#and when they talk about that time they misunderstand everything even though there were therapists involved

[myteavsricochet]

-

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[patricide1885]

I also spoke to another intern that declared themself my big sister and really helped me feel understood. The admin person also said that they and their partner were talking about ways to help me overcome my fear of causing harm therapeutically, like just when they were at home. I just feel so cared for and held by the people at my internship outside of my supervisor. Like I can't think of a time I've ever received so much care and understanding. They're incredible therapists and people and I'm truly touched and I feel so lucky to be here, and I want to stay here. I'm glad I'm not crazy, I'm not incapable of communicating (which is how I felt), I'm not offending everyone around me without realizing, and they don't see me as a bad person. I feel I can be honest with them. If it wasn't for them I'd be seriously emotionally fucked like I was last week, though they softened that blow too.

I don't feel I can trust my supervisor, and I'm really hoping it's just a misunderstanding and they don't hate me. At least for right now, I don't think it's safe to be candid with them, even if it's just autism and them not understanding me. The thing is - they don't give me narcissist vibes (though as they're so autistic I don't know if I'd be able to read that anyway) but it feels like something's off, or at least not totally healthy or ideal.

Like me, they have a fearful avoidant attachment, which is basically associated with having the most serious and unpredictable emotional issues, as well as seeing ghosts of the past instead of the people in front of us, which honestly, that plus autism would explain everything on its own. Question is if the relationship can be salvaged by me putting the pieces together without them, and my trying to interact with them in a way that makes them feel good around me.

Something weird is up with my supervisor at my internship. Last week they claimed multiple of the other therapists at the practice that I met with said that I had wasted their time, talked over them, and didn't listen and that repair might be necessary. I said I had another meeting with one of them. My supervisor said "No you don't have a meeting with them". And I believed them. Fortunately, that person texted me this morning to confirm times. I did have a meeting with them later that day.

When I met with my supervisor today I brought that up and my supervisor said "I thought you didn't because they had a bad experience". Weird but I took their word for it. Our conversation was very difficult. We didn't understand each other at all. I assumed it was because they were autistic, which I think is the meat of it, but some things concerned me. They claimed that I was saying they had never gone through hard things and didn't understand struggle - all I was doing was telling her what was happening with me, because she explicitly asked. She also said I was telling her I was doing things wrong when I was just trying to figure out how to communicate. Defensive things. Nothing wrong with misreading but it is a bad sign if that's how someone sees me.

So I talk with one of the people at the practice who I spoke to. I don't mention what the sup said at first, I just say "Hey I am so sorry if I have been interrupting you or not listening to you. Please let me know if that happens." She looked confused and said "I've literally never thought that." I explain what the sup said and she made it clear she didn't say that and said that she wanted to meet to talk more to me about the sup, because she wasn't surprised there were communication issues, and she wanted to share what she knew about how she operates as well as get my opinion on her because I said that I was very good at flagging certain people (which raised my eyebrow because the "certain people" in question were narcissists - I had been saying that I have a history of flagging them, no one believes me, and then they get abused and find out later). She said that the sup had a weird energy about them today, and alluded to things not being as ideal as they seem for the paid therapists though it's generally a good environment for interns. Also mentioned they might be stressed about money - because of my issues, I wasn't seeing clients yet, but no one told me that it was affecting anything financially.

[the-winter-spider]

Before (you go) | b.barnes

TW: This story mentions su!cide read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Edited and rewritten as of 2024, I wrote this when i was going thru a tough time. Im always here to talk if you ever need someone ❤️‍🩹

Masterlist

Do you ever reach a point where everything feels unbearably heavy? Like the air around you is pressing down, making each step forward feel nearly impossible? You desperately want to move on, but you’re stuck, watching everyone around you move ahead while you remain in the dust. It feels like everyone you love and thought loved you is so far ahead that you can no longer reach them for support.

All you can do is fall, even though you want to stay standing. The weight of the air and the trembling of your legs make it feel like standing is beyond your reach.

“Y/N?”

“Mmm?” You frantically searched for the source of the voice.

Sam sighed and raised his hand. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry, I was just in a daze.”

He gave you a sad smile, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s been happening a lot lately. Are you okay?”

Are you okay? How could you answer that when you didn’t even know yourself? You didn’t want to lie to Sam. He was your person when Bucky wasn’t around. But Bucky had been gone for two weeks on a stakeout mission with Steve. You weren’t allowed to go because they only needed two people, and you weren’t even considered due to the recent incident.

You wouldn’t even call it an “incident”—it was just a misunderstanding. You didn’t think you were suicidal; you didn’t intend to overdose. But after being tortured for four weeks, the pain you felt afterward was immense. Despite your high pain tolerance, you miscalculated your pain medication dosage and may have taken too much at once. Everything hurt so badly, and you couldn’t wake Bucky. He looked so peaceful, with his eyelashes fluttering gently and his soft pink lips slightly parted. You didn’t want to disturb him; it felt too selfish.

So you stayed on watch, even though the overdose was a complete accident. Tony benched you until Dr. Cho cleared you, and she wasn’t going to do that until Sam gave his honest opinion. You were absolutely not talking to another of Stark’s half-assed therapists. With Sam’s experience at the VA, they gave him the go-ahead.

Now, you were sitting on a couch in one of the compound’s meeting rooms, with Sam in a chair, still waiting for a response. You loved Sam—he was patient, kind, empathetic, and gave the best hugs. But even so, you still didn’t have an answer for him.

You cleared your throat. “When’s Bucky supposed to be back?”

“I’m not sure. Check-in is, in—” He paused to look at his phone. “—about an hour.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue and trying to muster the best smile you could. You swallowed the burning sensation in your throat, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Y/N, you didn’t answer my question. I don’t want to push you, but I care about you. You’re one of my best friends, and I need you to be honest with me.”

His brown eyes were soft, with a hint of concern shining through. Your heart rate started to spike, your palms growing clammy. Your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over.

The heaviness from before was pushing you further into the leather couch, your palms sticking to it like glue. Abruptly, you stood up, your fight-or-flight response kicking in. “I can’t do this, Sammy. I just can’t. It’s too much.”

He stood up and placed his hands on your shoulders. “You’re having a panic attack, Y/N. I need you to breathe with me.”

You shook your head, trying to follow his breathing exercises, but your vision narrowed and the walls seemed to close in. The only thing you could focus on was him. “I need Bucky….I need Bucky, Sam.” Your hands clawed at your throat, trying to force air in. “I need him….i cant do this”

In a burst of panic, you ran past him, out of the room, and out of the compound.

Maybe if you kept running, you could reach Bucky and find safety again. Maybe then the weight would be lifted off your shoulders, and you could finally breathe easy.

You couldn’t breathe; the air felt suffocating. The scars littering your body were burning, and the ache in your heart was the only thing you could feel. Darkness clouded your mind, whispering that if you just closed your eyes forever, all these feelings would disappear, and you could return to who you were before.

Before Hydra, before the eight weeks they kept you, before the coma, before the accidental overdose, before being benched, and before Bucky retreated into missions to escape who you had become. You just wanted to go back to when you were yourself and not this fractured version of who you used to be.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everyone might be better off without you.

If you weren’t here, Sam wouldn’t be wasting a rare day off spending the afternoon with you, when you knew he’d rather be anywhere else. If you weren’t here, Bucky and Steve wouldn’t be staking out the Hydra base you escaped from. Tony wouldn’t have had to hold a press conference, taking away from his time with Pepper. Clint wouldn’t have come out of retirement to search for you, and Peter wouldn’t have missed the spring dance when he got the call that they found you.

Maybe everyone would be better off without you.

Your thoughts were so loud that you didn’t hear the voice behind you until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whipped around to see Sam, his hand raised in a gesture of reassurance, signaling he meant no harm. He held out a phone. “It’s for you.”

Shakily, you reached out, taking the phone and bringing it to your ear. You couldn’t find the words; you were too focused on gasping for air.

“Doll?”

The sound of his voice triggered a sob, and your knees gave out.

“Sweetheart, I need to breathe for me, okay? Can you try to do that?”

You nodded frantically, even though he couldn’t see you. You hoped he could hear the slight improvement in your breathing. Keeping your eyes shut tightly, you tried to stifle the tears that threatened to spill. You thought that if you kept them closed, maybe the overwhelming flood of emotion would be kept at bay.

“Good, that’s my girl.” He paused, waiting for a response, but when none came, he continued, “Sam told me what happened, are you okay? Were almost done here, ill be back before you know it darling”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Doll, I need you to talk to me.”

“No,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

You heard him stand up, a chair scraping back. Steve’s voice came through the phone, muffled but concerned. “What’s wrong? We’re all here for you… Steve and i, we got them”

“But you’re not here, Bucky.”

He said something more, but the noise in your head drowned it out. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the voices in your mind were deafening.

“Listen to me,” Bucky said, his voice urgent but soothing “Im coming to you right now, okay? Ill be there before you know it”

The promise in his voice cut through the fog of despair, offering a faint glimmer of hope. You held onto his words as a lifeline, trying to steady your breathing and find a way to hold on until he could be there with you.

You opened your eyes, staring at Sam, who was standing just a few feet away. The worry etched on his face made you feel nothing but guilt. Bucky was risking the call being traced by Hydra because of you.

You felt selfish, realizing how much pain you were causing the people you loved most, all because you couldn’t fight through the memories of what Hydra did to you. You felt pathetic, knowing Bucky endured 70 years of torture while you were struggling to cope with just four weeks. You didn’t deserve any of them, didn’t deserve to be an Avenger, didn’t deserve to be here.

Kneeling on the damp ground at the base of the tree line surrounding the compound, you saw Tony pacing on the phone, likely talking to Ross about the delay.

Your bottom lip trembled as you whispered into the phone, “I love you, James, so much,” before ending the call.

You sighed and wiped away your tears. When Sam saw you pull the phone away, he rushed over to help you up. “How do you feel?”

“Thanks, Sam,” you said, handing him back the phone. “For everything.”

He put his arm around your shoulder, holding you close. “Of course, Y/N. What is family for?”

You both made your way back toward the compound. Tony had finished his call and stood with his arms crossed, a concerned look on his face. “You okay, kid?”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

Tony pulled you into a hug. “Nonsense. I needed someone to banter with today, and you were the perfect candidate. So, thank you.”

You offered the best smile you could. Though you knew Tony saw through it, he didn’t comment. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. How about pizza? Let’s bump movie night up—my schedule is clear, so that means everyone else’s should be too.”

Sam clapped his hands together. “Now, that’s the best idea I’ve heard come out of your mouth, Stark.”

A small laugh escaped your lips. You were going to miss this.

“I’m going to let that slide, bird brain, only because it made my favorite Avenger laugh.”

“I’m going to go to my room and freshen up, okay?”

“Yeah, of course, Y/N/N. I’ve got Friday on the pizza order. You think of a movie, and Wilson will get the rest of the team. We’ll see each other in an hour?”

You hugged Sam and Tony one last time. “Sounds good, boys. Thank you for everything.”

As you started to walk away, you heard Tony say, “Uh, we’re men?” and Sam’s laughter echoed as he shouted, “Don’t mention it!”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the lingering heaviness.

By the time you reached your room, your mind was nearly made up. The 1% of doubt lingered solely because of Bucky. Would he miss you? Because you would miss him with everything in you. But staying would hurt him more than leaving. It was for the best. It was all for the best.

You sat down at your desk, grabbing a pen and paper. The words poured out effortlessly, as though you had been aching to say them for a long time. It felt like somewhere inside, you had already planned this out ages ago, but only now was it finally being executed.

This was where your story seemed to end. You were certain of it. You had served your purpose, paid your dues, and now it was time for peace. This was the only way you could think of finding it, if it even existed.

You carefully placed all six letters on the desk, aligning them with a sad sense of finality. Your gaze lingered on Bucky’s name. You picked up the letter addressed to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his name before hugging it to your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, addressing the apology to no one and everyone at the same time.

Clicking the bathroom door shut behind you, you turned on the shower, stepping in fully clothed. The warm water cascaded over you, offering a fleeting sense of comfort. As you reached for the safety razor, a heavy silence filled the room, punctuated only by the sound of the water.

—-

Sam was pacing restlessly. Something felt wrong, something in the way you had spoken earlier, your tone—it was off. He couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of dread.

“Pizza will be here in 10 minutes….what’s going on? Why are you pacing?” Tony asked, noticing Sam’s agitation.

Sam stopped abruptly, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “I just have this feeling… I need to check on Y/N. Something’s not right.” He didn’t wait for a response, starting to walk briskly toward your room, then breaking into a run.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as Sam’s footsteps pounded urgently. When he reached your door, he began knocking frantically, his desperation evident.

“Y/N?” His voice was thick with worry, each knock louder than the last “Are you in there? Please, let me in!”

Inside, the sound of Sam’s voice pierced through the haze of your despair. It was a lifeline, a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness that had engulfed you. The weight of your decision pressed heavily on your shoulders, but now, faced with the chance for help, you had to choose.

You stared at the razor in your hand, the cold metal a stark contrast to the searing pain inside. The realisation that Sam still cared, still wanted to be there for you, was a faint glimmer of hope that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now.

With trembling hands, you set the razor aside and turned off the shower. The warm water dripped from your clothes as you moved toward the door, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and hope.

When you opened the door, you found Sam standing there, his face etched with anguish. The moment your eyes met, his expression shifted to one of profound relief and compassion.

“I—” you began, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. The words caught in your throat, choked by the enormity of the situation.

Without waiting for a response, Sam wrapped you in a fierce, desperate embrace. His arms were a sheltering fortress against the storm raging inside you “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself, but the raw intensity of his words conveyed the depth of his relief.

The warmth of his embrace was a stark contrast to the cold despair you had been engulfed in. You clung to him, letting the tears flow freely as you buried your face in his shoulder.

The reality of the moment hit hard, and the walls of your resolve began to crumble. You realised just how close you had come to losing everything, and the crushing weight of it all seemed to dissipate, if only for a moment.

Sam held you tightly, his breathing ragged, trying to ground himself in the present. “We’re going to get through this,” he whispered fiercely, as if willing it into reality.

The intensity of the moment was palpable, the gravity of your near-miss settling heavily over both of you. Sam’s presence, his unwavering support, was a lifeline you hadn’t expected, and it brought with it a fragile but vital sense of hope.

As you pulled away slightly, looking up at Sam with tear-streaked cheeks, you saw the unspoken promise in his eyes. For now, you had a chance to rebuild, to face the darkness with someone who truly cared.

“I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your remorse.

Sam’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his eyes soft but firm. “No more apologies, We’re in this together, okay?”

With a nod, you allowed Sam to guide you away from the room, away from the precipice you had been on.

—-

“You said you were going to watch out for her!” Bucky screamed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. The raw pain in his voice cut through the chaos, his anguish palpable.

“I did!” Sam yelled back, his voice trembling with desperation. “I did!”

“Not good enough! Because she’s in there!” Bucky roared, his chest pressing against Sam’s in a furious confrontation. “This is all your fault—”

Sam’s anger erupted, and he shoved Bucky hard. “I dare you to finish that sentence. Say it and see what happens!”

The hatred in Bucky’s eyes was a burning fury, a force of its own. If looks could kill, Sam would be a corpse. But Sam knew the rage was a mask, a shield against the deep pain both men were struggling to contain. The emotional weight was suffocating, leaving them both shattered.

“You weren’t here!” Sam’s voice dropped to a raw edge of authority. “You left… you were gone! And I had to handle this with the little she was willing to give. I did my best with what I had!”

The brutal truth of Sam’s words landed with crushing force. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his breathing ragged, each breath a reminder of his helplessness. The reality of their situation was a knife twisting in his heart.

Steve stepped in between them, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration. “Buck, he saved her life… He saved her life.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the gravity of them sinking into the space between Bucky and Sam. Bucky’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him as the realisation hit him. Steve’s intervention was a fragile thread of reason amidst the storm of emotions.

Bucky’s eyes were wet and distant as he looked at Sam, the anger giving way to a profound, hollow grief. “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t there when she needed me. And now…”

Sam’s face softened, the anger melting into sorrow. “We all failed her in some way. But right now, she needs us to be strong for her. We need to focus on getting her through this, not tearing each other apart.”

Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, grounding him in the reality of their shared loss. “We’ll make it right. We have to.”

Bucky nodded slowly, tears streaming freely now. “I just… I need to be there for her. I need to make sure she knows that she’s not alone.”

Sam reached out, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm. “We’ll figure it out together. But right now, we need to get her the help she needs.”

The tension in the room began to ebb, replaced by a sombre determination. The three men, united by their shared pain and hope, turned their focus back to the mission at hand: saving you, their friend and comrade.

As they made their way to your room, the weight of their grief and regret hung heavily over them, but a shared resolve drove them forward. They would fight through their own pain to be the support you needed, each one grappling with their own role in the unfolding tragedy.

The medbay door opened, and Sam, Steve, and Bucky stepped inside, their faces etched with the resolve to be there for you, no matter what it took. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and the faint sound of your uneven breathing. The sterile scent of antiseptics filled the air, a stark contrast to the emotional storm raging inside them.

You lay on the examination table, wrapped in a thin blanket, your clothes damp from the shower. The medical staff had already assessed your condition and were giving you some space, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Sam approached you first, his face a mask of concern. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch as soothing as he could manage “Hey, Y/N,” he said softly, trying to offer comfort through his voice “Bucky’s back.”

Your gaze moved over to Bucky, and your bottom lip trembled at the sight of him. The guilt you felt was overwhelming, and you glanced between Steve and Bucky, noticing they were still in their mission gear, dirt smudged on their faces.

Steve could see the turmoil in your eyes and stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze “Y/N, don’t worry about us please, we’re here for you.”

You nodded, hanging your head in sorrow. The weight of your actions felt unbearable.

Bucky stood a little farther back, his hands clenched into fists as he struggled to contain his emotions. His eyes were locked on you, and the sight of you so vulnerable tore at his heart. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

“I… I didn’t mean for any of this,” you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I just… I didn’t…” Your hands lifted to your face as you broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Seeing your distress, Bucky could no longer bear the separation. He closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. The warmth and strength of his hold offered a small measure of solace.

Bucky buried his face in your hair, his own tears mingling with yours. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears continued to flow as you clung to him, the physical closeness providing a semblance of comfort in the midst of the chaos. Sam and Steve watched silently, their expressions a mixture of relief and sadness. They stood as a silent support system, allowing the moment of raw, unfiltered emotion to unfold.

The room, once filled with tension and despair, became a sanctuary of shared grief and healing. Bucky’s embrace was a promise—an assurance that despite the pain, the fractured pieces of your life could still find a way to mend.

As the sobs eventually quieted, Bucky’s hold remained steadfast. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice steadying as he stroked your back “…together.”

Sam and Steve exchanged glances, knowing the road ahead would be difficult. But in that fragile moment of connection, the promise of recovery and unity began to shine through, illuminating a path forward from the depths of despair.

[genshinlover101]

Hey, I hope you’re doing alright, May I request headcannons Hu tao, Eula, and Jean with a s/o who makes dark jokes? They aren’t depressed or anything like that, they just enjoy dark humor. Sorry for the weird request, and keep up the great work!

Her Reaction to Your Dark Humor

Characters: Hu Tao, Eula, Jean

Warnings: none

A/n: nothings weird! Don’t worry I think this concept is great especially with the girls picked, I already had inspiration flowing even before I started writing

• Hu Tao’s humor was literally dark as well, it was the whole reason why the entirety of Liyue didn’t like her. Little did anyone know it was just her way of coping.

• She would laugh at your jokes and in fact join them. She would carry it on until it died or was no longer funny.

• Hu Tao would just change the subject whenever you made a particularly dark joke. She knew you could handle yourself and were mentally stable.

“Dang, that was deep.” Hu Tao said in response to one of your jokes, it was a little too dark for her to join in comfortably.

“Was it?” You asked confused. You pondered and tried to retrace your words but you still didn’t think much of it. Knowing Hu Tao was practically the queen of dark humor you took what she had into consideration if she found something dark. 

“Yeah it’s alright though,” Hu Tao giggled and gave you a wide toothy grin, she wrapped her arms around you very animated leaving space for Jesus in between you two.

“But I like that about you though ya know? Never change,” She cuddled up against you closing the gap, rubbing her face on your chest. “No one else can tolerate me, so having someone else who understands my humor is a dream come true.”

• Eula didn’t really have a sense of humor because of her level of maturity, but when she did joke around it was to pick or tease you.

• Whenever you made dark jokes she didn’t care. If they were too far she’d just stare at you, maybe make a comment. But honestly, she found some of them funny and would just scoff.

• Depending on if you responded to her criticism of you, would determine her reaction to you. She never made a big deal about it or never joined whenever you made a particularly dark joke. She knew you were capable and therefore didn’t doubt you.

“I’m simply going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” Eula said as she didn’t even heed you a glance, she was focused on the state of her nails as she sat carefreely.

“Hm~ you thought that was too far?” You recalled your words and maybe it was? You couldn’t tell at this point though, you were too far down the rabbit hole.

“Of course, but I don’t mind. Just be careful someone might misunderstand the next time.” She still remained unfocused, as if she was used to trauma jokes. You couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Yes ma’am anything for you my liege.” You sarcastically mocked.

“You know I’m serious. I worry about you sometimes socially. I know I’m not one to talk but you have to know there is a time and place for everything in this world.”

• Jean’s humor was trash. Absolute garbage. Consisted of dad jokes or classics. “What time is it?” “Time for you to get a watch.”

• Jean would have two reactions to your jokes, no in-between. She would either not understand, therefore not react. Or she would scold you, depending on how dark would be her level of seriousness.

• I swear Jean would suggest Therapy with all the best intentions when you would go too far. She knew you were mentally stable but sometimes she doubted herself.

“Um…” Jean averted eye contact and you could tell she was uncomfortable. “Do you want me to recommend a therapist?”

“Absolutely not darling, why would I need one?” You asked puzzled, you thought your joke was fine just like any normal joke you would tell.

“That sounded a bit personal.” She wrapped her hand over yours to make sure you were okay even though she was aware nothing was traumatic in your life.

“Oh. Do you think? I thought it was average for me.” You thought twice about it.

“No surely that was above average. Someone might take your joke the wrong way, and if they do I won’t be there to get you out of it. Be careful what you say.” She said resuming her normal duties.

[magicpumpkin3]

hewwo! if you feel like it, may i please have hc's for the twst first years (or dorm leaders) hearing Yuu scream and rushing in to see them cornered by a giant spider? totally not replicating the situation i found myself in earlier today

My first request! Gogndkfnodomsjckdbc-

Dorm leaders (+ MC) VS spider

Warning: Maybe A bit OCC; (SFW)

Kalim Al-Asim

The moment you let out a scream of terror, him and Jamil were at your doorstep. Aaand after seeing that it was a giant spider Kalim now has to save you and Jamil, who's having a heart attack.

In all honesty, he was scared a bit himself. It's a giant spider. In your bathroom. Who wouldn't be terrified?!

Kalim's first instinct was, what we all do when we see a spider in our bathroom. Flush it. And there he goes summoning his unique magic-

So imagen a suprise of the dorm students, when there's a giant wave of water leaves the bathroom with you guys and a giant spider.

After the incident, Kalim has to comfort you and Jamil (therapists for both of you, that's for sure). This sunshine spends a whole week with you nonstop (literally), making sure there's no spiders around! I hope you ain't complaining about snuggles 24/7.

Vil Schoenheit

When he hears your scream of terror, first thing Vil thinks, it is his haters. (Or his overprotective fans...). Rushing into your room, like his life depends on it, Vil is prepared to take his hills off and fight.

But when he sees that it was mere a bit bigger then every spider, he was ready to slap you. He messed up his hair, clothes and for what?! Okay, he'll get rid of it, just stop screaming.

Vil isn't angry at you, don't get him wrong. He was just worried! Imagine you on his place!

He'll scold you a bit and probably will tease you about it for a few hours but Vil isn't judging.He knows that everyone are afraid of something. Be it a spider or death itself.

He'll make some more space in his tight schedule to visit you a bit longer then usual (don't get used to it. It's only going to last till you fully cool down).

Riddle Rosehearts

This guy right here had no idea he could go that fast. Riddle was running like one crazy Sonic after he heard you screaming in the garden. Running into one of the mazes many turns, where you were, he screams "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!" to punish whoever decided to scary or harm you.

At first, he only saw you pushing yourself more and more into one of the many corners of the maze. He was so confused, he didn't even hear your shoutings about a giant spider for a second.

Once he realizes what was the problem, he immediately cools down and is there to help you. I mean he will ask you about the screams and all but he won't judge you.

Once the spider is gone, he'll take you with him to a private tea-party, so you could talk about it. Please don't scare him like that. Ever again. Ever.

Riddle will definitely add a rule about bringing spiders to his dorm that's for sure. Or spiders in general if you're that scared of them.

Leona Kingscholar

He didn't even realize what was happening. He was asleep and now he's here. Leona only knew that you screamed in terror in your room and his instincts acted on their own.

Once he was in your room ready to fight whoever was stupid enough to mess with you, Leona sees that there was no danger. Only a really big spider.

Oh? Herbivore wants his help? After you woken him up from his nap for this? Hmm, let him think... Okay he'll help just stop screaming like bloody murmured is happening here. (That mf will act like he's about to throw that spider at you though-).

After the spider is gone...oh boi. Be prepared as they say it. King of the teasers is going to rain hell fires upon you. Leona will tease you about it for a long time. Good luck.

Overall, he isn't angry at you or anything. He's just iterated that he had to wake up for this. Please understand him. That lion really thought you were in danger. You owe him a few cuddle session after you cool down though-

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was never this thankful that he could teleport. When he heard you screaming in your dorm, he was right there and then. Malleus was ready to burn anyone who was there to harm you.

Including spiders... Okay he'll just set this little fella free. He isn't making any fuss about it. Everything happens. Some students in his dorm are terrified of food (Lilia's food to be specific), so he isn't the one to judge you or make fun of you.

He will question your reaction later though. While you explain your issue with spider, Malleus takes mental notes about this.

No spiders around his dear human. That's going to be a problem, considering the fact that there's some in Diasomnia and routes he planned taking you to.

Don't worry. Now every time, before going anywhere with you, he searches the whole place for any kind of spiders. He'll offer his help whenever you're about to clean your dorm. Those spider combs must be really freaking you out.

Azul Ashengrotto

He was peacefully sitting in his office, filling in some papers. It was after time and he had nowhere to be. Leech twins are gone, You are waiting for him in the lounge screaming like someone's trying to mur- wait WHAT?

Swinging door open (almost breaking it down-), Azul is there with his staff raised like it's a baseball bat. Looking around, he only finds you and a...spider cornering you.

So...You know the 'UNACCEPTABLE' meme, with lemen head? Yep, that's him. He isn't a fan of those creaters either. The fact that there's one in his fine restaurant (and it scares you?! It gets crushed by his staff and is flushed in the nearest toilet)?! Oh no, he ain't taking it.

After that nightmare of yours is gone, Azul immediately calls Leech twins. This place get disinfected. Now.

Don't think he forgot about you though! He takes you to his office and sits you on the couch so you could cuddle and try to forget about this accident. (Sweet boy will make you some calming tea!)

After a few days of disinfecting whole lounge and Azul himself checks every corner to make sure there's no bugs or spiders left, Monsto lounge is finally open again.

Idia Shroud

He was outside trying to get back to his room as fast as possible ignoring everything and he's almost there! Just another turn and-

His thoughts were cut off by someone's scream. No, wait- Idia maybe shy, insecure and have social anxiety but when people that he loves are in danger, it all disappears.

Imagen his suprise when he was ready to defend you, with his life and he was met with you cowering away from a big spider. He isn't afraid of them so, Idia doesn't really get it. He let's the thing free through the mirror and sighs, looking at you. Why are you afraid? I mean yeah it's bigger then usual once but hey-

Taking you too his room, Idia grumbles and scolds you a bit ( immediately apologizes after). He isn't mad just confused. Shroud sometimes forget that people can be afraid of such simple things.

You're going to have a very long cuddling and playing sessions after that, I guarantee you that! And he might tease you (more like attempt to) about this small misunderstanding later. Though he blushes through the whole thing.

Note: Sorry for taking so long! Author has big things going on rn!

Note№2: you're still free to leave a request thought! I'll get to it whenever I can.

[mintelepathy]

"From now on, you won't be alone anymore"

idol!jungkook x reader/oc

word count: +2.0k

genre: fluff¿

warnings: swear words¿

summary: jungkook can't stop thinking about the girl he met at a convenience store in the middle of the night and he can't help but return to see her again.

mlist

Jungkook can't sleep today, he's been sitting on the floor of his living room for almost three hours now, a piece of paper placed on his coffee table and a pen in his right hand.

Writing lyrics was easy when he felt inspired, but today it wasn't the case, he really wanted to make some progress with his mixtape but it seems that it wasn't the right time now.

He gave up. He knew that his attempts to write some lyrics were in vain for the moment, he needed to do something else, maybe something that could inspire him.

He often goes for a walk at night around his neighborhood, the later it is the better for him, it's the only time of the day where he doesn't feel like being spied, he understands what fame brings but sometimes people really step out of the line, and he wasn't happy with that, let's not misunderstand, he loves when fans approached him respectfully and talked to him, he just doesn't like when people follow him around with bad intentions.

He didn't even waste his time changing his clothes, he grabbed a coat because it was chilly outside and headed to the streets.

The night was quite peaceful, mostly because it was 3 in the morning, but it was a different kind of peace, and he enjoyed it. Trees filled the area where he lived creating a gentle wind, feeling the night breeze was something he loved, he stopped walking for a moment and took a big breath with his eyes closed. The air felt clean compared to other days.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he spotted was a convenience store crossing the street. He usually doesn't have any late snack, even more now that he is on a diet, but today he'll make an exception.

He made his way to the store with no rush and opened the door, it was his first time there, it wasn't like he didn't visit convenience stores often but that he had never seen that place before the times he went for a walk.

He greeted the girl who was working there and headed straight to the shelves looking for kombucha tea and ramen, he had the intention of eating the ramen there since those kind of stores had microwaves, so people were able to prepare their instant food and eat it right away.

But there was a problem, the kombucha tea was nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the counter, you found yourself watching the boy who just entered the store looking around the shelves for something unsuccessfully, you decided to make your way towards him to see if he needed any help.

"Excuse me, do you need help with anything?" The boy was wearing a big black bucket hat and a black face mask so it was quite difficult to see how his face looked.

"Uhm yeah, do you sell kombucha tea?" It was crazy how kombucha tea was being sold lately.

"Yes we do, but it's sold out at the moment, I heard somewhere that a singer recommend it and people got really interested and bought it until stores ran out of it" a giggle escaped his lips.

"I think I know who you are talking about" he took off his bucket hat to fix his hair, and put it back quickly. You could see his eyes for a split second and you felt like you have seen those eyes before, they were so big and pretty, like bambi eyes.

"Oh really, who is this famous singer then?" You knew you have read or heard about this guy but you couldn't remember his name.

"Jungkook" there it was when you realized.

"You are Jungkook" he just nodded. "I knew you seemed familiar" you confessed. "Anyway, is there anything else I can help you with?" You asked politely.

"Can I use the microwave?" He was the first person who asked you if they could use the microwave, people often just used it without asking.

"Yeah, of course" you made your way to the counter again and sat in your chair.

You couldn't help but watched him as he prepared the ramen, working there, and at night, was boring as hell so you never missed the opportunity to talk to customers when you had the chance, but you weren't quite sure if you should go and try to have a conversation with him. You didn't want him to think that you were approaching him just because he was famous.

Seeing him preparing ramen made you feel hungry, you also wanted to eat some so you didn't think twice and went to grab a cup of ramen.

He was sited just right besides the microwave so it was impossible to ignore his presence. You saw that he forgot to grab chopsticks so you picked two pairs from a shelve.

"Here" you said as you handed him the chopsticks.

"Thank you" he gently grabbed them, he had taken his bucket hat off so you were able to see him more properly now. "I see you are hungry" he said and you smiled.

"Yeah, I've been staring all night at those cups of ramen and I couldn't hold myself when I saw you preparing it" you said calmly trying to make him feel comfortable around you.

"Should we eat together then?" His question took you by surprise, he was being so sweet considering you were a completely stranger to him.

"I don't think I'm allowed to do this, but yes" you sat on the only chair left, which was besides him, and waited until your ramen was done.

"Would you get in trouble for eating with me?" He sounded concerned.

"Just if my boss finds out, but he is never around and almost no one buys things at this hour, so I don't think he'll know" fuck your boss, you didn't really like him, he was really rude to everyone.

"Well, in case your boss finds out, I can come and tell him that it was all my fault" it was the second time he made you smile.

You were ready to get up when you heard the microwave was done getting the ramen cooked, but Jungkook got up faster and brought it for you.

"Thank you" you said as he sat again, you both opened the chopsticks and started eating, even though he could start eating his ramen sooner he waited until yours was ready.

He obviously wasn't wearing his face mask anymore so you could see his features clearly. He was stunning. "What brought you here so late?" You asked him to start a conversation.

"I was trying to write some lyrics on my apartment but it didn't turn out how I wanted, I also couldn't sleep so I decided to take some fresh air, then when I was walking I saw this store and well, now I'm here" he took another bite of ramen. "Do you work here all night?" He asked you.

"Yeah, until 6am, it's kinda scary going back home alone after work because I have to walk and it's still dark outside when I leave, but anyways i'm here just during the weekend tought, I'm studying at collage so actually this is a part time job for me, I don't spend too much time in here" you could noticed he was really paying attention to you, he stopped eating everytime you talked.

"Can I know what are you studying?" You didn't know if he was really interested or if he was just being nice, but you were so happy now that you could spend some time talking with someone.

"I want to major in audio visuals, my parents weren't happy when I told them what I was going to study, they wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I didn't listen to them, is that a bad thing?" You asked him, you barely knew him and you were already asking him for advice, considering you didn't have close friends maybe you really needed a therapist to talk this things after all.

"I think you did the right thing, it's your life, you should do things that makes you happy" he made emphasis in the you part. "And you will learn from the decisions you make, not from other's" wise words.

"What about you? Are you happy with the life you have right now?" Both of you had already finished eating, so you were ready to listen to him closely.

"I am, I'm not happy everyday but I'm happy with my life so I can't complain, I just sometimes wish I could do things that are normal for most of the people" you completely understood his point, and you felt sad for him, everyone deserved that kind of freedom and you can see he couldn't have it.

"You know, when I saw you preparing the ramen I really wanted to talk to you because that's what I do with most of the people who comes here, but I was afraid you might think I only approached you because you were famous or something like that. So I just want you to know that even though I know your name or your face, it doesn't mean I know who you are, and for me you are just like everyone else, I won't treat you any different just because you are famous, I won't go and tell everyone that you were here or anything like that, I also know I can't take you to do all the things you'd like to do, but one thing I can offer you is an honest friendship, I bet Jungkook from bts is great, but if I'm honest I don't really care about him, I care about the real you and I'd love to get to know you more, I met you just a moment ago but I can see you are a really good person" everything you said was the truth, and he had to know that there was someone out there who cared about him. That's how you were, you cared about others.

"It's the first time someone tells me something like that, I really appreciate it" you would love to say that his words surprise you but they don't, and that's sad.

"I think I should go back to work right now" he nodded. "Oh and you don't have to pay, I invite" and with that you went back to the counter.

He stayed on the chair for a few more seconds doing something but you didn't know what because you could only see his back from there.

He got up later and made his way to the door. "Thank you for make me some company, see you soon" you didn't have time to say goodbye to him because he had already left. Have you done something wrong? You asked yourself.

Time passed and it was time to go back home, your coworker came in time so by 6am you were already out of the store, you didn't start walking though, you couldn't believe who was in front of you.

"Jungkook? What are you doing here?" Was he waiting for you?

"You said it was scary going back home alone, so from now on, you won't be alone anymore" it seems that you actually didn't do anything wrong after all. "I left a note on the table we shared" oh shit, you didn't see it.

"I didn't see it, sorry" you were about to go and look for it but he stopped you.

"It's okay, don't worry. It just said that I'd love to have you as a friend, and since you invite the ramen I hope you can accept my invitation to drink something some day" he seemed shy now, maybe that's why he didn't tell you this in person.

"Yeah, we can definitely go to drink something together, and as friends now" you smiled at him as he bite his lip cutely.

"Should I take you home now? You must be tired"

Yes you definitely were.

"Let's go" you said as you both started to walk next and close to each other.

There was no way you would forget this night.

♡

I hope you enjoyed reading this one

A like or reblog is always appreciated :)

[nerdshrimp19]

I just need to talk about this...

This is going to be something completely different from my usual content on my blog, but I need to talk about this because I am still livid.

This is most likely going to turn into a long-winded rant, so I will provide a TLDR.

TLDR: A psychiatric nurse practitioner said it would not be worth doing diagnostic testing for Autism and ADD/ADHD because I have good grades and a healthy long term romantic relationship.

For some background, I have been doing online college for two years and with the pandemic I have been by myself a lot more. This gave me more time for self-reflection, and I have always been interested in psychology. I decided to look into ADHD for a new topic to learn about, and when researching I related to the symptoms associated with it. I found myself diving deep into this topic like I do with everything I enjoy learning about and eventually found myself researching Autism because of the comorbidity of the conditions. I also related with some, if not most, of the symptoms associated with Autism, to some degree.

So, I slowly introduced the idea to my parents and boyfriend that I thought I might have both or one of the conditions. My parents were quite dismissive, but my boyfriend thought that my suspicions held some merit. But that was enough for me to go back to getting mental health services. My anxiety and depression were/are also worsening, so I wanted to get back into it anyway. I got a therapist and told her about my suspicions, and we talked about it. She also thought that it would be worth getting me tested for the conditions. So, she got me set up with a psychiatrist to possibly get me set for testing. (Quick side note: the last time I was tested for anything was when I was around the age of twelve and I almost twenty now.)

Surprisingly, I was looking forward to this appointment because of the prospect of getting testing planned, which my therapist assured me I could set up. If you have had a psychiatric appointment, you will know that they will take your medical information like weight, height, etc. That portion went without a hitch, but I was still masking like I usually do with strangers in public.

When I was called back, I was initially encouraged by the fact he was younger than any of my previous psychiatrists hoping that he would be more open minded. I decided that I was not going to mask when I was in the room, so hopefully he can get a more accurate visual assessment. Then when my mother and I got to the room and sat down he introduced himself as a “mental health nurse practitioner.” But I was under the impression that he was a doctor, I brushed this off as a misunderstanding on my part because it is something I often do. Since it was a first visit, we went over the basics like medical history, mental health history, medications, etc. But, when I brought up the possibility of me having something else besides/alongside my current diagnoses, I was dismissed. Then I finally brought up getting testing done for ADD/ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he asked me how I am doing in school. And I had good grades last semester. Next, he asked about my relationships, and of course I told him that I have a boyfriend who I have been with for almost four years. He decided that those two things alone were enough to say that he did not see a need for testing. Because according to him “it is not affecting me enough for it to be worth getting a diagnosis.” This man had the nerve to tell me that with me rocking back and forth, playing with a fidget toy to keep me calm and present, me making very little eye contact, both or one of my legs bouncing, and even after I told him that my father has diagnosed ADD and my brother has diagnosed ASD. Maybe if he looked anywhere besides my chest for a few seconds, he might have seen some of what I was doing. He attributed everything he was seeing and what I was telling him to my anxiety. Yes, I was quite anxious because I am horrible with crowds and strangers, which I told him. I also have lots of anxiety regarding medical settings because of chronic illnesses and mental issues. But of course, my people pleasing self just accepted this and did not press any further.

As soon as I was out of the building, I began telling my mom that it was not fair at all that he would not even consider letting me get testing. I also explained to her that he was going based of the typical, male associated symptoms of both conditions. “Does he not know that both ADHD and Autism present differently in women,” was what I asked my mom while trying not to cry out of anger in the car. Because I thought that I could finally get an explanation and label for why I am so different, and it was just taken from me. Even though this happened only a few days ago, I feel so much more isolated and invalidated than I did before the appointment. Having the opportunity to make sense of my life and myself being ripped away from me has effected much more than I thought it would.

I knew that it was harder for females to get a diagnosis for these things, but I was at least hoping that it would not be the case for me. It sounds naïve now, but my therapist validating me gave me hope that it would be different. My mom and I are looking into other people who might give me a chance to get tested and hopefully it will go better than that did. Although, I should not be surprised about any of this happening, mental health services in my state are a joke anyway.

Anyway, if you made it this far congrats you made it too the end of this way too long post. Thanks for reading what I had to say. This is not really adding anything to the discussion, but I just needed to tell someone, so again thank you for reading.

[arcadialedger]

Please note that I am most likely leaving this platform. I am done being abused. But first? We need to have a discussion. A discussion about hate and bullying in fandom.

All online-- I encourage you to read my story below. Reblog and spread awareness. The Dragon Prince fandom especially -- I implore you read my words, every single one of them. The short of it is that I am done. 

This all began with losing and being blocked by a friend because I shared something they disagreed with. I don’t care what you feel about my initial reaction to this (which I’ll explain below) -- I’ve apologized for not handling the situation correctly. But I will not be shamed for speaking my mind and standing up for myself.

Because no human being deserves to go through what I have endured since last summer.

Following the “callout” post made about me by one of, if not the largest blogs in this fandom, I received hundreds of threats, harassment messages, and death threats. Messages and posts telling me to kill myself were also prominent, on a multiple times a week basis for awhile.

Messages from people who were well aware I have struggled with being suicidal. Due to one of their favorite Dragon Prince blogs speaking out against me, they thought it was okay to suicide bait me.

And it worked. I already struggle with hating myself, am already insecure, and being flooded with these comments which, while I made mistakes, did nothing to deserve, drove me to try and take my own life after years of progress in my mental health.  

Mind you, this is like a 200 follower to 4k follower power dynamic. Which yes, plays a role-- because when you have a large following and influence, you have power. Yet the person behind this had the gall to claim Tumblr clout isn’t real.

People blocking and condemning others instantly at your word? Is power. If people read your words and are influenced, or have their minds changed, or buy or don’t buy something, etc.-- you are an influencer. You have power. And when you’re one of the largest blogs in a fandom, you have a LOT of power.

So take responsibility. 

I was hurt because I lost a friend who I had chatted with for months, did a podcast with, and was generally not only one of my favorite blogs but the center of my experience in the Dragon Prince. I may not have been perfect in my words, but when I was asked why I was quiet/ inactive, I explained how I was hurting, anonymously. I was understandably in pain and upset. I had been cut off for just having a different opinion on a matter, for thinking differently. Even though it was within their rights to block and do so, it felt wrong and it weighed on me.

Is that such a crime?

The callout post and previously described abuse followed, lasting for months until later in the year (this began in June, or around then). It also included screenshots of tweets, when this user does not have Tumblr, and they have stated to have screenshots stored up on their computer of my various posts and interactions. This is creepy behavior, and freaked me out. I felt like I was being stalked, “evidence” being filed away for the very purpose of being used against me. 

I eventually talked things out with the blog per recommendation of my therapist, and thought all would be fine. For a little while, it was. I largely stayed off of Tumblr to heal. Once in awhile I would have a rough, tearful night because something reminded me of what I lost, but I would make it through. Overall, I was making progress.

Then? My Twitter got hacked by one of the people sending me hate. For what had turned out to be much. And after they tweeted some purposefully incriminating and bigoted things to make me look bad, I came home from a weekend in the mountains to a shitstorm.

Twitter has a love hate relationship for me and I barely opened the app unless actively chatting with a friend. So when I saw 700+ notifications, I was surprised. It had never happened before.

I began to scroll through, and when I saw what had happened, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

I had lost over half of my followers and a solid 60% of previous Twitter mutuals had blocked me. But worst of all, I had hundreds of hate tweets directed at me replying to the hackers tweets. Messages had been sent in DMs and accounts blocked, followed, and unfollowed as well.

If you have never felt that loss of agency-- that sickening feeling of words you never said next to your profile-- be glad. Because it is traumatic. I value my words. I value what I have to say. And having that taken from me was worse than anything I had been through here on Tumblr, outside of the suicide baiting (the most direct attack to me and my emotions/ insecurities throughout this entire ordeal). Further, this hacker had clearly stalked my tweets based on some of their comments. 

Hundreds of tweets bashing me, calling me aphobic slurs (knowing I am asexual mind you, as it was in my bio), making fun of my appearance and targeting all of the insecurities which lead to my first suicide attempt in high school, and taking/ editing images of my face and mocking them. This all culminated in a doxing threat-- a doxing threat which made me feel unsafe on a campus I had already been sexually assaulted on. I was once again, after starting the healing process, thrusted back into the darkest time of my life and spiraled into anxiety and depression. I cried a lot overwhelmed by it all, had difficulty sleeping, and felt sick. I started fall semester and couldn’t concentrate on school. I was a mess.

I had once again been condemned, this time for something I had no part in. I tried to example what happened but nobody listened. I had been hung without trial. People were understandably confused, and my entire reputation on the platform, and my page, became a mess of lies, misunderstandings, and more.

If you don’t know the feeling of already hating yourself and being insecure, and having these beliefs reinforced and spread by hundreds publicly across the internet? Of already feeling lonely and unwanted and having the one space you thought you had taken from you? Consider yourself lucky. 

I had a lot of voice actors and creators following me-- accounts I interacted and greatly cherished my mutual with. A handful of them unfollowed, understandably. This online hate mob was sending messages to people demanding they unfollow me, including some of these creators. They had no idea what to make of this mess or what was real and true and just didn’t want to deal with it. Most of the others just stopped interacting with me. @aaronwaltke (tagging so those who don’t follow already click and do so, because he is absolutely fantastic-- he’s a writer for ToA)  who had followed me on the platform, graciously wished me peace with the entire situation after I checked to make sure he had not been subjected to messages or hate, either from my hacker or other accounts. His was the greatest compassion I got on Twitter, before I ultimately ended up just having to delete.

I lost podcast deals because of this with Adrian Petriw, Aaron Ehasz, and Justin Richmond. I do not blame them one bit and would have done the same in the confusion not wanting to get dragged into anything. 

Only to have one of the friends I lost who helped start this interview these very people on their own podcasts. A slap in the face. A zine I had bought to support them came to my door, with the front page proclaiming to “spread a narrative of love.”

I was never granted that chance. That compassion. I had the vultures sent after me with no mercy. And anyone who has been through online abuse and systemic harassment knows just how much it feels like they’re slowly but surely picking at your flesh ( a metaphor I used in one of my old, since deleted posts discussing the situation, and still find accurate), wearing you down until you have no strength left.

Make no mistake, my story is not a one off situation. Many share the same tale of abuse and being driven off of platforms that once gave them great joy. These attacks are coordinated, systemic, and common hobby for these people-- who largely claim to be loving and accepting of all. They are a cyberbullying phenomenon which has risen with the presence of fandom on the internet. And I want to make clear, with current discussions of “cancel culture”, I mean nothing political in that statement. Some might call my experience cancel culture, but I don’t.

It’s just bullying. It’s just hate. These people get off on ruining people’s lives.

And my life was greatly set back and ruined. I had a stain on my past in fandom I could never be rid of. I had to shut down my podcast, took time off of all social media, and most of what I had built, most of my growth, was taken from me while those who incited and/ or spread hate thrived and continued to grow and find success. That was the greatest sting of all. 

I asked the one previous friend who hadn’t blocked me, but had just stopped interacting with me (which I understood and respected, and also greatly respected her perspective, help, and support though this situation in which she largely unfortunately ended up in the middle) for help after explaining everything, and got nothing. They didn’t seem to care, and just blocked me on all platforms. Once in awhile, I would find I was cut off from yet another old friend, or a blog that I had never interacted with before but clicked into, interested. It hurt being cut off, unable to fully interact with the fandom, but I could move on.

That pain would never go away, but I made clear I did not blame them for the actions of those who abused, harassed, and threatened me. I also made it clear they did not owe me anything, including unblocking. 

I just wanted to move on peacefully, but those with the power to enable that did not wish to help. I slowly, when I felt ready, began to be more active on Tumblr again, and once again the hate started up. 

Sometimes when I was hurting, I expressed my pain and loss to my followers just to reach out, because I was sad. I had no idea how to rebuild from all that had happened. This got me more hate an accusations of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. I had no idea what to do, and got trapped in a cycle of needing to talk about it, and getting hate and backlash, but not knowing where else I could turn. 

My doxer came back into my asks, ultimately making me switch schools, and refueled the drama. Speaking up about this got me more backlash-- mostly accounts reblogging (one with tags saying “fuck you”, despite not knowing the full story, and commenting and then blocking me so I could do nothing to respond or get it off of my page. I deleted all posts of the matter, as requested by these people (who validly pointed out they were in the main fandom tags, which I hadn’t thought of and understood), and hoped to move on.

But it hasn’t stopped. I have been beaten down and emotionally bruised for months. I have had my life and safety threatened, my education and by extension life path altered, and lost work (podcast) opportunities due to this-- alongside the irreversible emotional damage from trauma and abuse. My mental health issues and insecurities-- which I have been very open about to destigmatize the subjects and encourage conversation-- were actively targeted to inflict the most pain possible. 

And I can’t even talk about it, without enduring more hate and accusations of “playing the victim”.

Death threats, suicide baiting, doxing, months of bullying and harassment to the most vile degree, which a lot of these people don’t know about because they don’t even bother to read my words. Yet I’m playing the victim. 

And the accusations of bigotry and being hateful hurt, because it couldn’t be further from what is in my heart. I believing in love and acceptance of all. I don’t know how many are religious here, but I found God after my first suicide attempt and that is what his word has taught me. 

I’ve been through too much in life to tolerate this, for lack of a more eloquent term, bullshit. I know what abuse and victim blaming looks like when I see it. And in my 20 years of life, I have gone through too much: constant ridicule and bullying, suicide attempts, sexual assault, major spinal surgery, to just be stomped over and not stand up for my right to basis human decency. 

I refuse to put up with this, so unless I get an apology and some semblance of justice for everything I have been through, I am leaving. I will not participate in a space run by hate and toxicity. I will never claim to be perfect, and I have apologized for my mistakes and wrongdoings. Now, hold those who did this accountable. If you’re reading this you know very well who it was, and I am not naming them for those who don’t. Because at the end of the day I still send nothing but love and wish no ill will towards them.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t expect accountability of one of the greatest influencers in the fandom for their complacency in abuse, threats, suicide baiting, and and absolute ruining of my life and online experience. They enabled this and were well aware they had the power to stop it-- to ask their followers to stop-- and did nothing. They didn’t care-- about a human’s life and well being. 

@dragonprinceofficial, are you aware that this is what many of the fans of your show, which preaches love and an end to the cycle of vengeance, do to others? That this is happening in your space? If you stand at all by the values you preach, condemn it. @staffTumblr/ @supportTumblr-- shame on you for allowing this abuse to happen and ignoring my reports. Shame on you for permitting these people to operate in your platform and for being okay with hosting hate. People have been driven to suicide on your website-- I am one of the lucky ones. 

If you care at all about humanity and stand against this behavior, reblog and spread awareness. Share my story so I may not happen to anyone else. Tag @dragonprinceofficial until they notice and speak out. 

This is my story, and so many others. Make sure it doesn’t happen ever again. No human being deserves to be treated how I was. Everyone deserves compassion, decency, and respect. And everyone deserves a place in fandom. Do better. If you want to reach out to me DMs are open, as well as my email, which is attached to my account. Until this change happens and I am given the support/ help needed to safely function on this platform, this blog will not be active outside of that. 

Thank you all of the many accounts who have supported me, and I am working on getting back to all who have reached out! Your love means the world. You know who you are, and I don’t want to tag in case people come after you for showing me kindness. I am sorry if this is goodbye, to all that have enjoyed my blog. I enjoyed it for a long time  too. I loved sharing my passion for stories, culture, having a space where I could analyze and discuss my favorite things.  I loved getting to share what I had to offer with the world, having fun and posting jokes with my unique sense of humor. I loved interacting with intelligent people/ fellow fans and discussing my favorite stories, offering each other new insights and growing together. I loved the many, many kind and wonderful people who reached out to me in a variety of ways and provided support and friendship.

In the end, it just isn’t worth all of this pain and trauma, and I know when to put my foot down. I don’t want pity, I don’t want apologizes, and I’m not a martyr. I just want my story to make a difference-- to spur positive change in fandom culture/ spaces.  I will be tagging all fandoms in which I have seen this kind of abuse present as well, to reach as many as possible. 

Be safe, and be kind.

- The Arcadia Ledger/ Ryn/ Katie, signing off.

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[whateveryousay04]

I just finished watching Midsommar (2019) for the first time and I spent a little bit of time watching YouTube videos about the film and I saw one particular person who kept commented that Christian(the boyfriend of the protagonist) was abusive and I seriously can’t stand such a claim.

I have been thinking about how for a while now, I have noticed that people on the internet will defend others people who said something that let’s say, doesn’t depict their current or more often past partner as the best fairytale by calling the partner toxic when maybe they do not know what even happened at all. While sometimes I see the bad in the other andI could even call them a red flag, I do not just throw around that word unlike others who say it at the littlest misunderstanding and I know very well that relationships and people aren’t perfect and everything needs to be worked on. Some things aren’t even bad, the person just wanted it to be different.

In a few words, people will 50-70% side with the person of which they see the point of view only and that is common also in arts such as music(video or lyrics), performing arts(cinema,television,theatre), written text, audiobooks, painting and sculpture representations even. Unfortunately many side with the protagonist regardless and rarely we see people seeing some sense in the actions of other characters. Unsurprisingly,it happened in this film too but what I do not understand is that as much as Christian was not the main character, he still was one of the most important ones and we got to see a ton of him.

And what have we seen from him?: That he has been doing as much as possible to help his girlfriend from the literal beginning of the film and even when he wanted to break up with her, he cared for her and had the intention to help her get over her though time for at least a bit before breaking up with her. The only 2 mistakes from him were not telling her directly that he was going on a trip beforehand and not cover her eyes when the village was sacrificing the 2 elders (but I understand that he was shocked himself and I was actually quite angry that the other friends didn’t move either,but they were all probably traumatized in that moment). He always cared for her and her well-being. The only thing that was putting their relationship at risk was that Dani was starting to become a lot for him to deal with. He obviously knew that it wasn’t her fault and helped her but it seems like it was by then a “normal” thing that happened and he has a mental health to maintain too. Didn’t we start talking more about how it is valid to not have to help others with their mental illness 24/7 ,especially when they didn’t ask beforehand and drop everything without thinking that the other should at least be aware that they are about to start talking about a certain topic that could be upsetting or triggering to some people? Not everyone can and should be a therapist to others! The same way she was suffering of trauma , he was suffering of burnout.

Christian was always there for her and he is actually a goal partner. Just because he didn’t love her as much as before or because he is a human being like her with a mental health to maintain and not a machine, it doesn’t mean that he was uncaring of Dani at all! He even asked her to come with him and his friends and tried to stick with her anytime to make her feel comfortable. “You don’t have to do this” “It’s fine, I can come with you” “I will accompany you to this walk” “Do you want me to come?” He literally said stuff like that at least 6 times in the film!

Christian was one of the most caring boyfriends I have ever seen portrayed on the screen and he deserves recognition for that. Get yourself a partner like him.

I will absolutely not accept any Christian Huges slander by anyone who is forcing the vision of him as a villain just because he wasn’t the dreamy fairytale boyfriend with no character and feelings of his own and not exclusively of his girlfriends’ and simply was maybe the right person at the wrong time or just not the right person (but definitely one of the best!) for her like Dani’s friend mentioned at the beginning of the film. I actually like that both Dani and Christian took consideration of the other even though everything was a bit messy. She knew that everything was too much for him to handle and that if anything, he might not be the perfect match for that matter because soon or later, he will also have a limit like her. Her friend didn’t even put it in a passive way, she said the truth. They wouldn’t even need to do some kind of “fight” because there wouldn’t be any hard feelings aside from malinchony.

Also, if the whole Midsommar sacrificial rites didn’t happen and it was more…less sacrificial, maybe they could have continued their relationship until a possible engagement in the future (1+ years) or she would have at least came back with a fresher mind. Because he definitely stood with her until the end and she quite recognized that from him. They definitely both wanted to continue the relationship.

-I dislike that he tried to steal his friends’ idea as soon as he saw how unorthodox and interesting everything was but I don’t blame him for being a student and take the opportunity as soon as he found it. He was a bit dictating to his friend tough.

-Some people will say that he forgot about her birthday by it may be a cultural vision from me but it isn’t a huge matter at all. Maybe it would have been nice but as he said himself, there was a lot going on in that period of time and he was clearly stressed too. Forgetting a date isn’t abusive.

[utilitycaster]

This is going to be long and also not terribly well-edited or organized as I want to post it now but also want to watch The Unsleeping City in 45 minutes. Anyway welcome to why I have really loved Caduceus in the post-hiatus times especially, and particularly in Eiselcross, and how I think missing the mark with Caleb is a brilliant choice, and some thoughts about religion in D&D. Obviously everything I say is subjective and a reading of the text so to speak but the religion part will dip into my own projections so like...especially subjective.

Caduceus has, from the start, always been a unique and necessary perspective within the Mighty Nein, and he’s a voice that’s both desperately needed within the group while having many of his own limitations.

I’ve always shied away from the therapist interpretation. I think that’s to an extent how Caduceus sees himself at times - in fact, I think part of his current arc is that he’s starting to move away from that idea of himself - but the fact is he’s not actually in that role. No one really is and that’s a good thing; found family slash sort of coworkers is a good place to find a confidant, but for a capital-T Therapist you need someone outside that circle.

I’ve mentioned in passing a few times that while I get why some people, and especially ex-Catholics, find a lot of resonance with Essek, my own experience with religion maps incredibly well onto Caduceus. I grew up Jewish and moderately religious, and went to a Jewish school until high school and having most of my social circle within that community. And as most religious minorities can attest, there is a sense of one’s religion being tied up with familial duty or responsibility and dueling pressures to and to not assimilate. I still find a lot of meaning in some religious practices and still practice many of them, but I’ve definitely changed a lot of those practices due to my experiences in high school and especially college, sometimes for good reasons (ie, “this is not in line with the values I’m finding within myself as I gain experience in the world and engage with new perspectives”) and sometimes for more neutral/selfish ones (ie, “I don’t want to go to services on Friday night, I want to go out drinking with my friends.”) Caduceus is a cleric and has a personal relationship with his deity and I don’t think it’s at all in his nature to abandon that, but I think it is a relationship that is changing, and I can say from personal experience that’s even if it’s for the better, even if it’s an evolution rather than a rejection, changing traditions you were raised in because of the outside world is not easy. Anyway, I see a lot of my college self in Caduceus and what he’s going through now, and it is a very quiet and internal struggle but still an important and difficult one.

More generally, while Caduceus is young for a firbolg, he’s still got 80-100 years of experience with the life he once led and probably thought he’d lead for his entire life. His family ventured out, but as far as I can tell, always in the direct service of the Wildmother. Caduceus fulfilled that when he rescued his family. It’s no surprise that he’s felt a little adrift since then. Indeed I think he felt a little uncertain at various other points too - certainly when the party stole a boat in Nicodranas, and he indicated at various other times that he’d had doubts - and that has got to mess with the fact that he had those doubts even while he was on a mission for his family, given to him by his goddess. He apologized to his parents for wanting to continue adventuring, even though they were fully supportive of his decisions.

I’ve already talked about Caduceus changing in Eiselcross especially - finding other things out in the world that were perhaps not directly given to him by the Wildmother but which still could use his help, and changing some of his approaches as a cleric. He admitted to Lucien that he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing at this time, and again, that’s a really hard place to be, especially for someone like Caduceus. I am really excited to see how his experiences in Eiselcross and beyond change him.

Back to the limited perspective and his words to Caleb: one thing Caduceus has always excelled at is a sort of...kind disregard for politics. I think some of it is just not having the inclination or taste for mind games, which tend to require both a certain intricacy and a good amount of deception, neither of which Caduceus is good at nor likes. This has often served the party well - Caduceus was the one who got them to involve the Dynasty when the Laughing Hand got out, and he might be the one who is willing to pull in Essek despite others’ doubts. But there is a benefit to politics; there’s telling someone only what they want to hear, which can often be bad, but there is an element of telling people what they should hear in a way in which it will be received, and I don’t know if he’s mastered that either. An unique perspective is valuable, but it’s still only one perspective.

I suspect Caduceus’s feelings towards Caleb are more complex than “turn that frown upside down” (and in general what people say on Talks is going to be ooc, in modern and fairly casual terms, etc) but I also think he may be approaching Caleb from a grief counselor perspective, when trauma is a much different thing, and he may be ascribing intent where, as was said on Talks, this is just there in Caleb whether or not he wants it. And I think this is a great character choice from Taliesin (I really do hope he’s on Talks in two weeks)! Why would a cleric of mourning and how death affects the living have an extensive knowledge of Caleb’s experiences? He wouldn’t! I should note I think Caduceus’s advice has often been very good - towards Fjord as Fjord was reaching out to the Wildmother, and to Beau and Veth in the conversation after the hag encounter especially - and those were conversations about things like religious faith and familial relationships and one’s place on the world, which are things Caduceus has experience with or is going through himself.

I feel like I’ve called characters foils a whole lot now and I don’t think it even fits entirely here, but it is fascinating to contrast Caleb and Caduceus, one of whom has drastically changed his path multiple times, willingly and unwillingly, and one of whom is in the midst of great and unclear change. I think they have more in common than they necessarily believe, and I absolutely think Caduceus’s intentions have always been good, just lacking in some understanding (which I also think Veth and Beau have at times gotten wrong too, in different ways). But Caleb is someone who has understandable difficulty talking about his past, and Caduceus is someone who doesn’t always quite realize if he’s off the mark, and I don’t know if they will resolve this, because neither is in the wrong.

One of my favorite things about both campaigns of Critical Role but especially this one is how interestingly and believably characters misunderstand each other. It was one of my favorite things about the twins in Campaign 1, and it’s been a throughline among many different characters in Campaign 2. Like, if I say I think a PC is misunderstanding someone else, there is an unspoken “and I think that’s fascinating and I want to know what happens next”, and the fact that he’s only just realizing how much he’s changed and how much he might change and expand his horizons is one of my favorite things about Caduceus.

[mimisempai]

When I see you I know I'm home

Summary

Returning from a mission, Sam walks along the harbor to find the one who shares his life, and revisits his memories...

Words : 1273 - Rating : G

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31403135

Sam would never tire of this sight.

As he followed the road that led him to their home, as he drove along the harbor, the sight of the "Paul & Darlene" had a way of soothing him. It was the sight that told him, "Welcome home."

But this view tonight, this view he had been graced with for the past few months, gave him a sense of belonging that made him say, "I am home."

Seeing Bucky busy on the boat had that kind of power. Sam felt like the sailors who navigated through the storm and saw the light of the lighthouse to show them the safe harbor.

No matter how chaotic the world was, when Sam would see this, he knew he could put his bags down, hang up his Captain America suit and just be the time he was here.

He decided to park the car and walk the rest of the way to enjoy the view.

The dockworkers were starting to head home, and Bucky was finishing unloading the boat. Sam couldn't help but think back to that day when Bucky had come to bring him his new armor.

There was so much misunderstanding and unspoken words between them at that time.

They had been drawn into a chain of events, between John Walker, the Flag Smashers, Madripoor and Riga. It had been impossible for them to settle down to clear the air between them. Both were struggling with their own demons.

"Just dropping this off. You can sign for it and I'll go."

Sam chuckled as he remembered Bucky's words when he had delivered the armor. To think that it had just taken a faulty boat pipe for them to be able to talk each other naturally and regain the closeness they had before.

Seeing Bucky now going down into the engine room, Sam remembered how they had worked on this boat together.

In fact, thinking back, it was so obvious that Bucky had come in the hope of being made to stay, the way he had spontaneously offered to help, the roundabout way he had gotten Sam to offer to stay with them.

Meanwhile, Bucky had gone back upstairs and put away whatever was still lying around, making sure everything was in order for the next day. Sam remembered fondly when Bucky had come to join him in that same engine room in the early morning, he remembered precisely the intimacy of that moment, their closeness, all those glances exchanged, no wonder they hadn't been able to fix the engine at the end.

As he got closer, he saw Bucky greeting some people who were passing by and others who came to exchange a few words. Old Carlos as usual. Sam had been surprised at the friendship that had formed between him and Bucky. Seeing Bucky laughing so freely, he thought to himself that at the time, it was something he would never have imagined seeing.

Bucky had once told him that what had been pivotal for him was the way he had been welcomed here combined with his discussion with Sam in the clearing.

That Sam had given him some perspective and something to look forward to. To him who had only gone from battle to battle, without having time to really stop and think about what he wanted to do and not what others wanted him to do.

Sam remembers how he felt that day.

The responsibility of that shield weighing on im. In that moment he had so strongly needed someone, for Bucky, to understand what it meant to him. And Bucky had reacted beyond his expectations, he had apologized to him, and even though he still didn't understand everything, he had taken the first step. Sam didn't need someone perfect, he knew there was a lot to learn, but Bucky was making the effort. He had also put his own insecurities into words, nothing like the aggressive talk from the disastrous session they had with Bucky's therapist.

Sam had found in Bucky an attentive and understanding ear, Sam had been able to express his fears and doubts. Bucky had accepted everything and validated everything.

Even though nothing had happened between them at that point, the dynamics of their relationship had changed and had planted the roots of their current relationship.

He remembered Bucky, stumbling over his words trying to make him understand what he was trying to do to make amends. He had seen the broken man, but he had also seen the man who wanted to get better, who wanted to break free, it had only taken a few words to guide him and Bucky had walked the rest of the way.

What a journey...

Seeing him laugh like that, communicating with people, freely, so open. Sam couldn't help but feel pride for the man who shared his life. He had found in Bucky a partner who complemented him, one who allowed him to put down his baggage, to be himself away from the expectations of the outside world and the responsibility he had taken on.

He was only a few steps away now, Bucky had his back to him and was looking out over the lake, the sun was setting, and it reminded Sam of the day Bucky had stayed.

Sam remembered little moments of that day, "Uncle Bucky" coming up here and there, Bucky taking the time to talk to every person he met, the smile that never seemed to leave his lips, the smile he had had when he had seen him, Sam. And later, when he had come to join Sam on the dock and without a word, they had returned together to Sam's house.

Today it was he who approached Bucky from behind.

"Hey..." he put his hand on his shoulder, not a flinch, Bucky simply leaned his head against Sam's hand before turning around.

"Hey Sam... already here? Weren't you supposed to be back tomorrow?" He framed Sam's face with both hands, not letting him answer, and kissed him softly before resuming, "I'm not complaining though..."

"Hm..." Sam grumbled because he hadn't had enough, he reclaimed Bucky's lips keeping him from moving back. In return, Bucky wrapped his arms around him and the reunion kiss dragged on and on, neither of them getting enough. Once they caught their breath, much later, Bucky put his head in Sam's neck and whispered, "I missed you."

Sam tightened the embrace before whispering back, "I missed you too Bucky. Why do you think I came home early?"

He took Bucky's hand and they stayed like that, facing the lake and the setting sun, in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

Sam cleared his throat.

"You know when I saw you on the boat when I first got there, I thought we were kind of like that boat. It has had its ups and downs. A while back I thought I was going to lose it, I thought the repairs would never be enough, but with a push, perseverance, and once we figured out what it needed, it started up again, and since then it's been cared for, paid more attention to its needs, and it's still here even after all it's been through, stronger than before."

"Just like us," Bucky replied in a slightly broken voice.

"Yes, just like us." Sam raised Bucky's hand to his lips and kissed it.

Bucky replied, his throat tight, "Thanks for not giving up on me."

Sam simply replied, "Thank you for understanding what I needed."

Then still holding Bucky's hand, he began to walk to get off the boat.

"Come on Bucky, let's go home." ____

If you have made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read.

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Eighth Letter

----------------

To: Xu Minghao

From: Y/N

Dear Minghao,

I just want to thank you for being my friend despite my awkward confession, even if this current friendship might not last long. Actually, I don't think it will.

I'll be honest here since I didn't tell you this yet.

I spent a few years away from love. My high school years had so many different love stories and none of them exactly had a happy ending. They were all bittersweet endings and even the love story with you is a bit bittersweet.

I guess I misinterpreted your actions. I'm not mad or extremely sad that you rejected me, I feel like that put me in my place. Now that I think about it, maybe we weren't meant to be lovers. So, I don't want to drift away from you just because you rejected my confession. I'm not going to love you like that anymore, I want to keep you as a true friend.

I hope you won't feel awkward around me. I can already feel the awkward air but I wish for it to fade quickly. Let's not stop being friends. I'll stop loving you though. I hope you won't think of me differently now that I've confessed. I feel like you would pretend that it's fine but inside, the awkwardness only grows.

As I'm writing this letter, the fate of us is still being determined. Even I don't know what we are going to become. If the ending for us is unhappy and we decide to stop being friends... Well, I would blame myself for it. I would be losing a friend that I adored.

MinghaoI won't ever talk about my confession again so I'm writing this.

, you're a really attractive guy. I'm sure that anyone would fall for you if they got to know you. You're fashionable, fun, kind, warm-hearted, and also a great therapist, haha. You give me the best advice and always listen to my problems whenever I need to let them out. You always encourage me to speak up.

Remember that one time when I was getting yelled at by the professor over a misunderstanding? I was just standing there like a complete idiot, listening to the professor's words of criticism when you stood up and said, “Professor, it wasn't Y/N's fault. If you looked closely, you would have seen that the dress already had holes in it from the beginning. It was a part of the design. As a fashion professor, how could you overlook that?”

Your expression was so serious and you completely cornered the professor. I feel kind of bad talking about the professor like this but I just want to praise you. The professor apologized after class but I knew he was unwilling to admit his mistake.

When you stood up for me for the first time, you left such an admirable first impression. I wanted to get to know you immediately! You were so cool speaking straightforwardly like that and not hesitantly speaking your mind and standing up for me. I still admire you.

Minghao, honestly, I don't think we'll be okay.

The words still kind of hurt me. Whenever I see you, I think back on those words you said to me.

Since I was just a friend that confessed, I don't think you would remember your response to my confession, so let me remind you; not in a bad way. Since this is a keepsake letter, I just want to remind myself.

I think you and I were in front of an art museum together. You invited me along that bright, sunny morning, and of course, after realizing my feelings, I couldn't deny your offer. I was excited.

I'm sure you'll never know my side of the story so I'll tell you everything that happened that day and why it leaves a small scar in my chest. I'm not blaming you for it, I'm blaming myself. Minghao, it's all my fault.

Honestly, I was too expectant. Gosh... I was way too ahead of myself that day. Our friendly hangout in my head was a date.

After you invited me and told me that you'd come to pick me up in 30 minutes, I rolled out of my college dormitory bed and rushed everything. I did my hair, makeup, and tried to dress prettily for you.

I did my best in that short amount of time but the only thing you complimented was my outfit. Sure, I was happy, but also disappointed. I was bummed because I didn't even have a chance to breathe, meanwhile, you were looking as fashionable as ever with almost no effort.

The museum was fun. I always had a knack for art so everything was admirable and lovely. What made it better was that I was able to spend that time with you. We shared our thoughts with each other but to me, you looked way too serious. I should have gotten the hint then that you didn't feel the same way about me as I did toward you.

Suddenly, this lump started forming on my chest and I just felt like I should get it off. I didn't want to hold back anymore so after walking around the art museum, the words just slipped out of my mouth.

Then you went silent while staring at me.

“I'm sorry.”

I said it was fine then because I thought I was really fine with the rejection. But just a bit after, I realized that I couldn't ride in the same car as you. I wouldn't be able to. Everything came flooding back into my brain, the memories of us that I thought were memorable. That's why I told you to leave first. I'm sure you knew that we both were uncomfortable.

After you left, I just sort of... reminisced our sweet moments that seemed romantic enough to make us more than friends. I did that while taking a walk.

I especially remembered the days when we went shopping, worked together after courses and talked about our days. Even these things that seem so small held so many memorable things to me, including moments that made my heart pound and race.

Since you rejected me, friend-zoning me, I can only conclude that you don't like me back, thus the conclusion that these moments meant nothing more than acts of kindness.

Minghao, you shouldn't be so kind, or else people would misunderstand you, like me. Why must you be so attractive? You're masculine but at the same time, you can become so soft and cute and caring.

Anyway, at this point, you've probably lost interest in reading this letter (if you ever read it). I hope you'll trudge on though as I keep going forward with the reminiscing. I know that you like reading, Minghao.

So, when we went to the bookstore, there was something memorable that happened to me there.

Yes, it made my heart pound too.

Yes, it made me fall harder for you.

I was really sleepy that day. All the college work piling up only made me more stressed and I was so tired. You didn't know that I was, did you?

I ended up falling asleep at a table while you were choosing books.

When I woke up, I saw your face. It wasn't upside down, you were sitting next to me, with your head lying against the table, facing me. It's still a question to me why you did that when you could have just woken me up or sat somewhere else, but well, you rejected me.

You and I just stared at each other. I was wondering then, what were you thinking?

At that time, I didn't know how you felt about me, so every little thing was hope. Your face was so close to mine and our bodies were against each other slightly. I was able to feel your warm breath.

“Are you wide awake now?” You asked.

Minghao, when you asked that, I honestly got the feeling that you were nervous because you quickly got up and removed the book you have placed under my head while I was sleeping.

You? Nervous? I guess I was wrong.

Even now, I feel a bit hopeful that maybe sometimes, I did make your heart race, but that's all just false hope.

We went clothes shopping around a month ago.

You wanted to get some new hats and I tagged along because we were friends. While picking hats, we were talking about normal stuff that we always talk about, so I was busy with that conversation. I was talking to you while looking at hats and then suddenly, I felt a hat plop down on my head.

When I turned around, I nearly bumped into your chest. Your hand was still on my head, where the hat was placed. I was so nervous and my whole body was burning up, you know that?

After that, you had to attack again with your soft giggles and smile, making me completely melt.

Then, you took off the hat and patted my head and ruffed my hair, then continued the conversation as if you didn't just do that to me. Of course, you probably never knew how I felt.

This is the last one, I promise.

I picked this one carefully.

That day after courses. It was a rainy afternoon and we were together at the library, studying and working together.

It was getting dark but we didn't expect the rain so we didn't take umbrellas with us. We ended up staying at the library for hours, just talking.

That was the important, special part of this memory.

We talked a lot and I was happy. You made a lot of jokes and I learned a lot more about you. You also smiled a lot. I was just really happy to be around you, talking about your life and mine.

I don't know why this one is the most memorable for me. I just always, constantly, remember the scene of us sitting at a table in the library, talking to each other beside a window painted with raindrops.

I don't know if you felt it but to me, it seemed more like we were flirting.

Minghao, now that I've reached the near end of this letter, I think I've decided the future for us.

Let's not stay friends. I don't want to fall for you. I don't want to love you. Being your friend would only make it worse for both of us since you didn't feel the same way.

You asking me to your b-boy competitions, you asking me to look at your art projects, it was all just normal things that friends would do but I overreacted.

It's all my fault and I'm sorry for it. I'm sorry and I know that I can't fix our friendship. I was such a fool.

Minghao, I hope you can find a better friend than me; A friend that doesn't misunderstand you, a friend that can love you without falling for you romantically, a friend that can be better than me.

My love stories always have a bittersweet ending so don't worry, you're not the only guy.

Thank you for being my friend for a year. I really appreciate it. You were a great buddy, fun, kind, serious, and caring.

I'm sorry for being this way.

I'm sorry for what I did, though I can't take back my confession.

I shouldn't have fallen in love, right?

Sincerely,

Y/N

-----------------

© serenityseventeen

7/1/21 - 10:28 pm

a/n: Get well! Wishing our best leader a healthy recovery!!! + it's the month of July, which means... Wonwoo's bday (and my sister's). + Ending fairy Boo = iconic ><

[star-anise]

An ask I got recently:

hi so i’m a transmed and i’m not sure if you’ll answer this because of that but i saw your post about transmedicalism and was wondering if you could expand on that? you seem like a genuinely kind and judgement-free person, thank you darling x

My response:

Heh, you call me “judgement-free” and ask for my opinion on a topic I’ve formed a lot of judgments about… I get it though, I’m not into attacking people for what they believe so much as providing FACTS. As a cis queer, my insight into transmedicalism isn’t really about the innate experience of trans-ness so much as using my education and professional experience to talk about social science research, diagnostic systems, and public health policy.

This ended up really long, so the tl;dr is, I think transmedicalism as I understand it:

Misunderstands why and how the DSM’s Gender Dysphoria diagnosis was written,

Treats the medical establishment with a level of trust and credibility it doesn’t deserve, at a time when LGBT+ people, especially trans people, need to be informed and vigilant critics of it, and

Approaches the problem of limited resources in an ass-backwards way that I think will end up hurting the trans community in the long run.

TW: Transphobia; homophobia; suicide; institutionalization; torture; electroshock therapy; child abuse; incidental mentions of pedophilia.

So first off I’m guessing you mean this post, about not trusting the medical establishment to tell you who you are? That’s what I’m trying to elaborate on here.

I have to admit, when you say “I’m a transmedicalist” that tells me very little about you, because on Tumblr the term seems to encompass a dizzying array of perspectives. Some transmedicalists believe in what seems to me the oldschool version of “The only TRUE trans people suffer agonizing dysphoria that can only be fixed with surgery and hormones, everyone else is an evil pretender stealing resources and can FUCK RIGHT OFF” and others are like, um… “I have total love and respect for nonbinary and nondysphoric trans people! I qualify for a DSM diagnosis of dysphoria but that doesn’t make me inherently better or more trans than anyone else.”

Which is very confusing to me because according to everything I’ve learned, the latter opinion is not transmedicalism. It’s just… a view of transness that acknowledges current diagnostic labels and scientific research. It’s what most people who support trans rights and do not identify as transmedicalists believe. But I kind of get the impression that Tumblr transmedicalism has expanded well past its original mandate, to the point that if a lot of “transmedicalists” saw the movement’s original positions they’d go “Whoa that’s way too strict and doesn’t help our community, I want nothing to do with it.”.

Okay so. Elaborating on the stuff I can comment on.

1. DSM what?

The American Psychiatric Association publishes a big thick book called The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, called the DSM for short. This is the “Bible of psychiatry”, North America’s definitive listing of mental disorders and conditions. It receives significant revision and updates roughly every 10-15 years; it was last updated in 2013, meaning it will likely get updated sometime between 2023 and 2028.

The DSM lists hundreds of “codes”, each of which indicates a specific kind of mental disorder. For example, 296.23 is “Major depressive disorder, Single episode, Severe,” and  300.02 is “Generalized anxiety disorder.” These codes have information on how common the condition is, how it’s diagnosed, and what kind of treatment is appropriate for it.

Diagnostic codes are the key to health professionals getting paid. If there isn’t a code for it, we can’t get paid for it, and therefore we have very few resources to treat it with. The people who actually pay for healthcare–usually insurance companies or government agencies–decide how much they will pay for each code item to be treated. They’ll pay for, say, three sessions of group therapy for mild depression (296.21), or they’ll pay for more expensive private therapy if it’s moderate (296.22); they’ll pay for the cheap kind of drug if you have severe depression (296.23), but to get the more expensive drug, you need to have depression with psychotic features (296.24).

Healthcare companies, especially in the USA where the system is very very broken and the DSM is written, are cheap bastards. If they can find an excuse not to fund some treatment, they’ll use it. “We think this person who lost their job and can’t get off the couch should pay this $1000 bill for therapy,” they’ll say. “After all, they were diagnosed as code 296.21, and then saw a private therapist for five sessions, when we only allow three sessions of group therapy, and you’re saying they haven’t had enough treatment yet?”

A lot of the advocacy work mental health professionals do is trying to get the big funding bodies to pay us adequately for the work we do. (This is a much easier process in countries with single-payer healthcare, where this negotiation only needs to be done with a single entity. In the USA, it needs to be done with every single health insurance company in existence, as well as the government, sometimes differently in every single state, and then again on a case-by-case basis as well.) Healthcare providers have to argue that three sessions of group therapy isn’t enough, that Medicaid needs to pay therapists more per hour than it costs those therapists to rent a room to practice in, or else therapists would lose money by seeing Medicaid clients. DSM codes exist a tiny bit to let us communicate with each other about the people we treat, and a huge amount to let us get paid. The fact that their existence lets people make sense of their own experiences and find a community with people who share common experiences and interests with them is a very minor side benefit the DSM’s authors really don’t keep in mind when they update and revise different diagnoses.

So when it comes to convincing insurance companies to pay for treatment, humanitarian reasons like “they’ll be very unhappy without it” tend not to work. The best argument we have for them paying for psychological treatment is that it’s economical: that if they don’t pay for it now, they’ll have to pay even more later. If they refuse to pay, let’s say, $2000 to treat mild depression when someone loses their job, and either refuse treatment or stick the person with the bill, then that person’s life might spiral out of control–they might, let’s say, run low on money, get evicted from their apartment, develop severe depression, attempt suicide, and end up in hospital needing to be medically resuscitated and then put in an inpatient psych ward for a month. The insurance company then faces the prospect of having to pay, let’s say, $100,000 for all that treatment. At which point somebody clever goes, “Huh, so it would have been cheaper to just… pay the original $2000 instead so they could bounce back, get a new job, and not need any of this treatment later.”

Trans healthcare can be kind of expensive, since it often involves counselling, years of hormone therapy, medical garments, and multiple surgeries. Health insurance companies hate paying for anything, and have traditionally wanted not to cover any of this. “This is ridiculous!” they said. “These are elective cosmetic treatments, it’s not like they’re dying of cancer, these people can pay the same rate for breast enhancements or testosterone injections as anyone else.”

So when the APA Task Force on Gender Identity Disorder (a task force comprised, as far as I can tell, entirely of cis people) sat down to plan for the 2013 update of the DSM, one of their biggest goals was: Treatment recommendations. Create a diagnosis which they could effectively use to advocate that insurance companies fund gender transition. Like when you go back and read the documents from their meetings in 2008 and 2011, their big thing is “create a diagnosis that can be used to form treatment recommendations.” So that’s what they did; in 2013 they made the GD diagnosis, and in 2014 the Affordable Care Act required insurers to provide treatment for it.

A lot of trans people weren’t happy with the DSM task force’s decisions, such as the choice to keep “Transvestic Fetishism,” which is basically the autogynephilia theory, and just rename it “Transvestic Disorder”. The creation of the Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, basically, was designed to force the preventive care argument. They didn’t think they could win on trans healthcare being a necessity because healthcare is a human right, so they went with: Trans people have a very high suicide rate, and one way to bring it down is to help them transition. One of the major predictors of suicidality is dysphoria. The more dysphoric someone is, the more likely they are to attempt suicide (source).  Therefore, health insurers should fund treatment for gender dysphoria because it was cheaper than paying for emergency room admissions and inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations.

I have spoken to trans scientists about what research exists, and my understanding is: The dysphoria/no dysphoria split is not actually validated in the science. That is, when you research trans people, there is not some huge gaping difference between the experiences, or brains, of people With Dysphoria, and people Without Dysphoria. Mostly, scientists haven’t even thought it was an important distinction to study. The diagnosis wasn’t reflecting a strong theme in the research about trans experiences; that research showed that trans people with all levels of dysphoria were helped with medical transition. The biggest difference is just that dysphoria is a stronger risk factor for suicide. Experiencing transphobia is another strong risk factor, but that’s harder to measure in a doctor’s office, so dysphoria it was.

(I’ve seen some transmedicalists claim that dysphoria’s major feature is incongruence, not distress. And I’ll just say, uh… in psychology, “dysphoria” is the opposite of of “euphoria”, literally means “excessive pain”, and is used in many disorders to describe a deep-seated sense of distress and wrongness. As a mental health professional, I just can’t imagine most of my colleagues agreeing that something can be called “dysphoria” if the person doesn’t feel real distress about it. If you want a diagnosis that doesn’t demand dysphoria, you’d need Gender Incongruence in the upcoming version of the ICD-11, which is the primary diagnostic system used in Europe, published by the World Health Organization.)

2. Doctors are not magic

Medicine is a science, and science is a system of knowledge based on having an idea, testing it against reality, and revising that knowledge in light of what you learned. We’re learning and growing all the time.

I don’t know if this sounds painfully obvious or totally groundbreaking, but: Basically all medical research is done by people who don’t have the condition they’re writing about. Psychology has a strong historical bias against believing the personal testimonies of people with conditions that have been deemed mental disorders, so researchers who have experienced the disorder they’re writing about have often had to hide that fact, like Kay Redfield Jamison hiding that she had bipolar disorder until she became a world-renowned expert on it, or Marsha Linehan hiding that she had borderline personality disorder until she pioneered the treatment that could effectively cure it. Often, having a condition was seen as proof you couldn’t actually have a truthful and objective experience of it.

So what I’m trying to say is: The “gender dysphoria” diagnosis was written and debated, so far as I can tell, by entirely cis committee members. The vast majority of psychological and psychiatric research about LGBT+ people is written by cisgender heterosexual scientists. Most clinical and scientific writing has been outsider scientists looking at people they have enormous power over and making decisions about their basic existence with very little accountability.

And to show you how far we’ve come, I want to show you part of the DSM as it was from 1952 to 1973. It shows you just why so many older LGBT+ people find it deeply ironic that now the DSM is being held up as definitive of trans experience:

302 Sexual Deviation This category is for individuals whose sexual interests are directed primarily toward objects other than people of the opposite sex, toward sexual acts not usually associated with coitus, or towards coitus performed under bizarre circumstances as in necrophilia, pedophilia, sexual sadism, and fetishism. Even though many find their practices distasteful, they remain unable to substitute normal sexual behavior for them. This diagnosis is not appropriate for individuals who perform deviant sexual acts because normal sexual objects are not available to them.

302.0 Homosexuality 302.1 Fetishism 302.2 Pedophilia 302.2 Transvestitism […]

Yes, really. That is how psychiatry viewed us. At a time when research from other fields, like psychology and sociology, were showing that this view was completely unsupported by evidence, psychiatry thought LGBT+ people were fundamentally disordered, criminal, and incapable of prosocial behaviour.

My favourite retelling of the decades of activism it took LGBT+ people and allies to get the DSM to change is from a friend who did her master’s thesis on the topic, because she leaves in the clown suits and gay bars, which really shows how scientific and dignified the process was. The long story short is:  It took over 20 years of lobbying by LGBT+ people who were sick and tired of being locked up in mental institutions and subjected to treatments like electroshock training, as well as by LGBT+ social scientists, clinicians, and psychiatrists, to get homosexuality declassified as a mental illness. And that was homosexuality; the push to change how trans people were listed in the DSM is very recent, as seen in the latest version listing “Transvestic Disorder”, a description very few trans people ever use for themselves.

Here are a few more examples of how people with a condition have had to take an active part in the science about them:

When HIV/AIDS appeared in the USA, the government didn’t care why drug addicts and gay people were dying mysteriously. Hospitals refused to treat people with this mysterious new disease. AIDS patients had to fight to get any funding put into what AIDS is, how it spreads, or how it could be treated; they also had to campaign to change the massive public prejudice against them, so they could be treated, housed, and allowed to live. Here’s an article on the activist tactics they used. If you want an intro to the fight (or at least, white peoples’ experience of it), you could look into the movies How to Survive a Plague, And the Band Played On, and The Normal Heart.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) is a little-understood disease that causes debilitating exhaustion. It’s found twice as often in women as men. Doctors understand very little about what it is or why it happens, and patients with CFS are often written off a lazy hypochondriacs who just don’t want to try hard. There are basically no known treatments. In 2011, a British study said that an effective treatment for CFS was “graded exercise”, a program where people did slowly increasing levels of physical activity. This flew in the face of what people with CFS knew to be true: That their disease caused them to get much worse after they exercised. That for them, being forced to do ever-increasing exercise was basically tantamount to torture, so it was very concerning that health authorities and insurance companies began requiring that they undergo graded exercise treatment (and parents with children with CFS had to put their children through this treatment, or lose custody for “medical neglect”). So they investigated the study, found that it was seriously flawed, got many health authorities to reverse their position on graded exercise, and have made strides into pointing researchers to looking into biological causes of their illness.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a rare but debilitating disease that isn’t researched much, because it affects such a small portion of the population. The ALS community realized that if they wanted better treatment, they would need to raise the money for research themselves. In 2014 they organized a viral “ice bucket challenge” to get people to donate to their cause, and raised $115 million, enough to make significant advances in understanding ALS and getting closer to a cure.

A common treatment for Autism is Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA), which is designed to encourage “desired” behaviours and discourage “undesired” ones. The problem is, the treatment targets behaviour an Autistic person’s parents and teachers consider desirable or undesirable, without consideration that some “undesired” behaviours (like stimming) are fundamental and necessary to the wellbeing of Autistic people. Furthermore, the treatment involves punishing Autistic children for failure to behave as expected–in traditional ABA, by witholding rewards or praise until they stop, or in more extreme cases, by subjecting them to literal electric shocks to punish them. (In that last case, they’ve been ordered to stop using the shock devices by August 31, 2020. That only took YEARS.) Autistic people have had to campaign loud and long to say that different treatment strategies should be researched and used, especially on Autistic children.

So I mean… I get that the medical model can provide an element of validation and social acceptance. It can feel really good to have people in white coats back you up and say you’re the real deal. But if you get in touch with most LGBT+ and transgender groups, they’d say that there’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to researching trans issues and getting scientific and governmental authorities to recognize your rights to social acceptance and medical treatment.

Within a few years, the definition you’re resting on will turn to sand beneath your feet. The Great DSM Machine will begin whirring into life pretty soon and considering what revisions it has to make. You’ll have an opportunity to make your voice heard and to push for real change. So… do you want to be part of that process of pushing trans rights forward, or do you just want to feel loss because they’re changing your strict definition of who’s valid and who’s not?

3. Scarcity is not a law of physics

One of the major arguments I see transmedicalists push is that there’s only a limited number of surgeries or hormone prescriptions available, so it’s not okay for a non-dysphoric person to “steal” the resources that another trans person might need more. This makes sense in a limited kind of way; it’s a good way to operate if, say, you’re sharing a pizza for lunch and deciding whether to give the last slice to someone who’s hungry and hasn’t eaten, or someone who’s already full.

When you start to back up and look at really big and complex systems–basically anything as big, or bigger, than a school board or a hospital or a municipal government–it’s not a helpful lens anymore. Because the most important thing about social institutions is that they can change. We can make them change. And the most important factor in how much the world changes is how many people demand that it change.

I’ve talked about this before when it comes to homeless shelters, and how the absolute worst thing they can have are empty beds. I used to work in women’s shelters, which came about when second-wave feminists started seriously looking at the problem of domestic violence in the 1960s and 70s, It was an issue male-dominated governments and healthcare systems hadn’t taken seriously before, but feminists started heck and did research and staged demonstrations and basically demanded that organizations that worked for the “public benefit” reduce the number of women being killed by their husbands. Their research showed that the leading cause of death in those cases were when women tried to leave and their partners tried to kill them, so the most obvious solution was to give them someplace safe to go where their partners couldn’t find them. Therefore the solution became: Women’s shelters. When feminists committed to founding and running these shelters, local governments could be talked into giving them money to keep them running.

(Men’s rights activists, the misogynist kind, like to whine about “why aren’t there men’s shelters?” and the very simple answer is: Because you didn’t fight for them, you teatowels. Whether a movement gets resources and funding is hugely a reflection of how many people have said, “This needs resources and funding! Look, I’m writing a cheque! Everyone, throw money at this!” In other news, The BC Society for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse does great work. People should throw money at them.)

When the system in power knows there are resources it wants and doesn’t have, it finds a way to make them appear. For example, in Canada, the government knows that it doesn’t have enough trained professionals living in its far North, where the population is scarce and not very many people want to live. Doctors and teachers would prefer to live in the southern cities. But because it’s committed to Northern schools and hospitals, they create incentives. For example, the government offers to pay off the student loans of teachers or health professionals who agree to work for a few years in Northern communities.

Part of why trans healthcare resources are so scarce is that for a long time, trans people were considered too small a part of the population to care about. Like, “Trans people exist, but we won’t have to deal with them.” Older estimates said 0.4% of the population was trans, which meant a city of 100,000 people would have 400 trans people. A single family doctor can have 2000 or 3000 clients, so the city could have maybe 1 or 2 doctors who really “got” trans issues, and all the trans people would tell each other to only go see those doctors because all the rest were assholes. And the cracks in the system didn’t really seem serious. A couple hundred dissatisfied people not getting the healthcare they needed? Meh! Hospital administrators had more to worry about!

But the trans population is growing. A recent poll of Generation Z said 2.6% of middle schoolers in Minnesota were some kind of trans. which is 2,600 per 100,000. That’s enough to make hospitals think that maybe the next endocrinologist or OB/GYN they hire should have some training in treating trans people. That’s enough to make a health authority think that maybe the state should open up a new gender confirmation surgery clinic, since demand is rising so much.

Or well, I mean. Hospitals have a lot on their minds. This might not occur to them as their top priority. They’d probably think of it a lot sooner if a bunch of those trans people sent them letters or took out a billboard or showed up by the dozens at a public meeting to say, “Hello, there are a fuckload of us. Budget accordingly. We want to see your projected numbers for the next five years.”

When you’re doing that kind of work, suddenly it hurts your cause to limit your number of concerned parties. Sure, limited focus groups or steering committees can have limited membership, but when you put their ideas into action, to protest something or lobby for political change, you need numbers. If you want to show that you’re a big and important group that systems should definitely pay attention to, you don’t just need every trans or GNC or NB person who’s got free time to devote to your campaign, you also need every cis ally who can pad out numbers or lick envelopes or hand out water bottles or slip you insider information about the agenda at the next board meeting. You need bodies, time, and money, and you get them best by being inclusive about who’s in your party. Heck, if it would benefit your cause to team up with the local breast cancer group because trans women and cis women who have had mastectomies both have an interest in asking a hospital to have a doctor on staff who knows how to put a set of tits together, then there are strong reasons to do it.

Basically: All the time any marginalized group spends fighting over scraps is generally time we could spend demanding that the people handing out the food give us another plate. If you don’t think you’re getting enough, the best answer isn’t to knock it out of somebody’s hands, but to get together to say, “HEY! WE’RE NOT GETTING ENOUGH!”

That kind of work is complicated and difficult! It’s definitely much harder than yelling at someone on Tumblr for not being trans enough. But if you do any level of getting involved with activist groups that fight for real systemic change, whether that’s following your local Pride Centre on Twitter or throwing $5 at a trans advocacy group or writing your elected representative about the need for more trans health resources, you’re pushing forward lasting change that will help everyone.

[captain-danwilds]

One Step Forward

Hi @avengerpercy! I realize I didn’t take Brazil’s timezone into account when posting this so I’m sorry this is technically late, but here’s your @aftgexchange gift.  I hope this is good enough for you Cristal.  This is my first time playing in the AFTG sandbox, so I wanted to live up to your expectations.  I ended up using your prompt “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems”  for a little outsider POV Andreil fluff with a large helping of twinyards.   

A few quick notes. Betsy and the joint sessions set the backdrop for this fic even though I am not a therapist and also not trying to make some statement about therapy in general (Personally I’m a big fan, but also recognize that Aaron really doesn’t seem to be in we’re in his POV.) I’m not trying to demonize Aaron or Andrew here.  Aaron just fundamentally misunderstands Andrew.  Also Raven King/Drake Incident references.  

Ever since Aaron had found out Andrew existed, he’d felt unsteady.   It wasn't just the sudden knowledge of how different his life could have been if Tilda hadn't decided to come back to get him or even if she'd just taken the other baby.   It was the fact his brother was a mass of contradictions piled on top of each other and every aspect of their relationship was built on the idea of one step forward and two steps back.

Aaron wasn't an idiot.  When the officer at the stupid game had mentioned Andrew, Aaron didn't expect his long-lost brother to immediately love him.  This wasn't a television show.   He knew by now that blood only went so far, that it hadn't stopped his mother from raising her hand to him or Uncle Luthor from sending Nicky away only for his cousin to come back a shell of himself.  But he couldn't deny he wanted it to work desperately, for there to be another little boy out there whose life might be made better by having a brother in it.  

His first step forward a letter that had to be rewritten at least twice because everything sounded wrong.  His bedroom trash can overflowed with pieces of notebook paper crumpled in frustration or with ink smeared from tears he'd never admit to anyone he'd actually shed.  Aaron must have spent hours writing the letter, typing it up in stolen time at the school library and sneaking to the post office while Mom had been out of it.  

Hours completely wasted when the only reply was two words:  "Fuck Off."

That should have been the sign to leave things well enough alone.  

But instead, he'd taken the return address and written a second letter to "the guardians of Andrew Doe."  

And instead of an answer from his brother, Aaron had gotten a voicemail saying Andrew had gone to Juvie.  

Even the slightest hint of progress was met with resistance.    

Gaining a brother meant losing his mom and never being in control of his decisions anymore.  

Andrew lived by his own rules, an unspoken tally system of betrayals where Aaron would never be the one who measured up.  Andrew wouldn't say it, because Andrew didn't say anything now that he was off the drugs.  Aaron knew his brother only cared about him in context of proving that he'd never broken their deal.  Until he called the whole thing off for Josten.  

Josten, the idiot that would say things like "Andrew doesn't lie"  as if he actually believed him.  As if there truly was some magical code his brother followed that made sense.    

"If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session.

Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

"I understand that therapy isn't for everyone,"  She'd said smiling gently during their first mandatory meeting freshman year.  "More than that, therapy with me might not be your answer,  so don't let today stop you from seeking help in the future if that's what you decide you want.  I can direct you to one of my colleagues who you might feel more comfortable with."  

They'd been meeting for almost a year now and Aaron still wasn't comfortable with her, no matter how many cups of hot chocolate she offered or how many smiles she gave.   They'd come a long way from the complete silence and blank expression of his first individual session or even the harsh words the first time he'd shown up to Andrew's session, but it wasn't comfortable by any means.  

The point was he wasn't about to pour his heart out to her even if Andrew wasn't in the room.  With Andrew there, Aaron had no good way to answer the question without giving too much of himself away again, of being hurt when everything went to hell. Still, Aaron couldn't help but let the multitude of answers flow over him.  

Because Josten waltzes in, every ounce of him screaming lie and danger, and this team bends over backwards for him. Because Aaron's seen enough to know Josten is dangerous.  Because he will kill him if Josten doesn't keep his big mouth from bring the mafia down on them again before Aaron graduates and he can't handle another murder trial.  Because Josten makes it so easy, throwing as many insults back as he gives.   Those are the easy answers, because Aaron's life doesn't revolve around Andrew. He can hate Josten because Josten is a piece of shit who makes every aspect of his life harder.  

But that's also not the whole truth.  Because he saw the way Andrew looked at him in Baltimore, the tender movements in his hands completely at odds with the angry spark in his eyes.  Because Andrew hates people touching him and yet he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around the back of Josten's neck.  Because there's something aggravating in the way that Andrew can look at Josten and see something precious when he never looks at Aaron like that.  

Aaron doesn't want to think his life revolves around Andrew, but his hatred of Josten certainly does.  It’s partially jealousy.  Why does this nobody get easy answers from Andrew?  What makes him so special?  

But the larger issue is that Aaron has seen Andrew broken.  As much as Aaron wants to wish Drake away, he can’t.  He’ll never be able to get Andrew’s face out of his head or the manic laugh left by the drugs. There are nights where he wakes up feeling like he still has the blood on his hands, that he’ll never be free of the feeling of Andrew knotting his fingers through his hair in worry when Andrew’s the one covered in bruises.  Seeing his brother like that once was enough to break him.  He doesn’t understand how Andrew can let Josten so close when Josten is a walking danger magnet.  He doesn’t know what he would do when Josten inevitably hurts Andrew, because that’s the type of danger Andrew can’t just stab with a knife.    

Betsy gave a small cough and Aaron knew he'd been quiet too long.  He avoided Betsy's gaze to look at the clock.  They were already a few minutes over their time.   He wouldn’t have answered at all, just turned back to glare at Betsy until she dismisses them both for the day except he saw Andrew.  

Andrew was still angled away from him on the opposite end of the couch.  His mouth was still turned in a slight frown, but Andrew’s gaze had sharpened.  Even months ago, Aaron might have missed it.  It was a sign of amusement, slight exasperation maybe, but also one of want.  Aaron had never seen that expression for any reason other than Josten, and now it’s directed at him.

“Josten isn’t safe.”  

Andrew gave a huff that might even be considered laughter.

“I’m serious. You’re giving him the power to hurt you.  Just because you don’t care about your own wellbeing, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let him get away with it.”  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”  Andrew waved his hand dismissively.  “Which is good because you’re shit at picking the right battles.”  

Aaron groaned.  “And what do you mean by that?”  

“Neil won’t hurt me.”  He said it like it should be obvious, like he can’t believe Aaron missed something so fundamental.  

“But how can you know that?”  

“How do you know Kaitlyn won’t hurt you?”  The words were thrown like a weapon to end this conversation.  

But Aaron isn’t about to rise to the bait.  Andrew seemed to think that every girl was just going to be another Tilda, that Aaron would let them hurt him for the scraps of affection.  He knew Andrew didn’t decide Kaitlyn was safe out of the goodness of his heart, so his answer made no sense.  

“Why shouldn’t I be worried about Neil hurting you?”  Aaron repeated himself more directly, even calling the idiot by his first name as a sign of good will.  

Andrew looked down at his hands, his right-hand tracing seemingly random places around each of the knuckles on his left.  The gesture seemed both familiar and wrong.   Finally Andrew took a deep breath and looked directly at Aaron.  

“He listens when I say no.”

The words are simple, but Aaron can hear the depth of meaning there.  He gave a slight nod.

Andrew must still see that he doesn’t fully understand, because he continued softly, “He promised he’d stay” before nodding at Betsy and leaving the two of them alone in the room.  

Aaron doesn’t hear Betsy’s chipper goodbye or even comprehend most of practice afterwards. His mind is reeling and even though Andrew only gave him ten words, it feels like one hell of a step forward.  

It’s only later at one of the Fox movie nights that Aaron realized why Andrew’s fidgeting looked wrong.  He’d seen that gesture before.  Andrew’s right hand gently tracing the scars on Neil’s as they sit side by side in silence, barely acknowledging each other but still taking pleasure in each other’s presence.   It’s easy to miss the moment when Neil leans easily back into Andrew and Andrew only tugs their scarred hand closer.  

Aaron hated that it’s this little action is what finally makes him understand. Andrew’s words about Kaitlyn no longer felt like a dig.   It was his brother’s roundabout way of trying to phrase his relationship with Neil in a way Aaron would understand. When you love someone, the world seems safer with them in it.  Andrew might not have said the word love, but he didn’t have to.