#and still my mind finds ways to make myself internally bleed

[excelsheets]

my brain is such a bad time all the time

[medicinemane]

Anyway, hope you're all doing well

I just... I haven't slept and also I've got like... 2-4 days of tumblr to catch up on... mostly to make sure I don't lose anything I want to keep requeuing

In many ways I'm probably doing better than I have been in a long time... maybe ever, but... I've got zero focus, I can barely watch youtube videos, I certainly can't play games... I can't get myself to clean... I don't know man

It's like... it's like my mind's empty except for some thick clear goopy sludge... it's like being over at a strange house sat alone in a big room waiting for people to come back... not wanting to touch anything so you just sit there staring and feeling out of sorts, except it's just constant in my own house in my own room... just saw Bart flop down in front of my door and realized I'm so out of it I forgot I had cats

It's like I'm living every moment in the moment, but not in a peaceful way, in a I'm untethered from reality and trying to figure out plans or how to deal with getting everything sorted out is just kinda painful kinda way

Then my mood... well... I kinda have no mood. I'm fucking numb if I'm honest. I have flavor opinions like "I'm worthless and should kill myself", but I actually don't even feel depressed right now, I feel nothing

I don't see much point to my future even if everything goes great, and I would like to kill myself, but I have zero interest in even considering it right now even though I have everything I need around if I just stand up and take a single step

So... much as it probably sounds like I'm just pure in the trash right now, I'm actually in many ways probably doing better than I ever have before... I'm just also real messed up right now at the same time

I don't feel hopeful, I never feel hopeful, but I do feel like I can maybe guide shit into a good position, it's just once again I figure that even if I do everything I want to with being able to help other people out and stuff, I'll still just kinda end up alone in a crowd

You know... funny thing is I'm thinking "the fuck is even the point I wanted to make?", and I realize... my point was actually that I'm doing pretty good and not to worry... not sure how well I'm selling it, but it's true

I hesitate to assign anything to myself, my stance on me and anything I can't conclusively say tends to be no comment... but if I were looking at someone else describing what I'm feeling in my position, I might be inclined to say burnout... months of having to be on and clean and manage everything and... all that... well it's one explanation, who knows if it's correct

Anyway though, I'm good, don't worry, know I do appreciate you all and wish I had more brain power to say more to more people... it's just maybe kinda sad that this is my version of doing good... the fuck is wrong with me if I wake up everyday feeling like I've been beaten with clubs... and for me this is kinda peak... what's that say about my baseline?

Doesn't matter, only thing to do is keep moving forward

Guess insomnia paired with not really being able to think, like words just kinda pop out with no planning... guess it makes me ramble real bad, this was supposed to be like one or two paragraphs being positive

It's a Beautiful World

[skyrim-forever]

Day 5: Gentle

A/N: Hey everyone! This entry will include pregnancy, totally understand if that's not your thing and you want to skip. But if you're interested Theodora goes to see Danica Pure-Spring due to what she thinks to be her years of fighting catching up to her. This one kind of got away from me and it's 1600 words XD Tagging @tes-summer-fest

The journey to Morrowind had proven to be more difficult than she anticipated. On paper it seemed straightforward, get to Windhelm and take the Northern Maiden. Whiterun had only been meant to be a quick stop on the way there, however as she got closer to the city her health began to fail. First was general exhaustion, even riding on horseback was tiring and then she lost her appetite. The mere smell of food was enough to make her vomit. Perhaps the battle with Alduin had left her more damaged than she initially thought, or if it was the years of fighting that had finally caught up to her. Theodora knew that she’d never make it to Solstheim in this state, let alone face whatever was waiting for her there. 

Praise be to Kynareth for having a temple in the city. She regretted not seeing Danica sooner. 

“Hello Dragonborn, what brings you to the Temple today?”

“Hi Danica, I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if I have some old injuries that are causing problems.” 

“I see.” The Priestess gestures for her to follow her, leading her to a bench tucked away from the main hall. “Can you please describe what you have been experiencing ?” Theodora takes a breath, the exhaustion is beginning to hit. 

“Well, I find I’m getting tired much easier, I can’t do the same amount of travel as I could even a few weeks ago. And Divines, even the smell of food makes me nauseous.  I’m wondering if I have an internal injury, I haven’t gotten proper medical treatment for quite some time now so I wouldn’t be surprised if something is much more damaged than I originally thought..” She lightly laughs “I’m not great at recovery.”  Danica nods along as she speaks. 

“Have you noticed any changes in your body? Perhaps needing to relieve yourself more often?”

“Yes! I’m up every two hours at night. I had forgotten about that, just thought I was just starting to get older.” 

“Hmmmm. When was your last bleed?” 

“My, um” Theodora stops mid-sentence, surely Danica wasn’t implying that she was…? Anxiety starts building inside of her. Relax, she is just trying to cover everything. “I don’t remember. I figured it was all the stress keeping it away.”

“I see.” The two women sit in silence for a moment, tears begin to well up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation sets in. Pregnant the word repeats over and over in her mind.  

“It is okay Theodora.” The Priestess holds her hands in hers. “There are treatments available if you need them.”

“Thank you, could I have a little time to myself. I need to think before I decide anything.”

“Of course, I’ll be over there when you need me.”

The tears came out in full force, snot coming from her nose, and loud sobs. Why wasn’t I more careful? You stupid bitch how could you let this happen? She wasn’t fit to be a mother, what did she even know about mothers? There was the threat of Solstheim to deal with, how could she do that with a child? While pregnant? Then came the thoughts of what if the baby looks more like Ondolemar than me?What kind of place is this for a half Imperial half Altmer child? She lays her head back against the paneling of the Temple, eyes shut in an attempt to stop crying. 

The thoughts then begin to morph, perhaps it is not all bad. She may never see Ondolemar again, but she could still have a small piece of him. He wasn’t really gone now, there’d be proof of their time together. And maybe that was enough. She had been praying to Akatosh for something, anything to help her keep going. Maybe the Divines were not so cruel after all. She could do with her child what she wished her mother had gotten to do with her. She’d tell them they were born of love, that they could do anything, they’d be the Dragonborn’s child. And no matter what, that fact would give them protection. She had more than enough money and Theodora had been looking for what to do with the rest of her life. Being Thane in nearly every hold had proven not to be as glamorous as it originally sounded. She is torn. 

Returning to the main temple hall, she speaks to Danica.

“I’m going to need a few days to think about it.”

“Absolutely, think it through. Whatever you decide, the choice is fully yours.”

“Thank you, Danica, truly thank you.”

She spends the night at the Bannered Mare staring at the ceiling and thinking through every possible scenario. She could go into hiding, maybe even move back to Cyrodiil or as far as the coast of High Rock. raise the child somewhere no one knew her, maybe in a large city so seeing a mixed child wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But could she leave the friends she did have here? She was sure Camilla would understand, she was the only one who knew about her relationship with Ondolemar. Wanting kids herself, Theodora couldn’t imagine her thinking less of her. All her thoughts seemed to involve how to have the baby, not if she should. Maybe that was a sign enough. Eventually her eyes grow heavy and sleep overtakes her. 

Dreams were normal for Theodora, mainly nightmares, but dreaming has become a place of old memories. In her dreams her father and Uncle Elo still breathe. Aunt Rhiannon still smiles. They were all still at the house in Anvil, and sometimes even the city itself was thriving, flourishing as it was when her father was young. This was one such dream. She is in the kitchen when she hears a baby’s crying coming from upstairs. Instinctively, she follows it. Through the house’s winding hallways she grows closer to the source of the sound, now hearing a woman’s voice.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, shhhhhh.” It’s coming from the storage room, the one that had been beside her room. The door is partially cracked open, a sliver of sunlight shines on the dark hardwood. When she opens the door fully, a woman is there. She looks like her paintings, long curly dark hair, warm skin, wearing a long white dress and brown belts. Everything is the same save for the grey streaks in her hair that she never got to grow in life. Before Theodora can stop it, a word she’s never uttered leaves her mouth. 

“Mom?” Kassandra turns to her, clutching a small golden bundle in her arms.

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to calm him down, he woke up from his nap early.” She rocks the baby softly. “I think he wants his mama.” Theodora’s arms open naturally and her mother places the baby, him, in her arms. 

“Here, support his head like this. Be gentle.” She takes her hand and adjusts it behind his head. “Good, good, you got it.” She can see him better now, his small pointy ears and brown eyes. She takes a brief glance up, brown like her mother’s eyes. “Oh isn’t he sweet? You’re so lucky.”

“I am.” She rocks him slowly. “But mom I’m scared.” Tears start coming out of her and her mother wraps her arms around her. 

“I know dear, I know. But you’ll be okay. You can do this, you have done so many hard things.”

“But what if…” Kassandra stops her mid-sentence. 

“Don’t worry about what ifs, you can’t predict what will happen. What do you want?” Amidst the tears Theodora looks down, back at her son. His crying has ceased and he smiles at her. 

“I want him.”

A crash of thunder jolts her awake, as her hands touch her face she feels tears, she had actually been crying. It was not just a dream. Never before had she dreamt of her mother, let alone talked to her. As more tears come, this time of joy, she feels healed. The little girl in her who never got to cry to her mom finally got her mother’s advice. Though she did not know through which mechanisms had made it possible, she knew that was in fact her mother she spoke to. And if her mother believed in, she could. 

Seemingly having forgotten what time it was, Theodora rushed to the Temple. With a swift knock on the door, Danica answers. 

“I’m keeping it.”

“Congratulations.” Danica rubbed her face and smiled at her. “You’ll have to be gentle with yourself these next few months. Based on your symptoms I suspect you’re around 6 weeks.” She takes a piece of parchment and writes something down before handing it to Theodora. 

“You’ll want to start taking these herbs, they will help you with tolerating food. Once you’re six months along take these ones.” She points to a small list of plants, some of which Theodora had never heard of. “They’ll help prepare you for birth.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and no more drinking. Not until you’ve finished breastfeeding.” Oh that’s right she thought, pregnant women famously can’t drink. She hadn’t been sober for longer than a few days since she was a teen, this was going to be a challenge. 

“Alright, I understand.”

There is life back in her, both figuratively and literally. Deciding to still go to Morrowind, she figures it would be best to be pregnant away from prying eyes. She has a few  months still to make progress on the Miraak issue. Perhaps it was naive to think she could still adventure pregnant but Theodora already felt stronger. She has someone to be strong for.  

[the-one-who-lambs]

Which scene from your fics do you like the most? like the one you can most vividly imagine clearly? can you describe it?

I CANNOT JUST PICK ONE but since my mind is on narilamb right now, I think my favorite scene at the moment is from a future chapter in The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God. "Ordinary Happiness is Not Enough" will be an entirely new chapter rather than a rewritten one. I'll keep some specific details to myself for now, but...

Bit o' spoilers below.

Lambert fell first, Narinder fell harder. This chapter is going to take place after Lambert realizes they're in love but before Narinder does.

Though they have the resurrection ritual at their disposal, Lambert had pretty much already come to terms with the fact that their immortal life would be a relatively lonely one. They are a god to their followers, after all, and despite their past attempts to connect with their followers on a more interpersonal level, none of them could fully get past the reverence for their leader. (This is also why, though they accept marriage requests from followers, they've never requested to marry a follower themself-- how could a follower fully distinguish their love for the Lamb from worshipping them as a duty? There has always been an uncomfortable amount of overlap.) Now that they've started to bond with someone who is immortal and on much more equal terms with them than any follower could be, that's suddenly not true anymore. Lambert can't quite fathom the idea that they're getting close to someone who they might be able to keep. This should be a comfort to them, but it ends up becoming more of a source of stress-- even though the two are in the "friends" stage of enemies to friends to lovers here, Narinder still has too many internal dilemmas to confront before he even considered himself capable of love in that way.

So Lambert sees Narinder as their one attainable chance to forge a relationship of equals. They've only recently realized their own feelings. They begin to overthink every interaction they have with him, trying too hard to steer Narinder towards favoring them, and they're not landing.

Lambert eventually snaps due to the stress and lashes out at him-- not for being obtuse, not for being callous, just the tipping point of their own insecurities, culminating in an overreaction to something not too hugely consequential. It gets so heated that Lambert tells him they might as well have just killed him from the start instead of sparing him. They do immediately feel shitty, but in the heat of the moment they're too stubborn to apologize.

Readers of the first installation of RL+FG may remember that Narinder, as a way to avoid confronting his own emotions, goes off on solo crusades. This is the first time he does that. This will later become a repeated occurrence that is extremely distressing to Lambert, because if he dies and they don't find his body to resurrect him... Well, they don't want to consider that possibility. For now, though, Lambert's still fuming. They figure, fine, let him burn himself out and he'll come crawling back here anyway.

What happens on his crusade will not dissuade him from venturing off again, because he's an idiot who's allergic to his own feelings, but he encounters a threat he's not prepared to face. He goes full demogorgon sicko mode but ultimately overestimates his own ability to rise to meet it.

The scene that won't leave my head is the aftermath. Lambert finds him bloody, delirious, on the cusp of death. They're in hysterics. In his delirious state, begins to reveal way too much about himself. He makes an apology and asks forgiveness. They realize at the wrong moment that he thinks he's talking to someone else. They hold each other, bitter and broken and bleeding and yearning in parallel. Lambert tends to his wounds but they have to patch their own themself.

They work the situation out because they want to but mostly because they have to. Lambert stitches his face back together. They've always handled him gently in a way that, more often than not, infuriated him, but this time they treat him as if he'll crumble to dust. It's an uncomfortable process, moreso emotionally to be this close again. They have difficult conversations about trauma and healing, family and forgiveness, the vanishing line between sainthood and sin. They did this to each other. It stays silent, but if it's going to hurt anyway, they'll love each other through it. They already do. Neither wants to think about messing this up, but for a while, they did. It can only get better from here, please, please, please.

(It does. But they both need to have their eternity threatened when almost starts to seem attainable.)

[letterstonamjoon]

Equality

What do you think is gender equality?

Is it when women can do what men do?

“Globally, 20% contracts were from women-led companies, but they only contributed 1% revenue”. Yesterday, I participated in the opening of a women focus initiative of a large consumer manufacturing corporation. The reason is that most women's businesses are small and medium sized. So, is it fair to push businesses into women's hands and make them grow? If it were me, would I want to start my own business and become the owner of a large enterprise with several thousand employees? Or would I rather satisfy with the small size?

When I was a child, I always wanted to do the things boys do. One time, in a movie, there was a line about a character who looked like a boy: "Ah, that person urinates sitting down, so that's a woman." So from then on, I always urinated standing up when taking a shower, as if to prove that girls can urinate standing up too.

I read many stories about how disadvantageous it was to be a woman that during a period of my youth, I also thought the same thing. Such as bleeding once a month which was very tiring, pregnancy caused changes in the body and weakened health, and wives had many obligations in life, like managing the house, children, domestic and foreign affairs of both parties. I once wished that I was born as a boy.

I have a younger brother. Being born only 14 months after me, my younger brother is somehow like an older brother, the one who took my place in getting married and giving birth to grandchildren for my parents while I was still adventurous when I was young. In my generation, the ideology of favoring boys over girls is still very strong. Luckily, we are loved and treated fairly by our parents. In fact, because of our personality differences, I can even create more space for myself to live and experience the way I wanted.

The more I experience, the more I feel that being a woman is a privilege, not a disadvantage. Actually, I think whatever gender we are born into will have its own interesting experiences. I think the important thing is how we receive events, whether actively or passively. I wanted my child to be born, and enjoyed the days when the little creature grew up inside me with excitement and love. My gay friend also wants to be a parent, but it's not as easy as me finding a sperm. I don't want to worry about domestic or foreign affairs, so I did not get married to avoid the headache.

People are tired of having to follow social conventions, that being a woman has to be this or that. There is a saying in our place: "Women are good at country work and responsible for housework". If they practice according to that saying and feel happy, it's good. But if they feel unhappy because they have to be recognized as good women, then aren't they making themselves miserable? There is no guarantee that what everyone does is right. And if you know that's not right, then it's okay to go against the majority.

For some reason, I feel uncomfortable every time I hear about or have to attend a women's association, such as a women's entrepreneur association, or even receive flowers on International Women's Day. That discriminatory thinking itself has created inequality.

Back to the story of female entrepreneurs at the beginning. Have you ever thought why the 4 largest entertainment companies in Korea are in the hands of men? Why are men often better at business than women? In what fields are women often successful?

I think It's better to stop thinking about gender and just focus on respecting and supporting each individual to achieve their goals.

In your opinion, what is the measure of success for each gender (in their own minds)?

[scentedchildnacho]

My caseworker asked me what I would do for a job so I told her I'm more interested in futuristic suggestion and moving forward progressively then caring about income or materiality.....

In the past I would try to shift around to different jobs to try to hope my way out of traditionally masculine abusive systems but now I have classes that are helping me immediately appraise space and situations and if it's not going to be a feminine resolution for all people to express themselves in then I'm quick to make hygiene comments and just live and let live it but I hope mostly it just stays away from me

Its a waste of time to suffer through tip income...if the space isn't inherently compensatory then they don't really care about crime against gays

To me new clinical mediation in air quality is a lot more important so I more ask myself did this make me feel vital and uplifted without a buy it illegal

The 60s...did bring about a separation between science and religion and a lot of job space is just beliefs that pain is freeing them to emancipation and pain is finally liberating them sexually and their finally escaping the science fiction internments religion is ....and it's inherent structure and focus is to cause labor an intense unremitting pain and that replaces a spiritual resolution

I can't breathe is really important to me....

They really hated and killed gays and that structure still clings and clings and clings to people and there is something truly inhuman in its parasitic impossibility and I don't know what to blame yet

Alix about welfare mothers asked to prostitute to afford ...is to stop violence towards them by recognizing that their trained to victimize....

So asking a street prostitute to job and it now has even another platform to jail guard a people into submissive meaninglessness

Jobs is arrogant compared to public interventions that seek to directly confront and intervene in the anti social behaviour patterns that are inherently suicidal tendencies in victimizing others

She asked me if I wanted to see a doctor about my mentality so I told her you will have to maybe call homeland security about fentanyl related drug trafficking because my doctors leave me here as a force to use drugs to finally not be trapped around anti social people

It wants to really bleed me a lot and the United Nations finds all aspects of attempting to force disabilities to use drugs wrong....the haradas....Asians can't go and something is wrong with you

They try to justify other drug regimines that aren't fentanyl but the basis of pharmacology is genetically if the drug harms you there is just something wrong with your genetics.....

I told her I do really want to improve mentally and agricultural science has just so way far surpassed any attempt at the nuclear strong hold

And I do truly want to improve my coping patterns Eleanor Roosevelt was truly the best if she would finally arrive for soldiers.....and I do want to leave here with a positive mind frame about everyone no matter their condition I truly think I believe that you can use really anyone for the highest spiritual calling

[torschlusspanikattack]

not entirely sold on romantic relationships but it does seem like there are various categories of experience that are mostly tied to them by basically all mainstream culture, such that you can’t really get the same breadth and depth of experiences without them and there aren’t really experiences or a depth of experience only accessible via ignoring this facet of culture that would make it a worthwhile tradeoff.

like it seems that if you’re socially competent (already its own benefit), it doesn’t really cost you much to increase your range of experiences in such a way

i suppose this is just the comfort versus variety tradeoff (of which comfort has often left me uncomfortable)

like if their whole life someone refused to move from where they were born, refused to eat anything besides the inoffensive food they ate as a child, refused to go outside, refused to do anything other than play their lifetime online video game (lol, wow, etc), even if they liked those things/this made them legitimately happy, i would find something deeply and viscerally impoverished about it all

(I think the examples that come to mind are evidence of perhaps the source of this feeling—more traditional expressions of this tendency (most commonly manifest in the elderly) engender distinct, if not necessarily positive, reaction)

I think it maybe strikes me as a glorification of the path of least resistance and often not just any path of least resistance, but a kinda of artificial path deliberately engineered to be as frictionless as possible

i’m sure i could think of counterexamples, but often it seems like those who justify a particular tendency based on personal comfort are not necessarily capable of the alternative—now, in some sense this is to be expected, since without wanting to try the alternative, you wouldn’t expect any practice or competence, but this doesn’t shake the impression that the elevation of personal comfort is not, a cope

this perspective definitely invites defensiveness and hostility—i’ve reacted against ideas very similar to what i’m expressing here—very delegitimising to be written off as coping

On this viewpoint, the usual division between opinions i have about myself and about others is even weaker—unclear how much my own views (though undoubtedly socially imposed in a much stronger than the usual sense) on myself are bleeding over into views on others or views on others bleeds over to views on myself—

And valuing variety or something further is probably necessary to make any of this make sense, otherwise it’s unclear what the negative is of glorification of comfort is, other than the validation of incapability, which still needs something to provide value to being capable outside of being able to achieve personal desires / problematising incapability that doesn’t rely on being unable to fulfil desires

and like many discussions, it would probably be better if people didn’t feel they needed to manage dual-purpose of defending from perceived external attacks and managing internal critiques, but don’t know if this can genuinely be considered an internal critique, especially bc loathe to rely on identity to uphold ideas

[the-city-kitty]

Bit of a rant.

I’m so unbelievably annoyed at how shot my confidence in my drawing has become. Like, I don’t consider myself an “artist” in that sense, drawing is not my main mode of artistic expression however it is one that after years of avoiding and hating it I learned to really like doing and found joy and fun in doing. I like to draw. Even if the final product isn’t necessary “good,” if I like how it looks at the end then that’s enough for me and I enjoy the process of getting there. At least I did.

I honestly have no idea what happened and that’s really the annoying part is sometimes you don’t realize what it is you’re internalizing until suddenly the thing that you really liked and you still want to like makes you feel so fucking awful every time you try to do it. I used to give way less of a shit and I would just fill a page with random doodles or I would spend time on an illustration, getting as detailed as my skill level allowed but still having fun the whole time. Now every time I start a sketch I’ll put down one single line and something in me just booms WRONG! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!

And I know that to get better at art it takes practice and quite frankly I don’t practice at regular intervals cuz again, it’s not my main mode of expression, but at least for me the development of the skill is sort of secondary, cuz I don’t really start sketching with the goal to be better at the next sketch, I just want to sketch. So it’s incredibly frustrating that as soon as I put pencil to paper I get this innate sense of dread that I’m wasting time and supplies for something I’m not even that good at. It’s annoying because it was something that I struggled so hard to undo when I first got into drawing so that I could really enjoy it and it feels like somehow, without my noticing, I got back to square one again.

Part of it too is that I’ve made such big strides in getting back into writing and maintaining my motivation to write, unfortunately making that progress still hasn’t eliminated the part of me that reflexively thinks that any time spent not writing is a waste. It’s definitely a thought left ofer from the days when I was scared I would never pick up my pen again, but now that I’ve made progress it’s still stuck around, but now it’s just adapted to the new situation. And because drawing has always been a secondary hobby for me now every time I try, that thought just viciously attacks me every time. “Why would you waste time drawing when you could be working on your writing? Your writing is what you will be remembered for, that’s what’s more important.”

And quite frankly I really only started taking an interest in drawing because I wanted to draw fan art. Yes it has since expanded to wanting to draw my own OCs but fan art is where I got started and it’s what is plaguing me now. And it’s frustrating because I am a very visual thinker! I can “see” everything in my mind, and even then there’s reference images and I know intellectually that when I draw the characters I want to draw it doesn’t necessarily have to match up with the style of the show but there’s also something so intimidating about trying to figure out how to translate a character from their original art style into one that I can draw because… I don’t even know what my “art style” is. And that’s always what makes me stop and get frustrated and put my pencil down, fuck man today I got so stupidly close to having a small breakdown because I couldn’t find an eraser which meant I couldn’t fix any mistakes I made on the sketch I was trying to start. So I just… quit. And I’m getting so tired of wanting to draw and just quitting, cuz like I said, I see it all in my head and I think about drawing it and that thought makes me excited and happy and then as soon as I start trying to do it all that happiness just bleeds right back out of me.

It’s like there’s this disconnect between my brain and my hands and no matter what I do, switching from drawing on paper to digital drawing, trying to make the perfect setting (clean desk), or allotting myself plenty of time so I don’t have to worry about anything other than trying to enjoy the drawing process, I just… can’t anymore. And it makes me very very sad.

[askalejandro]

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Hey! I just found my book! I need to place it in a better spot. A bit happened -

Peanut kinda…disappeared somewhere. I'm not sure where though. From what I was told, Dr. Fritz took them

What else happened?

I'm finished with school!! I'm able to do on field work! Right now I'm still and intern and learning medical practices from Dr. Thomas

Recently I've mastered stitching!! I even got to stitch Michael!!

Now I'm learning about a UVI? IV?...I don't remember totally… an instrument that gives the human body fluids and blood! I'm learning to set up that

Speaking a little about Michael! I got to see him yesterday!! Turns out he's somehow physical!!

I can touch him, and he bleeds!! I'm sure he'll get used to it!!

Ya know…maybe I do like him. Yesterday he…

Goodness I'm suddenly hot thinking about it!! I didn't mind it either, I liked it!! I'm a little worried though

If…dad find out…will…Michael turns out like Chloe?

I still feel guilty.

I'm sure she would want me to be happy and move on…but if I have to do that again…I don't think I'll…

…

I want Dr. Newman to at least…see him again. I owe it to him…for at least, caring a little about me. 

More than he could. He called me useful when I asked him if I was a doormat. He told me not to go to those mass tests…I think that's his way of saying he doesn't want me getting hurt. 

I don't know if I'll listen though…I always feel guilty watching those subjects walk in there, oblivious as to what is going to happen.

As a doctor…as one of the people who subjects seem to despise because they were kidnapped to these facilities…I can't help but feel as if I'm contributing to their suffering…

This is why I feel as if attending…and at least helping one subject not be harmed is worth it…

But one time a subject had told me…that it hurts more to watch me in pain. 

I didn't understand. It wasn't like he was physically hurt…and most don't care about how I feel…I don't know what I'd done to make them feel that way…

Which is why I asked Dr. Newman if…I was really helping. 

Of course, he said I shouldn't be helping them and they were supposed to get hurt, and that I should leave this profession if I wanted to help them…

I was too far in any way, it was just something to accept. 

…I'd told Dr. Newman about Michael. How he looks like Newman, but just younger!! He seemed a little concerned, and also…curious?

He asked if I had a picture of him. I didn't until recently!! When I get the chance, I'll show him Michael!! So he knows I'm not lying!

I want both of them to be happy…

I want the ones I care for not to worry…

Because if I have to hurt them because…dad wants me to…I'll probably…hurt myself before I hurt them…

And I'll make sure that he can't…bring me back from the dead.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

May 11, 2017

“Hi. Um, it’s like 6:18 or something. I just woke up. I just sent you a text message. I’m in a little bit of trouble. It seems, um, and I’m still trying to figure it out. I’ve either been, um, mind-controlled, which is what I think it is, um, right now I think it’s mind control. Or… or, I have a demon in me. And I need to have an exorcism. Who’s controlling me? I’m more apt to think it’s mind control. Um, and I think it’s Blond. And I think she doesn’t want me… I’ve been told for months not to use any sort of internet or phone. That I’ve been monitored by the government. Not to have any contact that was recorded with Jakk. And so I finally talked to him last night, on the phone. I thought that he had been getting Satanic ritual abuse since January. And I’ve been running around, um, my door is currently taken apart with a dresser in front of it to keep it blocked. And she’s been controlling… I think she’s a master magician, or a master Satanist, rather, I don’t know. And yes, I’ve been talking to my analyst about this and right now we’re contemplating getting, putting me on medication. To at least make things calm down till I can get calm. Um, I’m a 125 pounds and things are pretty bad. Um, I usually only sleep two or three nights, two or three hours. And um, I’m glad you’re coming. I thought I wasn’t going to be here because Blond told me she was bringing us to Europe until 2022. Um, because the government was after us. But actually, that was a set-up to kill me in a Satanic ritual abuse thing. At least, that’s what this voice keeps telling me. So things are pretty fucked up. There’s constantly these traps being set every day and I have to figure them out. And as you can tell, this has been going on since September when I first talked to you. So, I don’t know what are visions and what are, you know, I don’t know what is what right now. And I haven’t really worked, and I haven’t paid April rent, and um, it’s like, I’ve been using a pendulum since September, …….so there’s like a pendulum inside my body and it’s been that way for awhile. And I think that I’ve been programmed to do that. So now I have to figure how to cut that out. You’re the first person I’m talking to about this. Um, (long pause)... I thought I’d had had some psychic conversations with you already,……about the new world. I know I had a text conversation with you, um, and I don’t know how much of that was (breathes), yeah, a lot is very confusing. Um, I do think it’s gonna take me awhile to figure this out. I am, um, hugely connected to the spirit world. I know that’s true. But I either have a devil,.. demon inside me, or this is mind control and someone’s using the spirits to drive me crazy and make me kill myself …and it’s probably Blonde. The other story that has been presented is that that Tarot reader, Caitlyn, that I told you about, was um, yeah, that she’s involved. I don’t know if that’s true or not. If they’re in it together, or if Blond made that up to fuck me up. I don’t know. It’s pretty fucked up right now. So if you could think good thoughts for me I’d appreciate it. Okay. Um, I love you. I did talk to Jakk last night so I was able to like, cut off some of the story cause I thought he was about to die. I did. I thought he’d been chained to his bed for 14 days and he was suffering from internal bleeding. So, so, I was able to like, get through, you know? So, I’m finding a way to break through some of this shit. Every day I do something that like, challenges them, and luckily I’m with my analyst, so, anyway. I love you. Okay, bye. “

[ayoitslilith]

probably gonna regret doing this as late as i am instead of just making a cohesive argument tomorrow, but i probably shouldn't be dedicating time to this tomorrow anyways so here we go.

the part about being more versed in theory from one thing than another wasn't intended to be masturbatory. i'm more suggesting that you should not act like an educator because you are not in an educating position, that there were points in my life that were far more educational than your snark could have ever been. i do not mean that you need to be hired as a teacher to teach - i mean that you aren't going to teach shit if the way you teach is by - how did you even find my post? browsing vent tags and finding me, or searching for a keyword in my post? and then proceeding to act snarky and lofty to me not only as if there was an argument to be had, but as if you had somehow won it before arrival. and then you try to teach me? you act as if you are a teacher, but you just came into someone's vent post for a sick own.

yeah, bad move of mine on my five am-brain to try and relate this to a personal experience, when it's clear you already don't give a fuck, but to be clear - this was me trying to connect the subject with personal experiences in my life. the most notable of which are my mother, which i have far less to say about (aside from how you're entirely glossing over that whole thing about "cis women get treated this way, trans women get treated this way" now that the experiences of people in my life, including myself as a trans woman, are inconvenient for your argument), and that professor, whom i hold in high regards - not for being a professor, mind you, but for being someone who has caused me to further interrogate my own perceptions further. the bit about racism was not me "lecturing you" on racism - ironic, considering you tried to lecture me, another transfem, on transmisogyny - but tying together concepts to form a more cohesive picture concerning intersectionality. i understand i am not the most directly affected by racism, i made a point of that. i don't intend to tell you how you should be affected by racism, and i do not intend to suggest that we would be attacked in the same ways - but i am pointing out how transmisogyny and racism overlap in ways that so many other people have pointed out in the past, the way an intersection forms between all lines of bigotry - do you know what intersectionality means? you tried to call into question whether i know, but if you've internalized what it means, you don't act like it.

lastly. i am not calling you a terf. i am saying that a great deal of terf rhetoric is deciding who the real oppressed person is. who is really hurt by misogyny. they fail to see how, even in an imaginary world where everyone is perisex and cisgender, that even though men would be higher on the social hierarchy, they would still be limited and restrained by the ways that misogyny would bleed through to them. it is in the way the white supremacist doesn't want white people to know how racism against everyone who isn't white hurts everyone involved. it is in the way the classist fails to realize how the ways they hurt those in poverty might hurt them as well. when we designate people so quickly into categories without a hint of consideration for their lived experiences, to designate someone exempt from the effects of transmisogyny without considering how that hate of trans women might affect those who are not, we isolate and separate ourselves in ways that enable hostile preconceptions of others to fester, groups that are in solidarity are divided and fight against one another until we are all kicked to the curb by a culture that eventually finds hatred of all. i am not calling you a terf as an insult, i am genuinely asking you to consider how this kind of dichotomy is weaponized by them and other bigots -

- i mean, i wasn't actually asking anything of anyone originally, i was making a cry to the void/beloved mutuals about much it hurt that people were using the whole tme/tma thing to avoid having to relate with people who aren't completely the same. i cannot fathom what actually drove you to do this other than feeling like you could have a moment of that perfect righteousness where you get to correct someone who is being a leftist but in the wrong way. i assume you don't, but i've been proven wrong on assumptions before - i hope you don't treat your friends like this when you think they're wrong.

just saw another post about TMA/TME. if i have to spend five more seconds hearing people try to ignore intersectionality (except for in certain circumstances where it's okay i fucking guess) i'm going to explode. like i get it, a very online transmasc teenager was mean to you once. why don't you go to a community center or a park or something

[stranger-rants]

Post-Star Court Billy & Temperature

Note: These are headcanons / what-ifs based on Billy surviving

I’ve thought a lot about how a disabled Billy would handle temperature, and I think I have pieced together my thoughts into one coherent picture of what this looks like for Billy. I do think there is some validity in Billy having PTSD regarding hot or cold temperatures, but I think either extreme could be a trigger. Cold, obviously due to the Mindflayer’s need for it. Heat, due to both the sauna situation and the injuries / pain resulting from the heat.

Cold seems like it would be more of a trigger for the hypervigilence aspect of PTSD and heat seems like it would be more of a trigger for the physical manifestations of PTSD. When he wants to cool down or he feels relieved by the cold, he’s also got those thoughts in the back of his mind as to whether or not the Mindflayer is still present in him. When he feels too hot, he might remember feeling like he was being drowned in sweat, feverish with burning skin and he has panic attacks that cause him to seek out relief in the cold.

Now, temperature is regulated in a feedback loop. You get too hot, you sweat to cool down. You get too cold, you shiver to warm up. What I have not seen discussed as much is the way post-traumatic injury and PTSD both can wreck your autonomic nervous system. That is that your ability to regulate body temperature in this way goes haywire. So, I think it’s entirely possible that a disabled Billy, regardless how he feels about hot or cold from a psychological perspective, would struggle with it from a physiological perspective.

For this reason, I think either extreme is going to be difficult on his body. Instead of his body reacting normally to either extreme by sweating or shivering a normal amount, he could sweat so much he gets dehydrated fast or he could get severe chills and shivers from poor circulation and/or low blood volume. He would especially struggle to regulate his body temperature immediately after injury due to blood loss, and he would likely be very cold in the hospital.

I had internal bleeding from a car accident. I was freezing in the hospital for days after surgery. When you lose a lot of blood, you can feel really cold and your heart can beat very fast with very slight movement. Like, 190bpm after sitting up fast. So, I think his body would react similarly and he would continue to struggle with autonomic dysfunction (dysautonomia) for years if not the rest of his life afterwards. Also, a lot of people with PTSD just… do not have a healthy, functioning autonomic nervous system to begin with.

Now that I’ve got those explanations out of the way as best I can, (I am not a medical professional. I am basing this partially on personal experience, and research I’ve had to do for myself. That is all. Obviously, what I experienced is nowhere the same level of traumatic injury but still…) I tried to think of ways in which Billy could heat up his body or cool his body in ways that weren’t a shock to his system or a trigger for his PTSD and I have a few ideas.

One, if his brain can start making positive associations between his body and temperature then maybe temperature extremes can become more manageable. Like, if he’s able to associate cold and heat with something comforting like the cool water of a swimming pool or the warmth of a hot tub that doesn’t either make him paranoid that the Mindflayer is in his body or that he’s going to burn alive then I think that might help with the PTSD aspect of it.

Two, finding ways to help regulate his body temperature that isn’t immediately triggering (e.g. not an ice bath or an enclosed sauna) will help him deal with the physiological aspects. Maybe it’s just a cooled towel on his neck or a warmed up blanket (I got a few of these while in the hospital. They were amazing.) He would need to drink less alcohol, and drink a lot more water. Like, a lot more water. It’s also just good to keep his living space at an even temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.

Three, it is imperative that other people know he needs help with this. Like, when he gets flashbacks from temperature extremes, he can be reassured that he’s safe. He can work with a therapist on techniques to ground himself. It would also help to have a safe living space where he has access to a quiet, dark space when he’s too hot or a comfortably warm space when he’s cold. Having access to a private temperature regulated pool would be nice for his PTSD and his own body temperature regulation…

…wonder who has one of those? 🤔

Anyways, those are my thoughts for the day.

[sukunastoy]

Pain (Modern AU Sukuna x Fem!Reader)

TW: Self-inflicting wounds, self-harming, bleeding, mental illness, mental pain, depression, cutting, some minor NSFW fluff at the end.

I've been down a lot lately, and as someone who used to self harm, I still struggle with the battle in my mind to not do it again, though some days are rough. I do what I can to distract myself from it, so I wrote a little something to help with my thoughts. Wordcount: +2K

Having Successful Husband Sukuna come home from work to find you in the bathroom surrounded by your own blood makes him panic internally, but he's always outwardly strong for you, the love of his life.

Now that it was over... You hated yourself. More than you did before.

The scarlet drops of blood looked so beautiful upon the white marble tile, though... You couldn't take your gaze away from the darker puddle that pooled directly below where your arm was resting in its lazy dangling position.

Tiny specs from the little crimson splashes created a gradience across the floor, and you suddenly heard the front door open and close, making reality come crashing back to you.

The blade slipped from your fingers and crashed to the floor, immediately giving away your position in the lavish home.

His lavish home. Why must you always taint it...

Your knees took their place in the shallow puddle upon the hard floor, and now salty droplets of instant regret mixed into the disaster you resided in currently.

It had been so long, so long since you had this happen. So long since the blade felt so relieving into your skin. So long since you enjoyed watching blood drip down your hand and delicately hang onto the end of your fingertips, desperately clinging to where it belonged before ultimately giving way to the inevitable and collecting onto the cold tile below.

Would he be angry? Would he yell? Would he let you know how ridiculous and weak you were to give into this again?

How many times had you been found in this exact situation before? Losing the battle you fought every day...

Again you sullied the tile flooring that did not belong to you. In fact, nothing in here belonged to you. Even the blade wasn't yours.

For some reason, this man fell in love with you a few years ago and wanted you to be at his side, showering you in affection and wealth.

Why was this happening...how ungrateful you must appear... And why did he keep loving you..?

Was it pity?

Your husband could give you, and DID give you everything you wanted or needed. He didn't have to take your hand in marriage from your cruel family, sad background, or lonely life that you constantly told yourself had no meaning.

While working your dead-end job as a struggling waitress, he had come into the café occasionally with a few of his associates, and for some reason, you caught his attention. When he asked for your number one night of your shift, you were stunned and thought he was pranking you, but that was years ago, and he's been loyal at your side ever since.

Maybe he kept you for his own amusement...perhaps he told his other business associates what a pathetic and laughable wife he had.

You had met all of their wives at dinner parties...they were delicate, well-educated, flawless, and stunning. Though you wore the nicest clothes and showcased the best jewelry your husband gifted you, it never felt like you belonged...

Maybe he had pictures of you collapsed in this same position, hair a mess, makeup running down your face, arms shuddering from the abuse you quickly put them through, and maybe he showed them to everyone. Letting everyone laugh at what a worthless wife you were...

Today was hard...hell, every day was hard. But some days were more difficult than others, and no matter how often you recalled the regret after the cut, you seemed to lose the battle often...

Unappreciative. Disrespectful. Self-centered.

You didn't need to lift your face to know he had just arrived in the doorway. His strained voice was reaching your ears, but you had no idea what he was saying as the ringing was getting louder...your head felt so heavy.

Pressure increased along your forearm forcefully to the point it hurt more than the blade's capability. Feeling your limb stretch above your head in movements you had no say about, your head tried to lift itself as well, but to no avail.

Instead, the entirety of your body was going down instead of up. It went dark and quiet for a moment, but now the constant passing lights overhead were so damn bright…you just wanted to sleep, but your name being spoken by several voices kept you conscious, much to your irritability.

Why did so many people come home with Sukuna today? Was he having a party? And, of course, his pathetic and weak wife was causing a scene in the immaculate bathroom. Of course, you had no idea anyone was coming over, or you would have spared him the humiliation.

God, if they would just stop touching you...

The warmth of Sukuna's hand made you hyper-aware of its sudden appearance, and your weakened fingers twitched in return, wanting to interlock them with his.

This was the part you hated...the part where your mind was finally calming down, but the damage had already been done, and your husband was left to deal with it as always...

At least the lights weren't so bright anymore...in-fact it was very dim now, but since your hearing came back around, all the beeps and hum of machines stirred you to focus on your surroundings.

Oh...you knew this place...

It was very familiar for a moment, but now, in its clarity, you could easily distinguish the feeling of the hospital bed and the tiny tubes or monitors attached to you. Those weren't random people that came home with Sukuna...it was nurses here at the hospital...They were the ones talking to and touching you, trying to keep you conscious while rushing you down the hallway to tend to your blood loss.

Weakly turning your head towards where you felt Sukuna's hand, your eyes swelled with warm tears as your gorgeous man was leaning over from his chair, upper body resting on the bed beside you as he slept.

He was still in his work attire, hair a bit messy and not in its tamed back style that he keeps throughout the day for his professionalism.

You wanted to say something, his name, but you couldn't...

Both the fading of your mind and shame kept your lips from forming the most important words you wanted to say to him right now.

That you're sorry...you love him...he should find someone better...

As if feeling your eyes on him, Sukuna lifted his head briefly before the rest of his upper body followed, and even though his face was stern and stoic as usual, his eyes couldn't hide the exhaustion.

The exhaustion you cause him...

"Hey, darling." Oh, his voice...it just swells more tears of shame and grief in your eyes as you avert your gaze and seal it behind your eyelids.

"I...I-I'm sorry...I'm so...so useless..."

The warmth of his hand increased as his long fingers interlocked with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze within the grasp that could easily break your bones if he wanted.

"My love, you're far from useless."

"But, I ruined the floor..."

"Its already been cleaned up."

"B-But the clothes you bought me, I know you must have seen them...they're stained now..."

"I can buy more clothes for you."

"A-and you're having to be here...here with m-me and not get to relax at home...a-and you work so hard, provide so much for me, and all I do is...i-is..." Your own sentence can't even complete itself as your lips contorted into a painful frown, your eyes squeezing shut as tears streamed down your cheeks, the palm of your free hand pressed against your face to hide your shame.

Your husband's gentle and deep chuckle soothed you, as it always did, and you feel the weight of him sitting next to you upon the bed, now leaning over you.

"I want to be wherever you are, no matter how or why we've ended up there. You know this.

"B-but why...why to want me...t-this is all I ever do..."

"Sweetheart, it would take me too long to list why I want you in my life..." Your hand came up to his lips as he softly kissed the top of your knuckles, looking past your hand and to your face as your eyes barely opened to see his gorgeous hues.

"I didn't ask you to marry me because I expected only good days...I didn't give you the promise of always being at your side in both sicknesses and in health just for the sake of a legal document. I took a vow to love you forever and always, and to love all of you, all the time."

You undoubtedly didn't deserve this man... Nor his patience with your damaged mind. How did he continue to handle these moments where you lost such control?

Coming home several days later, your head was still held down in shame as the housekeeper, Uraume, opened the large front doors, greeting you and your husband home.  Sukuna's large hand gently rested on your lower back and guided you inside. "Uraume, hot tea, please...And we need to sit down and have a talk afterward." He spoke to them while gently helping you out of your small jacket, carefully avoiding hitting your bandaged wrist.

They nodded quickly and closed the doors before heading off to the kitchen, knowing exactly what kind of tea to prepare for you. This certainly wasn't the first time you've come home from the hospital like this...

Uraume did their best to check in on you often while Sukuna was at work, to make sure you were doing okay, but sometimes they did have other tasks they needed to tend to, and of course, you always had made sure they weren't going to be home in the moments you felt the urge to carve your mental pain away. 

It's not like it was their duty to keep an eye on you in the first place, as they did more of the cleaning chores or shopping for Sukuna, but they did worry about you. There were times they invited you out to shop with them, or even just to take a walk, afraid to leave you alone with yourself to avoid a moment like this. 

Of course, now, you were afraid they would get in trouble...and it would be all your fault...

After Sukuna removed your jacket, your arms were touched softly in his large hands, and you looked to your husband, kneeling in front of you, both of your arms held together infront of him.

He held your limbs softly and kissed your forearms very delicately. One arm with fading scars and the other with a fresh bandage made you fidget nervously in guilt while averting your eyes.

"P-Please don't be mad at Uraume...they always try to keep an eye on me...I had lied and said I was okay and that they could leave me by myself for today...I'm so sorry..." Your head hung again in guilt and shame, though Sukuna wouldn't allow it, gently squeezing your hands to get your attention so you'd look at him again.

"Don't concern yourself with that...I need to know what happened? What were your thoughts? I've insisted that you can always call me...Work has no priority over you."

He was so caring, so loving...the fear in his voice was apparent no matter how well he kept his emotions in check.

"I...I know...I just feel so...so useless for you...You could have anyone; you're so perfect and-"

One of his gentle fingers rested upon your lips, halting your words and bringing your gaze back to his maroon eyes.

"Oh, darling...must I remind you how perfect you are?"

A weak and shy smile barely tugged at your lips as he spoke with such comfort towards you. 

"But...I feel like I continue to fail you; I can't stop myself...I try so hard to not do this...Some days I-I'm so weak..."

Your tears didn't even have the moment to fall before Sukuna stood and handled you quickly into his arms, lifting you up and holding you the way he did on your wedding night. "It's not your fault or responsibility for anything...I agreed to take on your struggles when I stood with you and said, 'I Do'..."

Even if he had to make love so roughly to you that you got dizzy from pleasure to forget your pain, he'd find a way to ease your mind.

Which, of course, you never complained about. He was the perfect lover inside and outside the bedroom, or to be honest, wherever he decided in the home to love your body, that's where it would happen.

And giving your body up for your husband was something you'd always willingly do. Despite panting and crying in ecstasy while on your back, hands weakly pushing up against his firm and sweaty chest as he rutted into your sopping heat, Sukuna never held back in how rough he could be.

In fact, his ministrations were more unforgiving after you had hurt yourself. He was angry and frightened, full of emotions at the thought of his wife no longer existing in his life, simply because of a losing battle in the mind.

Even though your body was quivering as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, Sukuna remained firm and stoic in his expressions, just watching your face, enjoying seeing you this way. Knowing you weren't dwelling on anything that could hurt your feelings right now, or make you emotionally pained, just enjoying yourself, enjoying him and how he could make you feel.

[rphelperblog]

City of Glass Book Quote Rp Meme

the third book in the Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare - my favorite one- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes.- part one

“There is no pretending, I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there is life after that, I'll love you then.”

“You said you were going for a walk!? What kind of walk takes six hours?"

“Since the first time i saw you, I've belonged to you completely.” 

“We may not be all that bright,but at least we are alive.” 

“I can’t untie myself from you, not my heart or my blood or my mind or any other part of me. And I don’t want to.”

You can’t be complete jerks to each other forever you know.”

“Knowing is better than not knowing. Every time.” 

“In the end that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did.” 

“You can only push the truth down for so long, and then it bubbles back up.” 

"I guess blessings are easier to come by than I thought. Maybe I should ask for blessings on my mission against all those who wear white after labor day.”

“Some Laws were meant to be broken.” 

“So I lied to you last night. I said that I just wanted one night with you. But I want every night with you.” 

“You could say anything you wanted to someone you thought you were never going to see again.” 

“Because you told me you don't have feelings for me anymore, and you see, that's very akward, because I still have them for you. And I bet you know it.” 

“If you hurt her, she’s quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons.”

“No one could be that annoying without some kind of supernatural assistance.” 

“If I’d just listened—just taken one second to listen—it wouldn’t have happened” 

“I’ve been wandering around all night—I couldn’t sleep—and I kept finding myself walking here. To you.” 

“There are some kinds of wounds you can get, internal injuries. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you're bleeding to death slowly inside.” 

“I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t give up loving you. Not for anything. As long as I remember what it was like to love you, I will always feel like I am alive.”

“It was hidden inside another book. One your father was unlikely to ever open.Simple Recipes for Housewives. No one can say your mother didn't have a sense of humor.”

“I only count the hours that shine.” 

“People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but its the way you live your life that matters.” 

“I have a fetish for damsels in distress.”

“You never really hate anyone as much as someone you cared about once.” 

And, I would do it again. I would always ask for you.” 

“Crying wouldn't help anything now.” 

“Not at all. My services are also available to gentlemen in distress. It’s an equal opportunity fetish.” 

"Thankfully no one's home, or they would have assumed I was murdering you."

“Ah, the 'I told you so.Always a classy move.” 

“There were some feelings you never forgot.” 

“Regret is such a pointless emotion, don't you agree?” 

You don't understand what it's like to live always at war, to grow up with battle and sacrifice. I guess it's not your fault. It's just how you were brought up-” 

“You couldnt erase everything that caused you pain with recollection.Every memory was valuable; even the bad ones”

“Doing the right thing because you love someone sucks sometimes.” 

“I love you. I don’t care. I love you and I will always love you, and pretending it could be any other way is just a waste of time.” 

“So you decided to help us by killing the guy we were talking to?"

“You had to make a crazy jail friend, didn’t you? You couldn’t just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?” 

You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things.” 

“Did you ever think that in a past life he was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? Because I do,” 

“Weakness and corruption isn’t in the world, it’s in people. And it always will be. The world just needs good people to balance it out.”

“My Romanian is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, ‘Are these snakes poisonous?’ and ‘But you look much too young to be a police officer.’” 

“It's because you're too scared to tell anyone who you really love. Love makes us liars.” 

“If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going."

“I've always been told my presence brightened up any room. One might think that went doubly for dank underground cell." 

"He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.” 

“The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you,he can't.”

"No. We've been punching her in the face repeatedly. What? You don't think that will work?” 

“I know it's wrong - God, it's all kinds of wrong - but I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you, just once, just once ever in my life.” 

“It’s my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury.”

"I think he’s handling it with grace. A lot of teenage boys would sulk, or lurk around under your window with a boom box." 

“Look, did you ask me to come all the way uptown just so you could stare at me like I was something in a petri dish? Next time I'll send you a photo."

But as long as I remember what it was like to love you, I’ll always feel like I’m alive.”

"I don't return library books. I steal illegal music off the internet. I lie to my mom. I am completely ordinary." 

You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things.” 

“So that’s why you never told me your middle name. I figured it was something embarrassing.” 

“The Law is hard, but it is the Law.” 

Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?" 

"Do we all have to do that, too?” 

“Waiting for a special occasion to kill me? Christmas is coming.” 

“You could have had anything else in the world, and you asked for me."

“And I'm suppose to sit by while you date boys and fall in love with someone else, get married...? And meanwhile, I'll die a little bit more every day, watching.

"here with the vampire, I see. When things have settled a bit, we really must discuss you choice in pets.." 

“if it’s the lack of forbidden you’re worried about, you could still forbid me to do things.”

“Is this the part where you tell me that if I hurt her, you’ll kill me?”

“You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.” 

“I have the benefit of experience which tells me that sulking solves nothing” 

“Look, you can date whoever you want and I will totally support you. I am all about support. Support is my middle name.”

If I feel the urge to burst into flames, I’ll let you know.”

"If it's the lack of forbidden you're worried about. You could still forbid me to do things." 

“Well, in your defense, I do move with a silent, pantherlike grace.” 

“is that why you didn’t call me? because I am an idiot.”

“So here’s where they put you. I didn’t think they even used these cells anymore.”

“I always thought that 'Good things happen to those who do the wave' No wonder I've been so confused” 

“and you’re asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone before”

"Exactly. Despite my staggering good lucks, you actually don't like me that way." 

“The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places." 

“You’ll look like Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu.”

“Just like an alley in New York -like every alley in the world, apparently- it smelled like cat pee.” 

“what did wards matter when you could create your own reality just by drawing it?” 

“Hail and Farewell, my brother.” 

“Hurting people he loved was almost as good as hurting himself when he was in this kind of mood.” 

[hotwings0203]

Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

[someh0eontheinternet]

THE RUN-AWAY AVATAR  PT1- atla characters x avatar!!reader oneshot

*thเ᥉ เ᥉ ᥲᥒ ᥲᥙ (ᥲᥣtꫀɾᥒᥲtꫀ ᥙᥒเ᥎ꫀɾ᥉ꫀ) ᥕhꫀɾꫀ ᥲᥲᥒg เ᥉ dꫀᥲd (*᥉ᥲd ƒᥲᥴꫀ*)

*ᥲᥣᥣ ᥴhᥲɾᥲᥴtꫀɾ᥉ ᥲɾꫀ ᥲgꫀd ᥙρ

*เᥒtꫀᥒtเꪮᥒᥲᥣ ᥣꪮᥕꫀɾᥴᥲ᥉ꫀ

*ƒꫀꪑᥲᥣꫀ ɾꫀᥲdꫀɾ

*𝟤.𝟩k ᥕꪮɾd᥉

ｋａｔａｒａ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ：

Art by: Herea Liana

it’s been six years since the world’s last airbender, and my very best friend aang lost his life, and i still think about it every day.

was there more I could have done?

if i had been stronger, would he still be alive?

am i the reason that the world lost humanities’ last hope?

an over-whelming sense of shame and guilt has engulfed me ever since aang was killed by firelord ozai in the invasion of the fire nation. now the entire world has spun into disarray, with the fire nation taking control of every nation.

if only i could find the new avatar. then we may have hope at restoring the balance of this world.

ｙ－ｎ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you pout, crossing your arms and turning away from the little boy who was yelling in your face and chucking a tantrum.

“i just saw you move that rock-” he paused, evidently struggling to find the courage to allow the words to leave his mouth, “-WITH YOUR MIND!” he shouts, gaining the attention of all the other children nearby.

this little boy had been pestering you for weeks now, seemingly convinced that you are the one and only avatar, and it would appear that he will stop at no lengths to prove to everyone in your tribe that his ridiculous theory is correct.

“ok Tasi, as much as I’d like to stay and chat with you about how I am clearly an earthbender-” you pause to sarcastically flip your pony-tail over your shoulders, your traditional water tribe inuit hairstyle on full display, “-i must excuse myself to hurry along to my healing lessons now. bye bye Tasi, stay out of trouble now.” you mockingly wave goodbye to the annoying little kid, as he pokes out his tongue a you.

once you are far enough away, you let out a long sigh, worry starting to creep in.

“what if he really does find out the truth? i would never be able to live off the shame...”

and so you continue on, marching through the heavy snow of your icy home, off to attend your healing lessons, watched mercilessly by fire nation soldiers as they rule over your lonely tribe. 

suddenly, you catch sight of someone bleeding out on the snow...

ｓｏｋｋａ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ:

Art by: zarory

it was yet again, another boring day, with another boring job. today was patrol duty of the south-eastern section of the southern water tribe. i internally groan as i get dressed into my official uniform and head out the door.

ever since aang died, katara has been pestering me about how “ive changed” and saying she wants the “fun loveable sokka back”. i don’t know what she’s talking about. i haven’t “changed”, i’ve just grown up, theres a difference. i mean, i AM nearly 21 now. i am supposed to change as I get older...right?

i shake it off, and continue to make my way down the snowy pathways, boomerang firmly strapped to my back. as i am patrolling, i notice a group of water-tribe kids being a bit too loud over to my left.

“the fire nation soldiers won’t be happy about this...” i mumble to myself, as i hurry over there before the fire nation soldiers catch sight of them. even though im technically supposed to be harsh on anyone falling out of line, i could never turn my back on my own tribe. i must protect these kids from the wrath of the fire nation, for as long as possible!

as i get closer, i notice a beautiful woman who looked around my age getting yelled at by a little boy.

“i just saw you move that rock...WITH YOUR MIND!”

my icy blue eyes widen upon hearing this.

what is this kid on about??

suddenly, i feel a strong hand crash down on my shoulder, then a severe pain.

“aughh” i fall to my knees, groaning out of pain. i look up to see an angry fire nation soldier, hand out threateningly, still visibly red from the immense heat he just placed on my skin.

my hand reflexively shot up to my shoulder, covering the burn wound from the freezing winds around me. this burn was going to take a while to heal...

“what do you think you’re doing cadet? stop slacking off and start patrolling like a real soldier.” he begins to make his leave, only to look over his shoulder to shoot me a cold glare with his burning crimson eyes. “...stay in line, water-tribe scum.” he spits, before marching off, leaving me on the ground to stain the snow with my blood.

i sat there in the snow, hyperventilating for a few minutes, trying to manage the pain. my hatred for the fire nation seems to burn brighter with each passing day. i am so sick of my people being discriminated against and shoved in the dirt by those...animals...and being forced to sit idly by in silence. i feel like my whole identity has been replaced with pure rage.

maybe katara was right,

maybe i have changed...

i was snapped out of my thoughts by the snowy footsteps of the beautiful woman i saw before about to pass me. as she was approaching me, she suddenly catches sight of my injury, and i watch as all the colour immediately drains from her face. She frantically rushes to my side, incoherently yelling out over the wind.  

as i watch her figure get closer, i feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness.

why do i feel so dizzy all of a sudden?

“oh my god! what happened to you!? are you alright!?” she dives down beside me onto the snow, inspecting my wounds. through my haze, i can feel her soft touch trace over my muscular arm as she eagerly tries to get a better look at my wound. as her cold hands glide across my skin, my heart-rate quickens, and for some reason i feel...safe.   

“please! tell me who did this to you. sokka! SOKKA!” my eyelids suddenly become extremely heavy after she said that, the temptation of unconsciousness finally overpowering me. right before my vision fades to black, i manage to breathe out the words...

“h-how...do you know my name~~”

ｙ－ｎ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ:

“h-how...do you know my name~~” 

you sigh to yourself, shaking your head.

“he’s losing too much blood...this could be bad.” you mumble to yourself. you couldn’t tell whether you were shaking from the cold, or out of worry for this...stranger.

“wait...if he is a stranger, then how did i know his name!?” your eyes widen as this sudden realization hits you. you quickly push it to the back of your mind - your first priority was to get sokka inside and out of the snow. then you would be able to hopefully heal his wound with your water bending.

you try to lift his body but buckle under the weight. you groan in frustration, angry at yourself for not being able to carry him. You frantically look around, in hope of finding someone who looks like they could help you, but you were surrounded by nothing but snow.

you opt for dragging him, much to your dismay. you hoped that if you were quick enough, you could avoid the possibility of hypothermia.

you manage to drag him fairly quickly all the way to the healing temple, where you were scheduled to train today. you were much earlier than you thought you’d be though, as not a single soul had arrived yet, not even the instructor Katara was here yet.

you position ‘sokka’ on the healing table, and begin your work on him. as you were still in training as a healer, you were desperately trying to read the instruction scroll as well as bend the healing water around your patient’s wound. 

in your frantic state, upon reading this type of wound required heated water to execute correctly, you were just about ready to scream. you understood that heating up water manually would take upwards of ten minutes; time you simply did not have if you wanted to save this mysterious boy named ‘sokka’.

you took a moment to look around you, ensuring that no one was remotely anywhere near the vicinity, before you executed your plan.

you were going to fire bend the water.

ｓｏｋｋａ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ:

as i came to, i hear the sound of water boiling, and the pretty water-tribe girl from before standing over me.

that was when i saw it...

...the smoke coming out of her hands.

this girl was...fire bending the water!

before i could react, her hand was immediately placed over my mouth, surprisingly already back to its normal temperature, her eyes dripping in desperation.

she leans down, her face inches from mine causing my cheeks to turn red. her hair draped down, landing onto my bare chest, as i feel her warm breath on my face.

“don’t you tell a soul. this is your first and final warning sokka.” she threatens, although the intention of her words are lost by her shaky voice. she’s clearly terrified. i wasnt threatened at all.

just as i was about to bring my hand up to her cheek to wipe her tears away, i hear the angry voice of my sister coming from the doorway.

ｋａｔａｒａ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ：

i enter the healing temple, ready to prepare for my healing lesson, when i see my brother being pinned down by some mysterious girl.

“GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!” i yell, drawing my combat water, ready to attack.

i watch as the girl wastes no time whipping her head around to inspect the origin of the voice. i am greeted by the horrified expression of one of my healing students...

“y-n l-n!? what are you doing here!?” i begin to lower my guard, but only slightly.

“miss katara! what a surprise! um, i was just...” her voice trails off as she tries desperately to hide something behind her back.

my eyes narrow. “what is behind your back, y-n.” i say darkly, taking slow advances towards her shaking figure before me.

“u-uh...katara...i-i...” she seemed to be frozen solid, immobilized by fear. i often seem to have that effect on people...

with one quick movement, i stand mere inches from her face, sliding my hand behind the arch of her back to grab the object of her protection. however, as soon as my fingertips make contact with such object, i feel a sharp pain on my skin.

“fuck!” i immediately back away, inspecting my finger.

i was...burnt...

“h-how...how are you holding that” i hiss, pointing to the cup that she now holds in full view.

“i um...”

ｙ－ｎ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ:

fuck fuck fuck

they know, they know, they know

it’s all over - i’m a national disgrace

the run-away avatar...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you slowly place the cup of boiling water down on a nearby table, defeat dripping from your every gesture. katara notices the all too familiar fiery glow of your palms and her expression becomes livid.

“you’re the...YOU’RE THE AVATAR!”

without warning, the far superior bender launches a series of ice attacks directed at your head. fear engulfs you as you hold your breath and close your eyes, waiting for impact...but it never came.

you slowly open your eyes to see sokka standing protectively in front of you, deflecting her attacks with his boomerang. upon seeing this, she immediately stops, not wanting to hit her brother.

“w-what are you doing sokka-”

“LEAVE HER ALONE KATARA!” Sokka interrupts, venom lacing his words. Katara’s prior worry for her brother is then visibly replaced with rage as sokka’s ridiculous order reaches her ears. the livid woman slowly approached her brother, bringing with her danger and one heck of a warning.

“step away from her, sokka! she is a traitor who left our people to die! she doesn’t deserve your protection!!” katara stared down her brother, making her superior combat ability known. sokka swallowed.

“you dont understand katara. y-n saved my life! a fire nation solider left me to bleed out on the snow, but y-n brought me here and healed me. if it wasn’t for her fire bending, id be a corpse in the snow right now!” 

katara seemed shocked to hear this. “you...y-you nearly died?” she appeared to have all the breath taken out of her. 

sokka only silently nodded, causing a single tear to run down katara’s cheek.

“ok well, in that case, i guess its worth hearing what she has to say.” katara said steadily, regaining her composure.

you sigh in relief, as sokka guides you over to a stool, where the three of you all sit in a circle. silence. a long eerie silence between the three of you causes the tension in the room to grow thick, making you swallow. no one really knew where to begin. the realization was finally sinking in that the avatar has returned, and the two water-tribe siblings could barely believe their eyes. katara was the first one to break the silence.

“so first tings first, wanna explain to us how you’re not a six year old?” 

“w-what!?” you squeak.

sokka gasps. “omg yeah, you’re right katara! this makes no sense”

“uhh, am i missing something??” you frown, confused.

“well, it would seem ill have to spell it out for you, miss avatar.” katara sighs. “aang died 6 years ago. so following the rule of re-birth, you should have been an infant 6 years ago. may i ask how old you are now, y-n?”

“uhh, nearly 20.”

“...how peculiar.” katara eyes you closely, deep in thought.

“yeah! that’s so totally peck-iler” sokka chirps gleefully.

“peculiar.” you slyly correct his pronunciation, flashing him one of your signiture smirks.

“glad to see you’re back to your idiot self sokka? did something change to make you more...uh how do you put it...more sokka-ry” katara shifts her eyes from you to him, much to your relief. she couldn’t help but think that his cheery demeanor was a result of meeting you.

“what do you mean, im always like this.” sokka says confused, as he tried to balance his boomerang on his nose like a baby seal.

“stop that!” katara growls, splashing water on his face, leaving his hair drenched. you began to laugh at sokka, he looked so stupid right now with his hair down and that pouty expression.

“something funny y-n? don’t forget the trouble you’re in right-now

and with that you were brought back to reality with a bang. 

“when did you first notice you could bend the other elements.” katara insisted, leaning forward in her seat, her aura causing you to flinch.

“well, i’ve always been a waterbender. but when i was 14 i had this big fight with my mum and i went outside for a jog to cool off. i ended up getting lost for the night, and found shelter in a cave overlooking the ocean. i was freezing, and then suddenly i felt my hands become increasingly hotter. i looked down and noticed they were on fire. quite the surprise, as you can imagine.” you feeblishly laughed, re-living old memories.

sokka was practically on the edge of his seat, eager to hear the rest of your story. you also took note of katara’s persona. she seemed just as intrigued as sokka, but perhaps was better at hiding it. you took this as your cue to continue. 

“once i discovered i could fire bend, i tried out the other elements as well.

the eager siblings leaned forward in their stools, eager to know if you’ve mastered all the elements yet or not.

“...child’s play”

sokka sighed in relief, but katara wasn’t as convinced.

“prove it”

“what” you asked, slightly insulted by her skepticism.

“i said...” she stood up and began advancing towards you, making you shiver. she placed her long slender fingers beneath your chin and lifted it to face her at her standing position. she leaned in close to your face, lips almost touching, as she slyly smirked, making your whole face go red.

“...prove it.” she whispered in your ear, her breath running down your neck, giving you goosebumps. 

𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙...

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜. <𝟹 𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚝 𝟷 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 "𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗-𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚛" 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ;𝙿

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚝 𝟸, 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢. 🌼🌹🌺🌷💕🌈🌸