!" Adam yelled, hope snatched away at the last possible second.

He stumbled onto his ass and before he could even try to get up, a hand - so pale that it practically glowed under the growing shadows - covered his mouth.

Adam moaned in despair. He was going to die in this shithole.

"Shhh… I won't hurt you, I won't hurt you," the voice, a harsh rasp from disuse and thirst, whispered. "I only want to make you scream."

Adam didn't believe it. He whimpered, and struggled some more. He knew no one would be coming to save him.

"Shhh... You'll love it," The creature murmured in his ear before licking the tears off Adam’s cheek, making him shudder. "My savior."

Adam's screams echoed throughout the asylum that night, left unheard by his cousin as he ran down the dirt road back toward civilization.

[diaperboy-jason-rhodes]

Brenda hesitated before entering her son Jason's room. In the living room Thanksgiving continued on with everyone. The Cowboys were about to kick off against the Giants. Just a normal Thanksgiving with her folks, sisters, brothers, their families, her husband Tom, stepdaughter Alicia and her son.

Well, not quite normal. Earlier the postgame lunch discussion had turned to jason's exit from college. He’d flunked out his sophomore year. Too much drinking, too many girls, not enough grades. He’d been living at home since and smoking weed and doing much of nothing since. It worried Brenda but it enraged her husband, who called his stepson a lazy Gen Z'r with no hope for the future.

As everyone recovered from turkey and dressing and Jason looked at his phone and ignored everyone like normal, Tom addressed him.

“Looking at porn, Jason? Because I sure as hell know you’re not looking for jobs.”

Jason looked up embarrassed. Well, yeah, he was looking at porn, why not?

“Get this,” Tom now announced to the crowd. “Jason doesn’t have a job. We pay his bills. We keep a roof over his head. We pay his phone bill so he can look up porn. We paid for the laptop he uses to look up porn. We pay his car bill. We pay his insurance. We pay for the beer he drinks on weekends. I couldn’t figure out how a 20-year-old could be so fucking lazy.”

Jason was annoyed at being called out like this by his stepdad but he was used to it so just kept looking at his phone.

“It’s like we’re living with a giant baby,” Tom added. And now Jason looked up and met Tom’s eyes. His stepdad, a carpenter with his own contracting business, smirked.

No way.

“Yep. A big baby. And guess what? That’s exactly what he is.”

Jason now looked on in horror as his dad disappeared into the storage closet that held jackets and sports equipment. He pulled out a, oh no, no, no, a gym bag. A gym bag that had been stowed away in Jason’s closet ever since he got the boot from college. A gym bag that contained his secret life.

“So the other day, I decided to look for the drugs I’m sure Jason was using. Rummaged around his room, under his bed, in his closet. And I found his secret stash all right.”

With that, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, Tom yanked out what he found. Diapers. Adult diapers. Adult baby print diapers. And other things. Some baby shirts. Bottles. Pacifiers. A dildo. Which Tom handled as if it was plutonium.

Reactions varied. Cousins snickered and laughed and took pics. Grandparents covered their eyes. Uncles took swigs of beer and shook their heads and muttered the word faggot. His stepsister said, “I knew it!” Whatever that meant.

And Jason"s mom shed a tear. She had told her husband it must just be a phase for her sweet, lazy boy. Didn’t mean he was a pervert or anything. And she begged him not to do this reveal. But here they were.

Speaking of sobbing, that’s what her son was doing too.

With that Tom got up, yanked Jason up by his ear and marched him into his bedroom. Jason briefly slapped his arm away but the 135-pound wimp couldn’t do much against a real working man, especially after he warned, “Fight back and we can do the spanking and diapering right here. You wanted this I’m just giving it to you.”

Brenda heard the spanks and the vocal admonishments from the bedroom. Eventually her husband emerged smirking and said to give the boy some time to “cry it out but then get his diapered butt out here so everyone can see the new family baby.”

When he didn’t emerge in a timely manner Tom sent her to retrieve him. “Tell him he’s got 30 seconds or spanking 2 happens out here.”

So Brenda entered. Found her diapered, well, imbecile of a son. Sucking his paci. Clutching a teddy bear that Ted had also pulled out of the closet.

She was a mother, she couldn’t help it so she checked the fit of the diaper and chastised Jason when he slapped her hand away, telling him his stepdad would be in any second if they didn’t come out. He bawled and she comforted him. This was so unfair, she knew, but also…what the hell? What WAS wrong with him? Maybe some tough love was what he needed.

With that she got her diapered idiot of a son up and ready to show him off to the family. Happy Thanksgiving.

[oswednesday]

=x=, =xo

its been better to lean into theres just something Wrong with me (but like if we never moved from nyc there wouldnt even be a pressure about it in the first place hkgh) than have to deal with how just fucking weird people were at me with driving when the truth of the matter is i was ready to go the moment i could, i did all the course work and every time im like hey help me with the parts i cant do on my own i get someone exploding (mocking my interest in being eager about it in front of other family members, screaming at me in private how much ill make insurance cost, telling me just to go up to a car lot and buy the car myself, telling me if i want to practice the only way it will work if i do it by myself on the highway at night, locking me out of the house when i "skipped practice" because i had a shift at my retail job/class/play practice(happened on multiple occasions), putting me on the spot about not having it in front of a whole group of people so i have to lie to save face because im not about to be like oh yeah heres all the stuff thats happened to me in front of these people like whats wrong with you and so on that doesnt even get into like car based nightmares and like all the car accidents from substance use by adults around me growing up) on me and like yeah i didnt recognize what was going on, a sort of neediness that prevents me from enrolling into a drivers ed school when i would have had easier access to it (but like the train was right there so its like,,,,,the train) but its like maybe there wont be a problem this time or if there is i dont care fuck off gfdgdf

[grugspro]

i havent been able to cut my lawn in two weeks because of my orientation and traing for my new job and any day off ive had has been a downpour, theres some bits of grass and weeds that have grown nearly to my hip but a lot of it is about mid calf. because its grown too high, my push mower just winds up pushing the grass flat for a moment but not cutting it, i have a weed whacker but the battery only lasts for at best a tenth of my yard and takes 40-60 minutes to get another full charge. ive only got today and tomorrow to do this because i dont have time before work the rest of the week and while i might have the time after work on the weekend, i dont think ill have the energy.

i fucking hate being an adult so much, i knew i wouldnt be able to handle it and its even worse than i expected. the only reason ive been able to survive adulthood this long is that my family has put in a lot of help, the only meals i get in a week are the two times i go to my grandparents and any leftovers from them and the one time a week i go to my parents, my car is my dads and he still pays the insurance for it, my trash and natural gas is done by my step mom, and my phone is on my dads plan, but my parents cant keep affording all that and my grandparents often joke about not living much longer. i wish i didnt live this long, i knew that life would only be harder and more miserable the longer id live but i cant get myself to end it

[cherrybakewell666]

"As for the self-diagnosis thing, I personally disagree." "And also I don't agree that self-diagnosis is harmful." "[...] but self-'diagnosing' with autism has helped me TREMENDOUSLY[...]"

I shouldn't need to explain to two adults in 2023 about why self-diagnosing isn't something that you should do, but let's get this over with.

Self-diagnosers aren’t doctors or psychiatrists; they lack professional medical expertise. Therefore—if you go by logic—they shouldn't self-diagnose. It’s just plain and simple common sense, come on. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t see self-diagnosis as anything but harmful or stupid. You can create unnecessary worry, which can possibly be an issue, especially without instant access to the assessment (waiting lists), you can end up wasting time and money if you fuck up with what you thought that you had due to misleading or manipulative information and/or the obvious being untrained aspect. Since many, many symptoms overlap, you could have something else or nothing at all. Or you could have normal reactions to everyday things—this is the case with ADHD. People forget that, yeah, people with ADHD may experience things—like forgetting things and being distracted—but those are impairments for those people, unlike your average person.

Question for you two: Why do you think official diagnosis assessments are a thing? Because a professional needs to tell you what you have based on any symptoms presented and also your history (upbringing, behaviours and skills over the years any impairments, academic performance, etc.). A self-diagnosis can’t lead to getting access to medications, that's if that is the goal for self-diagnosers… to which I assume it’s not.

When I wanted to go for an ADHD diagnosis assessment, which I waited two years for (I'm currently unmedicated), it was because I—keyword— “suspected” that I had it and needed to know, so then I could get treatment. That (and access to any needed therapies) should be the goal, in my opinion. As regards to ADHD medication, you have to be diagnosed in order to get access to that, because that medication is a schedule II controlled drug, meaning that you can't just go to a pharmacy and ask for it, like you would with over-the-counter medication.

Also, I don't know if any self-diagnosers know this, but you aren't owed a diagnosis. If you don't have [x], then you don't have [x]. Simple. If you have gone for a diagnosis appointment and you received the results, you can by all means opt for a second opinion if you are questioning the diagnosis given. There will be times where a panel of people will review the results taken during the assessment and discuss about it, putting together the most accurate diagnosis possible (if the patient has what they went to see if they have)—better than just one or two people. This is something that can't happen when you self-diagnose.

I can't go with the idea of self-diagnosing being a good thing. I will never give in to the Tumblr user hivemind and echo chambers. Car insurance companies and vehicle licensing agencies (like the DVLA, for example) would need to know if you have a condition and if it affects your driving. You can’t risk losing your license or being fined (it’s £1,000 over here) because an accident happened and you didn’t state that you had a diagnosis and your symptoms impaired your driving. Come on, now. Insurance prices increase if you have a condition that impacts your driving, because you shouldn’t be on the road. The higher price is a way of preventing impaired individuals from causing accidents, because they can’t cause a future accident if they’re not on the road. It’s about safety. This isn’t ableist at all. Prices will also increase depending on many factors that aren't relevant to what I've been discussing. You know... like your area, age, how much you are planning to use it (an estimated annual mileage that you come up with) and what you'll use it for, car brand, etc.

- "[...] self-'diagnosing' with autism has helped me TREMENDOUSLY in understanding myself better, accepting my differences, validating my struggles and finding ways to cope that actually help me."

So, you got yourself into confidently thinking that you have ASD? Bruh. You do know that there are different diagnostic tools used during the ASD assessment, right?

You have DISCO (Diagnostic Interview for Social and Communication Disorders), which is an interview conducted to find out about your history when it comes to "development, behaviour and skills" (it's useful to get information from your family members, friends, and teachers about you, since they may have picked up on things); then you have ADOS (Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule), which is an assessment about social things, like your interactions and communication (for children, they'll use "play or imaginative use of materials" during the assessment*); finally, you have ADI-R (Autism Diagnostic Interview - Revised), which is a widely used way of diagnosing ASD that is done with parents or carers by a psychologist (unlike ADOS).

Extra information on the aforementioned diagnostic tools (and where I got two of my quotes above from): click here

*I had an assessment when I was 16 years old, and I was given several objects to pick from in order to come up with a story; a way to test my imagination, to pick up on any impairments with flexible imagination.

Source to show that impairments with imagination are symptoms of ASD (refer to Table 2 for each of the age groups): click here

Do you see how much goes into a diagnosis? And there isn't a bias with this, which is what you would have upon "self-diagnosing". An untrained person—like yourselves—will be prone to errors due to a lack of expertise. People don't study and train for several years for nothing.

Also, you better have not used TikTok and Tumblr to help you with your "Autism self-diagnosis", because those are two of the WORST places to look for information on disorders and mental illnesses. Absolute cesspools. Resort to better sources of information if you want to read up on anything. - "However I read this post as advice on management and coping skills, not a cure for depression..."

Mate, I never said it was a cure for depression, nor did I see that list as a way to cure it. You can't cure depression. Is it treatable? Yes, of course. Are you able to get rid of it forever? No.

Source for depression (the illness itself) being incurable: click here Source for mental illnesses being incurable: click here - "(And maybe next time don't be so bitter?? Opinions can be shared without calling people idiots/saying they're trying to bait people.)"

I wasn't being bitter and I didn't have any intentions of being bitter. And I never called you an idiot. Have you never heard of "Schrödinger's Idiot" before? You'll have people saying things like, "I hate [insert marginalised group of people]!" or state a stupid, false opinion, and then turn around and say that it's a joke and/or backpedal, even though they're using that to masquerade the fact that they're being "legit" or ill-informed.

People will say same things and use that as a way to cause an uproar and reactions—this is baiting. Have you been on anything but Tumblr? I've seen many baiters on Discord and Twitter, for example. It's perfectly acceptable to be a sceptic when it comes to seeing things online.

depression hacks masterpost

these are things that will help with mental illness that aren't 'go outside, drink water, and everything will be fine!!!1!!!11!1!11!' those are good fs but they don't work on their own. these will actually help in one way or another :)

hell yeah let's go

open your windows. the fresh air and sunlight will do you good and it takes like 5 seconds.

go buy some plants, there are like a gazillion that are next to impossible to kill. and don't come at me with 'ohhh I'll probably find a way hahaha" NO. the plants will be so helpful! they produce oxygen, bring nature indoors which psychologically improves your mental state, and they're just nice to look at! you can name them! sculpt and/or paint little pots for them!

STOP LISTENING TO SAD MUSIC. I cannot stress this enough. it just makes things worse. please stop. make a playlist of all your favorite stupid, happy, pump-up songs and listen to them all the time until they get annoying. then repeat!

acquire a gazillion stuffed animals. so much serotonin for such a small price

get a water bottle and put fun stickers on it, and designate that water bottle to be only for water. nothing else goes in it. that way you can drink out of it for kind of a long time before needing to wash it. keep it filled with water and actually drink out of it. drink as much water as you can, all the time.

chew gum! idk why but it works bro. especially watermelon.

hug people and ask people to hug you. hugs are so amazing it's like pure happiness but with the added perk of Deep Pressure. it can be from your friends, family, s/o, whoever.

make sure there's a lot of light in your room. not good to wallow in darkness. put up fairy lights, get fun lamps, light candles, keep your blinds open, etc.

dress like how you want to feel. be colorful, fun, and comfortable. don't wear hoodies, sweatpants and ratty old shoes, I know it's appealing but it's just going to keep you in that depressed state. I like to wear dresses, colorful jeans, graphic tees from 5-Below, combat boots, and lots of funky earrings. (seriously 5-Below is a lifesaver for literally anything!!!) you can get a lot of these things for super cheap - I got a 20 pack of fun earrings like duckies, mushrooms, mini water bottles, etc. for like $11, and a lot of my colorful jeans are like 6 bucks at the thrift store. whatever your style is or whatever you want it to be, work to make that happen. because getting dressed is one of the simplest things you'll do in a day, so why not make the most of it?

doodle. it's fun and simple, and it'll give your hands something to do other than pick at your skin if you do that kind of stuff (see below).

on a similar note, make art!!!!! it doesn't have to be good!!!!!! just make art all the time, as often as you can. write crappy fanfiction. make friendship bracelets. sculpt a funky lil cat. draw your comfort characters. art is so healing and it will do wonders for you. even just like run your hands through a giant bag of beads like I do :P

get fidgets and bring them everywhere with you. this is more of an anxiety/stimming thing for me but I pick at my fingers, lips, pimples, eyebrows, etc., and it hurts a lot and will probably leave scars. fidgets are just amazing. I'm partial to tangles and infinity cubes :) gum and chewelry are good for this as well (for when I bite my fingers/clothes or chew the skin off my lips)

if you find yourself with a whole day with nothing to do and you don't have the energy to get up and do anything, go to the park. bring a blanket, some snacks, and headphones, and just lay there and listen to music. sleep. watch youtube. literally anything you would normally do when you don't have energy, except it's outside in the sun and grass and nature around other people who are doing the same thing! 10/10

get a pet if you can. even just fish, but really a fluffy, snuggly animal is probably best such as a dog or cat. OH MY GOD THEY HELP SO MUCH. ANIMALS ARE MAGIC. I don't think I've ever been sad while holding or petting my grandma's dog. (our family doesn't have one right now lol)

spray perfume/body spray on you. faster and easier than deodorant and it usually smells better

if you're gonna scroll, scroll pinterest. honestly, it's probably best to get rid of things like tiktok and snapchat, but that's kinda unrealistic for most people so I get it <3 pinterest is probably gonna be better than other social media cause it's more creative?? if you know what I mean?? and usually it's reading things and not mindlessly watching videos

if you don't have the energy to do stuff with your hair, put it up in a bun! fast simple and easy. takes like 5 seconds, even for someone with super thick curly hair like me. (or cut it short! but most of us aren't brave enough to do that lol)

eat fruit. sweet and comforting, but healthy!!! so much better for you than junk food, and honestly it tastes better most of the time too. I recommend strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe. easy to take with you on the go and sooooo good <3333

play calming video games such as animal crossing, minecraft, stardew valley, cats with soup (if you're into mobile games), etc. puzzle games are good too! if you want something more combat-y, I would recommend the zelda games or forager. still chill and mellow but has more combat and story/lore

garden if you can. I know this kind of ties in with having plants in your room, but if you're able and you have the energy, keep a flower and/or vegetable garden. there's something so beautiful in putting your hands in the warm dirt, smelling your freshly-planted flowers, eating sun-infused vegetables that taste infinitely better than store-bought. it's so nice, but I know it's not for everyone so don't worry about it if you don't get around to it <3

sleep in the bus/car on the way to school if you're tired. not a perfect solution but better than falling asleep in class

inhale through your nose, not your mouth. it's better for your lungs and you'll get better air quality that way. it also helps calm you better than mouth breathing, and you can't exactly smell the fresh air through your mouth :P

read. sit down and read a book. carry one with you wherever you go. spend a weekend day in the library with a huge stack of books just reading. it's so calming and helps stimulate your brain. doesn't matter what you read as long as it's making you happy :)

surround yourself with color, not dark drab colors. hang up art and posters on your walls, get bright blankets and pillows, lay out a tiny lil carpet, make bead curtains and string them up on your curtain rod, set out little figurines/sculptures around your room. put color and life everywhere around you, and that will start to seep into your soul.

tea is always good. or if you don't like tea, hot water with lemon juice and honey. basically the same :)

if you ever just don't want to do something, like you just absolutely don't want to get up and do _ thing, think about future you. would they be like "bro thanks so much you really helped me out there" if you did the thing? if yes, then do it, no matter how impossible it seems. you'll thank yourself later.

a statement that is near and dear to my heart: if you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. if you feel like you hate everyone, eat. if you feel like you hate yourself, shower.

NO MORE SU!C!DE JOKES. ever. the end! replace "i'm literally gonna kms" jokes or anything along those lines with "i'm literally gonna flop to the floor" or "i'm literally gonna go ham bananas on this place" or whatever wild bullshit pops into your brain.

watch studio ghibli movies. the most amazing things to ever exist. I have never felt sad while watching a ghibli movie. they are basically the definition of peace.

take a bubble bath!!!!!!!! :D

making your bed helps for some reason??? why, I have no idea. but it does bro

get excited about things. smile when you hear your favorite song. hug your amazon package when it comes in. count down the days until a holiday. laugh with joy when you have an amazing day. it makes things so much better.

that's all for now, lmk if you have anything else to add!!! love you guys, I promise it gets better <3

[cryptid-bird]

Reading An Old Fic

I'm reading an old Gorillaz fic that I wrote years ago, and it's so unintentionally funny in some parts. For context, 2D fucking. Dies. That's the plot. He's a ghost now. The story is mostly angst, so the random bits of humor is like getting smacked in the face. The story overall is not bad, it's just weird that I did that! If I had finished this, it could have been close to a novel length.

Highlights of the story:

The chapter names include such gems:

Drink To Forget Your Problems.

Great, This House Is Fuckin' Haunted.

Talking To Your Dead Friend Around Your Adopted Daughter Can Be Super Awkward

Play Video Games To Forget Your Crippling Depression.

Summon Satan To Help Deal With Your Problems Instead Of Facing Them Like An Adult.

Don’t Starve Shipwrecked Basically

I can sense a theme with some of these.

Murdoc gets in an elevator with a white suburban family. He has an inverted cross around his neck and blood on him (from an injury). It's awkward

2D uses his ghost powers to make Murdoc's shower ice cold.

After a very dramatic scene: “What’cha doin’?” Stuart asked. He sounded bored and alone. 

“Running from my problems.” Murdoc responded.

Taxi Driver: “My friends would be stoked to hear this, they’re big fans.” 

Murdoc: “I always love fans. Tell ‘em I said that my bed can always fit one more person.”

2D calls Murdoc a murderer for being partly responsible for his demise (even though it was unintentional). Murdoc denies being a murderer. 2D is like "I have a law degree!!", which is funny to me. Why does he have that

EMI Records calls Murdoc during an angsty scene and threatens to hold him hostage until he can tell them where 2D is. When he says he will get his lawyers involved, they tell him "We're a billion dollar company, we can do whatever we want"

2D meets a blind woman who can hear him. She doesn't know he is a ghost and doesn't get the memo. She's like "We all feel invisible sometimes. It's ok"

Russel: “I know you’re in there you green piece of shit”. 

Noodle is unable to ship her sword, but is somehow able to ship herself, a whole human, through FedEx. This is never addressed.

Murdoc plans to murder a child to bring 2D back from the dead. He can't bring himself to. He kills someone else instead by being bisexual at a club. This chapter is called: Murder For A Good Cause. The man he brings back is actually from the Black Cloud and attacks Murdoc first.

A line from the story, out of context: "It would just be plain awkward, like having sex with your best friend watching, except he and 2D weren't friends." 

(More under the cut)

Noodle: “Uhuh. Well, I’m going out to go get some dinner. If I come back and anything is wrong I won’t hesitate to harm you.” she threatened. 

Murdoc: “I know that! Enjoy your dinner!” he called as he dragged the corpse away to clear space. 

2D finds Murdoc drawing a pentagram next to a dead body and is like "WHAT THE FUCK"

“There’s a dead body on the floor-” Stu pointed out, but was interrupted by Murdoc.

“Stop pointing out the obvious.”

“So you slit his throat?” 

“What else did you expect me to do? Kindly show him the door?” 

This scene:

He pricked his finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall into the solution. He felt a strange tingling sensation, and the very next thing he knew he was standing in the oh so familiar underworld. 

He was in a building. The roof was high up and was supported by towering beams. On the beams were torches lit with hot flames. They were the only light in the room. 

A large demon paced back and forth. He seemed angry. “For the last time, I don’t want your car insurance! I don’t even have a car! How did you get this number?!” he paused, listening to what the person on the other line had to say. “At least I’m not going to have an early death! Have fun in Hell!” he swiftly hung up. It seemed he was unaware of his company until Murdoc cleared his throat.

And this:

“It’s you. You don’t remember our deal? You specifically asked for your band to never die. Your friend did, but because of our deal his soul remains. Well, ta-ta! I’m off to my meeting. Hell can’t run itself.”

If you want to read all of what I've written, let me know and I can upload the rest on ao3. I've already published some of it on there. I will not finish it, I'll just give you what I've already done.

[ms-demeanor]

My friend says not to vote in the upcoming election because our liberal establishment is no different from fascism and because Trump's policies are merely an extension of existing policies (like the ICE concentration camps that were established under Obama). How would you, being a leftist like me and my friend, respond to this attitude?

When I was in high school there was one cataclysmic, catastrophic, Very Important school board meeting.

It was a perfect storm of religious freedom, LGBT Rights, and Holy Shit You’re Talking About Taking Daycare Away from Students Who Are Parents.

The first thing, religious freedom, was exceptionally stupid but I think it’s a great example of how shitty the suburb I lived in was and what we were dealing with. Basically the D&D club that I started was accused of being Satanists and the Campus Christian Club was trying to get us shut down for worshipping satan. (I live in the fucking WORST part of LA County, I swear). The defense for the D&D club was pretty simple: If we’re worshipping satan as an on-campus activity at lunchtime we have every right to do so just like the Campus Christian Club an in fact if the Campus Christian Club got us shut down for practicing a different religion they’d made a very effective argument for shutting down their Praising Christ on-campus lunchtime activity.

The second thing was ANOTHER conflict with the Campus Christian Club - this was more serious. This was “High schoolers shouldn’t be exposed to deviant lifestyles and therefore we need to shut down the Gay/Straight Alliance.” At that point the GSA was also very new and I was also the VP of it. Spoilers: we were allowed to continue existing and we had speakers come in from time to time - we had grownups who talked to us about dealing with homophobia and resources for what happened if your parents kicked you out; we had a trans woman in her 50s come and talk to us (in 2003!) about transphobia and dysphoria and how to cope. The adviser handed out a packet to all of us that had the suicide hotline number right at the top, I know at least three people used that number the first year. The defense for the GSA was actually another handy-dandy page out of the ACLU handbook: The Campus Christian Club’s definition of deviance is something they have a right to hold but not to impose on other people - if you ban the GSA based on being ‘deviants’ you are imposing someone else’s belief system on us so knock it off unless you want to be a fun LA Times story.

The third thing didn’t have ANYTHING to do with the Campus Christian Club and was much worse because it had to do with funding and teen moms. The third thing was “The district believes it’s a waste of money to continue to pay for childcare at the district continuation school; if you can’t afford childcare you should have thought of that before becoming a teen mom, good luck getting a babysitter while you’re trying to finish high school.” Four of the students from the continuation school had showed up with their children and their defense of the daycare program was basically (and understandably) “What the fuck you fucking ghouls we just want to finish school and it’s one fucking daycare provider on campus you already have to pay the insurance for childcare providers for other schools in the district what the fucking fuck.”

The D&D Club, GSA, and Childcare for Teen Parents Program were all allowed to continue existing.

By one vote.

By someone who had recently been elected to the school board.

By four votes.

Four people went out and voted that November. Four people filled in a bubble on a ballot.

The GSA did fundraisers to pay for STI testing and suicide prevention. My friend Michelle graduated on time with her daughter waiting in the crowd. Knowing that adult trans people could survive and exist and thrive and love themselves was lifesaving information for a few kids in the GSA.

Four votes. If four people stayed home that’s a hundred fewer STI tests, that’s wondering if Michelle would ever be able to get a job when she didn’t have a diploma and couldn’t hire a babysitter. That’s three dead queer kids and another two homeless.

And it didn’t happen. Because four people filled in a couple of bubbles one night in November.

Voting is not activism but it is by no means useless. If your friend is incapable of distinguishing fascism and liberalism that sounds like a them problem and it sucks to be them; that amount of nihilism is hard to carry around.

People who criticize leftists for “electoral apologism” or whatever for voting are the “yet you participate in society, curious. I am very intelligent” comic

Yeah, the system’s shitty. Yeah, it sucks and should be overthrown. But it’s not overthrown YET so we may as well take advantage of the few areas of harm reduction the system allows. Voting doesn’t mean you STOP doing direct action or that you stop pushing for change, it just means you’re doing the single easiest real-world thing to alleviate suffering. And if it doesn’t work who gives a fuck - you did the bare minimum and it cost you a small amount of time.

Vote and then go hand out food in the park or cut the valve stems off a cop car if you’re feeling angsty about conceding to the system.

(also FUCK, you have no idea how much I hate having to defend the Obama administration but please go talk to a trans person about whether it is easier or harder to get healthcare in their state under Trump or under Obama. I fucking hate liberals but I don’t think that they’re actively interested in overturning Roe V. Wade. Fuck this political purity culture and go learn about harm reduction.)

[starshipsofstarlord]

Rush Hour

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | whilst on the way to an interview, you and Sebastian are stuck in traffic. There seems to be only one way to pass the time that comes to mind.

Warnings | smut, fingering, teasing, slight voeyurism I guess (on the phone?)

QUICK LINK TO MY MASTERLIST IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF MY CRAP 😬

It was stressful, viewing how parades of cars, lined up in their designated sections filled the large road. It appeared as none of them were going to start moving for a while, and it made you bite your lip in frustration. Out of all days, it had to be this very one, when you had to assign your presence within a specific slot of time.

You and Sebastian had even left early, as insurance that you would arrive at your destination on time, but now, you had severe doubts that you would. And those doubts, within the past few minutes, had became incredible high. It looked as though there was no chance of escaping this frozen parade for the current and important time being. 

Even the simplicity of looking out the window made you slightly mad, you had places to be, as you assumed many other people that were under the same predicament were too, but for the meanwhile, you weren’t going anywhere. The lines of vehicles were stuck in some kind of limbo, stricken by the same thundering of karma at once.

Your significant other was behind the wheel, tapping his long fingers upon the round gear, causing your attention to divert up to his talented digits. As you studied them and their smooth exterior, an idea rendered in your fuming mind, and so, to put it into action, you slyly placed one of your own hands to rest upon his upper thigh.

Sebastian, instead of waving off the affection, smiled at it, thinking that it was nothing more than a tender instinct to also calm him down. The bet was, his agent would have his ass for showing up late, well aware that they had been the one to arrange this press in order to promote the latest of your shared projects.

However, he had not expected in this bustling, and public surrounding moment that you would creep your grip up higher, and so he tensed as you did just that. But he chose to allow you to continue for now, his front deep digging solely into his lower lip to express some of the tension that he was under whilst stuck in the car.

It was impossible to predict how long the pair of you would be stuck in the moving box, and it seemed that you had configured a way in your mind to pass it. One that had lead to your fingers dancing over his trousers, and making him groan lightly in anticipation.

His cobalt eyes snapped towards you though as you removed your hand. To put it simply, you were teasing him, riling him up in the constricted amount of space. It relented you no escape from him, nor his uptake in revenge. And as you shrouded under his gaze against the inside of the passenger side door, you gulped.

Perhaps, you thought, you should have just kept your hands to yourself. And then, you would not have been stuck in this predicament of being cursed with his winter glare; it made you feel like melting ice cowering into the level below. For a second, you wished the controls of the radio volume had the ability to reverse time, so that you could correct your mistake.

The feeling of his hands abandoning the wheel, considering that the car was not going to be continuing moving on the road for a while, and drifting towards the bottom seam of your skirt had you inhaling as much air as your lungs would allow. It would not be the first instance of which he put his earnest skin upon yours in public, but with all around being still on one spot, a part of you worried sincerely of a noticed fan grabbing their phone with their clammy hands, and recording the interaction.

And if done, the interval, whilst stuck in one, would be painted sourly over the entire internet. There would be an assortment of clashing reviews; some lustful and imagining what it would be like to be trapped in the car with you two, and others shaming of your indecency. And to say the magazines and online articles would have a field day, well, that would be an understatement.

Seb drifted his feather light touch up higher, brushing just above the border that labelled the end of your outfit. Instead of say anything that compromised his mission, you settled back into your seat, sinking your head into the designed rest, and opened your legs a little, permitting him no resistance to do as he pleased; all because, you wanted the satisfaction and fulfilment of the adult acts too.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, squashing it beneath the carnivorous bone, as his hands danced elegantly around beneath the complimentary fabric. He toyed with you, by stroking his fingers over the thin material of your underwear, expertly putting pressure down upon your covered bud, confiscating a breathy whine out of your closed mouth. “You’re already wet.” A damn smirk coveted itself upon his healthy lips, your eyes flickering between the seductive sight, and that hidden beneath your clothes.

“Do something.” It wasn’t an order on your part; it was a sensual beg, in other terms, your sexual starvation put into words. The air from your lungs was practically ripped away as your partner delved his explorative fingers into the privacy of your garments, the pads of his delirium causing fingers heading straight towards your swollen and puffy clit.

With no hesitancy, you head rolled sideways to rest against the window, your breath frosting carelessly against the glass. Instead of caring about what was being viewed from the outside of the car, you focused on what could be seen from within the space of the front two seats. And so, you pushed up your skirt, giving the pair of you an explicit image of his hand roaming beneath the divider that kept your crotch from the barren air.

“Like this?” Sebastian taunted, sinking a finger into your sopping hole, causing your eyelashes to flutter at the sensation. A furrow worried his face however, even as he stayed still, not moving his digit, all due to the ringing of his phone. Using his free hand, he picked up the device, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

As he began to converse, he slowly paced his finger in and out of you, the thought of him finger fucking you whilst on the phone making you that much wetter. “No, me and y/n are going to be late, there’s traffic.” You assumed that he was speaking to his agent, and as you mewled, he left you empty, bringing his finger to his mouth to clean.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the road clears.” Seb sighed, after removing his slick coated digit from his mouth, pouring a little spit onto it, and bringing it down to rest on you clit. Shuffling, you leant back as far as the seat belt allowed you to have both of your feet to be perched on the end of the passenger side, knees tucked up your body willing to take whatever he would so much as give to you.

“Seb.” At the sound of his voice falling so erotically from his lips, a crease formed between his eyebrows, and so, as punishment for interfering with the static of his phone, he pinched your clit, and to cease the audible response, you bit into the palm of your hand, leaving indents of your teeth begins.

“I can’t make it go any faster.” You were not sure whether he was speaking to you or his agent. But it didn’t matter, not as he began to roll your clit between his fingers, paying the button ample attention, that had your head going all fuzzy and thoughtless.

“As much as I wish I could clear up this whole parade of stuck cars, I can’t.” He deliberately shook his head, purposely looking away from where he was playing with you to keep focused on the phone call, despite still rubbing tight circles around your bud. “She’s fine, in fact, she’s fallen asleep. Y/n will be all rested and content if we get there.”

Rested was a word that you were opting against, but if you were going to be privileged with being made content, then who were you to argue with him? So you remained silent, biting onto anything that could silence you, to keep yourself satisfied and ensuring that he would keep some truth behind his words. “See what you can do, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With little to no reluctance, he dropped his phone onto his lap, it meeting and causing some friction against his semi. But the awakening in his trousers was not his priority, instead it was the slick that was collecting so wholesomely on his fingers, acting as a natural lubrication to continue his round administrations.

“Sebby.” This time, instead of trying to silence you, the man marked you with a pleasant grin, only to apply more pressure behind his movements. It was a wicked deed, but you had no mind to it as it served no bother; instead, you were rather pleased that he was to be giving in on his pardoning.

“You going to cum for me darling?” His words were almost taunting, you could feel a flush of heat cascade up your neck and all around your body. And all from clitoral stimulation, this man certainly knew what he was doing. “Cum on my fingers baby, make them all nice and wet.”

Plunging your teeth once more into your bottom lip, you groaned, shutting your eyes and breathing steadily throughout your nostrils. And with that, you shattered underneath him, your shoulders twinging from the spasming aftershocks that riddled your body senseless.

“Would you look at that, the cars are slowly beginning move.” You needn’t have even needed to open your y/e/c eyes to know that there was an amused smirk contouring his features; that man sure could get cocky sometimes, and half of those happened to be in public.

[larkral]

AFTG Thoughts

My very important thoughts on AFTG (having now finished the series). Organized by sections as: Exy, non-Andreil relationships, Adult real life logistics, and other strong but uncategorizable feelings.

I am having lots of Andreil feelings as well, but this is not them. This is the other things. My other very strong takeaways.

Exy

Exy would absolutely for fucking sure not be an Olympic sport, or a 60k seat stadium NCAA sport after ~20 years of game play. Absolutely not. I played Roller Derby for 5 years. Modern Roller Derby is a sport with a meaningful history and following and regulation bodies, and extremely amazing athletes. This isn’t a perfect case study, given that derby is grassroots, and Exy is meant to have been fully designed by 2 people, but this was an area I had to very intentionally suspend my disbelief whenever it came up.

This book also absolutely would not be as compelling to me as a non-sports-person if it were about a real sport. Because listen, I love lacrosse and I appreciate hockey and I nod casually in the direction of soccer/football, but using a made up sport made this book approachable and interesting for me. I didn’t have to think “is this a real reference I need to know more about to earnestly appreciate this plot?” Because nope. It for sure wouldn’t be. Also I didn’t have to attempt to overcome my sports people prejudices/stereotypes, because I don’t have any of those about Exy.

The refs are *outside* the court? Sus.

That plexi has to get very smudgey very quickly. How do they clean it? This seems like a problem for spectators and (see above) refs.

Why is it called Exy? I don’t hate it, it’s just like...such a prescription drug name. 

Non-Andreil relationships

Kudos to this series for having not a lot of relationship drama aside from...you know, the big one. I appreciate that this series wasn’t rife with drama in relationships

However: long distance relationships are so dramatic and hard and I don’t believe that Kevin/Thea and Nicky/Erik would have survived the series unscathed. I didn’t want to actually have to read more about either of those relationships, but neither struck me as particularly real.

Betsey/Wymack/Abby -- thruple. C’mon.

Adult real life logistics

Oh my god, no insurance agent ever in the history of real life would ever think that Andrew’s car wasn’t totaled after being vandalized as described. They’d cut him a check in like...two days. Though also as someone who has had a car totaled this year, it’s a fucking hassle no matter what.

Who is maintaining Nicky’s house!? Houses are energy pits. If he owns that house, someone needs to be up in there changing the furnace filter and flushing the water heater and oiling the garage door springs. And he sure isn’t.

Other strong but uncategorizable feelings

Before reading this series I was like “why would any person attend school and be there primarily in order to play a sport” but actually I kind of get it now?

KEVIN you are not supposed to meaningfully sweat for several weeks after getting a tattoo!

Why would a building planning official accept sleeping quarters underground that didn’t have egress? I guess bribes from gangsters. But c’mon. The Raven’s Nest would be condemned immediately!

I can believe that Nicky is fluent in German, and that Jean and Kevin are fluent in French, but the rest of them almost certainly wouldn’t be fluent enough to carry out the conversations as written. Totally willing to suspend my disbelief on it, though.

Man that Nathaniel/Neil section? I died. I knew what was happening and it still brought me to my knees.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[neurospicy]

Why is it so fucking expensive to seek an adult autism diagnosis? I know there’s more going on with me than just my adhd. I’ve never seen anyone else with adhd that struggles quite to the extent that I am. I can’t seem to handle very basic, everyday things without getting overwhelmed. I burn out so easily to the point that my ability to function decreases even more.

For example, everyone has to work. Lots of people with adhd also manage to work, even if they end up job hopping a lot. Even when I had medication, it was like I still couldn���t handle the stress. I would have a whole breakdown every day before work, literally thinking about harming myself or wrecking my car intentionally to avoid having to be there, feeling this crushing dread, anger, exhaustion, the negative thought spirals throughout the day, getting off or ending the week and not even being able to relax or enjoy yourself because the knowledge that you have to go back so soon is looming over you. Not being able to sleep because of the crushing dread of knowing you have to wake up and get back on that metaphorical treadmill, having nightmares about it when you do sleep.

Obviously the easy answer would be to simply get a different job, but the thing is that this has been every job I’ve ever had…and I’ve had a LOT of them. It isn’t just the work, though that feeling of not doing something that feels meaningful is definitely soul-crushing, but no, instead it’s the stress of pushing past a severe level of executive function until I no longer can and I begin to make mistake after mistake. It’s the draining exhaustion of seeing the same people and being forced into the same small talk. It’s not having any energy left to clean my house, cook, have a life, or pursue my special interests/hyperfixations. It’s feeling trapped in a schedule that doesn’t work with my needs or energy levels and eventually turns me into a shell of my former self. It’s knowing that each time I get fired and have that time to recover before being forced to re-enter the world that I never fully get back to what I once was. I lose a piece of myself and my ability to function lessens each time.

It’s frustrating because it’s like if I could just manage to work and keep working full time long enough, I could get insurance and get assessed, because I know deep down I’m on the spectrum…but I’ve gotten fired before that happens each time. It’s like I’m trapped in this cycle of not functioning well without support but not having the resources to seek a diagnosis so that I can get support. I feel like the system has failed me and like I’ve slipped through the cracks. It’s hard to have much hope because everyone always tells people that you have to help yourself or change what you don’t like, but it’s like I’m literally unable to get to the point where I can even do that.

[wasted-on-dreaming]

A Polite Response to my Abuser

I've been meaning to crawl back onto Tumblr all week, and this is not how I meant to do it, but uh... So my abusive parent sent me a fantastically horrible email. And I'm so furious I really wanted to reply, so I wrote the reply. But in the end I think it's better to not give them the satisfaction. So I'm not actually sending it. But I feel like I have to put this somewhere or I'm going to scream, so I guess I'm tossing it here. I promise I'll add some more fun content asap! Maybe my collection of thoughts about Kavinsky, which is starting to feel like the guy with the board of red strings. "Kavinsky is a good boy, actually, if you just follow this string here--" Also my brain has been stuck in this fucking hole of Dream Pack Adam AU thoughts. And I've been toying with headcanons for Jiang bc he does not get enough love. Also why is there not more Swan and Proko content when they have FUCKING MATCHING CARS??? And the wait for Greywaren is seriously K I L L I N G me ugh ugh.

To be clear: you don't deserve a response, but I'm writing one anyway. I don't expect it to make a difference, of course. More than the old adage about old dogs and new tricks, I don't think you want to change. But I'm going to say it anyway.

To start: the idea that you are my mother is not "just fact", actually. You are my genetic progenitor, while mother implies a deeper connection that you have not earned. I have, on multiple occasions, given you opportunities to change that, but you remain incapable of rising to the challenge. Despite that all I've ever asked is that you behave like an adult and actually treat me like a human being. So despite what you claim, you have turned your back on me more times and in more ways than I can count. The fact that you fail to acknowledge this is frankly baffling. Do you think I'm unaware?

You can choose to rewrite events so you don't have to deal with them. That's your prerogative. But it does not change the actual events. You were yelling at me, twice, on two different subjects. This was so bad that someone knocked on my door afterwards asking if I was okay, since as we discussed previously, you were on speaker as my phone doesn't work otherwise. So, no. We are not talking about your "tone". We are talking about yelling in a way audible from the hallway such that a stranger was concerned. Not that this is new behavior for you.

You asked me and I responded honestly, saying that it would be a huge help, but that it was okay if you couldn't cover my insurance. And then you're yelling at me like I'm mugging you at gunpoint. And this was after the point where I had to point out that making me feel unsafe does not make it easier for me to do things I struggle with.

I have diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder tied to your abuse and the way you behave towards me. You know, that thing that people in warzones have, because that's what interacting with you is like. The explosion is always inevitable, I just never know how or when it'll happen.

It's not trying to take advantage of your offer of financial assistance -- every time I said that you did not have to, you said that you wanted to help. And you refused to elucidate in any way what the issue was. All while continuing to yell at me and make me uncomfortable for no discernable reason. The issue is, as always, the fact that you don't treat me with even basic human decency. The fact that every time I try to make space so you can step into my life, you just prove that you still see me as a defenseless child you can hit with no repercussions. And yet I've kept giving you chances. But that's never good enough for you, because you don't want chances. You don't want an opportunity to build a relationship, to see if there exists the potential for a relationship that isn't built on fear. You want unquestioning love without bothering to question if you even deserve it. You show zero regard for my comfort or boundaries, or even the slightest hint that you're aware that there are barriers to what you're asking for. Likely because you can't acknowledge those barriers are your own behavior.

The fact that you still turn verbally abusive despite the number of times that I've told you I wont tolerate that behavior further is the issue. Not that I'm "entitled" and "ungracious". This time I am following through.

I can't believe I have to explain this to you, but the way that you behave, and how you treat people, has consequences. This is especially true when it comes to exercising their right to decide how they want to interact with you.

An example of one of those consequences is the degree to which I feel comfortable including you in my life. You talk about entitlement, and yet fail to see it in the way you talk about how I keep you from talking to my doctors, as if that's a level of trust that you think you deserve. Simply, the more that you make it clear that you can't behave in a way that is safe for other people, even over the phone, the less able I am to interact with you. Full stop. I would, frankly, love to have a functional parent, who cared for me and was able to support me when I'm dealing with things that are challenging and sometimes beyond what I'm capable of. Not even necessarily in a way that involves money, but just someone who could talk to me and be there and be a comfort when I'm overwhelmed because I'm dealing with a lot of things and need help figuring things out. Unfortunately, both of my parents were damaged people before I was born. And sending me stuff has always been easier for you than being responsive to how I feel. You've been emotionally abusive throughout my entire life, and you have proven over and over that you have no interest in changing those behaviors.

So the fact you can say feeling like I don't have a support system is an illusion, and insist that you're always there for me without a shred of self-awareness is horrifyingly insulting on a level you clearly don't care enough to grasp. You act as if your presence and your support comes without cost and without threat and without feelings that damage my safety when that is absurdly untrue.

If I dated someone, and we broke up because they hit me in the face, I might give them a chance to prove that they were not that still that person if we met years later. But I sure as hell would not get back together with them after meeting a couple times for Starbucks. And if they yelled at me during one of those meetings and proved they were still incapable of communicating in a way that didn't reference that old violence, I would very abruptly stop giving them the opportunity. And that isn't entitlement, that is prioritizing my own fucking safety. You say that you're "tired of trying". But the problem is that you don't actually seem interested in trying in the first place. You want to skip to the end- to be welcomed with open arms- which isn't trying at all. You completely ignore the reasons being physically in your presence is difficult for me while you act wounded about being rebuffed.

Honestly, living with my dad was not all that I needed. But it was so much better than being consistently physically hit, and kicked, and yelled at, and verbally belittled, and told how worthless I was, that it was literally impossible for me to see it in any other light for most of my life. Do you remember how you used to call me "Bubbles" and demean me for daring to be happy to talk to someone who valued my existence? Because I do. Yes, you are clearly still the same person, and that is the problem. You say that you "did your best", but I honestly don't believe it. Or at least, if you did, your focus was not on the baby you chose to bring into the world. You made a choice that you were going to subject a baby to those struggles. You don't get a girl scout badge for toughing it out; there is no gold star for doing it on your own while you commit criminal levels of child abuse. You don't get a prize for living beyond your means and not being on welfare, and if you happen to hit your kid, well, that's just water under the bridge. Further, the problem with this victim narrative you're trying to spin, is that any struggles that you had a result of having a child, were struggles that you knowingly chose. You decided that you wanted that in your life. I obviously did not get any such choice when it came to being abused by my mother from before I'd even started kindergarten. So no, it's not that I don't understand that things were "difficult". It's simply that things being difficult does not justify or excuse the actions you took. You had options like adoption or foster care or letting my father have custody far earlier than you did, if being a mother was beyond your capabilities. Which it clearly was, by your own admissions. Being a dependent child, I had no choice in the matter.

You try to paint this as some saintly, virtuous suffering you went through -- but it isn't. I can imagine that situation, and yes, finding myself or a romantic partner with a child I was unprepared would be terrifying. I would seriously consider if being with me was the best option for the child -- not for me. But the first time I abused that child and realized that I was not a safe situation for them, I would have reckoned with what my options were for giving that child a chance at a good life, one that didn't include me. Which are choices that you had, but chose not to make. Do you remember when my friends and I called child protective services, and you charmed your way through that by bullying terrified children? And you weren't angry at the prospect of losing me, or because you loved me, but because you were afraid of how it would "look". Your issues with my father are, as always, between the two of you. I have no interest in the letter he wrote, because it doesn't change your actions. This whole aside about whether or not my father was delinquent on child support doesn't alter the fact that you systematically beat any concept of my own worth out of me. You know my dad had to insist that I allow him to hug me, because of how terrified I was of being touched from living with you. I could not conceive of any touch that didn't hurt. You did that. It's taken two decades for me to believe that I have a right to set boundaries, to want things that are not structured around being small and silent and appeasing the people around me out of fear. I believed that how things made me feel- or if I wanted them to stop- didn't matter, because of how you treated me and how worthless you convinced me I was. I struggle with hearing out of my right ear, and I still have the scar where you burned my hand with your cigarette. You don't get to blame the things you did on my dad when he was on the other side of the country.

Further, you say that I "live in the past", and that I'm "punishing you for my childhood", which just proves how disconnected you are from the reality of what all of this has meant for me. My point with these examples is that for me, none of this is "the past", because in many ways this is something that I continue to have to deal with. I still flinch at loud noises, or when people come up on my bad side, or when a door closes too loudly. And I still don't trust that people wont hurt me. Even the people I care about. Especially the people I care about.

This is my reality because of the degree to which you abused your own child, and because of that I do not get the luxury that you do. I don't get to just decide that I don't want to deal with this because it makes me feel bad. You've done such massive damage to my identity and self-image that I continue to have to work through it, a day at a time. I get memories as intrusive thoughts, I have triggers. If you want to talk about being entitled, telling the victim of your persistent abuse that they should just get over it and not talk about it is pretty fucking high. I am in therapy, actually, and I spend most of it trying to unravel all the things you told me. No, sorry, pointing these things out is not you being punished. It is a direct result from choices you've made to harm others, and behaviors that you continue to carry out. That is not punishment. That is just truth.

And as much as you claim that I'm fixated on the past as a way to hurt you, I very rarely have talked about any of this. I have almost never brought up the specifics of how much a specter of horror you were for me as a child. This is goodbye, in case that was unclear. And fucking fuck you. Cordially, James