#but honestly I have been plagued with anxiety and intrusive thoughts about not being wanted

[orionsangel86]

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[just-an-enby-lemon]

The man in his bed isn’t his husband.

He looks almost like his husband, more than even Kevin did, an almost perfect copy except there’s clearly something wrong - something “normal” , the end of the wonder. He sounds like his husband as well, the perfect honey voice he felt in love with. He had the looks, the voice and the ring and therefore it would make more sense for him to be his husband than not but just like the house that didn’t exist the man that came back from the radio station that day defied logic.

Carlos had missed the radio broadcast busy with scientific discoveries and tik tok videos and the series of small anxious breakdowns that the presence of Janet and the presence of the University of What It Is in Nightvale, his home, was causing. He had left home early to take Esteban to kindergarten and when he came back Cecil had already gone to work. And if it was a little early, Cecil had mentioned he wanted to check something up for a possible very important news report. 

So Carlos went to work and got distracted and missed the radio show. At the time he thought it would just mean that Cecil would mention it at dinner, pretend to not be disappointed that Carlos missed it and need some extra cuddles. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he had listened to it. If he had noticed how un-nightvale the program had been. Just a normal radio show.  Straight up from anywhere else.

A small voice in his brain screamed that maybe if he had just listened to Janet, if he had helped her, if he hadn’t been avoiding her calls like the plague, her arguments and insults and how she seemed to not realize how her science was poison instead of the pure thing they loved, maybe he would had been able to plead, to beg, to offer anything so she would just let Cecil go. But deep down he knows it is a lie. There is no debating with Lubelle and her people. The moment Cecil attracted her curiosity it was done. She was poison like that. A truer intrusive thought screamed that if he wasn’t so afraid of his past, so sure it would never come back to bite him he could maybe have helped Nightvale to get ready for if or when the university finally came. It was harder to ignore this voice but the memory of Cecil talking about how everyone had things that they regretted and there was no pointing in dwelling on it helped. 

Carlos missed the radio show. 

He didn't listen to the abnormal normalcy and instead he went home unconcerned, believing that a nice dinner with his family would just take the anxiety and stress away. It was his day to cook just like it was Cecil's day to pick Esteban back from school. And he had extra time to make dinner and be oblivious to the end of his perfectly imperfect little world. 

But eventually Cecil came home. Carlos heard his voice talking a little bit too condecently with Esteban and tried to ignore the alarm bells, Cecil likely just had a bad day, it happens. It doesn’t justify being mean to their son but he can understand it. He isn’t the only one affected by Janet's presence in Nightvale and the death that it caused. Until:

“And that’s why you shouldn’t have any feelings towards the moon, Esteban, don’t be stupid, darling, it’s just a rock in the sky. Honestly, Carlos, you should have already given some basic science lessons to our son.” 

And that was it.

The end of the world.

Carlos laughed nervously. Maybe it was a bad prank? He knew better of course but denial wasn’t just a very scientifically fascinating river in Egypt.

But still he served dinner and tried to pretend everything was okay. A soft peck on the lips, some nice dinner and a classic “how was the work”. Cecil called his food exotic and Carlos wanted to kill someone. So of course when Cecil said he had made a visit to Doctor Lubelle before work and she had run some tests on him and “it was totally normal, I don’t understand why I was so fused about it” , Carlos knew who he wanted to kill and was deeply regretting telling Cecil that violence wasn’t the answer days ago. 

The rest of the night was just a long terrifying disaster and Carlos had no idea what to do. They talked about normal boring things that neither he nor Cecil cared before and Cecil throwed away the food they usually left for the Faceless Old Woman because it was a silly superstition and ignored her whispers as if he just couldn’t hear her. Not even when she did the annoying nails on a chalkboard noise she did when extra angry with them. Carlos whispered he was sorry. 

When it got to Esteban’s bedtime it was Carlos who read him to sleep, even though it used to be one Cecil’s favorite activities, as his husband, no, the empty person using his husband’s face, was judging all of their toddlers books as weird and inappropriate. 

And as soon as he came back from his son’s room he discovered that Cecil was starting to pull the sheets of the mirror’s because it was a “silly superstition” and “normal people don’t do that”. The memory of what happened last time Cecil was in front of an uncovered mirror, of finding his husband on his knees in the middle of a panic attack, hands inexplicably bloodied would never leave him. It took so long to convince Cecil that he was real and while the man pulling the sheets wasn’t really Cecil, not when it mattered, Carlos knew this wouldn’t stop another episode or something even worse if he did that.  So he stopped it. There was no point in arguing with Janet and therefore there was no point in arguing with the Cecil she created. But he could ask, he could mutter “I know it doesn’t make sense but please keep them covered, for me” with the certainty that Cecil’s love for him was one of the few things that Janet couldn’t explain away no matter how hard she tried. It still hurts to see Cecil’s confused expression marred with implanted consdecession. And it hurted even more when his face became soft and to see that for a second he was being himself again and saying “of course, my lovely Carlos”.

They go to sleep and Cecil mentions a wardrobe change as he looks for sleeping clothes and Carlos has to hold himself from just going without any plan to the University of What It Is improvised location and give Lubelle a very violent piece of his mind. 

But he is a scientist and scientists always prepare themselves first. 

So he smiles and nods and tries to not think about how Janet for sure will call him tonight and how he doesn’t think he will be able to ignore her today. Tries not to hurt this fake version of Cecil, because it isn’t his husband's fault and Cecil has always been more fragile than he wants people to know and he doubts Lubelle's shitty transformation changed that. 

The man who isn’t his husband sleeps soundly at his side. But Carlos doesn’t sleep. He cries and he regrets and he starts to plan. Because he is going to get his husband back and he is going to make sure that Lubelle and her gooms (because they aren’t scientists, not really) will give all the wonder they took before leaving Nightvale once and for all. 

Is time to confront his past. And Carlos is afraid. But scientists never cower towards adversity. And Carlos is above all a scientist.

[luciusmalfoysimp]

Using Your SafeWord For the First Time With Lucius Malfoy (one shot)

this one shot is going to be nsfw, and it will involve mentions of poor mental health/depression and anxiety. if you are in fact struggling with either of those two, please know you are loved by so many people. message me anytime :)

this is gonna have a dom!Lucius (of course) and a relationship involving bdsm.

warnings: impact (ie spanking and more), restraint, mentions of poor mental health

Your cries of pain rang through the air and echoed against the walls as you received another harsh strike to your rear. You currently found yourself bent over your partner’s bed, your hands harshly tied together behind you with a thick, dark green rope, a piece of black silk covering your eyes, and your ass red, sore, and exposed to Lucius, who stood behind you, staring at your state.

The past few days had been incredibly rough for you mentally. Your mind was filled with all sorts of intrusive and unhealthy thoughts, plagued by depression and anxiety. As much as you wanted to open up, your anxiety only told you that Lucius didn’t want to hear them, as he already had enough stress with work; he didn’t need to be concerned about you.

Your mind was getting so rotted and poisoned that you needed a release. You decided to turn to your partner in a different way, and asked him to just let you have it, hoping the physical pain he’d inflict on you would drown out the mental.

Ragged breaths shook from your body as you anticipated your dominant’s next move. You could hear his quiet footsteps as he paced back and forth, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. In a condescending voice, he asked you if you were enjoying yourself, and you replied with a hoarse “yes, sir.” The fluttering of the tassels on the flogger in his hand was a noise you were all too familiar with, and you wondered when his next strike would be. You shivered as he chuckled quietly and you heard him walk away. What is he grabbing now...

Your question was quickly answered as you felt the cold metal of your dominant’s cane lightly rub against your flesh. Beneath the blindfold, you felt your eyes widen as you realized what tool he would be using next on you. Can I really handle his cane today...? No, I know I can... Despite what you told yourself, you could feel a pang of doubt in your stomach. A hand suddenly gripped your hair and you felt Lucius’s hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“I’d prepare yourself if I were you...” His voice was a seductive snarl, and your only response was a quiet whine. As he backed away, you could feel your already sweat-slicked palms get damper from anxiety. Your heart began to race as Lucius intentionally stood still, leaving you to wonder when he’d at last begin the torture.

It almost seemed like slow motion. You could hear the air being cut by the sharp swing of the cane, and then the white-hot pain spread all across your rear. Instantly, you let out a voice-clawing yell of surprise and pain, and you felt tears fill your eyes. You couldn’t see it, but Lucius smirked down at you with pride. He loved seeing you so vulnerable and completely his.

Another shriek left your throat as you were hit again, and you gritted your teeth, letting a groan out through your tightly clamped jaw. You didn’t want to cry, you were too strong for that. You needed to focus on the pain...

Even though you told yourself this, you felt your mind wander to the thoughts that clouded all things positive. As you were struck a third time, these thoughts seemed to amplify in volume, with words of not being good enough and feelings of unworthiness getting louder in your head. The silk against your eyes started to dampen, and the shockwave of pain coursed through you, this one being much worse as Lucius decided to put his whole arm into the swing.

Your reaction was instant, as you screeched from the incredible ache on your already burning backside. You instinctively pulled against the ropes restraining your wrists as you felt tears slip from beneath the soft fabric of your blindfold. Internally, you hoped that the next impact would be lighter, but to your horror, it quickly became apparent that he put the same amount of strength in this hit as the last one. You went to scream but no noise came out, only an inhale. Lucius hadn’t put much time between his strikes, and the sting from the last was now more intense.

That’s when your mind began to explode. Hurtful phrases towards yourself began to just completely rip through your brain at what seemed a million miles an hour. Everything became 100% more intense as you began to go into sensory overload. Lucius’s breaths and footsteps from behind you sounded like it was being played through a concert amp at full blast, the light you could vaguely see through the blindfold suddenly was in competition with the sun, the blanket beneath you became course and uncomfortable, the light saltiness from your tears was suddenly the same taste of sea water...

And Lucius struck again.

I can’t fucking do this, I can’t fucking do this...

This phrase drowned out the rest of your thoughts, and with a deep breath...

“WHIPLASH.” You sobbed, your body completely trembling.

This had never happened during a scene before, and Lucius’s then sadistic mindset completely shattered at the raw desperation in your voice. It completely shook him, actually confused him at first, and it took only a split second to ground him and melt from his current headspace. In an instant, he threw the cane to the side, the clattering of it hitting the ground unknowingly frightening you and making you shrink into the mattress, bringing your bound hands closer to your head to protect yourself in some way. Instinctively, you began to repeatedly say your safeword in a hoarse voice, tears flowing faster.

It nearly broke Lucius to see you this distraught. He grabbed his wand and with a flick of his wrist pointed towards your tied hands, the rope loosened. You shuddered as you felt him quickly pull the rope away from you, and despite him removing your blindfold, you kept your eyes screwed shut. Lucius pulled your torso up as he sat in front of you, his hands going to the sides of your face while you sat on your haunches.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone was so soothing and you could feel yourself calm ever so slightly. The warmth from his hands left your face momentarily and you heard some rustling of a soft blanket nearby. Kitten-soft fabric wrapped around your bare shoulders and went down your back, warming up the fabric from your thin black camisole. You gripped the blanket and pulled it tight against you.

“My love, please look at me.” Lucius’s voice was as soft as the blanket, you allowed your eyes to open. His face was clouded by tears, but you could make out his rare worried expression and his beautiful hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The tears flooded and your sight was cleared better.

His expression, which was usually cold as ice, was one that you’d only seen on a few occasions, usually when you’d accidentally get hurt or when you got separated from him on Diagon Alley for a good fifteen minutes. His brows were furrowed, his piercing eyes glinting with concern, lips slightly parted as he awaited your response.

Opening your mouth, you went to explain yourself, only to be overwhelmed with emotion. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t get a word out as your crying took over you, your body shaking with each sob. When you looked at Lucius through your tears, all you could see was an expression of heartbreak on your lover’s face, and you buried your face into your palms, trying to hide your hurt.

He truly was heartbroken as he watched you completely break down in front of him. All he wanted to give you in life was joy, pleasure, and safety. The thought of you experiencing any kind of negative emotion honestly slightly scared him. He’d always hoped to see you content and full of smiles. Of course he knew that you were human and you experienced other emotions than happiness, but seeing this intensity of utter distress and sadness gave him a cold pain in his chest.

You felt his hands move to yours, lightly gripping them and prying them away. You hesitated, but let him remove your shielding hands as you sniffled, your throat burning as you tried to keep yourself from crying any further. All you could do was stare at your hands in your dom’s, trying to avoid eye contact as much as you could. This attempt failed as one of his hands left yours to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up and eventually meeting his incredible blue-green eyes.

“My love...” His tone gave away his concern as well. There was a slight tremble to it that you picked up on. “Please, tell me what is going on.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to express your recent painful thoughts to him, instantly tearing up again. You told him your hopes of coping with his sadism, hoping that the pain would overshadow your thoughts, and how when he used his cane, it only amplified everything: your thoughts, your senses, and your pain. A flicker of regret could be seen in Lucius’s eyes as you said this. Lastly, you told him how you didn’t want to burden him with your struggles.

The entire time you spoke, Lucius never broke eye contact, and would stop you to make you look at him when you’d look away. He wanted you to know you had his complete undivided attention and that you yourself wouldn’t get distracted in anyway. As you spoke, his hand ran up and down your shoulder, a reassuring gesture that he was there for you. His other hand lightly wiped your tears away and cupped your face, another soft action to help you feel secure.

Once you’d finally finished your explanation, your dominant pulled you into his lap, his arms around your waist. You put your arms around his neck and buried your face into his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and closeness. His left hand came up from your waist and cupped the back of your head. The two of you sat for a minute in silence as silent tears went down your face.

“Darling...” Lucius’s rich voice broke the silence. “You never, ever need to fear that your feelings can’t be shared with me. I need to know when you are unwell. I absolutely adore you, and I want to make things better for you when you’re hurting.” You felt his embrace tighten. “Let me take care of you...”

And with that, the two of you stayed together for a bit longer before he insisted on you taking a warm, comforting bath, which you agreed to. He gently brought you to his master bathroom, which had a luxurious jacuzzi tub, and sat you on the edge as he waved his wand and the taps turned on instantly, warm water filling the tub quickly.

As the tub filled, you vacantly stared into the water, feeling out-of-body in a way. Your mind felt heavy yet empty, like TV static. While you stared, Lucius was quick to grab a few of your favorite essential oils and drop some into the tub, the water becoming silky. He noticed your vacant gaze and walked over to you, cupping your chin to make you face him. His other hand tugged at the hem of your camisole, asking to take it off. You hazily lifted your arms and allowed your partner to take off your last piece of clothing, throwing it aside. Once the bath was filled (which didn’t take very long), you sank into the warm water and allowed yourself to relax.

Lucius’s hands ran down the back of your neck and landed on your shoulders, which he lightly began to massage. You closed your eyes in bliss at the magic of his hands, which were able to find every knot and tense spot and diffuse it quickly. As he did this, he brought his lips to your ear, whispering nothing but sweet praises to you.

“You’re alright.” “I’m here.” “You’re safe.” “You took everything so well.” “I’m so proud of you.” “I’m so lucky to have you.” “I’m so glad you’re mine.” “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Each time he spoke did more to ease your mind, and you eventually found yourself crying quietly once again, but tears of relief. He was right: you were safe. Lucius would always be there to protect you and be right by your side.

At last, the water of the tub started to get cold. Lucius helped get you to your feet and wrap you in an incredibly soft towel. As you stood before him, towel covering you from your chest to your knees, your tearstained face finally dry, Lucius couldn’t help but to pull you into a quick embrace, his lips solftly touching your forehead.

“Would you like to get changed into anything, my pet?” He asked in a soft voice. You nodded and Lucius sat you on his bed and left for a minute. When he returned, he produced a long nightgown (or a matching pajama shirt and pants if you’d prefer) and slowly eased you into them.

Usually, when your naked form was in view of your dominant, he couldn’t help but just absolutely salavate at the sight, wanting to indulge you in nothing but utter pleasure until you were seeing stars. But in this moment, your nudity wasn’t anything sexual to him. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable after all that you’d endured.

Finally dressed, you were brought to his bed and you climbed in, allowing yourself some peace. After lighting a fire in the fireplace from his wand with a mutter of a spell, Lucius changed out of your view into a simple black pair of elegant silk pajamas and then got into bed behind you, his face going into the back of your neck as his arms went around your torso. You turned over as he held you and buried your face into his chest, your arms returning the embrace. You ended up falling asleep to the blissful sound of your lover’s voice quietly praising you, the fireplace cracking in the background, the warmth of his body against yours, and his hand lightly petting your hair.

Once he noticed you were asleep, Lucius sighed quietly to himself, content to see you at ease. He closed his eyes, thinking to himself how lucky he is to have you in his arms at that moment, and with that, he fell into a peaceful slumber beside you.

[weirdostm]

FINLEY  &  OCD.   i  wanted  to  make  a  coherent  though  almost  certainly  incomplete  look  at  fin’s  experience  of  obsessive  compulsive  disorder.  so  there  is  talk  ahead  of  mental  illness,  intrusive  thoughts,  suicidal  thoughts, self�� harm etc.  please  avoid  or  proceed  with  caution.  

despite  having  a  psychiatrist  for  a  father,  it  was  fin’s  mother  mary  who  took  notice  of  the  signs  of  the  disorder.  boyd  did  note  signs  in  finley  but  none  he  considered  too  worrying,  where  as  mary  could  eventually  see  the  impact  on  finley.  even  so,  fin  had  been  experiencing  symptoms  years  before  mary  put  things  together.  in  fact  he’d  had  symptoms  as  long  as  he  remembers.  going  back  to  his  earliest  memories  of  dreams  and  thoughts  he’d  had  as  a  child.  sometime’s  he’d  be  playing  with  another  kid  and  get  a  graphic  image  of  violently  attacking  the  child.  and  finley  would  be  paralyzed  with  guilt.  and  the  idea  would  consume  him  for  weeks, months  even.  until  a  new  and  equally  repulsive  idea(s)  came  along  for  him  to  obsess  over.  he’s  only  about  five  years  old  and  this  continues  on  from  there.  with  periods  of  respite  without  obsessions  or  with  ones  that  didn’t  impact  him  quite  as  severly.  in  his  childhood,  besides  his  usual  anxiety,  finley’s  ocd  was  mostly  entirely  ‘pure o’,  meaning  he  didn’t  have  a  lot  of  compulsions.  other  than  the  need  to  hold  onto  any  pictures  he  drew  of  people  and  there  were  certain  clothes  he  refused  to  wear. 

finley  was  also  frequently  plagued  with  intrusive  thoughts  about  killing,  his  parents  or  anyone  around  his  that  could  be  considered  vulnerable.  he  could  distract  himself  and  art  was  a  huge  distraction  for  him  but  nothing  was  ever  enough  to  block  out  the  thoughts.  it’s  enough  to  stop  his  sleeping  at  night,  to  make  his  stomach  so  sick  he  can’t  keep  down  food.  it’s  in  his  early  teens  and  onward  when  compulsions  start  to  manifest.  and  they  added  up  and  added  up.  he  would  tap  things  until  it  felt  right,  eat  foods  in  a  specific  order,  sit  in  front  of  his  wardrobe  for  an  hour  because  he  had  to  choose  the  Right  clothes,  count  his  steps  ...   count  everything.  in  his  mind  if  he  didn’t  fulfill  the  compulsions,  then  horrible  things  would  happen.  and  if  he  didn’t  he’d  feel  incredibly  uncomfortable,  like  there  was  something  itching  at  the  back  of  his  mind  that  he  couldn’t  let  go.  something  he  couldn’t  move  on  from  until  he  gives  into  the  compulsion.  

a  big,  big,  big  thing  to  understand  is  that  in  his  childhood  and teen  years  finley  didn’t  really  understand  what  was  wrong  with  him.  when  he  had  these  horrible  thoughts  he  assumed  that  meant  they  were  his  true  feelings  and  finley  honestly  ....   thought  he  was  a  monster.  and  i  should  say  thinks  he  is  a  monster  because  even  now  understanding  better  he  can’t  help  but  doubt  himself.  this  is  why  if  i  talk  about  finley’s  fears ___  he  has  many,  for  sure.  but  he  is  terrified  the  most  by  himself.  he  fears  what  he  thinks  he’s  capable  of  or  what  he  desires.  even  though  the  absolute  truth  is  (  for  fin  and  my  babs  with  harm  ocd  )  finley  wouldn’t  hurt  a  fly.  the  idea  is  so  opposed  to  his  ethics  that  it  sickens  him.  

sooo  i  have  talked  a  lot  about  his  fears  and  compulsions  but  lemme  tell u  something  else.  it’s  EXHAUSTING.  it’s  so  exhausting  to  take  four  times  longer  than  everyone  else  to  perform  a  simple  task  because  it  comes  with  ten  little  additional  compulsions,  it’s  exhausting  to  have  to  think  so  much  about  every  tiny  move  you  make.  and  fin  is  exhausted.  he  is  jaded.  he  is  also  frustrated  and  sometimes  this  will  come  out.  

finley’s  ocd  has  left  him  suicidal  more  than  once  and  he  has  on  occasion  self  harmed.  

some  bulletins  from  this  ugli  wall  of  text  ___  

some  of  fin’s  big  obsessions  :   harming  people,  especially  loved   ones  or  people  who  are  vulnerable  in  any  way.  corrupting  people.  being  something  that  just  brings  evil  into  the  world.  

some  of  fin’s  compulsions  :  counting,  tapping,  nail  biting,  some  mild  facial  tics,  wearing  or  keeping  the  color  green  around  him,  goes  through  periods  of  wearing  gloves.  

[beybladeimagines]

Mod Note: Scenario for the wonderful @clairenstella! An amazing friend of yours made the request on your behalf. It was a joy to write and I honestly hope things get easier on your end. You’ve got this! Spencer both supports and adores you. <3

Exhaustion. It comes in the form of drooping shoulders, defeated eyes, tense muscles, and sore skin. You don’t even know what you did to gain so much pain, but it plagues your body every time you move. Every day you ask yourself when the senseless strain will end, but it feels so powerful and prominent - like an energy you can’t escape. The moment you pass through the door, a sigh escapes you. You end up filling your room with the same amount of stress that once plagued your presence. It’s like a ghost that will never leave you. You feel as if you’re doomed to be haunted by this annoying hurt. Well, that is, until you feel a sudden strong sensation upon your skin.

Strong hands have found their way onto your shoulders. Thumbs bend into your being, kneading and mending broken muscles that were once too exhausted to stay up. He parts those knots of pain from your body with ease, as if separating you from your stress was something he was born to do. Bumps blossom upon your body. His hands are cold, but they provide so much relief from the way you have been ruined. He feels the way you develop goosebumps and he simply smirks at how you involuntarily respond. You don’t need to say anything ever; he always picks up on the small ways that you exude satisfaction. Whether you want to say it out loud or not, your skin will always expose your secrets. He can tell that it has been yet another rough day, but he is so impressed with your ability to power through it. In truth, he compares your strength to his own. Many people would buckle under the pressure by now, but you remain hanging on. This is just one of many things he admires about you, but even determination needs to be rewarded.

He guides you forward, gently ushering you to sit so he can continue. Palms press against your neck, feeling elated pulse beneath finger tips. God, he loves the softness of your skin, so he continues to gently massage into the spaces that have been damned by your endless drive. A breath leaves you, but Spencer swears it was a moan. He chuckles in response to your enjoyment, but you are too tired to tell him to get his mind out of the gutter. He has spent far too much time around Bryan - who knows what filthy things that gremlin got into his head. Spencer doesn’t dare try to push you. Instead, he lowers his head, kissing to top of her scalp as a means of showcasing his support. He will use his physical strength as a means of providing comfort rather than antagonizing your entirety. “Anything you want to say?” He’s never been pushy. In most cases, he waits for you to speak first before responding. He only decides to take the initiative now, because you need it. You make the first move all the time, why not allow him to take the lead for once.

“The usual. College is bullshit. I long for the sweet embrace of death.” Despite the assumed sarcasm, part of you is serious. You just want to be in bed. You’ve worked so hard and on some days it feels like it isn’t rewarded. His hands motion from your neck to your shoulders, sweeping away any suffering that tries to linger. “My embrace works too, you know.” He finds amusement in your dark humor, but all at once wishes to remind you that solace can be found in his arms as well. He kisses your head once more, trying to use his affection to wipe away any ugly and intrusive thoughts that cling to your cranium. “You’re smart. Don’t let any of this make you feel like a failure. Wouldn’t make much sense.” His lips lower towards your shoulders, attempting to kiss away the burdens that constantly weigh on you. “You’ve always been strong, but it’s okay to ask for help. Save your strength for what really needs you.”

He uses his other hand to try to turn your attention towards his face. You seem reluctant to look his way, despite how much you appreciate his words. There are bags under your eyes, you’re just so exhausted - you wouldn’t want him to see you like this. But he has always viewed that part of you as pretty pastels that are just as beautiful as any other aspect of your existence. He takes this moment to place a brief kiss against your jaw, hoping that you will unclench your teeth and relax into the romantic touches he imposes onto your person. Your teeth are no longer grinding into themselves. Instead, you allow yourself to turn to face him, but the moment you do, he steals a kiss. Lips brush against your borders so softly. He is constantly crashing into them as a means of repeating his love. Spencer hopes that these collisions will steal away your stress. May the next thing you speak amount be absent of what ails you. And if it persists, his lips will find yours again and again until he is certain you have parted with your pain.

“Seeing you stressed isn’t so bad.” He whispers these words in amusement. You offer him an annoyed look. “You like to see me suffer?” But that is far from the truth. “No. Just gives me an excuse to make you feel good.” He has extended himself as a solution for so long, but he never seems to mind. It’s true, you always do become closer during moments like this and it does seem to ease any anxiety. You can’t help but blush at his words, but what he says next only leaves you far more flustered. “But...” Spencer begins, nuzzling lips into your cheek. That smirk of his never seems to leave, as if to tease you. “I’ll let you tell me what you want me to do next. I think you’ve earned it.”

[queerchristianaffirmations]

Hi there! I started following this blog recently and I love it, it’s really helped me a lot. I hope this isn’t out of place and I hope it doesn’t bother you guys but I’ve recently come out as bi and even more recently I’ve been plagued by thoughts that despite knowing that god loves me, being lgbt+ is wrong and all the fundamentalists in my life are right and I am absolutely going to hell and I’m deluding myself. Do you guys have any advice for dealing with this kind of thing? Thanks so much!

heya!!!!! i’mma go ahead and say that these are intrusive thoughts coming from religious anxiety, which is unfortunately pretty common in our community. idk if names help you, but they tend to help me. your problems feel smaller if you can name them and prove that you’re not alone in dealing with them. 

i wish i could give you more comprehensive psychological advice, but i’m not remotely qualified, and honestly? i still deal with stuff like this too. we’re all figuring it out together. if you want, here is our tag for dealing with internalized homophobia and here is our reconciling faith and queerness tag hopefully something in there might help. 

we’re all learning to fight this stuff together, so share resources and advice with each other! for me, I know I need to set boundaries, I had to ask a partner to stop making jokes about ‘sinning’ because even though she meant them lightheartedly, they could trigger intense anxiety in me. if you have things/people/places in your life that are making your symptoms worse, cut them out. do what’s best for you to preserve your mental health, my good bud. 

i hope that helped!! i love you friend, and God loves you even more!! i hope we all reach a place where we not only know but feel that all the time! go in peace sweet anon, may your tomorrow be better than your today. 

[roseylaces]

3 or 18 for kaito and kiyomi? ❤❤

3. a tired kisscan also be read on ao3 here!

18. holding handscan also be read on ao3 here!

these were absolutely too cute!!!! i took this opportunity to explore the differences in kaito and kiyomi’s relationship in its later stages versus how it all began, and i hope you are able to see their development, both as individuals and as a couple!!~ ♡

send me a sweet affectionate moment and a pairing!prompt list can be found here~

3. a tired kiss - ‘Without You’

“… Can’t sleep?”

The voice that mews next to him is small,soft, and the lightness of it weighs heavy in the air. If he does not move,Kaito thinks to himself, perhaps she will assume he was merely stirring in hissleep. Perhaps she will not realize that his conscious is plagued with a myriadof intrusive images that replay over, and over, and over…

Over, and over, and over.

A shuffling of cotton sheets; a gentlesigh. Suddenly, Kiyomi is facing him, her cheek pressed against the plush pillow.His eyes meet hers directly; the russet of her irises reaching deep into himand untangling him, strand by knotted strand. She is gentle with him, shealways has been. Just her stare is enough to undress his shielded heart, and hecan feel himself settle into her gaze.

Her brows draw in concern.

“Hey… It’s okay. It’s only me.” She whispers,her voice laden with an emotion Kaito cannot decipher. It was almost as if shecannot decide whether to scold him, embrace him, or cry. “Don’t give me such alook, Kaito-kun…”

His eyes have become sunken with stress,with exhaustion. He is so, so tired, yet Kiyomi can tell by the way he wasbreathing that he cannot not sleep. Something is on his mind that he has nottold her. She is frustrated with herself that she had not understood his painsooner.

She brings a delicate, porcelain hand upfrom under the covers, and cups it lightly against his cheek. Instantly, he letsout a breath he did not know he was holding, and it leaves him unsteadily.

“I-I’m sorry…” he replies honestly, closinghis eyes as she runs a thumb over his left eyelid affectionately, “I just don’tfeel good.”

“I know.” Kiyomi verifies sweetly, reachingup to caress the unkempt strands of his hair. “You don’t have to justifyyourself to me.” A dry smile tugs at his mouth at this, and he feels some ofhis burden lift. Delicately, Kiyomi lifts her body weight, and her hair fallsover her shoulders, trickling down the line of her chest, framing her. “I knowthere’s something you’re not telling me.”

He turns his head away from her. Just asshe was beginning to untangle his heart, it knots tighter. There is aparticularly delicate part of it that refuses to budge, and she has begun topick at its seams…

“… I can’t.”

“Why?” she enquires, and there is not asingle trace of accusation in her tone.

“Because I’m scared that if I do, it’llhurt you, Kiyomi.”

The silence pulsates in the room, resonateswithin the bed. It fills her and disconcerts him. Perhaps he has said the wrongthing.

“If it’s you, I want you to hurt me.”Kiyomi justifies, her eyes never leaving him once, “I’m stronger than what youtake me for. I can withstand the pain you give me, Kaito-kun.” Kaito fixes backonto her. When did she learn to become so phlegmatic? His heart skips a heavybeat.

He swears it flourishes within the confinedspace of only them. It makes him falter.

“Please, never disappear again.” he admits,the words initially becoming stuck. Yet he pries them slowly, dexterously,until they seemingly roll of his tongue.

“I’m right here, always. I promise.” Kiyomireplies gently, knowing how sensitive this topic is. It is something that Kaitotends to avoid. It is something that makes him doubt himself more than he doubtsher. It reminds Kiyomi that he knows more about her than she does, that heknows a version of herself that seems like a stranger.

She understands how his heart longs for herand aches for her, even when she is right in front of him.

Kiyomi leans down over Kaito, and wraps ahand around the side of his head before gingerly, yet entirely purposefully,pressing her lips against his.

How she yearns to be able to heal him. Shewishes she could take all his burdens and make them her own. She is desperateto see her promise through.

She refuses to hurt him again.

Kaito reaches a hand under the blanket ofKiyomi’s hair, delicately touching the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.He can feel his anxiety seep from his heart, drawn out like a toxin. If onlythey could stay in that moment, in the intimacy that exists only in thatmoment.

Just as his fear leaves like the tide,relief and fatigue wash into him, lapping against the rocks of his mind. Kiyomihas this way of merely being that soothes him.

“You remembered our promise…” He murmurstiredly, feeling himself sink into the pillow below.

“Of course.” She affirms, her voicevelvety, “Even if there is nothing left, our promise will always remain. Thatis the one thing I absolutely refuse to forget.”

18. hand holding - ‘Train Station’

The summer sun, even in the cooler parts ofthe day, still manages to pulsate almost unbearable warmth in the air, and hangslarge in the sky. Everyone feels the heat. Students hang around lazily at theshoe lockers, trying to find one last ounce of energy to make the trek home.

Kiyomi steps out from under the shadow ofthe school building, beginning to head towards the road. It was not a particularlylong walk to reach the train station, but she was dreading the stuffy, compactpress of bodies that always accompanies the ride back to her neighborhood.Really, there should be a more convenient way to commute.

Just as she was becoming lost in her ownconcerns, she hears something not too distant from her.

“Oi, Shimizu-san!” a voice calls out intothe school yard, and Kiyomi turns around warily. Who would be trying to get herattention at this time of the day? Yet when she sees who it is, her eyesbrighten, and a soft smile lines her lips.

“Ah, Takahashi-kun.” She replies, stoppingin her tracks. Kaito pauses in front of her, and a breath hitches in his throatas he habitually brings a hand to the nape of his neck. It is a sign that he isnervous. Kiyomi tilts her head in confusion, if not slight fasciation as to whyhe was feeling this way. “What is it?”

“W-What do you mean?” he stammers, and thisbrightens Kiyomi’s expression even more. She laughs airily. The fact that hewas trying to hide his nerves from her is amusing in the least, and indisputablycute at most.

“I mean, you’re nervous.” She states,bringing her school bag closer to her shoulder, “You can tell me.”

“Oh.” Kaito falters. He did not expect herto sense his excitement so easily. His hand glides from his neck to his hair,and his gaze drops to the ground, “Well, I was just wandering… Which way do youhead home?”

Heat rushes to her cheeks.

“I-I usually take the train.”

“Yeah? I see.” With his free hand, Kaitotugs and plays with the seams of his pants. He seems to be awfully fidgety.

“Why? Is something happening?” Kiyomi asksinnocently, and the sun reflects off her eyes beautifully in that moment. Theyshine, liquid and honeyed, and for the slightest second, Kaito forgets hisnerves long enough to blurt out.

“Can I come?”

Kiyomi’s heart skips a beat, and Kaito realizesthat without context, the utterance sounds forceful.

“I-I mean, would I be able to accompany youhome? Make sure you’re safe, and all that.”

The lazy haze of cicada calls ricochets fromthe trees, and the invasiveness of it all makes Kiyomi aware of her ownheartbeat. It drums in her chest.

“If that’s what you would like to do, I-Iwon’t say no…” she hesitates, yet the rosy smile on her cheeks is enough to revealher true feelings.

She is pleased he had asked. She truly is.

Kiyomi begins to turn back around and headtowards the station. Yet when she does not sense any movement behind her aftertaking a couple of steps, she peers over her shoulder.

Kaito cannot seem to get his legs to move.He stares after her, lost in the way her hair glides with the movement of herbody, how it shines, candied like liquorish. He wonders if she knows howadorable she is.

Realizing she is staring at him with agentle smile, he lets out an anticipatory, shaky breath, before steppingforward to catch up to her.

They walk side by side, initially in asilence as pregnant as the humid air around them, but which soon becomes filledwith idle chatter. They laugh with each other as they walk, and it isindisputable that they are able to create a space that consists of only them.Kaito occasionally bumps lightly into Kiyomi, which he rides it off asaccidental, yet they both know it is entirely intentional.

He is attempting to build up courage.

Finally, whilst Kiyomi is explaining somethingthat had recently been covered in English class, something brushes against heridle hand, and instantly she understands that it is his own. It takes every ounceof restraint in her to not pause the conversation, to not look up at him as shesubtly seeks out his hand. The tips of his fingers are slightly rough, yet thepalm is soft as she meshes her fingers with his.

Her voice stutters.

He falters.

The conversation fizzles to a stop, untilKiyomi finally questions,

“I-Is this okay?”

It takes Kaito a second to regain histhoughts into a fashion orderly enough to reply.

“Your hand is cold to touch.”

That was one of the last things sheexpected him to say. It placed her heart off balance.

“Is that bad?”

He looks down at her with a smile.

“It’s refreshing.”

Kiyomi cannot hide her smile at that, andit sits giddily on her cheeks.

“I-I’m glad…”

They continue to walk, hand-in-hand, insilence. Just being able to feel each other is enough as they make their waytowards the station. Now that he has mentioned her own, she cannot help butbecome aware that Kaito’s hand truly is warm. It makes her heart pliable.

“By the way, which way do you live?” Kiyomiasks nonchalantly, repositioning her fingers in his clasp.

“…The opposite direction.” Kaito admits.

“Eh?!” Kiyomi exclaims, halting in theirwalk.

“But it’s okay! It’s fine. I don’t need tobe anywhere.” Kaito assures her, squeezing her hand. “I prefer to be with youthan at home, anyway. Thank you, for letting me come along.”

“Thank you for accompanying me, then…”Kiyomi replies sweetly, beginning once again to walk, yet she is now pangedwith a tinge of culpability. She recognizes such guilt, and morphs it intogratitude. The fact that he would do this for her… It sets her heart alight,and it is a feeling she would not change for the world.

She squeezes his hand back. She can nolonger imagine it not intertwined in hers. It feels like a part of her, and sheonly hopes he feels the same way.