#and he had acne when he was younger you can’t tell me otherwise

[valewritessss]

Seeing @forrpercyys art of Percy with braces has given me that headcanon

[absolutelynoct]

Ignis- Puberty😛

[Poor Ignis. I hope you enjoy this!] Puberty was kind to some people, giving them the height that they wanted, perfectly deep voices, and clearly defined muscles. Gladio was one of the lucky ones who had taken puberty and kicked it in the ass. Ignis, however, was not one of them.

He had gone through the growth spurt well enough, but it made him lanky and feel off-balanced and uncoordinated. Ignis had to overcompensate for it in training, but he didn’t let it slow him down. He had acne, the type that would leave deep scars, and his uncle had kindly helped him get on a heavy acne prescription that he took daily. And his voice wavered, fluctuating between his high-pitched children’s voice to the deeper voice he would eventually develop completely.

Ignis hated puberty with a horrid passion. Noctis, thankfully, didn’t mention it, nor did he seem to care. But he was terrified of Gladio one day making fun of him. At twelve, he already knew that he had a crush on Gladio. Now that he was this awkwardly miserable tween, Ignis knew he never even stood a chance. In essence, Ignis was the definition of an ugly duckling.

It didn’t make walking in the Citadel any easier either. Ignis hated having to pass by the Crownsguard or the Kingsglaive, all of them with perfect skin and beautiful eyes and wonderfully deep voices. He knew that people made fun of him for how awkward he was. If he didn’t have to watch after Noctis constantly, he would have opted to stay in his room until this horrible phase passed.

“Hey kid,” one of the Crownsguard said in passing as he walked by one day. “It’s a good thing you’re smart. Cause I feel sorry about your face.”

Ignis flushed in embarrassment, his fists clenching at his sides, and he opened his mouth to dignify a response. Why was this grown adult making fun of a pubescent pre-teen? It not only annoyed Ignis, but he felt horrified to be called out. If he wasn’t in front of others, Ignis would have likely cried.

“Shut the hell up!” Gladio said behind him, startling Ignis. He hadn’t heard him approach. Gladio, of course, was tall and handsome, the spitting image of Ignis’s type. “Shouldn’t you have better things to do?”

The Crownsguard shuffled nervously and walked off, not even bothering to offer up any explanations or apologies. Ignis took a deep breath to steady his nerves and looked at Gladio, knowing that he was already hopelessly in love with him. Of course he was. Gladio was gorgeous.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, his voice cracking when he spoke. He flushed red, knowing that Gladio didn’t have to suffer through such problems.

“That guy is an ass,” Gladio grumbled, his arms folded across his chest. “Don’t worry so much about it. Guys like that are just rude.”

“He’s right, though,” Ignis considered. “It’s a good thing I’m smart.”

“Then you’re smart enough to know that you’re going to grow, your skin will clear up, and your voice will be fine. We can’t all have a decent time with puberty. No one can be as lucky as me.” Gladio grinned at him. He put his hand on Ignis’s shoulder, leading him down the hall. “You’ll see. Don’t worry about it so much.”

Ignis nodded, but he still felt concerned. Unfortunately, if Gladio was seeing him at his worst, he knew that Gladio wouldn’t want him at his best. There was no scrubbing this from his memory.

***

“Hey Ignis,” Gladio called from their study. “I found a picture of us from when we were younger.”

“Oh no,” Ignis replied, walking into the room and looking at Gladio holding a photo of them from when they were twelve. “Please burn it.”

“Not a chance,” Gladio smirked. Ignis walked over to him and tried to take it out of his hands, but Gladio was faster. He wrapped an arm around Ignis’s waist and pulled him into a kiss, distracting him so that he could put the photo in his pocket. “Every photo of you is something I treasure.”

“You’re too much of a hopeless romantic,” Ignis argued, but he was smiling nevertheless. “Come now, I looked horrid.”

“No you didn’t,” Gladio replied. “I mean, I had a crush on you, even back then.”

“Really?” Ignis asked in surprise. When he looked at Gladio, he could see that he was telling the truth. His cheeks flushed red, and he supposed he could concede on this one photo. “Well, I suppose if you like the photo you can keep it.”

“Good,” Gladio mused. He kissed Ignis. “Otherwise, I’d have to seduce you to agree.”

“Well you can do that anyway,” Ignis admitted. He smiled and kissed Gladio, more than happy to be seduced by his husband.

[pipsqueakparker]

i started thinking about how baz definitely has a skin & hair care routine and how ridiculous and extensive it probably is and then this happened whoops 

-- 

I knew Baz had some crazy specific daily routines while we were at Watford, he would spend upwards of an hour in the bathroom nearly every single morning, but I never really knew what they were.

I knew he had umpteen million posh, nice-smelling products that crowded the counter and left just enough room for my little tube of toothpaste, toothbrush, and exactly one bottle of shampoo and one bar of soap. But I never really knew what they were for.

And then I moved in with Penelope, and she only had half as many bottles and products in the bathroom, I wasn’t sure what to do with all of that extra space. Until Baz started haunting our door day and night, just as he promised, and started leaving some of his posh products at our place as well.

“‘For skin rejuvenation’,” I read off one of the bottles, sat on the bathroom counter and watching Baz rub the cream over his face. “What have you got to rejuvenate? You’re hardly twenty and you’re a vampire.”

“You and I both know twenty year olds with rough skin, Snow,” Baz starts, grabbing for another bottle. “And you were there the night we found Nicodemus. How many of those vampires could have benefitted from some proper skin care?” He pumps a dollop of the cream onto his hand and watches his own reflection as he massages it in. (He can see his reflection in the mirror. He was taking the piss that night he suggested he couldn’t, and I’ll never admit to another person how long it took for me to realize that.)

“You’ve great skin,” I tell him. I think he does at least. It’s not marred by moles and freckles and sun damage the way mine is, not that I’m that torn up over it. He is, though. Not in a ‘I’m Less Attracted To Your Terrible Skin’ way, but in a ‘You Could Be Doing Better’ way. He’s started making me wear sun cream daily, which is something I never considered. Obviously some SPF during the summer months made sense, and I typically didn’t forget it, but who knew the sun could be just as dangerous the rest of the year?

Baz knew. And I suppose that makes sense, he is a bit more sensitive to the sun than the rest of us.

But Baz’s skin doesn’t seem to have any flaws, at least none that I notice. His cheeks are smooth, soft, and even when we were younger and puberty had turned everyone around us into sweaty, hormonal, acne-ridden messes I can’t recall seeing a blemish. I figured it was a vampire thing, I had even added it to my list of reasons to believe he was a vampire.

“And why do you think that is?” Baz gestures to the bottles he’s got lined out in front of him.

“Well, I figured it was the vampire thing, didn’t I?” I mumble, but thanks to the vampire thing Baz hears me clearly and rolls his eyes. I immediately feel the need to defend myself, sitting one of his products down and raising my voice. “It wasn’t that outrageous a thought! Vampires are meant to be fit!”

“You think all dark creatures are fit,” he retorts. He’s moved on from his face, washes the residual cream from his hands and starts in on his hair, still damp from his shower.

“I do not,” I argue. Then, “S’not my fault a good lot of them are.”

“I knew you had a type, Snow, but I never realized it was exclusively non-human.”

“It’s not! I - You’re human. And Chris Hemsworth is properly fit, he’s human.” Baz bypasses my comment on his humanity entirely, he almost always does.

“‘Course you’d be a Hemsworth fan,” he mutters.

“You can’t tell me being a vampire has no additional benefits to your complexion.” I bring the point right back around, because for some reason this is the hill I’ve chosen today. I’m not sure what I want to prove exactly, perhaps just that I was right to use that as evidence of his condition all those years ago? Perhaps I just want to win an argument. “You’re potentially immortal, that has to affect your skin and aging, or whatever.”

“You know fuck-all about vampires.” He’s working a second foamy product into his hair, not looking at me. And he’s right, I know fuck-all about vampires. But neither does he.

“Neither do you.”

He does look at me now. “Snow, if one of us were going to be an expert on the subject, I’m fairly certain it would be me.”

He’s not upset, if anything he looks entertained by the conversation. The corner of his mouth keeps twitching, like he wants to smile, but he won’t. I wish he would, but seeing the proof that he wants to is enough, because talking about vampires and his being one specifically has never been easy. Even after I knew, and after he confirmed it, it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about hardly ever. But we’ve been working on that, and now he’s sometimes to a point of even joking about it.

I think he’s accepted it now, as much as he can, at least. It still upsets him sometimes, he still has his moments, but we’ve worked through them together. Because he’s had to come to terms with vampirism just as much as I’ve had to come to terms with being Normal, and somehow having each other through that has helped both of us. A lot.

“What’s all that for, then?” I ask, changing the subject back to his routine, gesturing to the stuff he’s working into his scalp.

“Some of us take pride in our appearance, Snow. You’d do well to follow suit.”

“Could you stop being a twat for, like, five minutes?” I roll my eyes. “You’ve always had all this posh shit all over our room, and you always take so much time to get ready, I’m just trying to - to bond with you, or something.”

“Or something?”

“Baz.” He’s so infuriating I want to knock every single of these products to floor, grab him by the collar, and kiss him breathless right here on the bathroom counter. I don’t because Penny is in the other room, and she probably would not appreciate Baz and I getting up to anything in a shared space. Again.

Baz holds up the first can he used. “Mousse, it helps with volume and is the only thing that gets my hair even close to matching the way yours just naturally bounces. Otherwise it’s just flat, which was fine when I was combing it back every day but someone told me they liked it better this way.”

I hum, a smile on my face, as I reach out to run my fingers through Baz’s hair. It’s surprisingly soft despite how much it looks like he puts in it, and still a bit wet, but I do like the way it falls around his face. I pull him closer, spreading my knees apart as he moves between them, right in front of me. His hands rest on my thighs and I bring my other hand up to gather his hair at the back of his head.

“I like when you wear it back, too, like in a little bun.” I say quietly. His face is close and I have to remind myself again that Penny is in the other room, it’s a hard fact to remember when I can feel Baz’s breath against my cheek. “Makes you look like a right hipster, doesn’t it? You could get us coffee and vinyls from one of those underground shops.”

“That’s your type then, man buns? Explains Hemsworth.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re my type, you fucking numpty.” I lean in and kiss him, Penny’s presence be damned. “Even if you waste your time trying to improve your already flawless vampire skin.”

He laughs against my lips. “You’re impossible.”

[tgai-spock]

A sharp intake 3

Chapter 3 

Captain Kirk had called together a meeting for the chief of staff, and bridge crew. He briskly entered the room, the rest of the staff except for McCoy already sitting calmly and waiting. He sat at the far end of the table, and took a breath.

“By now you’ve already heard that Mr Spock has been taken ill. What you do not know is the circumstances of that illness, and I feel that to find a cure and fully understand what is going on, you must know. So I’m going to let McCoy explain the circumstances of that illness to you.”

“Why have I got to explain it?” McCoy said, a small vulcan toddler in his arms, and nurse Chapel by his side. The others cooed at him at the surprise.

“Because Doctor McCoy, I don’t know what his illness is,” Captain Kirk said.

“Right” McCoy coughed clearing his throat, and with his free hand he pointed to the toddler “he baby.” There was a pause around the staff table, as though everyone had stopped for a breath. 

“You can’t be serious” Mr Scott said. McCoy nodded.

“Sure is.”

“Commander” Chekov said looking the baby in the eyes and nodding in an attempt to make him copy his behaviour “I haven’t finished writing my report on the planet? Can I have an extension on that? Hmm? Yes? A whole week? Sir you are too kind.”

“That is far too long, whatever report Spock wanted I need.” Kirk said. Chekov sweated.

“Yes Sir, I will have it done by tonight.”

“Hello Commander” Sulu said “does he remember who he is?”

“I don’t think so” McCoy said “I have traced an unusual chemical in his blood which is rare on the planet but, it is there. Which Uhura found out the details of yesterday.”

Uhura nodded as she scrolled her tablet notes “yesterday I beamed down to tell the Notmarsian’s what had happened and asked if they knew anything, and they did.”

“They did this to him?” Kirk asked.

“Yes, it would seem that they saw you arguing with him, and gifted him with a very sacred juice without his knowledge.”

“They saw me arguing with him and turned him into a baby?” Kirk asked in disbelieve.

“The Notmarsian’s use O’juice to turn their own people into children, so that they can relive their childhood, or quickly create deep solid friendship with family or team members that they work with. They believe people work better together, if they are friends. O’juice is supposed to wear off, but if he holds it for as long as the Notmarsian’s it’ll be thirty-six days before that happens.”

“What about his memories?” Kirk asked.

“They are supposed to return, if he is one year old now, he’ll have a one year olds memories.” Uhura said, gesturing and nodding “when he returns to an adult all of his adult memories should return as well.”

“There’s no telling if that’s the case for him” McCoy said “not to mention how difficult it is to become fully grown in thirty-six days, and thats completely forgetting the memory off shrinking into a newborn I hardly think was pleasant.”

“You said he was healthy” Kirk said.

“Yeah at the time, there’s no telling what effect this will have on him.”

“Okay” Kirk nodded understanding that their was truth to what McCoy said, but also it was the worse possible outcome.

“I’ve always thought Mr Spock could use a holiday.” Chekov said.

“It won’t be a holiday, you go relive puberty” McCoy said angrily to him.

“But I only just got my acne to go!” Chekov moaned “you are right, the Notmarsian’s are torturing Mr Spock.”

“Spock, I’m Nyota, can you say Nyota?” Uhura asked. Baby Spock looked at Uhura, still and uncertain, already remarkably vulcan.

“I don’t think he can talk.” Scotty said.

“Maybe he only understands vulcan” Sulu suggested. Uhura shook her head.

“No, he’s bilingual. He’s been speaking standard as long as vulcan.”

“Yet he can’t understand idioms?” Kirk asked.

“If his mother didn’t use them that much he wouldn’t have encountered them. I take it you haven’t had many conversations with other vulcans. Vulcan babies supposed to be able to talk before human ones” Uhura said.

“He is half vulcan” McCoy said “and so far I haven’t heard him make a sound.”

“Is that … normal?” Kirk asked.

“I haven’t got a clue. But, I’m sure he’ll let us know. Here nurse, take him back now.” McCoy said turning to hand him to her.

“Yes Doctor” Nurse Chapel said taking him in her arms, his tiny hands outstretched towards her face.

“Watch it” Dr McCoy pulling his hands down away from Nurse Chapels head.

“Does he have to go now?” Scotty asked “he’s so wee.”

“He’s too small to be around this earth type climate for long. I’ve had to change the gravity settings, and climate controls in one of the sickbay rooms for him, otherwise it would cause too much stress on him, and thats not even including the growing he’s doing.”

“Oh, and older injuries” Uhura said suddenly.

“Older injuries?” McCoy asked an eyebrow uncontrollably raising.

“Tische, the Notamarsian I was speaking to said they can experience their old injury’s like they do memories. If Spock got a cut on his hand it could be gone within the hour or even minutes of him getting it.”

“I suppose theres no time like the present to go digging through decades of old medical files.” McCoy said grumpily “I doubt many of us would want to experience a years worth of injuries at once.”

“I don’t think children tend to get injured as much as adults.” Kirk said.

“No one gets as injured as much as you” McCoy said stubbornly resting both of his hands on the table “most humans do all their knee scraping when they’re younger, I’ll have you know.”

“My apologies, clearly I am in the wrong” Kirk said putting his hands up “Uhura, please continue to work on a faster way to cure this, if thats possible. Everyone else, Commander Spock may be off duty for a long while, please keep your new roles in mind, Sulu you’re my new first in command for now. Dismissed.”

(Chapter 1)

(All Chapters)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]        [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]        [Chapter 5]

[Chapter 6]     [Chapter 7]       [Chapter 8]   [chapter 9]   [Chapter 10]

[Chapter 12]

[marvelous-imagines-for-all]

“Listen To Me” ~Ruby Martinez Imagine

Requested? Yes! 

“could you please write a ruby imagine where the reader is insecure about herself maybe bc of acne or something and he makes her feel better? thanks!💕”

Author: Jade :))) 

Make-up was something you were never seen without. It was something you felt like you always had to have on, even though it wasn’t healthy for your already broken out skin. Acne had been something you struggled with for a couple of years, you’ve used multiple face washing products but none of them ever seemed to work the way they needed to. So make up was the way you went to avoid everyone asking or talking about it. So for you, make-up was essential, You hardly saw yourself without it, you definitely were not about to let your boyfriend, Ruby, see you without it.

The thing about Ruby is that he tends to be pretty spontaneous and in the moment at times. He can plan an entire night and then get upset that you didn’t come, only to realize he got so caught up in it that he forget to tell you to come. Another spontaneous moment was coming your way.

Today had been planned as your free day. There was a day off of school, your younger siblings were at a friend’s house and your parents were off to work. There had been a few tv shows that you wanted to catch up on, so you designated the day to stay in bed and curl up in blankets binge watching.

A few hours later you had caught up on one of the shows, holding the second show on pause while you went to the kitchen to get some snacks you heard the doorbell. Confused, you approached the door and slowly opened it to see Ruby standing in the opening.

“Ruby?!” You were shocked to see him, he said he was busy babysitting the twins.  

“Yes! Wait- Why do you seem so taken back, baby girl?” Concerned stretched across his face as he entered the house, looking at your worried expression.

You weren’t wearing make up. Ruby had to be already disgusted by you. By now he would have kissed you, or at the very least commented on how beautiful you looked like he always did. But it was obvious, without the makeup he agreed you were ugly.

“I-I just wasn’t expecting you…” You closed the front door, trying to avoid eye contact with him and figure out how to get makeup on before he saw you for much longer, “I need to go to the bathroom real quick!”

Ruby looked at you, seeming even more confused than before, but he nodded and headed to sit on the couch. While he did that you quickly threw on foundation and tried to pump yourself back up before having to face him.

When you walked  back into the living room Ruby waited for you to sit next to him before grabbing your hand.

“I didn’t mean to startle you by coming to visit, but my dad got off early, so I didn’t have to watch the twins. I thought I should come over here to…” His voice trailed off as he examined your face closely.

You felt your jaw clench up, he was judging you. He saw you without makeup and now knew why you wore makeup. He was probably trying to see through the foundation and see the acne scars. Tears built up in your eyes as you snapped unexpectedly at your boyfriend,

“What?” Your voice came off harsher than you wanted it to, especially after you saw Ruby jolt back slightly.

“I wasn’t-.. Did you just put on makeup?” Ruby had asked a genuine question, saying moments before when he saw you, you weren’t wearing any. But you took full offense as the tears started streaming down your cheeks.

“Yes, I did.” You stated and watched as his face changed emotions. 

“How did-” Ruby tried to speak, but You didn’t want him to ask how your face had looked so different with the acne. You didn’t want to talk about it at all. 

 “I get that I’m ugly-” 

“Wait I didn’t-”  

“And you don’t want to look at my face otherwise-” 

“Hold on-“

“You can’t even kiss me-“

Ruby cut you off again before you could continue on your rant, “Baby girl, what in the world are you talking about?”

He was joking. Trying to mess with you, you could see it, “My acne.. It’s ugly.”

Ruby shook his head violently and reached up to wipe your face while carefully speaking. He made eye contact to make sure he had your attention,

“Bebé, listen to me. You are beautiful. With or without your makeup, you blow me away! Your eyes sparkle like diamonds, your smile lights up the room, and just your presence makes me happy. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Ruby kept gushing over you. Half the things you weren’t even picking up because you were so shocked that he found you beautiful. When he grabbed your hands your attention went back to him. You opened your mouth to respond to his speech, but he signaled that he wasn���t finished. 

“No, listen to me. The only reason I asked if you had put makeup on, was because damn, baby! You put that on so fast and still looked like a queen.”

You were giggling at this point which made Ruby even happier to see that he had cheered you up. He pulled you into a kiss while telling you how much he loved you. You really were blessed with the best boyfriend ever.

[bluewatsons]

Elliott B. Martin Jr, To Invoke or Not to Invoke: Tarasoff Is the Question, Psychiatric Times (September 27, 2019)

The author presents for consideration and discussion two personal stories in which the so-called Tarasoff Rule, or the “duty to warn” a threatened third party, was invoked. One was arguably appropriate; the other, arguably not.

Case Report

Two cases illustrate the dilemma of the duty to warn. The intricacies of Tarasoff involve so many variables, from state to state, scenario to scenario, case to case. How does one practice good clinical judgment? Following this piece, James L. Knoll IV, MD, provides a forensic analysis, in Psychiatric Malpractice Grand Rounds: The Tarasoff Dilemma.

I would like to present for consideration and discussion two personal stories in which the so-called Tarasoff Rule, or the “duty to warn” a threatened third party, was invoked. One was arguably appropriate; the other, arguably not. In my experience, invoking Tarasoff remains quite contentious, and even legal specialists are often indecisive. For patient confidentiality, details in the cases presented have been changed.

Case 1

When I was an intern, we had a young man committed to us for attacking his mother, and for continuing to threaten her. This was especially problematic in that he lived with her, had no intention of living without her, and his mother was firmly set on his continuing to live with her. We held him for weeks, into months. He had several forensic evaluations along the way.

At first resistant, he eventually agreed to take medication. He learned “to say all the right things,” such that the forensic specialist assigned to his case agreed with the judge in the case that there were no longer grounds to hold him against his will. I, and others who had worked closely with him, did not agree, and so the Tarasoff rule was invoked.

I sat down face-to-face with the young man’s mother. I discussed at length with her that the patient would have to be discharged, and the reasons why. I explained as concretely as I could that although he had previously repeatedly made physical and homicidal threats toward her, he recently had been taking medication with superficial improvement such that a judge, as well as a specialist in criminal mental health, had advised us that we could no longer hold him against his will. She acknowledged all this with tears in her eyes and stoic resignation on her face. She absolutely understood what I was telling her, but she made it quite clear that she would welcome him back home regardless.

Two days later, he was arrested for stabbing his mother several times in the face. She survived the attack. He was eventually committed to a state forensics facility.

Case 2

When I was a fellow at a major pediatric hospital, we had a very disturbed young man who had been sent to us by his outpatient therapist after he had revealed to her several notebooks detailing the many gruesome ways he was planning on eviscerating and alternatively torturing and taking apart piece by piece a particular older boy at his high school. The notebooks were filled, front to back, with minute, bizarre scribblings, macabre poems, as well as several hand-drawn pictures of a mutilated young man in various stages of deconstruction and decomposition. Here and there were very large printed words, “DIE! DIE!” followed by the intended victim’s name.

The victim was a student in the same school, two years older. He reportedly had no idea this younger boy, whose eroto-manic delusions had utterly gotten the best of him, felt this way about him. The patient’s target was captain of the football team, a major player on the debate team, highly ranked in his class, of a well-known and popular local family, and apparently destined for great things, not least of which was having the most popular girls in school hanging off both arms.

This younger boy was not popular. He was homely and overweight, suffered from psoriasis and acne, and was withdrawn and isolative. He had few, if any friends. His parents had put him in therapy for what they saw as depression related to his sexual orientation. It was clear over the weeks we had him in the hospital, however, that his depression was complicated by significant delusional thinking. He believed he in fact had had some sort of relationship with this other boy.

These delusions, in fact, were so intense, that our patient initially believed the older boy impregnated him. More importantly, and frighteningly, he believed he had been most grievously wronged by this boy. We never did learn what this great insult was. But, in lieu of his love/hate-object, he made frequent threats against his perceived unborn baby. He was determined to make “the father” pay for the perceived transgression.

By all accounts otherwise, the older boy had no idea this younger boy even existed. Again, we kept the patient as long as we legally could. He did seem to improve with the combination of medication and “milieu therapy.” Eventually we had no reason to keep him. His parents wanted him home; he wanted to go home. He was different than the young man in the first case, in that no one really believed he would now actually harm anyone. He seemed to have developed some insight, and he eagerly approached therapy. He had been in the hospital nearly three months.

My supervisors, in consultation with the hospital’s legal team, debated long and hard over whether Tarasoff needed to be invoked in this situation. It was illuminating to learn just how gray this area is. The legal team was mostly noncommittal. But eventually, and at the hapless trainee’s (namely, my) expense, my clinical supervisors came to view this opportunity to invoke Tarasoff as a “teaching moment.”

I notified the local police where this boy lived. I notified, with parents’ permission, the school administration. (The parents did not want their son to transfer to another school-our first, most insistent, and best recommendation.) And then I had to call the older boy’s parents.

A difficult conversation

“Hello? Mrs Smith?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, hi. My name is Dr Martin, and I’m calling from the hospital. You don’t know me, but I’m calling about your son.”

“Oh, my goodness, what about him? Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes. And I do apologize. He’s not here. In the hospital, I mean. In fact, I’ve never met him.”

“What is this about, Doctor?”

“Mrs Smith, I am required by law to inform you that we have a patient here who will be discharged tomorrow, and this patient has made repeated homicidal threats toward your son.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, no, Mrs Smith. I work on the psychiatric unit here at the hospital, and we have been working with this patient for months now. It is our opinion that this patient is no longer dangerous, but we are required by law to inform you of the threats made earlier to your son.”

“Who is this person?” I could hear the panic.

“I cannot tell you that.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t tell me that’?!”

“I apologize, Mrs Smith, and I know this is awkward-”

“No, no, no, no. You call me out of the blue, tell me you’re from a hospital, and then tell me you’re about to release a patient who has made threats to kill our son?! And worse, you tell me you cannot let me know who this person is!”

I had no response to that.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Doctor. Do you know who my husband is?”

“Ma’am, I once again apologize; and believe me, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but-”

“How dare you! How dare you call me like this! I’m calling our attorney right now! What did you say your name is?! We are going to find out who this psychopath is, and we are going to be sure this nutcase is not allowed anywhere near the school!”

“I have already notified the local police.”

“So they know the name of this psycho.” (I believe this was a statement).

“I’m going to call Bob right now. And you, Doctor so-and-so, believe me, you haven’t heard the last of this.”

That, in fact, was the last I heard of her, and honestly, I totally saw her point.

Conclusion

In the emergency department setting, we mostly turf cases in which there is a question of invoking Tarasoff. In other words, we commit patients to the hospital and let the inpatient folks deal with it. We work under a (creative) assumption that by doing so, we absolve ourselves of the duty to warn.

But again, I’ve never gotten a straight answer on that one either.

[noel-byers]

What monsters do you fight? || chapter O3

Chapter O1 • Chapter O2 • Chapter O3

Words: 1570

⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉

After almost throwing Will's bicycle in the back of the playroom, I walked in with a few strides and found myself standing in front of Kit, intent on munching a packet of chips like usual.

"Taste bbq?" I asked with a small smile.

"Don't try Byers. It is onion taste your most hated taste” Kit answered with his usual rabbit smile. I raised both eyebrows and put both hands on my hips.

"You really are ungrateful, if it weren't for me, you'd have twice your pounds, you need a poor wretch to help you finish the fries” I commented, rather disappointed, but keeping a slight smile of defiance.

"However you are late I will have to take ten dollars off your pay" my friend said at one point, continuing to crunch noisily.

"What?! And I, who had also taken care to bring you my acne cream, but since all of a sudden you became all asshole, then keep your onion breath and your volcanoes on the epidermis" I replied with theatrical making leaving myself behind a Kit that now implored my forgiveness and the divine ointment.

I started doing my reconnaissance lap inside the club, being careful that no one broke some machinery or just having fun seeing the children rosicare when they were game over. But my gaze stopped on a little girl who was playing Dig-Dug and immediately it occurred to me how much Dustin boasted about his "unbeatable score".

So as soon as I saw the girl cursing for yet another game over, I approached her.

"Twice on, one on the right, four on the left, two on the bottom and a counterclockwise turn with the keys" I said, laying a hand on the Dig-Dug machine, the red-haired girl looked up and her pale eyes met the my.

"What?" He asked with a questioning grimace.

"I'm revealing a trick to boost your character and upset the record list" I replied vaguely, shrugging my shoulders.

"And why are you telling me?" The redhead asked at this point, crossing her arms over her chest with a small interested smile. At his request I looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, pressing the index finger several times on my chin.

"I have a weakness for red hair" I replied in an amused tone.

"And how should I take this answer, like an advance?" The girl asked ironically.

"Nah just like a desperate request for friendship, a teenager who gets bored in the arcade" I replied with a small laugh, which she reciprocated.

"Do you agree, bored girl, and how do I know you're not fooling me for fun?" She asked at this point, raising an eyebrow.

"You are a very suspicious girl. We make a bet, if you are right, I offer you a hot dog, otherwise you will have to offer it to me if you are wrong” I proposed with a tone of challenge and she accepted the bet turning immediately to the Dig-Dug screen and pressing the proper buttons as I had told her.

At the end of the game The red-haired girl remained with her mouth wide open and turning to me trying to contain all her euphoria.

"Ok redhead fetishist, you won, I'll offer you this goddamn Hot-dog" he nodded with a broad smile.

"I very gladly accept, dear!" After taking a hot dog for both of them, the girl proposed to sit on the stairs outside the room, just ahead of the entrance. We sat down and as we ate another conversation started.

"Anyway, I'm Max" he said as he chewed.

"And I'm Noel, nice to meet you" when Max heard my name raised an eyebrow but said nothing about it "I've never seen you in these parts, you're new here in Hawkins?"I asked, taking a bite of the hot dog..

The girl at that point nodded but didn't seem to be of many words about it. I decided not to feel something unpleasant, also because I didn't have all this confidence yet.

"You'll be fine here, Hawkins may seem like a city too monotonous and quiet, but if you look hard you will find many unusual and interesting things" I commented gently.

"I hope so in the end...this place doesn't look so bad, it's great for skateboarding" replied Max nodding several times.

"Now I'm really curious to see you at work" I said putting both hands under my face and then looking at her with an amused air.

"Next time I could take him to the arcade" the redhead suggested.

"I find it an excellent idea" I concluded with a nod, only to be interrupted by a deafening roar of cars, which approached a few meters from us.

My throat knotted dangerously when I saw Billy Hargrove get out of that car, what the fuck was he doing here? Don't tell me he had a secret passion, hidden under that sawdust brain?

He leaned close to the hood of the car, lighting a cigarette, and looked with unfriendly eyes at Max, who looked down nervously, but Hargrove's eyes bulged when he recognized my figure.

Probably if he could have punched me he would have done it in that instant but probably being around a public place prevented him from putting his bestial desire into action.

"What the fuck are you doing here with her?" Billy asked frowning, earning a puzzled look from Max.

"I work here, asshole. And the girl is able to understand and decide what to do on her own" I replied without fear, but the blond's gaze was causing me a slight sense of anxiety.

"She's my half sister, bitch. And she does what I say, when I want and how I want to” Billy replied, then looked at Max, who looked at me almost sorry.

"You can't always behave like that with the Hargrove people as if they were all under your iron fist, you will realize that all this security is all in your imagination" I said to Billy as he entered his car and lowering the window he said to me:

"Take it in the ass, Byers"

"Well you do as a target first, Hargrove" I yelled back, while Max inside his car bit his tongue to keep from laughing, while Billy with a disgusting bitter in his mouth darted home.

⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉

I made my way back home at midnight, my eyes had grown heavy and all I wanted was to throw myself into my bed and not think about anything but sleep.

I started towards our small kitchen, uncertain of a little water to drink and as soon as I found the bottle I poured a small amount into the glass. In the air reigned a heavy silence, almost unusual for our apartment, maybe Will would have slept quiet dreams that night. I was hoping for it with all my heart. My thoughts stopped abruptly when I heard a creak at the front door, as if someone had opened it ... was he a thief? He carefully opened the cutlery drawer and picked up a knife with the tip not out of tune, hoping it could be useful and turning around I saw only the figure of my younger brother who was going out of the house with an empty expression. "W-Will?" I whispered, frightened but at the same time perplexed, but he didn't seem to hear me. So after putting down the knife, with a small step he followed his path, until I saw him stop a few centimeters from the entrance door. He looked at the sky in a terrified way but there was nothing, I didn't see anything! His small hands trembled like dry leaves, while his eyes were wide with terror.

I knelt in front of him and with both hands grabbed his slender shoulders trying to shake a little. "Will what's up? what's scaring you?” no answer “Will please, can you hear me?” it looked like an ice statue “Will, please answer me!” I begged with eyes that started to contain more tears. His gaze dropped to me in a lost way.

"Noel...?" As soon as he heard those words, I looked into his shocked eyes and without thinking twice I greeted him in my arms.

"Will...holy god, what happened to you?" The child seemed to think about it a little before answering.

"I think suffering from somnambulism is one of the symptoms...of the trauma, the doctor told me" and yet there was something that did not come back to me.

"Are you really telling me the truth?" I asked frightened, he nodded "Swear me"

"I swear" he replied without hesitation as if he wanted to avoid the subject. I looked at him again for a few moments, stroking his face with one hand, then getting up and leading him back into the house.

"Do you want me to keep you company, little brother?" I asked in front of his bedroom door, he shook his head.

"No son’t worry, you know, I'm not a child anymore" he replied, raising his eyes to the sky and I nodded defeated, moving away to the bathroom to put on my pajamas and give me a fix. A few moments after putting on my pajamas I approached Will's room again, who seemed to have taken sleep immediately, I let a sigh escape from my dry lips and as far as I knew I was going against my brother's will, I approached his sleeping figure and taking a pillow I lay down beside his bed, on the floor and watching him like a sentinel, I let my heavy eyelids and defeated fatigue slowly take possession of my body, catapulting me into a deep sleep.

T O   B E   C O N T I N U E D …

⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉

Tag list:

@xxemoluverxx @sledgy14 @ellenna

[prorevenge]

The Water Fountain Incident

So, my brother and I are highly competitive. We fight, argue and try to outdo the other. This happened late last year and we still laugh over it due to the stupidity. I don’t know if this counts as revenge, but It’s pretty funny.

I was trying to play Soccer, (attempting and failing horribly. I was a bench warmer the entire Season and only played once every three games if it wasn’t a big one,) and my dad and brother was trying to help. Well, he (my brother) swept my legs out from beneath me and I landed in the ground.

The air was swiftly knocked frim my lungs and I started panicking when I couldn’t breathe. I was hitting the ground and was turning blue before my dad stopped my panicking allowing me to breathe. It hurt so bad, and we found out I had a HUGE bruise on the right side of my body where I fell.

Fast forward to about a week, it was healing but still very sore. I got pulled aside multiple times asking if my home life was good and had to tell the embarrassing story to not only my senior teammates but also my coaches, PE teacher and principal along with my Headmaster.

I was a clumsy person, and everyone knew this. However, one kid pushed it to the extreme. He poked my bruised side and during PE he would constantly throw balls or push me into the wall on my injured side. He would not only mock me, but my family. None of them except my little sister attended the same school as me. Well, one day I was bitching about him and forgot my sister was there.

She of course, knew who I was talking about and spilled all the bad shit I was saying about him, TO HIM. He confronted me and got in my face about it. Of course, I got pissed off and told him to f*ck off and if he didn’t that I would wipe the floor with his sorry ass.

Now, I would say I’m a very nice person. My signature rule is that people can mock me, but can’t mick my family otherwise I’ll tell them off. I have to have a punch thrown at me or my younger siblings to throw a punch AND I do NOT allow any unconsented touching, especially my boobs, butt and womanhood.

I was sexually assaulted when I was younger, and therefore have absolutely NO tolerance to touching. If you touch me without me knowing I’ll punch you. Fight reflex.

Well, this school had a combined lunch period, all the highschool students sat in one HUGE ASS lunchroom. I sat with a few upperclass men and would talk about stuff. (Cars, Sports, Video Games, etc.,) and we’d occasionally talk about our horrible home lives. (We were all abused, verbally or physically.)

I got thirsty, and since I’m on my ADHD meds, I don’t really eat. I forgot my meds that morning and settled with only my afternoon pills and had them in my hand walking up to the water fountain. I told the teachers that I had them and they of course, asked me to text my mom to see if it’s true. Of course, my mom texted back saying it was and I resumed walking to the water fountain.

I popped the pills in my mouth and drank some water, I was still thirsty so decided to drink some more until I felt a hand on my butt that squeezed one of my butt cheeks. Without thinking, or even seeing who it was, I turned around, grabbed a fistful of hair and slammed the pervert’s face into the water fountain.

Turns out, it was that dude. So, I pretended not to notice and slammed his head into the water fountain. Again. And again, and again until two of his buddies rushed over with some of the football team and the teachers. They pulled me off of him and we were sat down on seperate parts of the lunch table. The police came in and so did the school nurse. They asked us question and I told them everything.

Told them about me falling and playing soccer, him mocking me, pushing me into the wall purposely, then grabbing my ass. I also told them I had a fight reflex and explained why. They understood and quickly asked the boy why he did it and all he said was: “didn’t think she’d fuck me up.” I then proceeded to tell him I told him I’d wipe the floor with him, but I didn’t plan it would be not only in front of his friends, but the ENTIRE high school. This of course, made the officers chuckle and stuff because they see I’m utterly done with his shit.

That’s when they ask about pressing charges. I shrug and I grab my phone and call up my mom, telling them I’d have to consolt her since I’m not old enough to really make that decision alone. The whole situation didn’t bother me, in fact, I felt good I put the school asshole on his ass.

Anyway, I call my mom and she picks up, I tell her what happens and she stops. “What’s his last name again hun?” I tell her the last name and my mom laughs. She calls in someone into her office and I see out if the corner of my eyes the boy turns pale.

My mom asks if the boy is her son and the lady nods. My mom starts to tell her all the things he did to me and there’s a silence on the phone. I go to ask if their still there until the lady shoots off in German curses and switches to English. “You know better than to do such a thing!” Then proceeds to chew him out in front of the high school, police, teachers, principal and headmaster.

My mom says that we won’t press charges, and she’s confident that her co-worker will take care of it. She hangs up the phone and I just look at the boy. He’s pale faced and barely breathing. I want to laugh but my kind heart makes me want to hug him, despite all the shit he’s put me through.

Weeks go by, and my parents tell us to dress up nice and stuff. I’m in a nice dress, the bruise is finally gone, and I don’t have an acne breakout. Life’s going great. Well, I go to open the door only to see my mom’s co-worker, her husband and dreadfully their child.

I allow them in, and their all dressed nicely as well and I take their jackets and such. I hang them on the coat hanger by the door and I turn around to see the boy. Out of instinct I slap his arm and he seems confused. I instantly apologize and he seems to realize that I have a fight reflex.

He asks about it and I shrug, not wanting to tell the dude about it. Of course, he goes snooping around and finds pictures of me and my molester when I was younger. They were all ripped, and he asks me about them. Being the trusting person I am, I tell him. He seems extremely uncomfortable with the information and I proceed to tell him that it happened long ago, that its all in the past.

He tells me that he’s really sorry and he just thought that he’d be able to tell me how he’s really feeling. I get confused and he comes out saying he likes me and that he didn’t really kniw how to show it, and when he grabbed my ass he was going to confess. Until I slammed his face into the water fountain.

Of course, I start freaking out and panicking. Not good at social situations like this at all. Of course, his mother is a nurse like mine and he’s been taught about anxiety attacks and helps me calm down a bit. We talk and such and I told him I’m not ready for a relationship sadly, but I want to get to know him and give him another chance. (Forgive and No Forgetting.)

Of course we grow close and now we’re happily together. We all laugh about this from time to time and he still dies in embarrassment and shame every single time. I constantly thank my brother and I’s competitive nature, otherwise this boy probably wouldn’t be mine.

(submit your pro revenge story) (story by anonymous)

[ariadenassau]

AMERICANA TASK 001

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE (OOC)

name: Ariadne Marie de Nassau 

meaning of name: Ariadne is a Greek name, meaning “chaste” or “most holy”. Marie is a French version of Mary, and the meaning is debated, but can mean “sea of sorrow” or “rebellion”. Her last name, de Nassau, is literally “of Nassau” — she is a part of the House of Nassau. 

aliases: Aria is her nickname from childhood and her preferred name. 

place of birth: Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. 

race: Caucasian 

nationality: Dual citizenship with France and the United States. 

gender: Cis-female

sexuality: Mostly heterosexual

profession: A freelance journalist

eye color: Dark brown

hair style/color: Straight, chestnut brown hair to her shoulders, usually partly braided or in a plait.

height: 5’4” (164 cm)

clothing style: Simple, tailored, and clean-cut, Aria dresses in neutrals and soft materials. She's partial to creamy ivories and tans as opposed to bright colors, with the occasional baby pinks. The only jewelry she wears is a simple gold pendant and a sapphire ring, her birthstone.

best physical feature: Her eyes — both soft and piercing at the same time, the eyes are truly the window to Aria’s soul. 

appearance: Very soft and muted, yet luxurious. Aria is from wealth, which shows, but she never flaunts it. She doesn’t wear much makeup and avoids showing too much skin. She looks professional and pretty, but not someone you’d turn around and look at twice in New York. 

weight: 110 lbs (50 kg) 

complexion: Fair during the winter, slightly tanner during the summer, as Aria darkens easily under the sun. 

build: Slight and petite, she is quite skinny and small, without very many curves. 

voice: Gentle, she rarely speaks over a shout. She doesn’t like to yell and upturns the ends of her sentences, as if she’s always a bit unsure of herself. She has a slight British/European accent from her upbringing abroad. 

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE (OOC)

fears: Spiders, roller-coasters, and disappointing her parents — although she is working on that last one, 

guilty pleasure: The Bachelor. Aria will never admit to watching them, as she finds the entire idea trashy and degrading, but somehow, she turns it on every week when its airing with popcorn and a glass of wine. 

biggest pet peeve: People who chew on their food loudly (bad table manners in general, really.) 

ambition for the future: To find out who was behind Abby’s killing and write an entire expose on it. 

one bad habit: Popping her pimples and skin blemishes.

one good habit: Washing the dishes immediately after she uses them.

one habit they can’t break: Her daily iced coffee (or two) from Starbucks.

one they’ve broken: Chewing on her nails. 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS (OOC)

first thoughts waking up: “I need coffee.” 

what they think about the most: Deep-set anxieties about her future and identity as an individual person. 

what they think about before bed: All the errands and things she needs to accomplish tomorrow. 

what they think their best quality is: Intelligence and writing ability. 

what they think would completely break them: Finding love, and then losing it. 

what they think was the best thing in their life: Discovering that she had a long-lost sister, and getting to reconnect with her. 

what they think was the worst thing in their life: Losing that long-lost sister. 

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with them: Her childhood piano teacher smacking her fingers when she’d play the wrong notes. 

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER? (OOC)

single or group dates: Neither — Aria hates dates. 

to be loved or respected: Respected.

beauty or brains: Brains. 

dogs or cats: Dogs. 

coffee or tea: Coffee. 

showering in the day or night: Showering at night. 

taking baths or taking showers: Taking showers. 

tv or movies: Movies. 

writing or reading: Writing. 

platonic or romantic love: Platonic.

iced tea or lemonade: Iced tea. 

ice cream or smoothies: Smoothies. 

cupcakes or cake: Cupcakes. 

beach or mountains: Mountains. 

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU? (IC) 

lie: “Yes — it’s a way to get information that I want out of people. But I never lie to hurt anyone.” 

believe in yourself: “I hope that I do. I think that I do. Maybe not.” 

believe in love: “I think love is out there, but I don’t know how to find it or if it even exists for me.” 

want someone: “Maybe.”  

work so that you can support your hobbies or use your hobbies as a way of filling up the time you aren’t working: “Well — neither. Writing is both my work and my hobby. So I guess I lucked out.” 

have something you’re reluctant to tell people: “My ‘royal’ status. It doesn’t mean anything.”  

have an opinion about sex: “It’s something lovely that can make two people’s bonds stronger, but...  I don’t know. I don’t think I have a strong opinion either way.” 

have many friends: “I have many acquaintances from work and school, but close friends? Probably not.” 

have as many friends as you want: “Yes. I’m a bit of a loner, you see.” 

have something to make a scene in public about: “God, I hope not.” 

have something to give your life for: “A hundred percent — my career, my writing, and figuring out what the hell happened to Abby.” 

have major flaws: “I… get too attached to people. It goes along with having such little close friends. The friends I do have, I keep very close to my heart, which means when I lose them… well, my world falls apart.” 

have something you pretend or try to care about: “Um — politics?” 

have an image you project: “I think I try to come off as more self-confident than I am. I’m also very polite to most people, even if I don’t particularly think the person is deserving of it.” 

have something you’re afraid of: “Isn’t everyone afraid of something?” 

think you’re polite or rude: “Definitely polite.” 

LAYER SIX: FAVORITES (IC) 

favorite color: “Hm. I love baby pink, but I also love cream and ivory as well.” 

favorite animal: “Polar bears. They’re so majestic!” 

favorite movie: “Lost in Translation. It was such a beautifully shot movie!” 

favorite game: “I don’t play very many games.” 

sound: “Oh! — the sound of sunny winter mornings back when I was in school in Gstaad. You can hear it when you open a window; the chilly breeze, the sound of snow underneath people’s feet… I miss it.” 

song: “It changes, really, but I can always listen to anything by Frank Sinatra.” 

band: “Is it cliche if I say The Beatles?” 

outfit: “Well, it certainly depends on the season, but for the fall and winter, I love my tan crepe pants, an ivory cashmere turtleneck, and my Acne leather boots.” 

place: “Switzerland. I spent most of my years there, and the landscapes are so beautiful.” 

memory: “I think the first time I met Abby — I was so nervous, and I just saw her, and we talked for hours in her room afterwards. Her parents made hot cocoa, and we just sat there, laughing, crying… it was so wonderful, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

person: “Abby. Or my mentor back at Harvard. She was the one who helped me curate my writing to what it is now.” 

show: “I don’t watch much television.” 

LAYER SEVEN: AGE (OOC/IC) 

age: 29

date of birth: September 2nd, 1990

day your next birthday will be: Thursday.

zodiac sign: Virgo.

age you lost your virginity: 18.

does age matter: “Age certainly matters if you’re younger, but once you pass twenty-five or so… who am I to judge?” 

LAYER EIGHT: PERSONALITY (OOC) 

moral alignment: Neutral Good. 

enneagram: 4 - The Individualist

four temperaments: Melancholic

tropes: the soiled dove, the lost soul, the contrite, the taciturn

archetypes: The Sage/Innocent 

tarot cards: Temperance

compassion: yes. 

empathy: yes.

creativity: yes.

mental flexibility: at times, no.

passion: yes, for the right things. 

stamina: yes. 

physical strength: not much. 

battle skill: not at all. 

agility: a bit. 

strategy: she’s always planning for her next move, so yes. 

teamwork: yes, but she needs to be the leader. 

strength: so much emotional strength. 

intelligence: yes. 

wisdom: partly, but still trying to find it. 

dexterity: none; Aria has a rare muscular dystrophy that degraded the muscles in her hands and fingers. 

constitution: a hundred percent. 

charisma: only on certain occasions; otherwise, Aria is quite aloof. 

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE (IC) 

i love: “... good food. Can you blame me?” 

i feel: “... lost.” 

i hide: “... my feelings, my emotions, my thoughts.” 

i miss: “... Abby.” 

i wish: “... that I could know where life is taking me.” 

i hate: “... people who think they can take advantage of my kindness.” 

LAYER TEN: FAMILY (IC) 

relationships: “I had a boyfriend. It’s awkward to talk about really, but he dumped me. Quite an awkward situation.” 

parents: “My father is Prince Jean Louis, sixteenth in line for the throne in Luxembourg. My mother is Princess Charlotte Julie, formerly Charlotte Julie Vanderbilt.” 

siblings: “Just Abby, who was fathered by my father and another woman. She was given up for adoption when she was a baby, which is why I never met her until I grew up.” 

children: “No — although, maybe in the future.” 

favorite childhood memory: “Oh — my childhood wasn’t that fun. But I guess, early on, my parents did take me out on trips on the boat in lakes in the South of France. Those were always nice.” 

favorite childhood toy: “My stuffed bunny Juliette. I still have her.” 

embarrassing story: “I fell asleep once in a bowl of yogurt in class. I was so tired staying up studying for an exam, that during it, I was eating my breakfast, and just… fell asleep.” 

favorite family member: “Abby. I’m not very close to my parents, or anyone from my family, really.” 

[bloojayoolie]

A Dream, Bad, and Bruh: ACTUALLY, IT'S A HEY, LOOK, GREG HAS A PURSE! E. EMBROIDERED BOOKBAG. Hehehehe, Frank Griffin here! I am here to explain this funny may-may I found while browsing through the site "r/Loded Diper", place where fellow may-may experts like me share their best funny jokes about Diary of a by Wimpy Kid, a cartoon novel written hohe other than Jeff Kinney. Now, what do have here? If youre familiar with the book, youll recognize that there is Greg Heffley the middle, the protagonist of Diary of a Wimpy Kid. In the original image, Greg stitched a purse, but called it an embroidered handbag" so he won't lose his dignity. However, it doesn't work and he gets called a girl for it. this image Now that the background has been cleared up, let's look It has been posted by u/ThatSippyChicken the 18th 2019 oh may (by UTC time). This means it's very recent, compared to the even funnier Minion memes I share with my grandkids. Greg is surrounded by two unknown teenagers. The short-haired kid the left is pointinga finger having a speech bubble over him (This implies he's saying something.). to the right (probably at Greg) and The text on the speech bubble says "HEY, LOOK, GREG HAS A", and then "EMBROIDERED BOOKBAG" below, but distorted. Greg reacts with saying "ACTUALLY, ITS ONLY A PURSE!" followed by blank space ow. The last kid with acne has a nearly empty speech bubble, only saying "E". Diary of a Wimpy Kid artstyle. Oh, Greg is holding the purse I talked about previously in the image!If you look closely, you at the end. Everything is drawn in the typical thing I forgot to mention: ohe can even see that the word "Grea" is stitched on it- IS Okay, the description of the image is over. Now, let's get the analysing part. I examined every part of the image and compared it with other maymays from around the same time and site. But then, I couldn't believe what I found out! This maymay on r/LodedDiper falls under the category of modern internet memes. You may have heard of the word from your kids, maybe grandkids, and that's because it's a Millennial (yes, the Avocado eveh toast generation. / Generation Z movement. The concept of Memes itself is too complex, Ill explain it on a seperate page, but, to be short, Memes are funny internet maymays that require Some sort of insider knowdlege to be understandable. Memes are very special of humour, because, unlike other funny maymays, the humour of Memes ih terms always based on either relatability or absurdity. This can be shown is this image too: The incosistency of logic and font size makes the oh absurdity of this maymay visible. The "E" has a very complex background, but it can be said that it's referencing another modern Meme. This absurd humour combined with what used to be a page from a normal cartoon hovel is what makes this maymay funny. When I realized this, I had to LOLWHMWADCC (Laughing Out Loud While Hitting Manny With A Diet Coke Condom)! explain why I chose exactly this maymay symbolizes the change in youth humour. At last, I need to for explanation. That's because it new generation doesn't laugh though they based on either relatability or absurdity. While this change The at Minioh maymays anymore (even very funny., they laugh at modern memes that are dre to more complex humour can be considered a cultural step forwards, it can also be unhealthy for the kids. For example, Memes about depression and suicide, which are very popular, can make someone relating to it even depressed (The argument of these being a coping technique falls Alat here, that has been disproven). But, good or not, it's definetily more an important change in Internet, even the entirety of western culture. This Meme symbolizes the new age of humour, Meme humour. Besthany. And now, I finally explained to you what Memes are, Frank Griffin PS: If read this on r/LodedDiper, go check out the subreddit you r/ExplainItPeter! And the other way around, of course. PPS: is br ald Hehehehehehe, someone's here! No, it's not Frank Griffin (Right now he's busy explaining a Minion meme), it's not Sans Undertale (Off fighting Lugi), it's me: Peter Heffley! Who am I, you may ask? Well, I am the colleague and best buddy of the world famous Frank Griffin. Ah, now that I'm mentioning him, all the memories are flooding back. Whenever there was a cringe nae nae meme, a darn millennial or even a bruh moment, we stuck together. And after decades of friendship he eventually offered me a dream come true: A job in the Meme Explaining Laboratory! So, now I'm here explaining a few memes here and there (Frank does the over- whelming majority of them, though) and, more importantly, critically analysing his very own explanations, because nothing is perfect! (Except for stepping on a crunchy leaf.) Unlike him, I will use Arial instead of the official Wimpy Kid font, simply because this is more readable. Otherwise, my critique is pretty much the same. So, get ready for some high IQ text reading, because we're going to enter the Meme world once again! Alright, we finally got through the long introduction I now have several ways to begin the main part, but I'm honestly not sure where to. I could start with citing his first line, analysing his formatting or referenzing the pipe strip video. But I will do none of these things. Instead, I will dig straight to the core of his explanations, and praise or critique anything in the process. Ergo, I'll start with the nature of his text itself. It's, compared to the usual Internet posts, very text-heavy. However this isn't a big surprise since both of us know how much Frank can dive into a subject. He puts a photo of himself in the top left corner below the image he's analyzing, and his text is written solely in the "WimpyKid" font, which already is my first problem. It may have been suitable if it was used in a short paragraph or two, but using it in an entire explanation is a major design flaw. However, this is not the only problem I have with Frank's text, (Don't take it personally, bucko) which brings me to analyzing the content of his explanation, and his ultimate message near the bottom end. Okay, I'll be honest. I don't like the message. His main part of the analysis may have been on the better side, in comparision to his other posts, but this time Frank really shot himself in his cock and balls this time. Saying that "Meme humour is overtaking regular humour" is overly dramatizising and simply putting in a wrong light what is really going on inside the meme creation scene. Frank, I'm sorry to tell it to ya, but a near-sudden cultural shift in humour is not going to happen, pal. What is really happening is that younger kids like to distance themselves from older generations as much as possible, may it be via clothing, music politics or, in this case, humour. Most teenagers eventually just grow out of their phase of shutting themselves off of older people. That eventually happens either when they marry, or when they enter their 30's. I am not saying that a and progressing culture is bad, however it's a lie to say those teens will keep their culture with them as they grow old. Just take hippies, as am example Some of you may remember them promoting peace and other values, and generally having a very liberal mindset. Now, who were those hippies? This answer may be a suprise to you, but those hippies were (mostly) boomers. Yup, the same generation that is nowadays known for being notoriously authoritarian and close-minded. People can change. And those who laugh about their memes now will probably change too, once they reach a certain age. The only thing in favor of Frank's argument is the existence of the Internet. Although that argument isn't that much of a punch when considering the very likely possibility that another game changing form of media will probably pop up within the next few decades. Memes will simply not prevail, or they will be warped beyond recognition (Not as in becoming more abstract and surreal (which is also a very widely spread belief about Memes)), by having different unwritten rules for Memes. If a time traveler from 2011 saw a changing modern meme page from today, they wouldn't think those memes would be funny or should even be called memes. What we call memes now, will be forgotten in the future. To cut it short, memes will not have a major effect on culture, nor will they even be remembered in 20+ years. One more thing. Frank stated that Greg Heffley was saying "Actually, it's only a purse!" in the Meme he explained. That is incorrect, though. Greg says "Actually, it's a purse!" without the "only". I think it's highly unprofessional that he tries to deeply analyze a meme and then doesn't even quote the text correctly. It makes me feel like Frank is just doing this for the fame and money by focussing on dramaticising viewpoints instead of being scientifically accurate. This is probably the true reason Bethany left him and took the kids. Not because she "loved Chad more instead of a nice man like me", as Frank said, but because she can't stand him becoming increasingly narcissistic and delusional about his fame anymore. It's actually sickening me how he is cutting of more and more of his friends and family and doesn't even care for fans either. I know I will probably be fired by Frank for publishing this, but the problem is only turning bigger and bigger with no sight of him changing his ways. Frank should honestly take a break from his job and go visit his kids again. After all, he never bothered to see them once Bethany "took them away" from him. He can visit his children anytime he wants to, but he rather likes to work on another money milking machine again (which is ironically the reason the kids chose Bethany.) Alright, it's time to end this text. Looking back at it, it seems like it's 1/3 explanation, 1/3 critique and 1/3 open letter. I planned this to just be an extension of Frank's analysis and another lie about how we are getting along just fine, but now it turned into a half-agressive rant about him. But I just had to vent my frustations about my buddy. I know he hasa heart somewhere down below his thick skull, but for now it's simply how I and everyone else close to him perceive Frank. Hopefully he'll try to change. Peter Heffley PS: Frank, if you are reading this, please don't fire me for writing this. Try to reflect instead. PPS: Haha PP lol PPPS: I just went to r/Expla memes made me LOLWHMWADCCAEFP nltPeter, and all of the (Laughing Out Loud While Hitting Manny With A Diet Coke Condom And Eating Frank's Penis) out loud! Go visit that subreddit! Thanks for the explanation, Peter Heffley!

[creamybeemovie69]

Shawn and JJ HCs

I don’t know what to say except you’ve never met 2 people so different yet so similar in your life

They are the complete opposite to what you’d expect too, and normally hide their actually personalities

Shawn’s a sweetheart that tears up if he smiles too much or gets too happy, but he pretends to be salty and distant because he doesn’t want to be bugged by people constantly

JJ’s actually really serious and if he had the choice he probably wouldn’t smile much, which is a stark contrast to his seemingly chirpy personality and it’s mainly just to be polite

Basically their real personalities are the others fake ones

JJ’s just a fucking Titan at this point and even though he’s shorter than Shawn he’s definitely got Travis’ broad build

And he hates it

Shawn’s a long lanky boi with about 1 ounce of fat on him

They share a room

They both have their wedding rings on permanently

In all fairness as much as JJ’s the serious one and Shawn’s the sweet one JJ will never pass up an opportunity to hug someone because he has big stronk arms that were made for hugs and Shawn still has the worst temper known to man

Unless there’s a child involved

Then Shawn will not under any circumstances stop hugging this child

Jaime tried to teach Shawn to dance once

They ended up on the floor in a big cuddle pile

most people find tall men attractive, and that’s true for Jaime, but there’s nothing attractive about walking into every fucking door frame going Shawn.

Well, it’s not attractive, but it’s still adorable

Shawn’s autistic and you can’t convince me otherwise

That’s partly the reason he worked with fabrics, he likes the feel of them

Shawn and Jaime have appalling handwriting

I don’t think words can express just how protective of eachother they are, and normally any threat they use against others works very effectively because Jaime has The Soldier Glare tm and Shawn is very quick witted

In all fairness it’s only eachother and later Anti that know what their true personalities are

I can’t really say that ones PTSD is worse than the other because what Jaime saw was constant and a permanent image in his head but what Shawn saw was genuinely scary

While Shawn doesn’t sleep much he doesn’t struggle getting to sleep like Jaime does

Once when Jaime couldn’t sleep Shawn just hugged him while he told him about everything he’d seen while he was at war and it basically just ended up with them 2 laughing there asses off at Shawn because Shawn asked him if he’d ever talk again but jaimes like “um you’re deaf mate why do you care” and the conversation ended with Jaime calling Shawn “dense as a rock”

Shawn’s like 36 and already almost completely grey he doesn’t know what’s happening

Jamie’s the 2 youngest with Robbie being the smolest bean

Fuck it I’ll do their ages here in oldest to youngest

Henrik: 38

Shawn: 36

Angus: 30

Jackie: 29

Marvin: 28

Chase: 28

Jaime: 26

Robbie: 24

Anti doesn’t even have an age any more he just knows he’s somewhere between 2 and 1000 and that’s it

Shawn’s even more confused because henrik’s more stressed than he is yet there’s not a single grey hair on his head

They’re all convinced he colours it though

Once Chases youngest Sophie ran out of the room with wet hair and one of them hooded towels and Shana could tell Chase was struggling so he played with Sophie for ages

He learned more about the modern world from a 3 year old in 30 minutes than he has from fully grown adults in a year

All 3 brothers can/could sing

JJ was weirdly relieved when Shawn started sharing a room with Anti because he’s always scared he’s going to hurt Shawn in his sleep

He still doesn’t like sleeping alone though

26 years of dealing with Shawn Flynn will wear you down to same resting bitch face JJ has

Marvin accidentally summoned about 20 cats that all just threw themselves at Shawn and he was just crying because he loved them and he loves all animals and baby’s and cute things because he’s a child

Jaime spends 2 hours every morning getting ready because hair and moustache

Jaime has 6 tattoos

A deer skull with flowers growing out of it, a rifle with a pocket watch’s chain wrapped around it on his right arm, Jack Hunters dog tag information on his left, angel wings on his back, ‘whisky’ written on his lower back and ‘Shawn Flynn’ on his right wrist

Shawn has “Jameson Jackson” on his left wrist

Tom and Jaime rant about Shawn’s stupidity on the daily

Shawn, Jaime and Jackie are literally the only tall ones

Anti’s like 5 foot

Jaime will literally write an entire musical in 3 hours just because he’s bored

Jaime’s a morning person

Shawn is the farthest thing from it

Jaime’s cursed like 2 times in whole life and will scold anyone who curses around him

Shawn swears like a sailor and it drives JJ insane

Are you surprised the times JJ cursed they were at Shawn?

Jaime has a half sister somewhere too

She’s also Irish

He can’t escape them

Long story short, Jaime has like 50 siblings somewhere or another and Shawn’s literally the only one he talks to

Shawn rolls his eyes that much Jaime suspects he knows what the inside of his head looks like better than his own appearance

Jaime has a girlfriend that know one knows about

Well I mean obviously Marshall knows because it’s Marshall but he can keep secrets so it’s fine

If you can understand him, the things Shawn says in his sleep will either scare the hell out of you or make you laugh your ass off. There is no in between.

Jaime swears he’s the only straight ego in the house

The weird thing is Shawn doesn’t even look old, he doesn’t have any wrinkles or anything, which makes his hair even more confusing

Do not. Let either of them. Near chocolate.

They will inhale that shit in seconds

Neither of them really leave the house much just because the world confuses them

Jaime is on social media a lot? Probably because he doesn’t really consider it talking

No one can figure out Jaime’s mutism, because he makes no effort to stay quiet if he’s laughing or making any other sort of noise, he just refuses to talk

Jaime can use magic, but it’s more cartoon physics than the big flashy stuff Marvin can do

Shawn and Jaime know each other’s boundaries

Said boundaries are not calling your younger brother ‘discount Charlie Chaplin’ and not calling your older brother ‘elongated spud’

Outside of that there is no insult they won’t throw at each other

That being said, don’t try to get involved or something will end up broken, and it will be you

Do not under any circumstances start a fight with either of them

Jaime’s a pacifist, but his fights will either disarm or kill you

Shawn will never back down from a fight, and after years of running through the studio he’s very light on his feet. He’s not necessarily strong, but you’ll struggle landing a hit on him

And they’ll back each other up, so on one end you’ve got a big burly soldier that could probably squash you between his fingers and on the other a hot headed wippet

Just don’t do it

You’ll loose

Jaimes skin, aside form his scars, is perfect

Shawn, on the other hand, has acne scars, freckles, birthmarks, the whole fucking lot

Jaime’s good at slight of hand and any form of card game, but Shawn can and will beat you at any and all games as long as it’s not a video game

The only person who has ever come close to beating Shawn is lacie

Shawn really likes stars? Like JJ thinks they’re pretty and stuff but Shawn adores them and he loves constellations and stuff

Neither of them are religious just because Shawn’s dad was a really heavy catholic and they hated it

It seems to be a reoccurring pattern that not one of the brothers accents faded. Shawn’s didn’t just because he’s deaf, but Jaime has always had a British accent and Travis has always had an Irish accent, even though they’ve both lived in America for most of they’re lives

I’m going with the HC that Shawn’s Charley from the Butcher Gang so he has a pretty bad limp but he’s sort of learned to ignore it? Like if he needs to defend himself from something he can literally just shut off the pain until it’s over but then it hurts like hell afterwards

Other than that it’s not really that much of a problem other than not being able to walk for as long the others and not being able to ‘switch it off’ when he wants, it’s just sort of a reaction he has to extreme situations, like adrenaline almost

They both have shit eye sight, hence JJ’s monocle (which he only wears if he wears a vest, which is normally only in winter)

Shawn broke his glasses once and he had to tie one of Jack Hunter’s hair ties around the middle and he just never took it off

Motorbikes were cheaper and easier to get back then and Shawn needed a quick way to get to work but he actually really liked it because it was fast and he’s a child

Anti brought him one for his birthday

Jaime fucking hates it

It’s dangerous, loud, takes up space, there’s no seat belt, and Shawn doesn’t wear a helmet

Not that he’s scared of going on it or anything

He swears

Jaime always hides his tattoos

He sleeps face down to stop him from waking up Shawn by screaming

Jaime’s friends with Henrik now and sees him as more of a brother than the enemy, but Shawn hates him with a passion just because he A) hates doctors because the one who visited his mum fucked up and she probably wouldn’t have died as young as she did if the doctor focused and B) associates his accent with the fuckers that gave his brother PTSD, why wouldn’t he?

That being said Henrik really has to watch his volume because Jaime is silent in every way and you don’t really know when he’s going to turn up behind you so if he shouts in German then Jaime will end up having an anxiety attack and Shawn will slap him up

Never in your life have to met anyone as sarcastic as Jaime. He’s British and Shawn was his main influence growing up, what else did you expect

They live off cornflakes. Religiously.

Shawn loves kids

Jaime doesn’t even really sleep on the bed anymore, he just sleeps on a mixture of Shawn’s chest and Shawn’s thousands of Teddy’s

[philcreateddan]

Still I call it magic

title: Still I call it magic

words: 2k

warnings: none

chapter: 1/?

Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed. (x)

2009

Dan is living his fucking nightmare with every step he takes. Long, skeletal trees shadowing the path. The moon, barely visible between branches being the only thing illuminating his direction. Said direction being at least a hundred steps from his grandma’s house heading towards the small pond he used to play in when he was a kid.

Or so he hopes otherwise he is lost and doomed to die by poor orientation skills.

At least it’s not winter, neither summer, or he would be perishing by any extreme of the otherwise boring London weather. The fallen leaves crunch under heavy step of his tall frame and he swears to himself because he should have brought his earphones at least. Kanye’s voice would make this whole experience less frightening to be honest, but in his rush he has left behind many things on the house behind him except for the red lighter he bought last week and never leaves his pocket.

Kanye’s voice may also be good to stop his tears, he thinks, using his sweater paw to clean the moisture falling from his eyes. The pond is visible now, right in front of him. Illuminated by the moon, obscuring everything else around it so blue is the only color left on the scene. It somehow makes him cry more.

He is being dramatic and he knows it but, fuck it, Erin and her three years of loving and closeness had just left him less than half an hour ago without a way of reconciliation, his grandma isn’t home, his parents don’t give a shit and his friends are already packing to leave for college and he is going to die alone. Alone and alone and miserable and forgotten.

“Fuck.”

He sits, legs pressed to his torso. Lets the misery swallow him and inflate his chest. Because this is what frightens him more. Slenderman can wait, the darkness hunting behind him with secrets can wait. His shattering feeling of being alone can win them on a duel in a second as it is. In a world full of wonders and magic and normality he is one and by himself. And Dan hates it. He hates how easily everyone is leaving to study and have a life or simply walking away to more important things and he is staying behind.

No one is staying with him because he has always known, he is disposable. Never one person’s favorite. Perhaps for Erin for a while but she is leaving now and he is not willing to fight because he loves her but not enough to follow. It makes him cry harder then, the idea of not finding anyone to follow to begin with. He had thought she was going to be the one he will always fight for but she had asked and not a single particle of him had agreed. He doesn’t blame her for leaving so upset. He is upset at himself too. Afraid of his lack of will.

And that fear, that deep, endless pit of a future where he never finds someone to share his life with is what makes him stand up.

“I want to make a deal.” He croaks to the moon. Clears his throat and repeats it with a clearer voice “I want to make a deal.”

“Heard you the first time.” The voice from behind him startles the soul out of his body and he yelps turning to meet whoever spoke.

“Jesus on a fucking shit!”

He is greeted by a boy, not that older than him he guesses. Skin as white as the moon itself. Eyes wide and shiny, reflecting the glimmering of the water near them, and a little amused smirk he was not even trying to hide. The hair though. Pretty much the same as his only cooler and black and Dan is immediately envious of the shape of it in comparison of his own. The boy speaks again.

“Wow. Blasphemy at it best.” He walks closer and Dan starts thinking it might be a bad idea as his first summoning has gone too easily. Either that or he is being pranked because the outfit and manners of this boy (an inch taller than him it seems now that he is closer) are far from what he expected.

Witches, curses and many folklore things are common since the Halloween incident of 1957 when they had officially come out to the world (or, out of the hat as they called) after living in the shadows for so long. It had taken humanity a while to accept them, as in every different group ever, but ultimately reached an agreement of being and let it be. Cautiousness still prevailed in smaller towns but with laws and rights implemented it was becoming more and more normal to have neighbors who prepare potions instead for hobbies.

Dan had experienced a few encounters with magic and its branches himself; with gnomes for example, annoying destructive creatures that enjoyed pranking his dog, and that one teacher who turned out to be a witch in primary school. Literally and metaphorically. After being cursed with pig noses along the rest of his classroom for making too much noise (for which she obviously lost her job and refused to undo the curse for three months), Dan had developed a somewhat fear of magic. Not exactly something he looked for as many of his classmates had in order to find remedies for acne or love potions. Many things Dan is skeptical about to this day.

But the guy in front of him looked nothing like his teacher, or many of the other witches streaming on the media. Long coats and tall pointy hats. This guy was wearing jeans and a shirt too tight and colorful to be a wizard. Apart from pointing out how his hair is nothing like what he expected. And he seems to have cold in fact, if his rubbing his arms is anything to go by.

“So. Are you going to tell me what you want or…?” he says making Dan realize he has been quiet for too long now.

His cheeks start blushing then.

If an old lady with huge nose and perhaps an apple had been the one to appear instead. This guy could easily be one of his friends from school for God’s sake.

“R-right. I want to make a deal with you.”

“Yeah, I got that. So what do you want?”

Dan notes then the strong northern accent. As far as anything else he could have expected and he sniffs, both from cold and from his crying of before.

“Sorry.”  The magical boy with northern accent and emo fringe is blushing too. Flexes his hands as if not sure of what to do with them. His eyes widen more which makes him look like a deer about to get hit by a car.

“Huh?”

“You took me by surprise and I was being rude. You are clearly upset by something and, er, called for help. Let me help you.”

Dan’s brain, suffocated by emotions by now after a long afternoon followed by the most exercise he has done in months, is taken back by the sincerity of the emo fringe witch, who didn’t have to apologize because he had not been rude at all but maybe Dan looks as fragile as he feels right now and fuck, that’s embarrassing. He is crying before he can stop himself again. Covers his face with his hands to prevent the ugly sobbing from being too visible.

“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to… come here.” He wants to talk and say he will be okay. Or maybe run and forget he just cried in front of a magical person out of nowhere. But gentle hands are guiding him somewhere and out of curiosity and fear he opens his eyes to see. “Alright, uhm. See that water lotus over that is near us?”

He clears his eyes to look at it. “The one that’s dying?”

“Right. Now don’t move.” The boy lifts a hand to his face and Dan flinches back in response to which the boy stops. His eyes are pleading and this time Dan holds still while a finger recollects some of the moisture his tears left behind on his cheek. “Look.”

Dan follows while the boy whispers something to his finger before softly caressing the dying flower with the remaining of his tears. He half expects a light or even some dramatic wind to fulfill the moment but nothing happens. And nothing is needed because before his eyes the perishing flower recovers its life. The petals spring back pointing up and beautiful and its subtle but yet real.

“Wow.”

“Ace right?”

Dan looks to his left where this by all means normal looking guy has just brought back something to life and bursts out laughing.

“Ace? Oh my God.”

The witch seems confused for a moment but as Dan keeps on laughing he laughs along. “Shut up.”

“Alright, alright. That was ace man.”

“Thank you. Better now?” the magic boy rolls his eyes but seems amused still.

“Yeah.”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of.”

Dan takes a deep breath. This, this is what he enjoys. Laughing has not the same meaning if it doesn’t make someone else laugh along. This world is filled with magic and beauty in ways he has yet to discover and this particular night is proving him that. But he doesn’t have anyone to tell this short yet magical story to when he comes back home. No one to share how this northern guy has just made him laugh with a simple word. And that, that breaks his heart.

“I want to find my soul mate.” He says staring directly into the other’s eyes. “I want to find the love of my life and have a happy life with her.” He doubts for a second. “Or him.”

The boy blinks a couple of times. “You don’t really need magic to do that, you know?”

He knows that. But statistics resonate in his brain, and by calculations and given how his life has developed so far he is more likely to be lucked out and the idea is frightening enough to constrict his throat. It has been eating his brain for too long now to be ignored.

“I just… I don’t want be alone.” He whispers.

Dan doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need the look of sympathy or boredom he might be receiving. He hears a sigh instead.

“Alright but I have to warn you it might take a while. You won’t find the person tomorrow necessarily, it could take years. How old are you anyway?”

“Seventeen.”

The boy whistles “That’s very young mate.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, really young. You’re still a fetus.”

Dan looks at the guy again and frowns. “As if you’re an old man.”

The witch shrugs and smiles. A smile Dan recognizes as he has given it to his younger brother a couple of times himself. “At my twenties. But look, uhm, what’s your name?”  

“Dan.”

“I’m Phil. Look, Dan. A lot of people fear they won’t ever find their soulmates but you are young man. Not sore for the eyes exactly so I’m sure it will be easy for you to find someone, just wait mate.”

“I’m not an idiot. I have conditions.”

“Conditions?” Phil lifts an eyebrow.

“I want to meet them before my thirties. Not any teen book drama bullshit like we meet the second before our imminent death or anything either.”

Witch Phil laughs, his hands resting on his pockets now in a weird position Dan is sure shouldn’t be comfortable at all. “Help you find the person and prevent you from dying. Got it. But what if they don’t reciprocate? By rule we can’t alter human emotions.”

That is an option he knows and fears. Dan thinks for a moment before answering “I want to find them. To know they exists. A person for me. I will take care of the rest.”

Phil stares for a second too long, his face unreadable for Dan. “Anything else?”

“I want to know. When I meet them. Somehow I want to know.”

“You will.”

“Okay then.”

“The second you turn thirty the contract is over and I, no longer will have the power to reclaim the payment if you have not yet met them.”

Dan swallows then. This is it. He has heard of it before but none other than from warnings and stories meant to prevent humans to do this kind of pacts with witches. “And, what is it? The payment.”

Phil doubts for a moment. If he weren’t so pale Dan would swear he is blushing and he wonders if the myths are correct. What could this young witch possibly want with a human life anyway? For a second Dan thinks, hopes, Phil is going to ask for money. No matter the amount he would get it. Anything but…

“Your firstborn.”

He can’t help it then. Curiosity takes the best of him. “Why?”

“None of your business.”

He takes a step back, for the first time honestly frightened by the witch Phil. The corners of his lips falling, jaw tensing “You… you don’t eat them right?”

“What?” Phil’s face crumbles with a disgusted grimace “Of course not! That’s macabre!”

“Then why…”

“Nothing perverse! Jeez Dan what kind of twisted mind do you have?”

“Alright, alright. I had to ask right?”

“I’m going to have nightmares now.”

Dan rolls his eyes. Swallows a commentary about that because this person in front of him has magic in his veins, no matter how normal he looks, and upsetting him could mean a humiliation or death itself.

“If you still want to make the deal then someday, I will tell you why. But that’s what it takes.”

It’s getting late and, night owl and all, Dan is starting to feel it in his bones. This person, this awkward witch he just met, with his emo fringe and delicate fingers and big shinning eyes could never hurt a baby. Of that he is certain. Certain as endless possibilities launch on his mind that this is as magical as his life will get. His thirtieth birthday will arrive and he will remember this day and laugh back because witch Phil will fail or forget and move on. Dispose him too.

“Deal.” He extends his hand. Tired and sad and mostly prepared now to face the oncoming days when his family will ask about Erin and look away in pity for the girl he had abandoned as numerous things in his life.

Phil looks surprised, Dan doesn’t want to keep explaining himself or his reasons so he keeps his hand there, waiting between them.

When Phil finally grasps it, it feels electric. Goosebumps on his whole body makes him shiver and Dan gasps.

“Deal.”

Only then he realizes, witch Phil has blue eyes. The water has not been reflecting on his eyes, if he were to be asked he would say it was the opposite. Again the color blue swallows every color around them and Dan has to blink hard because he is hallucinating. Eyes can’t have more than one color can they?

Then it’s warm. Warm all over his body and his eyes are fighting to stay alert. But Dan smiles, cocky and skeptic not of magic but of himself.

“Alright Phil. Help me find my soulmate.”

I realize it may not make sense so far but I promise I have a whole plot developed. And in case you read the link I have above then yeah that’s basically what’s going to happen. I haven’t rated it because as much as I’ll keep it as a slowburn I can’t promise there will or won’t be any smut. However if anything woo-hoo’ish happens it won’t be for a long time still. Soz.

This is my first au so let me know if you like it so far it really means a lot. Even if no one likes it I will probably keep writing just because I like this story and how it has gone in my mind so far and I want to write it even if for my own enjoyment lol

[ao3-writer]

As Beautiful As You

 Can I make a request? Ethan getting v self conscious and hating himself bc he thinks he's ugly and Mark sees a shit ton on harmful acne treatment stuff in the bathroom at Eth’s and tells Eth not to use them. eth tells Mark he has no choice bc he's ugly and Mark talkd to him about self esteem and how he's not ugly at all. I'm sorry if this isn't something u like you don't have to do it and I'm sorry for typos and if this is annoying

[Don’t worry, B, I fixed your typos uvu]

 It wasn’t anything bad, necessarily. Ethan knew some of these products were extremely conspicuous, but it still didn’t erase the fact that he knew the truth. He felt like it was the truth. It had to be. It only made sense to him.

  “I’m ugly,” Ethan whispered quietly. Mark paused in the middle of his sentence to look at Ethan with a surprise expression.

  “W-what?”

  “I’m ugly, Mark,” Ethan said, louder this time, “you want to know why I bought all this?” Ethan continued, grabbing a few of the bottles that Mark had emptied without his consent, “I use these because i’m ugly! I’m hideous, Mark!”

 Ethan threw the bottles, clattering across the bathroom floor. He began to leave, angry at Mark before he felt his wrist yanked forcefully back by Mark. The older man began to say something before Ethan slapped him across the face. Mark blinked for a second before Ethan punched him in the chest and then proceeded to jab at Mark’s throat. Mark, stunned by this, held his throat, the sting suddenly coming to him as he saw Ethan’s furious eyes.

  “Don’t tell me what is and isn’t good for me.” Ethan walked away with that, leaving Mark to massage his throat by how much it suddenly hurt. Mark looked around at the few bottles that were on the ground and back at the ones that still lay in the sink. 

 It had been a few days since Mark found all the dangerous acne treatment products in Ethan’s bathroom and the two haven’t spoken a word since. The tensions grew between them in the office, leaving an uneasy feeling in the room.

 Mark had told Amy and Ethan supposedly told Tyler. Tyler cornered Mark at some point that day to have a word with him.

  “Listen, I know what happened between you and Ethan--”

  “I just care about him, Ty. You can’t blame me for caring about him. He’s doing more harm than good all because of the stupid shit we say,” Mark whispered, feeling agitated that Tyler would probably be Ethan’s messenger.\

  “I know, I know. I completely agree with you. But I can’t- I can’t just change that. Sure we live together but I don’t know how to convince him otherwise. I suggest that you do that. Tell him that it’s wrong.”

  “I already tried, and now he’s giving me the silent treatment,” Mark replied, looking past Tyler to see Ethan working on editing a video.

  “Try again. Don’t be as parenting as before. Be more of a friend than a boss,” Tyler explained, looking down at Tyler with a sympathetic look. He patted his shoulder and they went back to their work. Ethan had unplugged his headphones momentarily to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

  “Hey, Ethan?” Mark asked, as they began to leave for the day, “can I talk to you for a second?”

  “No,” Ethan replied, bitterness coming from his mouth sharply. Everyone else in the room glanced at Ethan before looking away when he noticed their eyes. “Fine.”

 Everyone in the room began to pack up and left, leaving the two alone. Ethan leaned against the desk, looking down at his shoes to avoid Mark’s eyes.

  “What do you want,” he asked, voice sharp and clipped.

  “I’m not apologizing for throwing away that... that toxic shit in those bottles. But I am apologizing for not being a better friend.”

 Ethan raised his head at this, looking at Mark with a questionable face.

  “I’ve always been a dick to you about... y’know your acne and I just... I never realized. Sometimes I have no filter and i’m stupid. I’m so stupid for being mean. I never meant to hurt you like that, or drive you to the point where you’re just hurting yourself because of some dumb shit I said,” Mark confessed, staring at the floor.

  “Mark--”

  “No, Ethan, let me finish. I just... I think you’re an amazing person. Really, I do. You’re so great and you’re so goddamn attractive, holy shit are you beautiful,” Mark said, now pacing around the room to not look jittery, “and I just... it’s all about self-esteem. Y’know, It’s all about how you feel about yourself and I want you to feel like you matter. All of you. Every single bit of you matters. You’re a beautiful human being and everything about you is so spectacular and I’m an idiot for--”

  “MARK.”

 Mark looked at Ethan this time, seeing his face had softened. The younger man slowly walked up to Mark, they stood facing each other for a second. Mark let out a breath that Ethan could feel.

  “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to add on how--”

 Ethan silenced Mark by leaning in and kissing him. Head on. It was a risk on Ethan’s part and a surprise on Mark’s. After a while, they stopped. Ethan pulled back barely an inch away, they analyzed each other’s faces before they went back in, with more passion. 

 Ethan wrapped his hands around Mark’s head, while the other hugged Ethan closer to him. They kissed slowly, passionately, endearingly. The sound that came from the room was of their light kisses and occasional shift in movements. 

 After breaking apart fully, Ethan taking a small step back, Mark gave him a smile.

  “I... I know,” Ethan whispered, “I get t-that I should love myself and... yeah... I guess I just wanted to change because... I thought you didn’t -or at least you wouldn’t- really notice me. And I mean, really notice me.”

  “No, no no no, of course I noticed you, Eth. Of course I do. How could I not pay attention to someone as beautiful as you?” Mark asked, moving closer to Ethan to brush a hair out of his face, “you don’t ever have to change for me. I don’t want you to change for me. You’re beautiful to me because that’s who you are. I love Ethan, not some fucked up version of him.”

 Ethan nodded his head and felt himself almost tear up at the words. Mark shushed him as he pulled him into his chest, rubbing his back as reassurance. Ethan willed himself not to cry, and he eventually looked up at Mark, pulling apart for a second. Ethan moved in for another kiss that Mark met him with. Mark intertwined their fingers.

  “Let’s get out of here, huh? We can get some grub,” Mark said, leading Ethan down the stairs and flicking all the lights off before they left the office. Was it happily ever after? Probably not. But now they had each other, and that’s what matters.

[gunophilia]

Meeting Frank

Nathan had been glued to Kris’s hip the entire night. Everybody here was at least four years older than him, and they hadn’t ignored him, not exactly, but they hadn’t really acknowledged him either. Why had Kris brought him here?

Nathan felt like causing a scene, just to get people to notice him.

The house was full with sweaty, drunk teenagers, grinding on each other or otherwise trying to communicate by screaming on top of the music. Nathan didn’t know what the big deal was about parties or why his sister wanted to come. They were currently sitting on the kitchen counter, Nathan’s legs dangling in an embarrassing reminder that he was younger than everyone else. They were talking about high school gossip or something, nothing Nathan could really understand.

“And that’s not all! Eli, Stephanie, Jude, and I broke into the school at night to go to the pool. We skinny dipped,” giggled a drunk blonde with busty tits.

Kris scrunched her nose but laughed. “You guys were naked in the school pool? I’m never going swimming again,” Kris joked.

“In the school or forever?” Asked another girl.

“Forever,” Kris took a sip out of her cranberry juice. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of you guys swimming ass naked out of my head ever again.”

They fell into drunken giggles, with the exception of Kris who was sober to ‘set an example to her little brother’ or some bullshit like that. Nathan knew she was just using it as an excuse to avoid drinking altogether.

“Who’s ass naked?” A guy with long, greasy hair walked into the kitchen, a red solo cup in his hand. He was wearing a worn, olive bomber jacket and a cheeky grin.

A couple of the girls rolled their eyes at him and Kris sighed. “Nobody, you perv,” she said.

“Shame. And here I was hoping to see a full moon tonight,” he laughed at his own joke, taking a long swig from the cup.

A couple of the girls laughed too, Kris took a sip of her drink.

“So, what are we talking about here, ladies?” He leaned on the kitchen island, propping himself up by the elbows.

“I was telling them about how I went skinny dipping with the others. Thanks, by the way,” said the blonde.

He finger gunned at her, “No problem, Monica.”

Kris frowned. “I’m confused.”

“He got us the keys to the building; it’s how we broke in,” Monica explained. “Wasn’t cheap, though.”

“I am suddenly uninterested in this story. Wow. Unbelievable.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, darling. I usually charge for my shit, but for you I’ll make a special exception,” he winked at Kris and Nathan gagged.

Kris got down from the counter, face red as a beet. “Bathroom. Now,” she addressed to her girl-friends and marched away. Nathan moved to follow her, but she stopped him. “Sorry, Nate, girls only.”

Nathan protested, really, really, really not wanting to be left alone. Kris gave him an apologetic look and promised she would be back soon. And that was how Nathan found himself alone in the kitchen with some weirdo jackass.

Nathan sat back on the counter, arms crossed, glaring daggers into him to try to get him to leave. He was ignoring him, swishing his cup around, not really giving a shit that he was alone with a kid.

He was about to bang his heels against the counter with the hopes of being annoying enough that he would leave, when the creep spoke up. “If looks could kill, kid, you would have murdered me ten times over.”

“You made her leave,” Nathan spoke in what he hoped was a menacing way.

“Yeah, they’re probably saying all kinds of shit in there. Can’t blame ‘em. Your sister’s a hard ass, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re a pervert,” Nathan answered.

“You will be too in a few years. Tell me, kid, have your balls dropped yet?”

“Fuck you.”

The guy laughed at that, a gruff rasping sound. He wiped a tear off his eye for effect. “You got a mouth on you, I like that. What’s your name?”

Nathan didn’t reply, only scowled at him.

“Alright, fine. Since you asked, I’m Frank. Frank Bowers.” He waited for Nathan to introduce himself, but he still kept his mouth shut. “If you’re not going tell me your name, I’m just going to call you something stupid like Weiner, or Stumpy, or Pompidou—”

“Nathan.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Nathan was sick of him. He wanted to get down from the counter and walk home. Or punch him. Punching him sounded good.

“You seem a little tense, Nathan,” Frank answered, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I got something here that might help take the edge of things. Now, I usually charge for this, but since I feel like we got on the wrong foot, consider this a favor.” He dug around in his pockets and took out a roll of paper.

Nathan frowned at it. “Smoking’s bad for you.”

“Naw, this isn’t a cigarette, don’t worry about it. It’s weed, ever heard of it?”

Nathan shook his head.

“Well, there’s zero nicotine in this, so it’s not addictive and it won’t fuck up your lungs. But it’ll make you feel good. You’ll be able to enjoy yourself and relaaax. Hell, it might even help you lose a few pounds.”

Nathan eyed the weed warily, but the idea was really tempting to him. How different could it be from all the pills he was taking? He reached over and took it between his fingers, holding it gingerly.

“Here, I’ll smoke with you,” Frank took another roll of weed and put it between his lips, lighting it up. He also lit Nathan’s.

“There we go. Just breathe in, hold it a while, and blow it out. Easy,” Frank explained.

Nathan followed the instructions, but he fucked up somehow because he ended up in a wracking cough. Frank didn’t laugh at him, though. “Yeah, takes some getting used to,” he said. “Just try again.”

It was warm, really warm. The cloud of smoke settled in his lungs felt nice and comforting. A few more hits and Nathan began feeling light headed. Everything felt slow, but he didn’t mind.

“How’s it feel?” Frank asked.

“Weird.”

Frank grinned. “Good weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Nathan blew out smoke, “good weird.”

A few minutes later and Frank and he were smiling and laughing like dumbasses, talking about the stupidest shit.

“Puberty’s the worst, man,” Frank said, scratching his chin again, “it was pretty bad for me too. I had acne so bad none of the girls would come near me. Don’t get me started about the body odor either. The weirdest part, though, the weirdest shit was noticing that this girl Kimmy from my class, actually had boobs. I don’t know why I never noticed them before, they were huge. Have you noticed any girls yet?”

“Of course I have, I’m not a little kid anymoORE,” Nathan’s voice cracked embarrassingly, disproving his point. Frank broke out laughing. “It’s not funny!”

It was that this moment that Kris and her friends came back from the bathroom. Kris gave an exasperated sigh when she noticed Frank hadn’t left, which quickly turned into a gasp of horror when she saw that Nathan was smoking.

“Oh my God, Frank, are you fucking crazy?” She snatched the joint from Nathan’s fingers and threw it into the sink. “He’s thirteen years old! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Relax sugar tits. He was just telling me how mature he was. Besides, it’s just a little molly, no big deal.”

Kris’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “You gave him what?!”

Frank thought Kris’s reaction hilarious, and he howled with laughter. “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face. The kid’s only had weed. C’mon, even a hardass like you has to have smoked.”

“I’m not like you, Frank,” Kris crossed her arms and gave him the nastiest glare Nathan had ever seen. “And neither is Nathan. Come on, we’re going.”

“Let the kid live a little.”

She grabbed Nathan’s hand and led him away from the party, away from Frank. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder. “Stay away from my baby brother.”

Frank crossed his fingers. “No promises, darling. Hey, kid,” he looked at Nathan, “see you around, alright?”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, too relaxed to be stressed about his sister’s indignified gasp. She pulled him out the door and into the car, giving him a lecture on drugs and addictive substances. Nathan didn’t catch any of it.

Maybe parties weren’t so bad.

A/N Happy Birthday to me! Just a quick one-shot of how Nathan and Frank met in Exposure. An update should come soon but in the meantime I hope you enjoyed this short flashback. :) 

[hellotheretraveler]

Looking for Advice

I’m sure not many people are going to see this or care very much but I really don’t feel like I have very many options left. So in order to get the best advice possible and give anyone looking to help the best idea of what they’re dealing with, I’m going to be as candid and honest as I can be without invading anyone’s privacy.

I am an eighteen-year-old cis white female. I only turned eighteen a little under three months ago and I graduated from high school in June. My parents had eloped to Tennessee after knowing each other for 54 days, and I was born a little over a year later. I have three younger brothers, aged 14, 12 and 10. The oldest one is my full-blood brother, and the other two are half, by my father’s side.

I have (and know that I am saying this very begrudgingly) always been of above-average intelligence, and I have almost always been very open-minded and able to look at situations very objectively. As a child, I was very studious and did well in my classes and was 30th in my graduating class of over 200.

So what could I possibly be asking for advice about?

When I was five years old my father was discovered cheating on my mother with a woman eleven years his junior, with severe acne, venereal diseases, and a major addiction problem (I am still mostly in the dark about exactly what it was). My parents ended up getting divorced over this, and I was sent to live with my mother. 

My mother is a manipulative, greedy and abusive woman who was diagnosed with something the likes of Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder and is easily compared with people diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. She leeched hundreds of thousands of dollars from my father with child support that never went to our needs, and instead to her various addictions or whatever whims she wanted to fulfill. She would tell us often how it was our father’s choice and what a horrible person he was to have cheated on her and basically “abandoned” us. 

She is an unloving, controlling and wickedly clever woman whose opinions are always correct and her problems are always worse. Not only had my father physically cheated on my mother, but my mother had multiple emotional affairs with various people who did and did not know her as she is heavily delusional and believes she is friends with punk rock stars such as Henry Rollins, the Ramones and countless others. She has to be in control of every aspect of my life, and has not taught me how to cook, clean, drive, or do anything worthwhile because it might give me even a hint of independence, something she has openly expressed fear of.

The man that she moved in with almost immediately after their separation is the picture of the most horrible person you could possibly imagine. In the thirteen years we have lived with him, he has done nothing to provide for us other than GRACIOUSLY let us live with him. Which he loves to remind us is such a gift. He has not worked, but constantly demanded I get a job since I was of the legal age. He has not raised me, and instead has abused me, both physically and emotionally. He has completely destroyed my sense of self and my confidence in my own abilities. I at once point believed I may have been schizophrenic because he convinced me that I was delusional because none of the abuse that I or my mother have suffered was real.Absolutely not real. He is untalented, selfish, and has been mooching off of my mother, my brother, and myself for money so he can buy supplements and illicit drugs.

My father is a racist, homophobic, sexist, and xenophobic man who expects the woman he cheated with to serve him very much like a slave, even beating her occasionally, telling her that her opinions do not matter, and calling her racial slurs (despite her being white as well). He told me about being thirtieth in my class: “why weren’t you first?”. He told my brother: “I am ashamed that YOU are Junior. It should have been my other son, because you are a disgrace.” He refuses to believe in any kind of psychological disorders, even though he himself suffers from an anxiety disorder. He regularly ridicules me (and my brothers) for crying, because we are simply weak. Why don’t we just get over ourselves?

His wife also stole money from my brothers and I. She took us to drug deals. In one particular incident that she conveniently doesn’t remember, I met her dealer. I was eight years old, and it is a very real possibility that some sort of sexual abuse occurred based upon what I do remember of that day, though I have no proof so I’m not going to definitively say that anything happened. She almost abandoned my brother and I on the side of the road because we were hungry, and she was too concerned about her next hit to feed us. She would beat us and scream at us because we couldn’t pair our socks or tie our shoes, and amazingly she is the only one of my parents who thinks that I have some sort of mental illness and she is the only one who wants to help, though she is really and honestly useless.

For the past many years, I have not been allowed to grieve and cope with the distressing events of my childhood, and have no idea how to deal with anxiety, deal with depression, deal with loss. My honest go-to solution is increasingly becoming some form of self-abusive action, or at least very unwanted and intrusive thoughts telling me to just do away with myself.

I also got myself a boyfriend when I was a sophomore in high school. Never being given much affection from my four parental figures, everything moved very fast, much faster than I would have liked in retrospect, but at the time everything was very fine with me. After my boyfriend turned 18, being two years older than me, my parents decided that the relationship was inappropriate and attempted to separate us. They claimed they had the police involved (a complete lie) and also called the school to keep us apart. However, we’ve kept in constant contact for the past three years, and he promised soon after he learned about my home situation that he would move me out of my parents’ home and let me stay with him and his family. 

However, the things that I dealt with and continue to deal with have turned into something far more insidious and terrible than just an anxiety disorder or depression. After many years of researching my symptoms (as much as I can do as a high school student taking a psychology test who is addicted to the internet), I firmly believe that if/when I start seeing a therapist or psychiatrist that I will be diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. My boyfriend agrees with this self-diagnosis, not like that really matters.

I have said and done some horrifyingly horrible things to him, as he is really the only person I trust and care about enough to show the “bad” side of myself to. Just a month or two before my eighteenth birthday, when he was planning to move me in with him, I said something unforgivable because I felt especially threatened, scared, and stressed out. Since that point, he has completely distanced himself from me, has talked about feeling empty and apathetic (he claims he was diagnosed as a “sociopath” in his words, but I don’t think that is at all accurate) and has refused to let me live with him, has refused to support or help me in any way. Occasionally he let it slip that he loved me, and occasionally he told me to sleep well or wrote me “have a good day at work” in an email, but otherwise the man who used to write me pages of letters just to make me feel better and bought me a mason jar to fill it with reasons why he loved me is very accusatory toward me (though in some ways rightfully so) and is only making my situation that much worse. 

Just yesterday he decided he wanted to “go back to being friends” so I can “prove I can be a good friend so I can be a good girlfriend” after I found out he was talking to another girl I know he had feelings for. Considering the nature of my parents’ divorce, this is a very upsetting event for me. I can’t help but think all of it is connected and I feel entirely lost. My entire future was riding on our relationship and just a few days ago we went on a date and everything seemed fine. He got upset the next day when I asked about the other girl.

I have no family to live with or take me in to live with them. Most, if not all of them, share the same or similar opinions as my parents. I have no close friends on whom I can rely in a similar sense. I’ve been talking to people at work and my friends and they’ve been supportive, but it’s not going to help me in the long run. I have no doctor, no therapist, no teachers or counselors to talk to other than the ones at my former high school. I have no license to drive anywhere. I have very little money to put myself into a hospital or institution. I’m not aware of anywhere I can go to get resources or any sort of help or advice. So that’s why I wrote all of this.

I am planning to call the local mental health hospital in a day when I’m not working, in the hopes I can start treatment, but I’m worried that won’t be enough.

What do you, in your honest opinion, think is the best course of action for me to take in order to recover from whatever I am dealing with (BPD or otherwise), mend (or cut off) my relationship with my boyfriend, and get away from my abusive family? Any advice on one or more of these fronts (or any other things you’d like to say) would be very VERY appreciated!

And though I don’t expect more than maybe two people to read this, I’d appreciate any reblogs or anything like that so more people can put out their words of advice out there. I really do need any advice I can get, because my already present suicidal thoughts are becoming more intrusive and common, and I really am afraid that I am going to end up doing something stupid and irreversible, like commit suicide. I do not mean to alarm you, but I am only being honest.

What do you think I should do, or what advice do you have?