#and sitting and trying out lots of different coping mechanisms just makes me tired and angry

[quierd-kitten]

There’s nothing like taking a selfie, then looking at it like “damn bitch are you ok???”

[mrs-kodzuken]

Two lovers and a stuffie ♡

Pairing: Haijme Iwaizumi x fem!reader x Tōru Oikawa

WC: 2.4k

Genre: fluff with hints of sadness

CW: fem!reader, age regressor!reader, caregiver!haijme, caregiver!tōru, poly relationship, age regression coping mechanism, mentions of period blood/pads, when reader is regressed they use the caregiver name of “daddy” referring to iwa & kawa, strictly and completely unsexual!! stuffed animal and pacifier used for comfort by reader, switches from 1st pov to 3rd omniscient then back to 1st for plot

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Are you ready? You can sit with me if you'd like."

Kiyoko had offered me to sit beside her on the bus. We had been invited to a week-long training camp by the Shinzen. Even Aoba Johsai would be there too.

"Sure, thanks Kiyoko." I smiled, climbing to one of the front seats with her.

I snagged the window seat, wanting to watch the stars. Knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep on the way here, I stayed up. The fear of someone crashing the bus keeping me up.

Getting into my bag, I squeezed my stuffy's arm to calm myself. Usually, I'd have time to regress, but since we're going to be somewhere else, it would be almost impossible.

Even if both of my caregivers were going to be there. I still didn't want to risk it and get made fun of.

It was exceptionally hard to have both of my significant others in a different school too. I knew they'd be working hard and practicing, and it was about thirty minutes from my house to theirs.

The entire night, I watched Coach Ukai and our adviser, Takeda, switch between driving.

Somehow, during the night, my stomach started to churn, giving me a sick feeling. I didn't bother telling anyone because it would only cause trouble.

I never get sick during car rides, so I thought that must be it. I was just car sick.

Thinking by the time morning came about, it'd be gone. Just to my luck, it got worse.

It was like pins and needles had been continuously poking and prodding my abdomen.

I had to constantly keep my face a poker face and refrain from holding my stomach. I didn't want to cause any suspicion or worry.

"(Y/n)? Are you okay? You seem quieter than usual." I heard Kiyoko ask beside me while I was walking, going to put our stuff down in the managerial room.

All the managers from each team had an entire room to ourselves since all of us were girls.

"Y-Yes. I'm fine." I gave her a painful smile, trying to tell her I was alright.

I heard a bus across the lot pull to a stop, and it turned out to be Seijoh.

"Move your ass, Shittykawa." I heard my lover's voice, which soothed me. I practically relaxed while standing because of it.

"So mean, Iwa-chan."

Turning towards the voices, I watched them both, lovingly. But I refused to go over there, despite how much I wanted to; if I did, I'd melt into their arms.

Taking a deep breath in, hoping it would soothe my stomach. No such luck.

I quickly moved along with Kiyoko and Yachi, not wanting to be left behind when they started walking.

As the day drawn on, the pains in my stomach were getting so harsh. I even developed a headache that was pounding in my skull.

It was like the world was out to get me or something.

To make matters worse, I could hardly do my job as a manager due to switching between my headspaces. It felt like my mind was breaking in half.

I had managed to stay away from the two boys, but I was noticed by almost everyone else.

My head was loopy, making my footing weird as I walked to dinner.

"Are you sure you're okay? You haven't eaten anything today, and you're not eating dinner." I heard Sugawara say to me from across the table.

It was true; I had been pushing my food around, playing with it. I couldn't even eat because of the pain.

"I'm fine; I just am tired. I'm going to go take a shower, then go to bed." I reassured them, pushing my chair back, with a forced small smile.

I didn't care if my team's eyes were watching my every move, but I locked eyes with Oikawa and Iwaizumi on my way out.

As I turned the corner, tears brimmed my eyes just a bit. I wanted nothing more than to run into their arms and have them take care of everything. To take care of me.

I grabbed my futon in the manager's room and got it ready, but decided to lay down for a few minutes. An uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

But when my head finally laid down, I was out like a light.

My eyes shot open, and I could feel bile rising in my throat. Immediately covering my mouth, I got up and rushed to find a bathroom.

There wasn't one in the room, but I did find one down the hall. I quickly slumped to my knees and let it all out within the, thankfully, clean porcelain toilet.

Tears welled in my eyes, wanting nothing more than the comfort of my daddies. I sobbed into the toilet, my body feeling hot and the salty tears trailing down my cheeks. My sorrow filled sobs echoed in the empty bathroom.

My stomach wasn't any better; it seemed to have gotten even worse. It was to the point where I couldn't even move if I wanted to.

I lay there sobbing, heavily deep in little space, sick. Another round of bile came about, which I released once again.

My left arm was hugging my stomach as my right one gave me support to lean on. I could feel my nose becoming stuffy, which only made me cry harder.

"D-Daddy." I hiccupped and whined, wanting them to take care of everything.

Whimpers escaped my mouth as I heard the door open. I was wishing for my daddies but was met with Kiyoko.

My eyes widened, "Please don't laugh at me! I just want my daddies!" I sobbed louder, afraid my secret would be out, snot running from my nose.

Kiyoko crouched down to my sickened state and started to soothingly rub my shoulders.

"I won't laugh, I promise. Can you tell me who your daddies are?"

"Tōru and H-Haijme." I squeezed my eyes shut as another wave of pain came from my stomach.

"Will you be alright while I go get them?" Kiyoko asked, still rubbing my shoulders.

I slowly nodded, taking a sharp intake of air.

Kiyoko had fast-walked to Aoba Johsai's room. She didn't want to leave (Y/n) in there by herself, especially in this condition.

She quietly opened the door, not trying to wake anyone. Kiyoko had walked inside, but to her dismay, she found two futons empty.

Huffing a bit, she turned around, exiting their room.

When she left, she accidentally bumped into the two people she had needed to find.

"Karasuno's manager? What are you doing up?" Oikawa had asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I think I have your little girl in the bathroom. She's asking for you two and seems quite sick."

The entire reason Iwaizumi and Oikawa were up anyway was to find the manager's room. They wanted to check up on their little girl, who had been avoiding them all day.

When those words left Kiyoko's mouth, they rushed to follow her into a bathroom.

I looked up from my slouching spot on the tiled bathroom floor after hearing the door slam open.

My half-lidded eyes recognized the two beings. "Daddy!" I cried, wanting to be in their embrace and take care of me.

A frantic look came upon both of their faces as they crouched down to where I was.

"Sweetie, what happened?"

"Baby, are you bleeding?"

They both asked simultaneously, and I looked down at the shorts I had been wearing during the day.

The gray shorts were leaking red liquid, causing a mess on me and the floor.

My eyes widened as I looked up, my eyes tearful. I began to apologize, sobbing louder unable to control my emotions in this state.

Haijme engulfed me in his strong arms, cuddling me softly. I leaned on his chest, relaxing.

I heard Tōru ask Kiyoko for any lady products I could use. While he was away, Iwaizumi picked me up in bridal style and he got a bubble bath ready.

He cleaned me up an brushed my teeth, too. All the while, I became sleepier as he whispered sweet nothingness into my ear.

Oikawa came back with a large shirt, his boxers, and some pads.

"Here, baby," Haijme gave me a glass of water and a couple of pills.

I easily swallowed them, trying to keep my eyes open and refrain from yawning.

Tōru picked me up while Iwaizumi had gone somewhere else.

I cuddled against Oikawa's chest while he carried me to his team's room.

Setting me down softly on a futon—well, two futons pushed together. He covered me up with the blankets.

Hajime came back with my (f/c) pacifier and stuffie.

He gently set the paci in my mouth while I brought (stuffies/name) closer to me.

Both of them wrapped their arms around me. They cradled me all night, knowing that there was a possibility of us getting into trouble in the morning.

Oikawa had started running his hands through my hair, while Iwaizumi gently massaged my stomach. That was all I needed to go to sleep peacefully this time.

When morning finally rolled around, most of the team was up. Well except for Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and (Y/n), who were still sleeping.

That morning, the guys had taken many pictures of the three of them. They laughed in adoration silently, not daring to wake them up.

But as always, there wouldn't be a day that went by when they wouldn't dare let their captain and vice captain get into trouble.

So they made up excuses till Oikawa and Iwaizumi awoke. The both of them staring at your beautiful sleeping form.

They kissed your forehead and cheek then wrote a small note on each side of you.

Once they were ready, they announced that you were sick and needed to be kept in bed all day.

Then everyone got confused as to why they, out of all people, would announce that.

"What did you do to our precious manager?" said by none other than Noya and Tanaka.

"She's our girlfriend," Iwaizumi answered, unbothered.

It seems as if Tanaka and Noya had frozen their raging attack.

"Whose?"

"Both of ours." Oikawa answered with a pointed look.

It seemed as if they both decided to reflect on their life choices after hearing that answer.

Waking up peacefully this time made me feel so much better. Cuddling my stuffie, I stretched my legs out. Realizing that me being on my period wasn't a dream, I shot out of the futon.

I was scared that I had leaked while I slept.

Luckily, I didn't, but I did need to change pads. After doing my business and washing my hands thoroughly, I laid back down.

I wasn't going to get up if I didn't need to. Looking to the left, I saw a small piece of paper lying there.

How the hell did I not see that when I checked the futon?

Picking it up, it was a sweet good morning note. It was from Haijme and also stated that Oikawa's was on the other side of me.

After I had read them, I put them in a spot where I wouldn't crush them.

I had been trying to fall back to sleep countless times, but when my cramps decided to come back, that's when I got up.

I went searching through Tōru's bag for some sweatpants because I'm not walking out of this room in just his boxers.

After sliding those bad boys on my lower half, I grabbed the notes, shoving them in my pocket and put the futons away.

I had no idea what time it was since my phone was back in the manager's room. So I decided to see what we'd be eating next to tell the time.

Walking into the kitchen, I was met with the smell of soup and, to be honest, it did smell quite good.

"Miss (L/n), you're up. The staff heard you were sick, so we whipped you up a soup. Feel better soon!" The lady handed me a fresh bowl of soup, and I thanked her while moving towards the dinner table to eat.

By the time I was done, I could hear some people coming in for lunch. I guess I had mine a bit early.

Anyways, I started shuffling back to the Aoba Johsai room; I had forgotten my stuffie and paci.

Picking them up I hid the pacifier in the sweat pants pocket so no one would see it.

When I shut the door, I turned around to head towards the room I should have slept in. My hair is probably a mess right now, and I should fix it.

I was stopped in my walk when I heard someone call out my name.

Turning around, I was ruthlessly jumped on by Tōru, I could tell by his intoxicating scent I loved. He tackled me to the floor, and we obviously fell.

"Ow, Tōru! Get off!" I shouted, trying to move his body.

"But you love me!" He leaned into my body more—that is, until we heard stomping coming from the hall.

I looked up to see Iwaizumi and smirked, because Oikawa was about to get his ass kicked.

"Oi! Get your heavy ass off of her, Trashykawa!" He ripped Tōru's body from mine, relieving me and slapping him.

"Thank you." I was gently pulled up from the floor, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's not fair! I want one!" Tōru pouted at me, his arms crossed.

I rolled my eyes at his playful behavior but still moved to give him a kiss on the cheek.

At the last second, the sly fucker moved his head so I'd kiss his lips. Which I should have expected from Oikawa.

"Amazing, why didn't I think of that?" Hajime sarcastically said, taking my waist and kissing me.

Just as Tōru was about to make another move, I quickly stopped him.

"No, I'm going to my room and I feel much better now. Thank you." I said that and turned to finally going down the hall.

I heard them talking about how I don't have to say thank you since they are the caregivers. I couldn't help myself, though.

When I got better, everything seemed to return to normal. I even apologized to Kiyoko because I had disrupted her sleep.

She said it was fine because she had always been a light sleeper. I just couldn't thank her and my boys enough.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky & Y/N - Part One - Marching On

Hey everyone! Again, thank you so much for all the ove on my first fic, I'll Look After You. I've decided to try my hand at a new fic, this one will be more angsty. Each chapter will be loosely inspired by a song. Music really inspires me and I often think of different little scenarios when listening to my favourite songs. These are not stand alone chapters and will all accumulate into one story. This first chapter is inspired by Marching On by OneRepublic. Enjoy!

It had been a long, hard day. Y/N was still processing everything she had seen since first showing up at Thorpe Abbotts. The wife of Colonel Clarke, she didnt need to leave her home to live on the base, but she wanted to be close to her husband and help where she could. It was unusual, a Colonel's wife deciding to work in the kitchen of the base, but Y/N was a profound baker. Everyone and anyone who knew of her knew that her cookies, pasteries, cakes and anything else you could put in an oven was amazing. So when Y/N found herself at a lose end, she headed into the kitchen of the mess hall and asked the staff would they let her use the kitchen to make baked treats for the men. They agreed, mostly because they were afraid of saying no to her, being who she was.

Now she stood in the middle of the mess hall, looking at all the empty seats. So many good men lost, some of which she had grown quite fond of. It became suffocating, she needed to go for a walk.

She would herself walking towards the B-17s, or at least what was left of them. Some of them needed serious repairs, and she on Lemmons and other mechanics working on them. She looked over to the intact planes when movement caught her eye. There he was, Major John Egan, sitting on the wing of a plane with a bottle of whiskey. He saw her staring, and gestured the bottle to her. 'You thirsty?' he said. As much as she shouldnt, she felt a swig of whiskey was exactly what she needed. She walked over to the wing of the plane and hoisted herself up so she was sitting beside him. He passed her the bottle and she took a big gulp, enjoying the burn as it went down her troat.

Bucky was tired. Tired of missions, tired of the war, tired of his friends dying. They had lost so many today, including Curt. And there wasnt a damn thing he could do about it. So he did what he could do; drink. He saw her walking around the airfield like a lost sheep, she wasnt normally out here, she was one of the few wives living on base and of them, she was the only one to be seen outside their quaters or the officers club. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned to him, a question on her face wondering what he was doing sitting there. He saw her eyeing up his whiskey bottle and thought that sharing it with a pretty lady might not be the worst thing in the world.

They sat in silence for a long while, passing the bottle back and forth until sadly, they reached the end. When Bucky put the bottle to his lips and was met with nothing he sighed, 'Great, first Curt, now my whiskey.' Y/N's eyes darted to him. 'Curt? You mean Curtis?' realisation dawned on her. 'Oh no, poor Curtis.' She had gotten to know Curtis Biddick well, he always complimented her baking; particularily her muffins. She found his thick New York accent endearing, and he always did his best to make her smile when they spoke. She was sad to know she would never hear his voice again.

'It's sickening' Bucky finally said. 'We keep losing our men, our friends, our brothers. And we just gotta keep going. Gotta get back in the sky and-' 'Keep marching on.' Y/N interrupted, lost in her own thoughts.

'What?' he asked, confused. 'It's something my mother always said. When something bad happens, and you feel like you cant cope, you keep marching on. I think thats why I go for walks when I'm sad.' she said with a slight chuckle. 'Your mother sounds a lot like your husband.' Bucky said dryly. Y/N then let out a rather loud laugh. 'She's no soldier, but she's tough that's for sure.'

After another bout of silence, Y/N felt the need to speak. 'You have to do it, for them. If you give up now they died for nothing.' Bucky sighed, 'I know, I'm not actually giving up, just fantasising about it.' 'You need better things to fantasize about Major.' she laughed. He smiled, the whiskey making him more improper than he should be around the Colonel's wife, 'Got any ideas? What do you fantasize about?' She feigned shock and disgust, hitting him lightly on the chest. 'A lady never tells.' He laughed again, it felt good to laugh.

The sun was starting to set, and she knew Albert would be looking for her soon. 'I better get going, Albert will be wondering where I am.' She made to move off the wing of the plane, but found it much more difficult to get down than it had be to get up, her fear of heights kicking in. Bucky saw her hesitation and jumped down, he held his arms out to her in a gesture for him to lift her. 'May I?' She nodded, and soon his hands were on her waist as he gently lifted her down. 'Thank you Major.' she said, blush keeping up her cheeks at his proximity and the intimate nature of his lifting her off the wing. 'Call me Bucky, please.' 'Thank you Bucky.'

She turned to leave walking back towards the quarters. Bucky started walking along side her. 'You dont have to walk me back.' she said. 'I'm not.' he said with a smile. She looked at him slightly confused, she knew that his quarters was in the same direction, as was the mess hall, but she didnt expect him to leave when she left. He looked at her with that signature devil-may-care smirk,

'I'm Marching On.'

[definitelynotshouting]

Parking Lot - Atlas Ivy (a lot of Atlas’s music seems to fit hunger AU to me)

(this song is probably best fitting for after Grian’s 2nd attempt and after he has already began trying to recover)

“The drink in my hand starts to shake” - Reminds me of Grian trying and failing to open the bottle of water.

“As the hope in my mind starts to break

Are the gods not happy with the progress I've made?

Hasn't illness taken all it can take?” - Healing isn't linear, Grian is going to be fighting an uphill battle, maybe for the rest of his life. 

“Taking all my plans and throwing in a wrench

Is it my mental health or the Marianas Trench?” - He’s going to have relapses and setbacks and those are going to make it feel like nothing he does makes a real difference. He’s going to be tired of fighting but he’s going to have to keep trying because, even if he can’t see it sometimes, progress is being made.

“How can I win if my team only plays defense

And all the best players are stuck on the bench” - Makes me think of Grian, not just feeling like he’s always on the back foot, just trying to repair the damage caused by every unexpected worsening of his mental or physical health, but feeling like he’s relying too much on the other Hermits. That he’s dragging the others down with him and that it makes him weak to need their help.

“Do a face mask or a warm bath or do a shot

Or just lay in bed until your body rots” - Coping mechanisms and how easy it is to fall into harmful ones. Grian has already shown a propensity for dissociation and I’ve personally been headcannoning this has been a problem for a while. That, when the weakness and pain from his malnourishment on Hermitcraft became too much, he tended to just sit or lay in a dark room dissociating until it subsided.

 

“Get my vitamin D but the pavements hot

And the soles of my shoes melt on the parking lot” - Feeling like everything he tries doesn’t really do anything but maybe cause more harm. That it doesn’t do anything to fix the real problem and that failure just makes him feel worse.

“Melatonin's now tak��n at eight

Cause I can't stand my thoughts when I'm awakе” -  Back to that dissociation, specifically reminds me of the time Grian has spent dissociating through the nights of the current chapters.

“There is no cause, still my body aches

And the home I built meets an earthquake” - Feeling like any progress and sense of security of safety he has built can be destroyed any second by his mental health taking a dive without any clear cause.

“Can somebody show me

A coping strategy

That takes me from reality

But doesn't kill my body” -  More dissociation and bad coping mechanisms. That desire to just fall away from everything, let the hurt be drowned out by a blanket of static, even though he knows it doesn’t really help.

“Cause I've stunted my growth

I've filled my lungs with smoke” - All the damage that has already been done to his physical health. We’ve seen with Grian true form that Grian has literally stunted his growth by starving himself.

“And yeah it puts on a good show

But I've lost my glow” - Grian not having the energy to do things like play pranks or have fun with the others. The way some of the Hermits react to finding out how much of the Grian they knew was an attempt to hide how he was constantly breaking down now that he doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be fine.

OHHHH I LOVE THIS,,,, ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS ANALYSIS I LOVE THE THOUGHT YOUVE PUT BEHIND EACH LINE OF THE LYRICS..... i havent had the time to listen to the song just yet but MAN this is so cool thank you for sharing it with me :DDD i'll be sure to give the song a listen :D

[kichikichiko]

"Lonely"

Self indulgent post. Its kinda based off of how I grew up

Wanderer x fem!reader, comfort, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, not proofread

♡♡♡♡

"Lonely"

If you were to describe your life from the day you could walk and talk to now, the one word would be "lonely"

Dont get me wrong, you had friends growing up. Maybe a lot, maybe only a few, and even then, it still feels like you againts the world.

No matter who you hang out with, the connection between you and your friend was never strong.

You knew, but brushed it off. Because at least having someone to talk to about something, anything is better than being alone.

But you were still "lonely", no matter how many people you surround yourself with.

You get attached easily, to anyone no matter who.

Toxic, boring, stupid, it doesnt matter

As long as they give you just a bit of attention, you'll suddenly cling onto them like theyre youre everything.

And yet

You were still "lonely"

Its frustrating. Why does the world want you to be lonely? Why should you feel this way in the first place? What could you have possibly done to anger the gods? Or was this their way of entertainment?

You'd blame all the hurt you've been through to anyone who isnt you. Especially celestia itself. Because if you blamed it on yourself, the more you'd feel worse.

"Lonely" was once your enemy, your foe. But the more you grew older, the more you've become tired with trying to get rid of it whether it be through masking yourself with different made up personalities for every single person you talk to, trying to talk to different people to find the one who matchrs your energy, or blaming the gods of teyvat and all its mortals for making you feel the way you feel, the more you've surrendered and accepted the "lonely" into your life.

Youve given up.

Because what was the point of trying at this point?

You can no longer blame people for your misery and woes.

At the end of the day, you are the problem.

Detaching yourself from the world, half of your life became a blur. You didnt remember if you still took up on the act of imitating everyone elses personalites, or if you completely stopped talking to people in general.

You didnt remember,

But what you did remember was meeting him.

Buying fruits from the bustling stalls of Sumeru, you finally met him.

From the corner of your eye, you saw an interesting figure.

Turning your head to get a better look you studied thr man from afar.

He seemed to be from inazuma judging by his attire. His whole outfit was coloured blue and white, his huge hat sitting on his head in a way which made him look intimidating and mysterious rather than silly, his eyes uninterested and annoyed, as his chesr glowed because of his anemo vision.

You stared at him for a while longer before he dissappeared in a blink of an eye.

You didnt know what you felt. But it was something weird, in a good way of course.

"I wanna see him again" you mumbled.

Months have passed, and from time to time, the strange man from inazuma would pop into your head as you daydream in silence when you were goung out with your friends.

Sometimes you think youre creepy, stupid and yhat you were "doing it again". Mainly insinuating that you'd get attached to someone you barely know and make scenarios of you both being together as a coping mechanism.

One day your friend has decided to invite you to try a cooking class with her. You dont really get invited out that much, so you werent about to pass up on this opportunity.

Both you and your friend arrived and was lead to your perspective stations. The instructor wanted everyone to find someone random around the room to be partners, so everyone can get to know each other and make the place more lively.

Going out of your comfort zone was hard, but thinking youre being a nuisance was harder. So you sighed in defeat.

Everyone finally got a partner but you,

You were standing there awkwardly, getting ready to tell the instructor that you're perfectly fine with being alone. Youve been alone for half of your life, being alone as you were in cooking class with no different.

Before you got the chance to talk, someone barged through the door, making everyone shift their focus on the door.

Your eyes widen when you saw who it was. It was the mysterious Inazuma guy. You were shocked, stunned and frozen in place.

Never once believe that you'd see him again

"Ah youre just in time! This young lady here doesnt have a partner for todays class so you can go right ahead and stand next to her station"

The mysterious men scoffed and walk towards your station standing right beside you without a word.

You were starting to feel nervous as there was no conversation coming up between the both of you. You thought that maybe you were the only one overthinking this because anytime you glance at him he would look unbothered and uninterested just like he did when you first saw him in that market few months back

"You can stop looking at me miss" crossing his arms and looking at you with one eyebrow up.

God he was intimidating and handsome

No no. Just intimidating you correxted yourself

Flinching you quickly apologised and whipped your head back and looked down at the table.

Wanderer knew you saw him on that day in the market, he's very observant what can he say?

"Call me wanderer" he broke the silence, looking down at the ingredients on the table, not listening to the instructor

You looked at him again, blinking

You wanted to question why on earth his name is "wanderer" but got a hunch that he'll be offended and stop talking.

"Nice to meet you wanderer, Im (name)" you responded

"Well (name) let's show everyone here who's the boss at cooking" he smirked a bit, determined to win

You were stunned. This wasnt even a cooking competition you wanted to tell him, but that might ruin the fun

So you smiled a little and nodded. "Right on it!"

Days after days passed, and if youre lucky enough you'd see him on the bustling streets of Sumeru, if you both make eye contact, you'd smile and wave as he nodded then go about your day

Soon that change, from simple hand waves, to small talks, to full blow on conversations to hanging out outside of sumeru city.

His company was nice, it felt warm and comfortable. You didnt have to imitate his energy, and you never tried to. Something about copying his personality just to talk to him felt off.

As much as he didnt wanna admit it, he also felt comfortable with you, not 100% no but if he were to be able to choose to go on walks alone or be with you he wouldnt hesitate to pick one with you.

You finally felt comfortable in your own skin

And suddenly, you didnt feel so "lonely" anymore.

♡♡♡♡

[hetalia-club]

I just have to spill my thoughts here for a second about my personal life for my own sanity. feel free to happily ignore and scroll by.

Good news everyone :D I just dumped my toxic emotionally abusive boyfriend. Terrible News everyone! :DDDD He was also my best friend and childhood best friend so isn't that great!? :)))

We were supposed to go to Sicily together in May...Why did I DO THAT!? I spent 2k on my plane ticket...the room is reserved... Do I like just not go to Italy now? Do I say F it and just go by myself? Do I try and quickly beg someone else to go with me who's okay with spending at least 2k on a plane ticket? Which would be no one in my life, maybe my parents would but idk what they got going on. I really wanted to go. Why could I have like just not waited until after that? We share a friend group and they are all more his friends than mine. So I just like isolated myself for no reason.

Sorry to dump this here and no I don't expect any of you to have the answers or do anything with this information.

These past few weeks for me have been really rough and I just made it somehow worse.

He distanced me from all my former friends who have all like moved on and have families and whatever and who I have not spoken to in five years so all I have right now is my family and work 'friends' I don't even like. I'm going to have to live with my parents for who knows how long because it was his house he had all the money in our relationship. He convinced me to quit my good desk job with benefits to work part time as a barista so I could clean his house and cook for him. But he also put up with all my weirdness and was fine with it.

Like when I say I have no idea what to do I truly mean that.

again I don't want anyone to feel responsible to do something about how I royalty screwed up my life. It's no ones fault. I shouldn't have let him isolate me so much from my friends and former life but TOO LATE NOW! I just need to stop being with men who have brown hair and brown eyes but are objectively terrible.

My only silver lining is that I was the one to end it. Which if anything am proud of myself for that because I have never broken up with anyone before and I normally just deal with whatever people do to me no matter how terrible and mean they are. I just have always forgiven him and everyone else.

But when some dude bro sits you down and asks you to "List reasons why you deserved to be loved by him" it was just too much. Like that might seem petty but I am sick of being the 'pretty girlfriend' I am so tired of having to dress to the 9s to go out and be expected to be perfect even if we're just going to a F*ng dive bar where I get stared out for dressing like I'm going to a club. Where he gets to look like a diarrhea stain who can't be bothered to wear a shirt that's not wrinkled or shave his scraggly beard. Why he thinks I should make a list of MY worth as a human being in his eyes. When he is average at best!? Like I'm not a 10 I'm not perfect I'm not delusional, I don't think I'm the hottest girl in the world or gods gift to man kind. But I'm out of his league, I do know that!

I always tend to cling to Hetalia harder when my life is falling apart around me because that's sort of just what I've done since I was a teen. I've never been in a healthy relationship with someone who actually likes me and Hetalia has always been there for me. Which is why I have been making a lot of content lately, it's been a distraction and I'm sorry if I've been bugging people with how much I've been posting. That's not been my intentions its just my coping mechanism and it's better than drinking...

This is the only social media I have that he's not on. I don't hate him enough to block him. I do still want to try and be his friend at some point if that's possible. I love his family and they love me and it's going to be so upsetting to see them again from a different perspective.

I'm okay...It's just been really rough lately...And I somehow just made it worse.(No I'm not going to hurt myself or anyone, don't even worry about that.)

[the-stove-is-divorced]

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

People see things differently, especially creators of stuff, so I'm wondering how you see your own writing? And if it was a metaphor what would it be? Or an object or something or anything that describe it?

Oh my goodness these are such interesting questions! You got me getting introspective! (o^ ^o)

I think my style generally exists as 2-3 general forms, two of them being incredibly similar, if not overlapping? I think in general it stays within these forms, because I actively seek to curate my style in these specific ways (tho if stop using one, it will get rusty). But for the whole curate thing, I look at other writing I like a lot to get into the mood of a certain style for specific fics! So in my eyes, I've got Comedic Style, Descriptive Anguish, and Voice Strong.

Comedic Style is exactly what it sounds like, it's when I want to try comedic fics with much sillier tones like with Metamorphosis which starts as a more horror-ish but quickly dissolves into silliness. I re-read authors whom comedic styles I adore, which is mostly cereal_whore on ao3! I adore their style! But I've diving so much into angst, I'm rusty with this style again. Ugh (ノ_<、). Still working on the next chapter tho.

Descriptive Style also what it sounds like, it's when I really try to dig deep into figuring out the best way to make physical sensations, more commonly pain 'cause I love angst, and really intense emotions feel almost palpable through descriptions alone. Like, comparing frustrations as a simmering pot that grew into a furious boil, something annoyingly unignorable like an unscratched, terrible itch!References I get for this style are a wide range of novels and fic alike. I even keep samples of styles I like to quickly skim through if that helps something flow better. Novels like "A Certain Hunger" by Chelsa G. Summers (a recent read of mine, I adore horror), or quotes from fics like "The sentence sits between them; decaying and astringent, Fushiguro unapologetically leaves it as such. Yuuji’s sure he’s been decomposing since he ate a corpse's finger."

Similar to this, and hopefully overlapping with the previous to make a fic feel good to me is Voice Strong, also sounds like what it is, haha! The character's mindset determines what their feelings get compared to, kinda like context, if that's the right word? I'm sure I'm over-explaining here, but I don't think I've described this before, since it's always been in my head? To me, it should always be a bit unreliable, a POV's always limited unless omniscient. I'm best at writing high intensity, like panic/stress because than character's actions are so much easier to understand and thus predict. If I can't guess their actions, I kinda can't continuing writing. And if I know their mindsets, I know what general arcs to keep in mind, so the plot can take any form while staying in general directions.

Like with it feels like we only go backwards , Steven 2.0 (human!steven) is pretty much on the verge of a very bad mental breakdown. Consequently, he is incredibly easy to predict and thus write for! It's easy to jump into his voice. It's kinda hard to describe, but he often repeats phrases like "you see?" and "he is kind" when he's really close to losing it because he's trying to cling to his denial as a (bad) coping mechanism. Chunks of him glorifying/romanticizing, for lack of better word, his own discomfort, distaste, or plain hostility, are split by the snippets of truth he can't ignore, like the fact he misses Pinko, or he's angry or he's tired. He repeats stuff alot, often trying to stick to the pedestal he's falling from, like "But perhaps, he hit a bit too hard, a bit too rough, because Steven Universe should be gentle, gentle, gentle, he knows, because he is nothing but gentle and kind, gentle and kind." He wants to be gentle, but in reality he's becoming more and more violent in this scene. Mf is just contradicting at all times. I love him so much. (´꒳`)♡

WOAH, this got really long. (」°ロ°)」 I hope I didn't chat your ear off, haha! But if I had to describe my writing, I'd say water? It can fit into any style if I really try, like water can take the shape of any container, but I try to keep it specific containers. Or, three specific directions to flow through, kinda like three diff rivers? If that makes sense! (・_・ )ゝI get incredibly frustrated when it doesn't move how I want it to (often), so it needs constant upkeep. Me writing is a million re-writes and edits plus scrapping entire chunks, like, constantly. It also has to feel right to be published. Like I have an entire draft of my body's in backwards sitting unpublished but that mf is not getting posted until it feels right. I may or may scrap it entirely. Again. (」＞＜)」

I guess another comparable object is like some kind of hedge/bush/etc I keep trimming for the perfect shape, but never quite looks right until it totally does. Which could take so damn long.

Hope that answered ya question!!! TYSM FOR ASKING (´,,•ω•,,)♡

[larksheaven]

i’m sat on my desk chair in full night makeup and a cardigan waiting for my friends to cancel. i have this gnawing, aching feeling like i can predict what words will light up my screen next.

sorry, my friend doesn’t want to hang out as three. rain check? or the more subtle: hey, so sorry i don’t think we’re gonna go after all. i can picture it clearer than i can see myself now, sitting in this room. i can picture me, two minutes from now, putting my tail between my legs and going back to bed waiting for life to happen to me.

that’s fine, i’ll say. i was kinda tired anyway. long week and all.

she tells me she’s almost leaving and i still don’t believe it. i am sat in this chair with my back slouched. my nerves have been acting up all day. i had to film a mock video interview today, twice. i cried during both.

a firework goes off and i’m so on edge it feels like a gunshot. they hunt a lot of animals where i grew up. i think i always understood what the animals must feel. i’ve always believed something’s out to get me. usually because it has.

i should be checking my pizza isn’t burning but i’m just sat here thinking how i know this isn’t normal. i know that this is nurture, not nature, that my nurture was ostracism and closed doors. i don’t remember ever getting out. i think a part of me is still locked in there most days.

normal. a normal person would take rejection in stride. a normal person would not be frozen to this chair to begin with. a normal person would be excited to go out clubbing for the first time. (the fireworks are at it again. it’s like i can feel them in my spine). i’m meeting my friend, and her friend. that’s too many degrees of separation for my liking. i’m not used to this hands on stuff, i mean, clearly. here i am, not moving, waiting for a text to wake me up like some sleeper agent on standby.

i watch them in my head like it’s some movie, laughing behind my back, sending the text to cancel and going anyway. i see it later on their instagram story, they danced all night and had a blast while i curled under a heated blanket.

i started therapy again last week; she told me my avoidance was a maladaptive coping mechanism. i already knew that, but i acted a little surprised to make her feel like she was Doing Her Job Well. not that she was doing bad or anything, it’s just that when you spend enough time alone, you get to know your demons. calling them demons feels mean. maybe little ghosts is more apt.

the little ghosts look like me at different ages, and they all warn me with every turn i take. don’t get your hopes up too high. take a whole lot of photos, that way you won’t have got all made up for nothing. do it before they cancel, you don’t want sad eyes. you want to look like you did before it all went wrong.

i don’t mind these ghosts, though i wish i could talk back to them sometimes. i know they’re just trying to save me from what they couldn’t save themselves from. but im here now, in the end. and isn’t that nice? if you look at me you might almost think im a whole person.

i do wish i could stop feeling so guilty all the damn time. i think it’s self sabotage; i talk to myself like for some reason i’m not allowed to enjoy the full breadth of human experience. like i’m some stowaway in the back of a truck full of real people who are allowed to exist.

i just realised, maybe i should read all this to my therapist. third one in the bag, woo! i should get an award or something for all the times i’ve had my brain put into a test tube in front of me. i would read this to her, but i got a call a few days after my first session. bereavement. she’ll be off indefinitely. i know it’s nothing to do with me, but i find it morbidly funny. we were about to start emdr, an eye movement therapy to help me process something that happened ten years ago. we’re almost at that anniversary. i feel like i should get a cake, or a million or something. but nobody pats you on the back just for getting there. you just do.

i’ve psyched myself out so much that now i’m considering cancelling. i’m fantasising about my bed and not having to drive. my head likes to ruin things for me until it gets me to ruin them myself. i always think people will laugh at me, see. i think they’ll know that i’m naked underneath.

[justalilghosty]

ok so tumblr decided not to tell me i used too many tags and just deleted half of them without telling me but anyways here's my thoughts

at first I was torn between Wind and Time bc Time keeps shit together but also Wind is the youngest but I went Wind. Why? Imagine the fourteen y/o of the group dies for a sec. The older ones, who happened to be responsible for him, are still alive. Fucking- WARRIORS IS STILL ALIVE. That shit's gonna traumatize him. He basically raised and trained that kid. And now- he's fucking dead.

And Time? Time would shut himself off, desperately trying to rewind time, to fix it. But it never works; Wind always dies in the end. And fuck- he smashes the damn ocarina. Then he shuts himself in a room for a while, refusing to let anyone in, pleading to the gods, breaking down crying like he hasn't in years.

Sky. Sky cries. And cries and cries. He was attached to that kid, man. Like, imagine Sky got Wind over his fear of birds, Sky let Wind ride on his loftwing. That is an unmatched level of trust and intimacy, and now the kid's dead. And yknow what that little voice in his head says? His fault. All his fault. If he had just been faster, quicker, better, more alert, then his BROTHER wouldn't be fucking DEAD. This man is already probably suicidal to some degree, what the fuck do you think he's gonna do now?? Obbsessive wood carving as a coping mechanism until he runs out of wood, leaving only his own skin.

And since Warriors, Sky, and Time are all fucked, Twilight has to take care of everyone. So he bottles up and hides his feelings, because he has to stay strong for everyone. He has to. Until he can't. Until he breaks. And he breaks when everyone needs him most. And there's no one there for him, because everyone else was dependent on him at that moment.

Legend shuts himself off, traumatic events coming back to him like a truck. He'll sit and stare at seemingly nothing for hours and hours. Somedays he won't get out of bed. And Hyrule- Hyrule's just lost. He's lost all grip on reality, and it just following Legend around like a shadow. He won't say a word for days. He'll cry silently for so, so long.

Four, Four can't stay together like this. He goes offon his own a lot to split, coming back with injuries, mostly cuz of Blue. All four of them deal with the greif in different ways, and when they're meshed together- it doesn't go well.

And Wild- Wild just goes. He sees a lynel nearby? Gone. He'll fight anyhthing. He'll leave for hours, come back injured, and then leave again. He fights. And fights and fights. Doesn't tend to his injuries if Twilight doesn't make him, and sometimes Twilight is too tired to notice, since he takes most of the watches. He's almost died multiple times.

So yea, uh, point for Wind I guess. Thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

[moonlit-reveriee]

NSFW Alphabet

ft. technoblade

concept: a collection of my own personal nsfw headcanons for techno, one for each letter of the alphabet

@saturnsstufff ‘s discord saw it first ;)

A = Aftercare 

I like the idea that techno actually gets very clingy after sex. He’ll get up and grab a glass of water or a towel if either of you need it, but if he’s able to, he’ll stay glued to your side the whole time. Even if he won’t admit it, he needs to have that intimacy after sex. He loves the feeling of your body pressed against his as you both cool down. Usually, his hands will be absentmindedly drawing patterns over your skin

B = Body part 

Kind of an oddly specific one, but he loves your shoulders. He loves to casually rest his chin on them as he holds you from behind, and bury his face in the crook of your neck as he presses heated kisses on your pulse point. He also considers the way a person carries their shoulders to be an indication of their strength, and how could he see anything but strength in you.

He hadn’t put much thought into his own body before meeting you. He’s learned to love parts of himself because of you. Particularly his scars. They way you gently run your fingers across the rough surface of them, in both intimate and casual settings, made him crave the touch. Now when he looks at them, he thinks of your hands moving across his skin

C = Cum 

Fun fact: pigs have 30 minute orgasms

Early on in your sexual relationship, he was very embarrassed by just how much of it there always was. But once you started praising him for it, that became a very different story. He started to take pride in how well he could completely fill you up without even trying

D = Dirty Secret 

He would probably never admit it to you, but it’s become a habit of his to think about the last time he had sex with you during battles. He starts to make sure you two always have sex the night before a big fight, so his mind can wander back to it during the haze of battle. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or what but it certainly helps

E = Experience 

You are his first ever sexual partner, but somehow he just.... already knows what he’s doing?? He’s very nervous and considerate the first time, but he does everything perfectly. Once you tell him that, he’s very happy and secretly a bit proud of himself

F = Favourite Position 

He loooves to have you in his lap. Either facing him, back to chest, it doesn’t matter. He’ll do everything with you in his lap. Cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, anything you and him are physically able to do in that position

G = Goofy 

He’s usually a bit more on the serious side. Sometimes the two of you will quip at each other during foreplay, but once he gets going, it’s all business. In the moment, he likes to treat is as something special (doesn’t mean he won’t tease you about things after the fact)

H = Hair 

He likes to keep himself clean-shaven most of the time. When he’s relaxed and doesn’t have to go to any public events for a long period of time, he’ll let a small amount of stubble grow on his chin. You can always tell when he slacks off on it, cause the stubble on his face brushes roughly against your skin as he kisses down your body...

he doesn’t really shave much below the neck, but he keeps it clean and trims occasionally

I = Intimacy 

He’s surprisingly romantic when he wants to be. It’s definitely a side of him only you’re allowed to see. Alone together in his bed, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he slowly draws you to your climax. Even when he’s speaking the most lewd and naughty things to you, he somehow makes them sound affectionate and full of love

J = Jack Off 

He loves to watch you masturbate. The first time was a complete accident. He came home late one night to find you curled up with his blankets, breathing heavily as you massaged yourself over your underwear. It wasn’t long before you noticed him in the doorway and jumped, worthlessly attempting to hide what you were doing. He wasn’t sure if it was the blush on your face or the fact that the blanket you chose to cover yourself in was his cape but something urged him to sit on the edge of the bed, still in his armor, and ask you to continue. It was beautiful to simply sit there and watch

K = Kink 

He’s a little bit possessive. He loves to mark you in subtle ways so you always remember that you’re his. Especially if you’re going on a trip without him. He’ll drape you in gold jewelry and leave a hickey just out of sight on your neck for good measure. The part that he loves the most about it though, is that you know exactly what he’s doing and show off his signs of possession with pride

L = Location 

He prefers to keep most of your sexual acts to the area in and around his cottage. Other than in bed, he loves to press you up against a wall. Sometimes you two get distracted while tending to the farms and end up heatedly making out in the snow. One time, you decide you wanted to lay out some blankets on the floor and do it right in front of the fireplace. He adored the way the firelight danced across your skin. (He’s thought about taking you down to the syndicate room and laying you out across the table. But he came to the unfortunate conclusion that during meetings, he’d never be able to look anyone straight in the eyes ever again. So he’s shelved that idea for the time being. Maybe once the group has disbanded...)

M = Motivation

He loves to be praised by you. During regular day-to-day life, he doesn’t like to accept any compliments from you, usually just brushing them off or responding with a joke. But when you two are alone together and intimate, he drinks that shit up. How can he not believe it when you look up and him with lidded eyes and tell him just how good he makes you feel. Just moaning against his lips as he kisses you is enough to keep him going for a while

N = NO 

He will never do anything that involves seeing your own blood. It sets off the voices too much. One day, you randomly got a nosebleed while cooking dinner together. He could smell it before he even saw it. When the voices recognized the deep red color dripping down your face, they wouldn’t stop chanting. He tried to help you clean up, but it became too much to ignore. He had to go out back and slaughter at least a dozen zombies before they shut up. And even then, he was left with a pounding headache. You were extra gentle and sweet with him when you cuddled up in bed together that night

O = Oral 

If you’re on the receiving end, be prepared for him to be down there a looooong time. Once he gets his mouth on you, it’s hard for him to pull away. He loves your smell and taste too much. He tries not to get too carried away, but there was one time he made you come 5 times in a row with just his mouth. He was very thorough with his aftercare that night.

He isn’t the one receiving very often. He only really likes it when he’s tired. He loves to sit back in a chair and watch you gently suck him of on your knees in front of him, one hand gently weaving it’s way through your hair

P = Pace 

I always imagine him on the slower side. He likes to savor every moment, making sure that every thrust or movement of his hand is intentional and perfectly placed. He takes time to watch you carefully to make sure you’re getting exactly what you need. He’ll go harder before he goes faster

Q = Quickie 

As much as he loves to treasure your intimate time together, there are times where he just needs it. Every once and awhile, he’ll be desperate for it and quickly have you against the wall before heading out to run some errands. Sometimes he’ll pull you in, make you cum, and head out the door without saying a single word. He usually feels the need to make up for it when he returns, but you’ve assured him many times that you love sex with him at any pace

R = Risk 

Since he’s still fairly inexperienced despite his skills, he’s not super adventurous himself. More often than not, you’re the one bringing new ideas to the relationship. He’s willing to try the new things you suggest. You’ve had a discussion about your limits, and you both understand what goes too far for each other

S = Stamina 

He can go multiple times in a row if he wants to, and for a long time. He lowkey loves it when you tire out before him, and you let him keep going while you lie there sleepily in his arms

T = Toy 

He doesn’t own any sex toys, but he likes to make sex toys out of everyday objects (as long as they’re safe and properly cleaned of course). He likes the idea of never being able to look at that object the same way again, especially if it’s something either of you use around the house frequently. He would get his hands on some actual toys if you wanted him to. If toys are involved, he prefers them to be used on you, not on him

U = Unfair 

He likes to randomly tease you during moments that are absolutely not sexual. Maybe you’re brushing out his hair, complaining about the knots in it. He’ll suddenly respond with “that’s not what you told me in the bedroom last night” leaving you to sit there in shock while he laughs. Or he’ll quote things you said to him during sex completely deadpan and watch as the blush rises to your cheeks

V = Volume 

He’s not extremely loud. When he is loud though, he growls. You’ll be able to feels his chest vibrating when you lean into him. Sometimes you can even feel the vibrations through his lips as he pleasures you with his mouth, which is an absolutely crazy and wonderful feeling.

During very domestic moments, he likes to talk a lot during sex. If he comes home from working all day, and he’s missing you greatly, he loves to tell you all about his day while his cock gently rocks inside of you

W = Wild Card 

This part is definitely just gonna be me fulfilling one of my personal kinks, but I love the idea of techno going through a heat since he’s part piglin. Maybe it only happens like once a year, but when it’s that time, his senses are kicked into high gear and he’s desperate for you. The two of you have a routine for it by now. You prepare the bedroom by gathering every blanket in the house, and prepping a week’s worth of food & water that can be eaten quickly during the moments when techno’s haze of arousal drops. Once he feels it start to set in, he locks the bedroom door and allows his senses to become completely enveloped by you

X = X-Ray 

I like to believe that a lot of the hybrid races are PACKING. It’s one of the many things he’s nervous about on your first time, but seeing the way your able to take him so well every time is such a turn on

Y = Yearning 

Both you and him can be too tired to have sex at times, but if he’s able to have you, he’ll take everything he can get. He loves to take care of you if you’ve had a long day, and he knows you’ll do the same for him

Z = ZZZ 

If it’s nighttime sex, he can pass out as soon as aftercare is over. But if it’s morning or midday, he can have sex and go about the rest of his day no problem. Since his orgasms are so long, he likes to make you cum more often than he does, and watching you cum invigorates him

[emerald-chaos]

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

[letarasstuff]

Where do you go?

(A/N): This is requested by an anon and based on this post.

Summary: How does Hotch’s daughter, who everyone goes to with their own problems, cope with her mother’s death two years later?

Warnings: Angst. Grief. Dealing with a loved one’s death

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Hey (Y/N), I really need your help with Tim. Do you have a minute for me?” (Y/N) turns around to see a boy from her science class. It’s not like she knows him that much, they occasionally team up for small projects, there is nothing more behind that.

“Uh of course. I just had my last class, so I got time for you.” She smiles and lets him, Vincent is his name she thinks, rant to her about how his boyfriend doesn’t understand his needs.

This is nothing out of the ordinary for her, to be asked for advice. She simply is a good listener and gives good tips, the best even according to people close to the teenager. The problem is her limited knowledge on relationships. “Coaches don’t play”, Hotch tells her. And he intends on keeping it that way.

“That does really suck. Did you try to talk to him about it?” (Y/N) asks the boy in front of her. Suddenly he bursts into tears, describing how he only sees breaking up as a solution. She awkwardly pats his back and says encouraging words to him. That he will make the right decision, that he shouldn’t rush it and that he has to take his time.

After Vincent, or is it Gordon, calms down he looks up at the girl. “Thank you for listening. You were a great help, (Y/N).” He hugs her and leaves.

As she looks over the parking lot she spots her father’s car. Excitedly (Y/N) walks over and gets onto the passenger seat. “Hey, I didn’t know you pick me up today”, she greets him.

“We finished the case early and I was on the way home and thought giving you a lift wouldn’t hurt. Who was that boy? Is there something I should know?” Hotch looks at her from the side. But his daughter shakes her head. “Don’t worry, he is gay. He just needed a shoulder to cry on about his ruined relationship.”

“You do know you are not the school’s therapist, don’t you? At this point your classmates should pay you.” He tries to joke about it, but as a father he is worried. Since Haley died, (Y/N) took it upon her to make sure everybody is happy, no matter at what costs.

“I know, Dad. I’m fine and Alex feels better.”

A few days later (Y/N) sits in JJ’s living room, watching the mother go from one place to the next. “Food is in the fridge, so help yourself. Henry’s bedtime is in half an hour, please make sure he goes to sleep by then. He should be easy to put down, Will made sure to tire him out earlier. All important numbers are on the fridge. Feel free to watch anything on the TV.”

The teenager volunteered to babysit Henry, giving his parents a child free evening. “Thank you, JJ. We will rock this, don’t we?” She looks down to the boy on her lap, who nods his head.

“Good. Behave for (Y/N), ok?” The mother gives her son a kiss on the head. After Will’s goodbye the couple is gone.

“Ok, how about we get real comfy on your bed and I read you a story?” Henry nods again. He takes (Y/N) by her hand to his room. As suggested they lay down on his bed.

“Which one do you want me to read to you?” But the boy looks unsure all of a sudden. “Can we just talk?” Surprised the teenager nods. “Whatever you like, champ.”

“Uh okay, do you know Mommy is a bit… much? She is like there and the next second she is here and then she isn’t here for days. I- this is sooo annoying”, Henry rants to her. He is only three, so it is kept rather simple.

“Oh man, she must be a handful, champ. But you have to keep in mind that she really loves you and in the end this is the only thing that matters. Do you love her, too?” It hurts her to talk about a mother’s love, since her own passed away over two years ago. (Y/N) still misses her. She is sure it will never go away.

“Of course I love her.” Sleepily Henry cuddles closer to (Y/N), holding his plush toy near him. After that, he falls asleep safe and sound. The teenager waits for a bit, watching him scrunching up his nose every few minutes.

The next day at the BAU a knock is heard on the Unit Chief’s door. “Come in!”

“Hey Dad, I thought a little visit wont hurt”, the daughter enters the room. Automatically a smile appears on Hotch’s face. “Also, I thought a little help from Spencer wont hurt, too”, she adds with a laugh. “Last time I checked he was in Garcia’s lair. You might have a shot finding him there”, he tips her off.

“Thank you Dad, you are the best!” Not long after this she steps into the Technical Analyst’s office and is immediately greeted by the preppy woman being anything but preppy.

“What in heaven’s name do they think I am, do you know it (Y/N)? They want me to work faster and more efficiently and expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows while looking at the most gruesome pictures ever taken on a daily basis! Un-be-lie-va-ble!” The blonde walks back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

The teenager takes her hands in an attempt to calm her down. “Sit down and tell me from the beginning what you are talking about.” This ends in Penelope raging about some superiors for an hour. When she finally calms down, it is like she wakes up. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to load all that up on you. You don’t need that in addition to-” She suddenly cuts herself off.

“I’m fine, really. It’ll be like any other day.” The smile the girl struggles to put on looks pained. “My sweet sweet summer child, the second anniversary of your mother’s death is not like any other day. You are still allowed to grief, you know that, right?” Penelope hugs (Y/N), cradling her close to her chest.

“I know, Penny. Thank you for reminding me. But I have to go, I need Spencer’s help with my chemistry assignment. You know, gotta keep those grades up.” With that she makes a beeline for the bullpen, leaving a stunned Technical Analyst by herself.

Since Foyet Hotch worries about his daughter. He learned many things about her coping mechanisms in the last two years: She tries to do it on her own.

In times like this the similarity between him and (Y/N) frustrates him. Aaron also tends to deal with his emotions alone, in the safe space of his own four walls. With all of his qualifications he knows it’s not healthy and he slowly learns to let his feelings loose around people he trusts, typically his team.

The difference between (Y/N) and Hotch is that he knows when he reaches his breaking point and she doesn’t about hers. So in a situation like right now being a profiler comes in handy with the job as a father.

It’s the day. The second anniversary of a mother’s death.

Hotch already planned the whole day for his two kids. At first he wakes both of them up, a luxus he seldom is able to indulge. But for today he has called into work saying he won't be coming any time before ten.

The mood around the house is suffocating. Even the little boy notices the heaviness of the day and its meaning.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)? I’m gonna drop you and Jack off at school!” Aaron shouts standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m coming!” The answer is heard faintly.

Not long after this the Hotchner Household is on their way to the youngest’s elementary school. “Behave and remember: If you don’t feel fine it’s okay. Just tell your teachers and they will call me and I will get you, do you understand?” The father looks at his son with a certain seriousness. “Understood”, the blonde boy confirms and gives him a hug.

When he is back onto the driver’s seat, (Y/N) speaks up. “I don’t feel good about letting him to school today. What if he suddenly gets overwhelmed? I don’t think his teachers are able to calm him down.” Hotch gives his daughter a glance from the side. Jack never showed any signs of what she just described.

“They know to call me. I also told him it's all right to let them call me. He is in good hands.” It’s quiet for the next few minutes. “Dad, this is not the way to school”, the teenager tries to alert her father.

“I know. You won’t go today. I called you in sick when you were in the bathroom. I got the day planned, be ready to be surprised.”

The first thing they do is having breakfast in a little niché café. They once visited it regularly with Haley, way long before Jack was born. The two of them sit down at a booth in the corner.

“What can I get you two sweeties?” A waitress asks, her notebook ready in her hands. While the father orders their usuals, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander. So many memories at once crash onto her.

“Do you remember this one waiter, who always got you a hot cup of chocolate for free?” Aaron says after noticing her sad look. The girl begins to smile through the tears forming in her eyes. “Of course. Mom always got nearly a heart attack seeing me down it like it’s juice. I-” Her voice breaks. The tears fall down and make their way over her cheeks.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here. For anything you want or need me. Because nobody expects you to be alright, especially on this day.” He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. (Y/N) nods, leaning against her father’s shoulder. He puts an arm on her, keeping her closer.

“I know. It’s just- It still hurts. So so badly. I feel like she still is here, but that’s just not true and that hurts me more.” Silently Hotch motions the waitress to make the order to go, while rubbing his child’s arm. Because that’s what she still is, a child.

A child that went through much, especially for her age. When (Y/N) calms down a little, they make their way back to the car.

“I thought we are going to the BAU to distract you for a while. But I can call the team and tell them we are going to do a SPA day at home or something. What do you want?”

“Can we go to them? And maybe leave earlier to do face masks at home before picking Jack up?” There is no way the father can say no to her puppy dog eyes. “Of course, Honey. Anything you want.”

As soon as the doors of the elevator open to floor six of the FBI building in Quantico, Penelope Garcia embraces (Y/N) in a big bear hug. “My sweet sweet summer child. You are so strong, I admire you. We are so happy to have you here” she whispers into the teenager's ear. “Thank you, Penny. Thank you so much.”

Over the course of the next few hours (Y/N) visits everyone’s desk. At first she goes into the lair, where mountains of cookies wait for her. Then she sits at Spencer’s desk, listening to cute facts about sloths. But Emily is quick to steal her from the genius, bribing the girl with new pictures of Sergio. Derek takes the teen from there, pushing her through the office on a desk chair with wheels. Her father is able to hear her laughs in his office, which puts a small smile on his face.

After that (Y/N) goes to JJ, who has a drawn picture from Henry for her. “Will had to write ‘best babysitter ever’ for him”, the blonde explains, pointing at the picture. The girl smiles. “Woah, I think you got a little Picasso at home. Tell him I love it.”

Her last stop is Rossi’s office. The older man looks at her with a fond smile. “Do you know that I see so much of your father and mother in you?” Confused, she glances at him.

“You are as stoic as Aaron. You are determined. But you are also caring and loving, like Haley. You are a perfect combination of both of them. Just keep that in your mind.”

As mysterious as this seems, it somehow makes (Y/N) happy. Happy to know a part of her mother is always with her.

Soon the little family departes for their home. Not long after they bid their goodbyes, Penelope receives a picture of the Unit Chief and the teenager with pink glitter masks. The father is willing to do anything to make her smile, even when this means he gets a basket of various masks the next day for teasingly reasons.

[system-of-a-feather]

Honestly its one of the largest Must Understand and Respect things about us to be our friend or someone close fo us; our productivity and constant "ability" to constantly work is neither a choice / reflection of our character nor is it actual "ability" or anything that really should be praised or put on a pedastal

Cause I know a lot of people with mental and physical disabilities like to romanticize it (and worse when they explicitly romanticize trauma that directly played into it as something they wish they got instead, things Ive actually had said to me in public servers) and I get it, I think its hard for people with different and often opposite coping mechanisms to understand and fathom

It's just none of this is a choice, none of this is even a lack of a choice of me forcing myself to do it when I can't.

I don’t stop because my brain doesn't feel tired, doesn't experience tired, turns off exhaustion and blindly burns fuel I don't have. My brain is wired so deeply to not feel my limits that even if I KNOW my limits, I can only go "I should stop" before the anxiety of settling in unideal situations pushes my "lack of feeling tired" to keep me going.

I've been awake for 15 hours and only now did I stop for anything other than eating; that is after doing this for 14 hours yesterday. I will likely do it again tomorrow.

I'm not really meaning to complain, I've lived my whole life like this and if I don't have my fiance or someone to remind me how long I've been working, tells me to sit down, or someone to prompt me to check in with my limits logically - I really wouldnt notice it until my body gets ill or my brain has a full crash

And yeah, all things considered, as far as maladaptive coping mechanisms go, at least this one almost always provides something good and productive from it (career advancements, jobs, cleaning, organizing, new skills, etc), it's still an immensely self destructive and unhealthy thing to engage in.

I'm not going to say I detest this, this has gotten me a lot of places and I'm thankful for it, but a lot of my progress in life comes from this double edged sword that most people fail to both respect the trauma and harm it comes from as well as applauding the growth its given

Anyways Im rambling, Im clearly tired even if I don't feel tired cause my language and cognitive skills are shot af and I'm not even sure how cohesive this is but ugh

I live like this partially by just mentally jumping into the future and having my ideas and plans and mentally living there while going "once I make it real, then I can relax" and repeat it mentally like a mantra

But hey

Once everything is where it belongs and I have my autism room, then I can relax.

(until then im gonna have to keep going for anything not food or sleep)

Its also really ironic but I want to put "Im alright though guys cause I just need to get to a point where everything is set up, then I can relax and itll be all good" unironically 😂

Either way, Ill survive at least until then. These sort of things I just kinda gotta ride out, its not worth resisting and Ill try to relax if I can when my fiance tells me to (he banned me from working more, otherwise zi probably still would be)

Man though if anything about moving lately taught me anything about myself, it is that I REALLY can't stop and relax when there are things that need to be done cause man, I have not taken a real break other than eating and sleeping since we got here which is NOT a thing to be celebrated

Like this wouldn't stand out too much if I didnt have my fiance and shit cause I have always been like this but damn.

I'm like "why am I tired / have a headache / hungry so early??" and my fiance - who has PTSD and related disorders that has worked alongside me for 70% of it - shakes me and goes "YOUVE BEEM WORKING ALL DAY" and I'm just like

[royal-dread]

Why I, a former age regressor, do not support age regression as it is shown in media

On social media there’s this video that’s going around of an age regressor that I’ve had many issues with. If you go in the comments of these posts you’ll have three types of people: the ones who make fun of it, the ones who try to defend it, and the ones that tell the ones who defend it how harmful these actions are.

In all of these posts, you know what I find? People who say “it’s a trauma response” “most people don’t have control over it” and yet also say “it’s a coping mechanism and dressing up is soothing” despite that being a completely different thing, and will go on about how “doctors recommend it” despite that making no sense

Let me clear one thing up: dressing up in baby clothing, coloring in coloring books, drinking out of sippy cups are all dress up games.

ACTUAL age regression is your body doing childlike things or sending yourself into a child like state to better handle your trauma

Let’s take me for example. I naturally did it from actual trauma. When I was about 6 mo, my mom stopped me from sucking on my fingers. But I was raised in a very abusive household and you know what I did? As I turned 2yo I started sucking on my fingers again and every night I slept with my baby blanket(the blanket that came with my crib). I would suck on my fingers originally at night, but then it got worse to the point where I was constantly doing it.

I didn’t stop doing this until I was 17 (last summer). I would wear long sleeves and hide my hand in it while I did it at school because I was constantly stressed out. You know how when you take away a baby’s binky, It’ll start crying and getting fussy or even throw a tantrum? That’s what I did. If we were doing a lot of activities that required your hands I would get overwhelmed and start to cry because I couldn’t calm down and the emotions over flooded my brain. You couldn’t hold a conversation with me because when this happened I would snap at others and say hateful things.

And not only this, but when this happened my mind would “shut down” as we said, and I couldn’t think. I couldn’t form any coherent thoughts because all I could think of was how I was feeling. There was no reasoning with me, all I could think of was me wanting to soothe myself, I couldn’t do my work, I couldn’t have long conversations with people, etc. I couldn’t tell people when there was something wrong, I would just sit there and cry because that’s all I could handle.

Now note: there was no dress up. There was no “coloring” or drinking out of sippy cups. These were habits that I had when I was young that I started again because my brain couldn’t handle the trauma.

Now, I recently went through tf-cbt (trauma focused- cognitive behavioral therapy) where I was told these were horrible habits to do and I should steer far away from them. My counselor told me that it was a clear sign of child abuse/child trauma and I had PTSD, and helped me get the diagnosis for places like school and work. She told me that age regression is a defense mechanism that your body takes so that you can handle what’s going on around you. Your body and mind regresses to points where you were at your calmest and use those habits/actions to give you a better control on yourself, but they make you unstable when you can’t do these actions and you end up doing way more harm to yourself than good.

Not only this but my habit deformed my mouth severely. I finally got approved for braces and when they did the X-rays and measured everything they told me I had about an INCH of space between by bottom and top row of teeth. I couldn’t eat in public because I had to bite with the side of my mouth. I couldn’t form words properly and constantly fumbled. It was embarrassing how awful they were and I ended up having the teeth behind my canines pulled because there wasn’t enough room to pull everything back. 2.5 years later and I’m STILL in braces because of how hard it is to fix this. And my middle and index finger are deformed too, they’re bent at awkward angles and I can’t hold them straight because of the 15 years of constantly being pushed that way.

Age regression is now a TRIGGER for me because it gets my blood pumping and makes me feel sick and I get so unreasonably angry at these people for not even knowing what they’re talking about. My head gets light and I can feel all the blood rush from it and I feel like I’m gonna fall over if I stand because of how many times I’ve tried to explain to people my situation and they’ve told me “fuck off if you don’t actually age regress or are a little youre an ableist fuck and there’s a special place in hell for people like you” when I’m the one who has an actual PTSD diagnosis and has gone through the whole speal of getting help.

Age regression is not okay. It’s not heathy. Your mind can’t properly handle the things that are going on around you and it shuts down and brings you back into a state of mind that your body knows it can handle. It’s unhealthy because you never actually face what’s going on and the issues only build and build until you burst because everything has been suppressed, not coped with. These habits can destroy your life and you can lose all your relationships (like with me) due to it.

If you “age regress” because it’s FUN you’re just playing dress up and are MOCKING people with an actual issue. Go fuck yourself if you really think that, because that’s like me saying “oh I pretend to have war flash backs because I think being a soldier is cool”

So for those of you who support this and say doctors recommend it: you’re lying. You’re literally lying right to our faces and are trying to justify you having playtime and not wanting to grow up when there’s actual people who do this because of trauma and get suppressed because they’re “not real agere. I HATE the term “little” because it’s making a FOOL of me, I’m not a “little”, I didn’t age regress because I had a choice, it was my body’s way of coping and it was HORRIBLE, and the way that media has made it into “oh yes look at this decorative binky I got and this new children’s coloring book” sickens me.

So yeah, I have a DNI. And that DNI says “age regressors” because I’m sick and tired of being grouped in a category of people who are using the term wrong and take away from people who do this because of actual issues in their life

[a3shithole]

Hello everyone! How are all of you doing? I know I disappeared for quite some time, sorry (●´⌓`●) Life dragged me to no end haha U_U It was extremely tiring but I can manage! Here's some short self-indulgent head canons with four of my comfort characters that I wrote when I was feeling extremely anxious. It surprisingly calmed me down, pretty therapeutic coping mechanism I might say ( ˶ ❛ ꁞ ❛ ˶ ) So maybe I'll share it for anyone out there with anxiety like me, I hope reading this might calm you, even a little!

Also, thank you for 100+ followers while I was gone! I'm happy you guys enjoy my writing! (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) I made this side-blog just out of a wimp with no understanding on how to write at all, so I'm happy to share this journey with you guys! Feel free to send an ask/request!

That's all for my ramblings! (๑˙❥˙๑) I hope you guys like this short head canons, and have a nice day! Stay safe 🌻

// general anxiety, panic attack

Characters : Minagi Tsuzuru, Tsukioka Tsumugi, Hyodo Juza and Yukishiro Azuma

Tsuzuru

- He understands your feelings really well. He's pretty experienced with helping out someone with anxiety, because of his big family and Mankai

- Would try to distract you with a hug or him reading his script out loud to soothe your anxiety

- Tends to leave one of his clothes for you because he knows it gives you comfort

- If you are in a panic attack, he knows how to calm you down, rubbing your back while trying to gain your attention and ask you to follow his breathing

- One hundred percent okay with you suddenly visiting his room in the middle of the night if you need his presence to comfort your anxiousness. If he's in the middle of writing his script, he'll surely drop it. But if you don't want him to do that, he'll let you sit on his lap while he's typing away his script and talk to you

Tsumugi

- As a psychology graduate, he is the perfect guy who'd help you in a heartbeat. Knows how to de-escalate a panic attack and also know how to make you stay grounded

- Would reassure that everything will be alright and he got you. And he wouldn't leave you alone until he's perfectly sure you're okay

- Brings you to a nearby café for a breather. But if you're too overwhelmed with anxiety, he'll bring you to his garden and let you pour all of your feelings

- If you need prescription and such, he'll help you out going to a psychiatrist and accompany you if you're too scared going alone

- If you need a distraction away from feeling anxious, he'll bring you to tend on his garden or simply admire the beauty while him telling you what's the meaning of each flowers

Juza

- Having a little brother who also struggled with anxiety, he knows really well what to do to help you out

- Would bring your comfort sweets if that can help you feel less anxious, even to the extent of asking Omi to help him make your favorite dessert or food

- It doesn't show on his face, but he's very caring and observant when it comes to you

- Very efficient when calming you down and for being generally pleasant to be around with. He smells like fresh baked cake, unsurprisingly. And that always bring your smile

- Not the type to hug you or anything physical in general as his method to calm you down. But did not oppose if you ask for one

Azuma

- Would immediately notice you're feeling anxious before you even realize it yourself

- A great listener when you're telling him why you're feeling anxious. He'd ask if you want some warm drink and cuddles, and you'll feel a lot better than before

- With his experience socializing with a lot of different kind of people, he knows what to say and what not to say to make you feel less anxious

- Will also ask you to join him to do self-care routines on random occasions. Who doesn't enjoy a nice mask day, laying on the bed while listening to some good music?

- Very calm and understanding with your anxiety, especially if you burst into panic attack

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Part 1 (Javier Pena x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: My first ever Javi fic, of course I had to make it the angstiest thing I’ve written in a long time!!  This is part one of the first part of the story which is also the end of the story... just had to make it confusing for you. 

Disclaimer: I do not have any experience with cocaine or addiction, all writing is based on my own research and is not a good representation of how it really is! Don’t do coke kids, it’s never good.

Part 2

---

Four in the morning, the sun was just above the horizon and you were stumbling home from yet another party. Enough tequila swam through your system that you didn’t really think about the wellbeing of your neighbor when you tapped on his door. You wanted to keep going. Javier, you decided, would make the perfect company. And maybe you could continue that kiss you had not stopped thinking about since it happened four months ago! You grinned devilishly at the thought and knocked harder on the door.

“Javi! Javier!” You rapped on the door. “Javier Peña, abra la puerta!” You sang, leaning all your weight on the door as your world span fast around you, “Javi,”

“What?��� Javier opened the door suddenly, causing you to fall into him. You laughed as you caught yourself on his arm. You had woken him up, he was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair bushy and wild. 

“Hola!” You grinned up at him, not hiding the way you checked him out. You were obviously drunk and high, eyes red and shining brightly even in the dim light of the apartment block hallway. Javi wrinkled his nose as the smell of you hitting him, tequila and cigar smoke clung to you.

“Again?” Javi sighed heavily. This was the third time this week you had woken him up, accidentally or on purpose, coming home drunk. He was starting to worry about you. 

“Si,” You grinned from ear to ear, You were in more of a state than last time. For one you were still speaking Spanish, something Javi had rarely ever heard you speak. You must have been with your local friends, he surmised. “No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido!”

“It’s not fun, you’re a mess. Get in here,” He pulled you by the arm into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Eres enojado?” You asked, still grinning. You walked backwards into his apartment, tripping down the step and landing with a thud on his leather couch. You cackled with laughter.Javier frowned and put his hands on his hips, of course he was annoyed at you! It was four in the morning and you both had work the next morning. You dramatically flopped back on his couch and huffed at his grumpy attitude, “It’s only polite, Javi! They gave it to me!”

“It’s poison!! He exclaimed, “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“It’s helping,” You proclaimed. 

“It’s not helping anyone, you’re gunna fuck up sooner or later.” Javi warned, as he had done many times before. 

“I got that list,” You protested, “That was helpful!”

“And what will you do when they work out that you stole it?” 

“No lo sé,” You shrugged. You reached into your pocket and grabbed the last of the coke you had been given. You wanted a little more. You pulled the tin out of your pocket and placed it on the coffee table at your feet.

“You-,” Javi started before he noticed what you were doing, instantly he was on you, “Para!” He exclaimed as he snatched the coke from your hand before you had time to open it. 

“Necesito!” You whined, pouting at him. You were lying, you didn’t need it. You wanted it, a lot. 

“No,” Javi snapped.

“Lo siento, Javi,” You pleaded with him, eyes locked onto the packet in his hand.

“You’re not though, are you? Fucking look at me!” He yelled. You startled and looked up at him as tears pricked your eyes. “Quit it. Now. You know what this shit does, stop it. Whatever you think you’re doing is not worth it, okay?”

“Pero-“

“No. Me vale!” He cut you off. “You’re better than this, Y/n,”

You sustained eye contact for a moment. The room was deathly quiet, he glared at you with fierce intensity. You had never seen him so angry, if you weren’t so drunk you would have instantly buckled under the pressure. The only thing your drunk brain could think of was how hot he looked, you wondered how rough he would be with you if he was this angry. You couldn’t help the snigger that crept up in your throat at that thought. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the laugh, Javi rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” You laughed, “It’s just you can’t look at me like that and not fuck me!” 

“Jesus christ,” Javier pinched the bridge of his nose. What little patience he had for you was running out fast. You continued to laugh. 

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

“Take the couch,” Javi waved you off, his back turned heading back to his bedroom. 

“I can’t sleep with you?” Your voice was laced with innuendo, he knew what you wanted. A part of him was tempted, your dress left very little to the imagination, but he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You’re drunk and high,” Javier said plainly, “and we’ve spoken about this before. No,” He was firm with you. He hated having to reject you for a second time but he wasn’t a complete monster. He wouldn’t sleep with you in this state. 

“Worth a try,” You laughed, thankfully giving up quickly. Javi shook his head and walked away again, “Muchos gracias, Javi,” You called after him. He shut the door. 

--

You woke up as the early morning sunlight pushed through the windows. You groaned and turned over, finding you were not in your bed but on a couch. Startled, you sat up and nearly screamed when you recognised the apartment as Javier’s. Luckily you were still fully dressed with your shoes still on, nothing had happened. Memories of how you got there were blurry, you remembered knocking on his door but had blacked out after that.

The clock on the wall said it was six am. You could go upstairs to your own bed clean up and hope that maybe Javi wouldn’t hear you and confront you about it. 

You stood up from the couch, trying not to think about all the things the man had done on it, and grabbed your jacket from the ground. As you stood up the strength of your hangover kicked in, you grumbled. That was when you noticed the discarded coke packet on the counter. You stopped. You knew you shouldn’t pick it up, you didn’t need it. But the taste caught at the back of your throat and you found yourself wanting it. It was undeniably addictive, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t take it this far but the foul substance had made its bed.

“Go home,” Javi’s voice broke you out of the trance. He was only wearing sweatpants, hair mussed up from sleep that you had most definitely disturbed more than once. He pulled the cocaine off the table and threw it into the trash before you could reach it. You gulped, shame rising like hot steam through your lungs. You grabbed your things and left, running straight upstairs to your own apartment.

It was still early but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep again. Shame was swirling up in your throat. How ironic that a DEA agent was addicted to the thing she was meant to be stopping? But you weren’t addicted, you reasoned with yourself, you were fine. This was no different to when you lived off Redbull for a month during finals, it was a matter of changing some coping mechanisms. It was a reaction to the stress of being so close to Escobar yet so still so far. You could change it, you had control. 

You made a coffee, instant and black. It was bitter and disgusting but it would keep you awake. You collapsed onto your tired old couch and flicked on the tv to a telenovela rerun. You barely understood what was going on but the hilarious overplayed drama was light enough to stop you swimming into the depressing pool of thoughts currently threatening to drown you. 

Eight o’clock came and you were ready to go to work. You were used to this routine now, hungover and tired, you knew you weren’t at your best but until this morning nobody knew about your slow descent into chaos. You weren’t surprised to find Javi’s truck gone without you. All you could remember from last night as how mad he was, and his face this morning only proved it. You dreaded seeing him. 

Luckily, you were spared the hassle of public transport by Steve who trundled down the stairs after you and offered you a ride. The conversation was light and everything seemed normal for a moment. You got to work, Steve ran off after a call from Javier leaving you with a mountain of paperwork to hunt through. For once you didn’t care, paperwork didn’t judge you.

A few hours passed and the boys returned. You did your best to ignore them while they bickered, hoping that you could melt into the background, until someone tapped on your desk. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you Rookie,” Javi’s voice made you look up. “Come on, we’re going,” 

Before you could say anything he threw your jacket at you and you had no choice but to follow him outside. You tried to rack your brain for why Javi would be taking you anywhere today, especially after this morning. You had expected him to ground you, to be impossibly angry at you, not take you out. You climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and Javi didn’t say a word. He didn’t look particularly angry, he looked stressed but he had looked like that since the day you got down here. He was silent, letting the radio play between you, when all of a sudden he reached over and turned it off. 

You looked over at him, expecting him to start his lecture but he didn’t. He let the silence sit between you for the rest of the journey. Somehow it was worse, you’d rather he got mad at you and shouted. It was just unsettling.

Finally you pulled into the embassy, you flashed your badges at the gate and parked. Fear was starting to grow now. Was he going to get you fired? He wouldn’t bring you down here for that surely? He would have called and said what he wanted, he hated coming down here unless he had to. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask, and followed him inside. 

Javi greeted the assistant at the door, as smooth as ever somehow managing to melt her in her chair in five seconds. You smiled and waved to her, she scowled at you as soon as Javi had turned his back. 

“He’ll be in a minute,” The girl called after you as you entered the Ambassador’s office. You took one chair, Javier took the other, in front of the large mahogany desk.

Unlike Steve and Javi you didn’t see the ambassador often, often left in the office while they had meetings about things higher than your post. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it might burst. You rubbed your hands on your jeans and fidgeted in your seat. Why in hell were you here? 

Before you could bring up the courage to finally ask Javi the Ambassador walking into the room. You stood up immediately to shake his hand, Javi stayed seated.

“Y/n, nice to see you again,” The ambassador smiled kindly as he shook your hand. “Agent Peña,” He greeted the agent next to you, who nodded casually.

“You too, Sir,” You tried your best to sound confident. The Ambassador sighed heavily as he sat in the leather chair, took a sip of the water at his side and began the meeting.

“So, I got the call from your coordinators this morning, they’re coming down on Monday for the review. I thought we should have this meeting together to discuss things before they come down,” 

Your six month review! That was what you had forgotten. Half relieved that your mentor hadn’t brought you down here to completely humiliate you, you smiled and nodded. With everything going on you hadn’t noticed the months fly past so fast, you barely remembered what day it was anymore. 

The Ambassador carried on with the meeting, unaware of your panicking. You nodded along, answering his questions in short yes or no answers, he then moved to Javier. As your mentor he was the one in charge of delivering your progress onto your coordinators. You watched him speak, sound not registering anymore. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t throw you under the bus and tell the entire truth, he knew how much this meant to you surely he wouldn’t. 

Nervous, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You almost had a heart attack when you felt something inside. A small metal tin, rounded and rusted. You immediately knew what it was and froze. There was coke in your pocket. Javi gave you a sideways glance, as he noticed you stiffen up suddenly. 

You wracked your mind for where the hell the tin had come from, until you remembered. This wasn’t your jacket, Maria had given it to you a few months ago and never asked for it back. You hadn’t worn it before today and had no idea that your friend’s stash lay inside the pockets. You tried to stay rational, tried to listen to the important conversation happening around you but your hand stayed clamped around the drug in your pocket. It would help you concentrate, it could calm you down. You could take it and nobody would notice. 

“I- I’m sorry can you excuse me for a moment?” You blurted out, interrupting the ambassador.  He frowned at you, surprised by your interruption. You had gone white with panic, obviously clutching at something in your pocket but he didn’t think anything of it. He nodded and you ran out the room before he could verbally release you. 

You tried to remain calm as you ran through the halls of the embassy, it seemed like everyone was watching you. They knew exactly what you were doing, they were judging you. You ran into the first women’s bathroom you could find, quickly checked nobody was in any stalls, and locked the door behind you.

Throwing the package on the sink like it was burning through your hand, you stood over it, watching it intensely like it could jump away at any moment. The voice in your head kept tempting you, calling you weak and useless, to do it to get rid of it. Nobody would know if you took it. You’ve given in this far why not do it. It will help you calm down. Take it. 

As if you were possessed, you unwillingly opened the tin and poured the powder onto the surface. There wasn’t much there, barely a pinch full, hardly anything at all. You couldn’t just leave it there now, someone would definitely know it was yours. They all knew why even bother hiding it anyway. You should take it. You were too weak to resist it. Take it.

And you did. The chemical shot straight to your brain giving you the brilliant feeling you had been missing. You sighed in a relief as you felt every anxiety fade from your body. It wasn’t that bad, you feel better with it, the voice in your head said. You weren’t wrong. You did feel better. You looked it too, your cheeks had colour again, you smiled and laughed to yourself as it took hold.

You brushed away the excess powder and unlocked the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Javi leaning against the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, judging you with a cocked eyebrow. He had been waiting for you. You sighed and rolled your eyes immediately walking away from him.

“Don’t stand outside the women's bathroom’s Javi. It's creepy,” You snapped as you passed him. 

“You missed a bit,” Javi commented, following closely behind you. 

“Fuck off,” You grumbled. Despite yourself you wiped your sleeve over your nose. He was right. 

“Shooting up in a bathroom is real low, Rookie, even for you,” He snarled. You continued walking down the hall, ignoring him. You were as angry at your actions as he was but you didn’t have control anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you,” Javi grabbed your arm and sharply pulled you backwards, pressing your back into the wall and trapping your body between his.

“You’re hurting me!” You complained, shoving him off you with as much force as you could give. It didn’t get you far as he pushed you to the wall again with as much force. Your back slammed against the cold stone hard, no doubt bruising it. 

“Then listen. What the fuck is the matter with you?” He snarled, “Doing that shit here? Or anywhere in fact! You are completely out of control,” You ground your teeth, seething with anger, “Do you have no respect for yourself?” You struggled against him, trying to get away again to avoid the question, Javi held you in place. “Not going to say anything?” You looked away, purposely turning your cheek to him, “Get a fucking grip or I’m sending you home,” He growled. 

You didn’t answer, staring at the patterned tile floor. Finally he gave up. With a grunt he let you go and stalked away down the corridor. 

As he disappeared around the corner, a tidal wave of anger and frustration flooded your system. You kicked the line of chairs next to you, crying out curses as you sent them flying across the corridor. The metal clattered against the stone drawing people out of their offices, they all stood from their doorways and watched you, judging you. You heart hammered in your chest, chest heaving for air and you glared back at them all. You let out a deep breath and turned on your heel, leaving the mess behind you, and walked outside.

Despite himself, Javi had waited for you in the parking lot. You jumped into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door hard to get your point across. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from anger or the drugs coursing through you. Neither of you said a word for the journey. Javi had said he needed to, and you weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence for everything you wanted to scream at him yet. 

You were too focussed on the music playing from the stereo to really notice where you were going. The rhythms and lyrics seemed to float around you and soak into your skin. You didn’t see Javi’s furious scowl when you unknowingly started to dance in your seat, something you couldn’t help but do when listening to Columbian radio no matter your mental state. You were having a good time until the car stopped and the music was cut abruptly. Snapping out of your trance you looked around and realised you were at your apartment. 

“Get out. You’re done for today,” Javi said, his voice was eerily calm and you knew to be terrified. Quiet Javi was always the angriest.

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“Get out!” He leant over you and pushed the door open. You frowned, but slipped out the truck and did as you were told. Javi pulled the door shut behind you and rolled away, leaving you standing on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building completely dumbfounded. 

You were stuck to the sidewalk, staring at the building. The sun beat down on you, scorching your skin yet you couldn’t feel it. You were numb to everything.

Your first thought was to find Maria and get more coke to hide further into yourself and avoid the awful shame creeping up your neck. The speed the thought entered your head petrified you. Your control was slipping through your fingers like sand and your body was screaming to move. Everything inside you told you to give up, that this was the tipping point and you might as well jump because what was the point in pretending anymore. If Javi knew what was the point in trying to cover up how much that narcotic had taken over your life. There was no point at all, you might as well enjoy the feeling whilst you could. 

You turned to leave, letting go of all self control. Your legs knew where to take you, you didn’t even need to look where you were going. But you did, when three steps from your original position you crashed into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. She yelped, the sudden sound snapping you back to reality. 

“What are you doing standing out here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Connie startled you when she touched you, you had barely noticed her approaching. She frowned, concerned, when she took in your glazed appearance, “Sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” Your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. 

“Oh darling, come inside. Come on,” Connie walked across the road, expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You knew if you went inside you would have to tell her what was happening, you didn’t want to make her as mad as Javi was already. “Y/n? Sweetheart you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?” 

“I fucked it all up,” You whimpered as you began to cry.

“Come with me, I’ll get you some water,” Connie bartered, still you didn’t move. Too scared to admit to her what was going on, “Just come inside, please,” 

Finally, you nodded and followed Connie into the building. She walked you into the apartment, sat you on the couch and left to get a glass of water. You hadn’t stopped crying, everything in you was telling you to go and get more to calm yourself down again. You knew not to believe the thoughts but they scared you tremendously. You have really gone too far now. 

Connie passed you the water, and you drank it gladly. She crouched down in front of you, pressed a hand to your forehead and checked your pulse trying to work out what was wrong with you. 

“Did you take something?” She asked. You tried to shake your head and deny it but the way she’s looking at you, sternly but with so much care in her eyes, you couldn’t lie to her. Your no turns into a yes and you instantly recoil from her each touch, hiding in your hands. “What was it?” 

“It was only meant to help,” You cried into your hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” She pressed. 

“Maria gave me some coke, and it was fine and fun and it helped me get that list from them,” You started to babble, all your words tumbling from your mouth before you could get them into any sensible order, “and everyone was so excited and then I went out kept doing it and then yesterday I ended up at Javi’s and I was tired and-,” 

“Slow down,” 

“It’s my six month review,  and I got so worried then I found it in my pocket! I didn’t know it was there and I just did it! Then Javi caught me again and he kicked me out here!” 

“Do you know how much you took?” 

“Like a tiny bit but I’ll be fine in an hour but-,” Tears slipped from your eyes once again, “What am I going to do?”

Connie didn’t know what to say. She knew you had been going out more with some new friends, Steve had complained because he was always woken up by you when you came back drunk from a party. That's all she thought was going on, you were partying, drinking, like you should at your age. But as she had come to learn, a lot of things in Columbia were not what they seemed. It seemed the darker side of life here had managed to get it’s claws well and truly into you. It broke her heart to see you like this, so broken up. 

You stayed with Connie for the rest of the afternoon, sat on the couch riding out the end of you high. TV kept you company and Connie chewed her nails trying to work out what to do. She thought should call Steve, but if Javier was the one to drop you off here, he probably already knew. She wondered how long it had been going on for, she didn’t get to see you as much as her husband and his partner, whenever she’d seen you you seemed fine, if a little hungover at times. When she thought about, all three of you had taken on destructive habits to cope with the hell you saw every day. Steve was becoming more aggressive by the week, while she knew she was safe she didn’t like what she saw when he flipped out. Everyone in the building knew about Javier’s escapades and now you. It was upsetting to watch from the outside, she couldn’t imagine what it was really like to go through. 

You woke up half an hour later, muddled and more tired than when you’d fallen asleep. 

“Feeling better?” Connie asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Feel like shit,” You muttered. Your head pounded and the heaviness still sat in your chest. That was the kicker, the coke could mask feelings very well but every time you sobered up they were still there waiting. You sighed heavily, pushing yourself to sit up where you’d slumped over, and rubbed your face with your sweaty palms. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know sweetie, but I’ll be here to help you,” Connie said kindly, as she sat on the couch next to you. You felt awful for dragging her into all this, yet another person you had let down, ”I think you should tell your boss? Or you’re coordinators, maybe they’ll help,” 

“I’ll be sent home!” You protested, tears filling your eyes once again, “I don’t want to go home, not now!” 

“You can’t keep it to yourself, it will only get worse,” She said, you nodded sadly and cried on her shoulder as she pulled you in for a hug. “I suggest a hot bath, watch some cheesy movie- I managed to find that Indiana Jones movie on tape. I know you love Harrison Ford,” 

“That sounds nice,” You smiled weakly. Connie let you go and grabbed the movie along with a bottle of wine for you. You gathered yourself together, enough to get yourself from Connie’s couch to your own at least. 

“I’m sure Steve won’t notice it’s gone. Go and chill out and watch the movie, have a bit of normality for a change. You’ll feel better I promise,” 

“Thank you Connie, you’re a really good friend,” 

“It’s no problem sweetie, like I said I’m always here for you,” 

Connie gave you another tight squeeze before you left. Iin the hallway you heard the clatter of Javi’s keys in his door below. You wanted to apologise to him, you wanted him to help you! You wanted things to go back to how they were before all this but you knew Javi wouldn’t talk to you. He’d displayed his distaste for the people that fell under the powder’s spell before, he wasn’t going to help. He had trusted you to sort it out yourself but now it was abundantly clear you couldn’t. 

Once again your brain reminded you how easy it would be to get some more coke to cheer yourself up. You could go downstairs and walk down the street, find one of your friends and be happy again so quickly. You didn’t have to feel this pain. 

This time, you ignored it and locked yourself in your apartment. You took yourself to bed immediately, not even bothering to turn on any lights along the journey through the tiny space. You fell on the bed face first. As soon as your body hit the soft material you curled up as tight as you could and began to cry. 

You had failed. You had let your team down, let your coordinators down, let your classmates down and let your family down. You didn’t even want to think about the conversation you would have to have with your mom as to why you were coming home six months early from a placement you fought so hard to get. You thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You failed.

--

Part 2

Translations (disclaimer I'm sorry if these are wrong I've been learning Spanish for all of 3 months hence the limited use)

Abra la puerta - open the door

No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido! - I’m not sorry Javi, it’s fun!

Eres enojado - are you angry?

No lo sé - I don’t know

Para!- stop!

Lo siento- I’m sorry

Pero- but

Me vale - I don’t care

The next part will be out next Friday! Want to get tagged? Let me know! 

Tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @browneyes-djarin @themidnightsun-12​

gunna be cheeky and tag some mutuals i think may be interested? @ithinkwehitametaphor​ @wille-zarr​