#but i feel like i have at least stopped it in time it can debilitate them.

[harmcityherald]

Breakfast time!

[madlori]

My ankle journey

I am sharing this with all you good people on the dash because I am so fucking mad it took so long for me to learn it and if I can spare one (1) person the agony it will be worth it.

So for like...oh, 8 or 9 months, I've been struggling with pain/inflammation/tendinitis in my left Achilles tendon. I don't know what caused it. It just started up (welcome to middle age, this shit happens). It wasn't severe enough to be debilitating, but it was annoying and limiting. It was also intermittent, in that some days it would be very painful and other days hardly at all. The kind of shoe I was wearing affected it a lot.

Now, I have bone spurs on both heels (it's just a thing that happens as you get older sometimes). I'm also aware that heel pain is usually the result of tight calf muscles that pull and irritate the tendon. I tried stretching that calf muscle. You know the stretch, this bitch right here:

I did it all the time. I also iced the ankle after walking for awhile, hoping to avoid inflammation. Results were...unsatisfying.

I went to:

A chiropractor

A podiatrist

A physical therapist

A bodywork coach

They all gave me some variation on the "strengthen your calf muscle, stretch your calf muscle" advice. I continued doing this without results.

I was getting frustrated, and a little afraid that this was just my life now. Finally, I thought...maybe some targeted massage might help. I asked for rec on a local FB site and was pointed to a woman who specializes in therapeutic massage including cupping, etc.

I went to her a week ago.

She spent over half our first session working on my left lower leg. Within about 10 minutes of making my eyes water, she uttered the sentence I did not know I had been waiting to hear:

"Oh, it's your soleus."

Excuse me, what?

"It's your soleus that's the culprit. It's all tied up and stiff." She started digging into it and I felt literal sparks run up my leg as she released adhesions and got the muscle moving a little. When she finally put the leg down, it felt like it was on fire with all the blood rushing into it.

She said, "You'll need to stretch your soleus. It'll clear up, but it'll take a bit of time - tendons take ages to heal."

But I HAVE been stretching.

"No, you haven't. The usual straight-leg calf stretch only stretches the gastrocnemius, that's the big belly muscle in your calf. That's not your problem. That stretch doesn't stretch the soleus. Don't worry, I'll show you how to stretch it."

My mind is spinning.

So here are the muscles in question:

The gastroc (as the pros call it) just attaches down the back but the soleus runs underneath it from the knee around the side to the heel. The lower part above the ankle is where it typically gets tight and forms adhesions.

To stretch it, you do the same calf thing where you put your foot back and press your heel to the ground, but you have to do it with your KNEE BENT:

The bent knee keeps the gastroc from engaging. It's one of those selfish muscles (like traps) - if you give it an inch, it'll just take over and prevent other muscles from working or stretching. There are other ways to stretch the soleus but this is the easiest and you can literally do it anywhere. I've been doing it while standing and waiting for things (the elevator to come, the toast to toast). You just put the heel back and bend the knee. It's kind of like curtseying.

The minute I did this stretch, I could FEEL where it was pulling on my tendon. I knew that THIS had been the problem.

The massage therapist also told me to stop icing my heel. She said icing is for an acute injury, but a more chronic aggravation needs heat, to increase blood flow for healing. She recommended elevation with heat every day (I've been doing it in bed during "phone before bed" time).

I have been doing the soleus stretch at least half a dozen times a day for almost a week, and the ankle is at least 70% better. It is still a little tight and tender, but the improvement is significant. I think a few more weeks will have it feeling normal.

I am...blown away by this. This massage therapist was able to pinpoint an issue in only a few minutes that eluded all the other professionals I saw. I can't wait to go back to her and have her solve all my other problems, tbh.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 9 - ( c.s )

part eight

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- angst, swearing, i think that’s it

a/n: i’m back my little goblins let’s get it!!!! part ten of this series will be the final part, and then i plan on writing an ‘epilogue’ type chapter to wrap it all up. i’m hoping to have them up as quickly as possible, but ive been absolutely slammed so im sorry if it takes me a minute. i love u always and i’ve missed being on here so i hope you enjoy <3

(if you asked to be tagged in the last part and weren’t tagged it’s bcs it wouldn’t let me!! i’m so sorry i tried my hardest)

to be let down, you have to expect something from someone. it’s a mistake you’ve made far too frequently in your years on earth, especially in college, but this time around the grief is debilitating.

you spend the rest of your weekend locked inside your room, attempting to sleep away the heartbreak. somehow dreaming almost makes it worse; for a second you’re able to forget about being completely humiliated, until you wake up in reality once more.

it doesn’t help that chris has been absolutely blowing up your phone since the moment you left. every call and text goes unanswered. it’s impossible to read them, so most of the time you don’t.

hell, you can’t even open your curtains because you’re too scared that he’ll be looking back at you when you do. so you block out the sunlight, ensuring that your room matches your dreary feelings.

you figure he’ll give up on trying to talk to you eventually. you’re not different. he’s not different. and once chris regains that pride of his, he’ll go right back to fucking some other girl he won’t care about half as much.

thoughts like those make you cry even harder, as much as you hate it. but you know the disinterest will wash over him sooner or later, and you resent that inevitable day.

cassidy and ramona check on you pretty much every other hour. it makes you feel even worse that they’re so concerned, but neither of them have ever seen you like this. at least not since freshman year, when you dated an upperclassman for a couple months just for him to dump you over text.

even that heartache was relatively short-lived. but this pain follows you into the week, trailing behind you like a shadow you can’t get rid of. it sits beside you in class, curls up next to you in bed, weighs your shoulders down whenever you walk.

it feels like you’re struggling to stay afloat, to even act like a real human anymore. chris consumes your brain, and so do the ‘what if’s’ of your situation. it makes the week drag on, even though you try to spend most of it asleep.

to make matters worse, his multiple notifications continue with a routine consistency, almost like clockwork. you figured he’d already be over it, but he clearly doesn’t want to make himself easy to forget.

you have to admit that you’re glad his persistence lasted at least this long, even if it’s for selfish reasons. you’re disgusted that the attention satisfies you, but it’s not an unwelcome change considering all you’ve been feeling lately is queasy.

still, you don’t read them, or pick up when he calls. you can’t hear his voice, because you know it’ll absolutely break you.

and then finally, on friday, you see him in the flesh. you’re walking home from your bus stop after the only lecture you managed to get to that day, and there he is, getting out of his car.

your throat seizes up; there’s no way to avoid this. it’s easy to ice someone out over text, but it’s a hell of a lot harder when he’s your neighbor.

before you can snap your head away he’s turning to look in your direction, eyes equally as wide as yours once the recognition washes over him. he looks like shit, and yet he’s still so goddamn beautiful it makes you physically sick.

for a brief moment, everything stops. you just stare at each other.

chris takes in you in, the way you look noticeably drained. he feels that familiar nauseous pang in his stomach flare up, knowing that he stole the spark from your eyes.

the worst part is that you’ll never look at him with that fire again. there’s nothing he can do to bring it back now, no way to reverse the past.

then—before he can decide what to do in the present—you break the spell, cutting through your other neighbor’s lawn to get to your front porch. everything in him wants to run after you, so much so that he has to physically restrain himself.

you hear him calling after you, and something about him shouting your name stirs the tears awake once more. but you make it through the door before they fall, because you can’t show any more vulnerability than you already have.

getting inside doesn’t mean that you make it up the stairs, though. the physical and emotional exhaustion catches up to you, and you collapse around halfway through your blurry climb to your room.

your elbows dig into your kneecaps, hands holding your head while you sob. it seems impossible to catch your breath, or calm down in the slightest, and your cries only grow louder.

normally you’d be careful about the noise, but there’s no one to hide from right now. nobody is home. it’s just you and your thoughts, which, as always, are full of him.

you may be able to push him out of your life, but you have a feeling he’ll be lingering in the corners of your mind forever.

the post-game locker room mood is completely miserable tonight. after that last minute loss and the thirty minute bitch-session they just endured from their coach, it honestly should be.

chris barely even has his skates off before his teammates are all over him, which he expected but still dreaded.

his head’s not in it, and everybody knows.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, man? it’s like you’re not even awake out there.” one of the team’s leading defensemen, luke, yanks him up by his jersey roughly.

for a second he pauses, setting his jaw and puffing his chest out slightly. the accusation, though it’s not completely untrue, pisses him off.

so much so that chris retaliates by shoving him back to his rightful place a foot away. “get the hell off of me, man.”

luke looks like he’s ready to jump into action again, but connor steps in between before anything else can happen. he’s also very visibly angry, a side that doesn’t come out often.

and just because he stopped a physical fight from breaking out doesn’t mean he’s going to stay silent. “he’s right. you’re playing like shit, and we‘re way too far into the season to be blowing it now, especially with selection show right around the corner.”

chris can feel his blood is boiling at this point, knowing that even his roommate is going to support this kind of disrespect towards his own captain. the rest of the team is watching silently, but he can’t find it anywhere in himself to care.

the words have already bubbled up, and he won’t hold them back anymore.

“oh come on, it’s not like anyone else was stepping up! dylan turned the puck over every other play, ben was offside during that odd man rush, and don’t even get me started on you and the high sticking penalty that just lost us that fucking game.” he shoves his pointer finger against connor’s chest for emphasis, trying to make sure his criticism stings as much as possible.

but his friend is quick to swat his hand away, shaking his head once sharply.

“no, you don’t get to turn it on everyone else. you lost it for us during that sorry excuse of a penalty kill. you let that little UMass shit go right by you, which is why he had a wide open shot to score the game winner. you’ve been making dumb mistakes like that for two weeks now, and we all know why.”

that implication is enough to send chris over the edge, because nobody has the right to mention what happened between you and him. knowing about the situation doesn’t mean they should get to speak on it.

he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, both hands balled into tight fists at his side. the anger coursing through his body makes him shake ever so slightly, almost like he’s humming.

“keep going and i’ll bust your fucking face in.” chris says, voice eerily calm despite the fact that his body is screaming.

but connor doesn’t back down; he stands tall with an unwavering gaze that’s more serious than ever before. “you gotta grow a pair and start being our captain again. you fucked up, and losing someone you’re actually into because of that sucks. most of us have been there. but trying to throw everyone under the bus is bullshit when you’re the one that needs to get it together.”

nothing about his words are intentionally meant to hurt, and chris knows that, but for some reason they do. probably because he doesn’t want to hear the truth, or start coming to terms with the fact that he actually did lose you.

he really doesn’t ever want to accept it.

but his ego won’t let him say that. instead, chris shifts his gaze to observe the rest of the room, at all of his teammates, before focusing on connor once again.

“if you don’t think that i’m your captain anymore then find a new one.” he spits.

the room somehow gets even more quiet; everyone is stunned by the out-of-character reaction. for the most part, chris really is a good leader. they all voted for him to represent the team when it came time, and the group dynamic has been great since then.

but he doesn’t feel like that guy now. he’s not sure who he is anymore. so he throws the rest of his equipment into his bag and yanks it over his shoulder.

“really, chris?” it’s ben this time, who’s clearly dumbfounded by the theatrics.

he doesn’t respond, and he tries not to hesitate too much as he makes his way out of the locker room. everyone lets him pass, which makes it even harder to leave.

it feels so wrong, but his feet keep pushing him forward regardless.

when chris finally makes it home twenty minutes later, the frustration has only festered. he doesn’t like anything he’s doing, and yet it’s spiraling out of his control. by the time he gets to his room, tears of aggravation have made their way down his face.

he wipes them away harshly as he stares out his window at your room, which is still closed off by your curtains. it’s like his heart seizes up just from being this close to you, knowing that you’re in there yet he can’t reach you.

and maybe that’s the problem. chris loves hockey, but at the end of the day he clearly loves you more. and with things the way that they are, his heart is fully wrapped up in you, not the game.

it’s terrifying, and it’s painful. he never thought that there’d be anyone to test his bachelor lifestyle until you came around, and he can’t just go back to normal because he doesn’t know how.

he’s been permanently changed, and it feels like a huge part of his new life is suddenly missing.

you saw the deepest parts of him, parts that he didn’t even know existed, and he saw the same side of you. you challenged him in ways he’d never experienced, and he loved that he always felt like he was evolving when you were together.

now he just feels stagnant, unsure of himself.

the only thing he’s sure of is that he needs you, whether that makes him inconsiderate or not. he can’t keep sleepwalking through life, but he’s not sure what else there is to do.

simply put, he misses you like hell. so he lays back in bed and closes his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have you right beside him.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @scarlettbitches @satvisfavetoodles

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[adverbally]

We Can Lock the World Outside

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Moonlight” | wc: 979 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: migraine, chronic illness, hurt/comfort, author is a spoonie projecting onto Steve | title from “Sometimes” by Erasure

———

It’s dark out when Eddie gets home, which isn’t unusual. All the lights in the apartment are off, which is.

Juggling grocery bags from his stop on the way, Eddie has already let the door slam shut behind him by the time he becomes aware of the darkness surrounding him. “Stevie? I’m home!” he yells, flicking the light switch on with some awkward elbow maneuvering. The sudden brightness leaves him blinking across the room.

The large, blanket-covered lump on the couch shudders with a muffled groan.

Eddie cringes as he realizes his mistake. Steve must have a migraine.

He stretches his elbow out to shut the light back off before making his way to the kitchen in the dark. He puts the groceries away as quietly as he can and grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer before tip-toeing back into the living room.

In the moonlight shining through the cracks in the blinds, Eddie can make out the shape Steve curled up on the couch. Almost all of him is cocooned in the quilt from their bed, though he has left his nose and mouth visible. Even with most of his face covered, Eddie can tell that his expression is creased with pain.

Crouching down beside the couch, Eddie whispers, “I’m sorry, baby,” so quiet he’s not sure Steve hears him at first.

“S’okay, you didn’t know,” he mumbles back.

Eddie holds up the bag of frozen peas, knowing that Steve will recognize the smell and crinkling of the package even if he can’t see it.

“You’re the best.” He sounds so relieved and grateful for such a simple gesture. It kills Eddie that after all these years, Steve is still surprised when people take care of him.

Slowly and carefully, Eddie helps unwrap the blanket burrito enough that he can drape the bag of peas over Steve’s head. “Good?” he asks, trying to gauge if his placement was correct. At Steve’s affirmative noise, he tucks the quilt back into its original shape so the fabric will hold the cold pack in place.

“Thank you,” Steve croaks.

“They’ve been bad lately.” Eddie shifts out of his squat to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him.

Steve’s mouth twitches downward, barely visible in the moonlight. His next exhale comes as a shaky sigh. “Yeah. And getting worse.”

Eddie knows what that means - more frequent, more severe, more debilitating. “We gotta do something. Get you checked out, at least,” he suggests softly.

“I know,” Steve agrees, sounding utterly miserable. It’s a conversation they’ve had a few times– not just between the two of them, but also with many of the Party parents who have become concerned with Steve’s health.

Eddie knows how much Steve struggles with the migraines. It goes beyond the pain, though that’s no walk in the park. It’s the hours before when the level of noise in his classroom becomes overwhelming, when Steve’s vision starts to flicker and fuzz, when he becomes so nauseated that he sometimes has to camp out in the bathroom so he will be near the toilet. It’s even the days after, when he can still feel phantom traces of the pain like a bruise, when he’s too exhausted to move and his brain won’t cooperate with him.

But Eddie also knows that it’s difficult for Steve to find time during the school day to call around and ask about a consultation. He might even need to leave town to see a specialist, and then there will be bloodwork and scans and the hassle of dealing with the insurance company… It amounts to a Herculean task, even for someone healthy.

“I know,” Eddie parrots, hoping Steve can hear the sympathy and concern underlying the words.

He must, because Steve squirms within his quilted fortress until he’s able to stick his hand out through the opening he left for his face. Eddie takes Steve’s hand in both of his, rubbing circles into the soft skin with his thumbs before he leans down to kiss it.

“Do you think you can eat something? I can bring you some toast, maybe a banana if they’re still good?”

Steve frowns. “Maybe in a little while. I don’t know if I can sit up yet.”

“Did you take any painkillers?” Eddie is pretty sure he already knows the answer based on the bottle of Tylenol that was left on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands before tucking his arm back into his nest. “I’m just gonna enjoy my frozen peas and maybe nap a little more.”

“I can sit with you, if you want,” Eddie offers. They’ve spent hours and hours doing that, with Steve sprawled out across the couch, his head in Eddie’s lap while he rubs his back through the blankets.

Steve ducks his head a little so he can see Eddie through the opening of his cocoon. In the cool glow of the moonlight, the dark shadows and tension beneath his eyes are more pronounced. He looks utterly exhausted. “You don’t mind?”

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve as deliberately as possible. “I never mind taking care of you.” It doesn’t seem to have sunk in at any point in the last seven years, but Eddie will never stop reminding Steve that he’s not a burden.

Carefully, Eddie helps Steve leverage his body into a partially-upright position that leaves room for Eddie to sit on the couch, then guides him back to recline with his head on Eddie’s thigh. The bag of frozen peas makes Eddie’s hip cold, even through the layers of the quilt. They probably have about half an hour before the thawing peas make a mess and Eddie’s stomach starts to growl. But for now, he’s content to sit in the dark with Steve, petting his shoulder, watching the quilt’s fabric shift under the light of the moon.

[lightningonatether]

Why c!endersmile were actually friends

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: my crazy thesis on two bad bitches with not a single moment of screentime fueled purely by my own insanity

ALTERNATIVELY alternatively titled: to all loreheads please be nice i dont usually lorepost. feel free to engage though

So my return is courtesy of litchi, who mentioned c!endersmile like once a month ago, and got me thinking about them so hard I couldn't just walk away.

Namely, litchi reminded me of a few theories I have concerning c!endersmiles relationship, that I developed back when i was watching the SMP live. This might make my recollection of some events a little fuzzy, but everything should be canon compliant cause I was thinking about all this as I watched.

I was already watching ranboo pretty regularly at the point the prison arc started, I cant resist a really weird guy with horrible debilitating anxiety. I already thought the whole hearing dreams voice in his head was really interesting, but as the prison arc evolved it became clear that ranboos relationship with dream wasnt just some hallucination inside ranboos head and actually had some substance.

My theory really started to develop into what it is now with the explosions on the prison roof which led to the lockdown and tommys death; these were confirmed to be set by ranboo in his enderwalk state. He was one of the only people online at the time, ranboo found tnt in his inventory afterwards, and I think dream also told sam he knew ranboo did it at some point, although I can't find the exact stream.

At that point it was obvious that enderwalking ranboo held a different set of beliefs, alliances, and likely more memories than the "awake" ranboo we saw most of the time on streams, and was acting against amnesiac ranboos wishes. The explosions above the prison along with the reveal that ranboo had been regularly visiting dream in prison confirmed that dream and ender!ranboo were some sort of allies.

At the time, my assumption was that ranboo had simply made an attempted prison break. It wouldnt be a stretch to assume, if ranboo had visited regularly, that he would have noticed the poor conditions and tried to break his ally out. However, after the confirmation of the staged finale, and a better look at cdreams motivations(wanting to provide protection for punz, separating himself very publicly from his only known ally to keep them safe) the idea that enderwalk ranboo, an ally of dreams, would go against dreams explicit wishes to stay locked in that prison began making less sense.

It would only make sense if either:

enderwalk never knew about the plan or

enderwalk knew about the plan but went against it anyway

1 is a very tempting explanation. c!dream rarely lets anyone close. even punz, who knew the plan intimately, wasn't aware of dreams true motivations to bring the server back to a peaceful time before conflict. but..... it didnt sit right with me.

Two reasons for this: I know some people may have stopped watching/never watched ranboo lore, but towards the end of the prison arc, ranboo began seeing flashes of "lessons" appear on screen. These lessons all had that utilitarian and paranoid feel a lot of dreams actions/reasoning have, like "dont trust anybody"(paraphrasing, thats just what i remember the core of that message being) or "never hesitate to gain a favor from someone, you can use it to get something from them later". anyone remember technos favor to dream? It was heavily implied these lessons were meant to be from dream, directed at c!enderwalk. This would mean the two spent a significant amount of time together. not only that, dream was sharing his *life philosophy* with ender!ranboo. thats not just something dream would share with anyone, and implies a close allyship at the least. its almost like he was teaching a pupil. yeah, sure, some of his lessons were a little fucked up and weird in that dream sort of way, but he was looking out for the kid. and it seems that enderwalk wasnt hesitant to act on those lessons either. he promised to keep a shulker safe for foolish, gaining a favor, and didnt sign a single one of those prison visitation waivers, on top of sam discovering they were corrupted into enderian when he checked LMAO.

This alone would be enough to persuade me enderwalk HAD to have been let in on the plan, at least so he wouldnt cause any problems (such as trying to get his ally out of prison).

but the other reason is... ranboos stated philosophy against conflict. he doesnt like sides, he wishes they wouldn't exist. I remember watching a stream and nearly jumping out of my seat when he told chat he just wished the server could just be one big happy family! because that is nearly word for word what a bunch of loreheads were saying about dreams motivations at the time(and now obviously lmao). if we keep in mind their contact for those "lessons", ranboos visits to dream in prison, AND the fact that dreams and ranboos motivations coincide on a level even Above dream and punzs(punz seemed to have been unaware of and also not particularly motivated by dreams wish for peace) i cant really imagine dream not letting this guy in on the plan.

which leaves us with 2) ranboo tried to break dream out against dreams wishes.

Maybe ranboo was just an ally and chickened out after he saw dreams mistreatment in prison and went against the plan, but... dream missed him after sam barred him from visiting. he asked sapnap to deliver a note to ranboo(just a smiley face, likely with the hopes of triggering an enderwalk) despite fearing for his ally punz enough to lock himself in prison. it feels reminicent to how dream sounds when he comments on george not visiting him once. like he missed a friend despite trying so hard to separate himself from the ones he'd had.

Maybe ranboo tried to break in because he saw a friend being mistreated, and couldn't leave the plan stand.

And that kind of makes sense doesn't it? that dream, someone whos paranoid about how peoples connection to him puts them in danger, would choose an amnesiac who spends most of their time terrified of dream, and wouldnt remember any of his plans or their friendship to use against either of them in the first place?

[foryoupeko]

Imagine Peko waking up from the Neo World Program and reconnecting with Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko catches Peko up with everything happening whilst the other survivors butts in every so often.

--

Sonia: Here's your coffee Fuyuhiko!

Peko: Oh, he needs cream and-

Sonia: I already added it! Just how he likes it!

Peko: (Frowns) That doesn't look like enough cream.

Fuyuhiko: I don't have as much as a sweet tooth anymore.

Sonia: Oh so you don't want the fried cookies I made for your coffee?

Fuyuhiko: You son of a bitch.

Sonia: Damn right!

--

Kazuichi: Fuyuhiko! I found some anime on the island! Let's watch it later!

Peko: Ah, he doesn't-

Fuyuhiko: It's fine. We'll watch it this weekend. Better not be romance.

Kazuichi: Yeah yeah, like you didn't get teary eye from the last one we saw.

Fuyuhiko: SOMETHING WAS IN MY EYE.

Kazuichi: ONLY DURING THE CLIMAX?

--

Akane: Fuyuhiko we're gonna run around the island tomorrow?

Peko: You run?

Akane: HE RUNS WELL!

Fuyuhiko: There's not much you can do on a debilitated island.

Akane: You're still not as fast as me.

Fuyuhiko: I'm not aiming to be a freak of nature.

--

Fuyuhiko: Peko are you okay? You're awfully quiet.

Peko: I knew you would be okay without me, I had no doubt. I just didn't expect you to mature so much. I haven't lived a single day without you but time never stopped for you. So it's jarring to say the least. I feel like I don't know you anymore.

Fuyuhiko: That gives us an interesting opportunity. Because we've been together ever since we were babies, we never had a proper introduction. So let's start over right now. (Extends his hand) My last name is Kuzuryu! My first name is pronounced, "Fu-yu-hi-ko". From this point forward, I hope we can get along so we can get to know each other better.

Peko: (stunned)

Fuyuhiko: Sorry, that was stupid.

Peko: (smiles) No. I loved getting to know you; I would love to do it all over again.

Fuyuhiko: But as equals!

Peko: (laughs) Yes. (grabs Fuyuhiko's hand) My name is Peko Pekoyama. It is nice to meet you.

[servingrobin]

Hello, I really liked that over dose fic u wrote and if it's not a bother could u do the same prompt with ace, usopp, and platonically with chooper. Thank you and have a good day

Absolutely!

Ace, Usopp, Chopper

Warnings: attempted suicide, mental health, angst, fluff

Ace

- Finds you spaced out your shared bed, nose dripping crimson and eyes rolling back , your whole body shaking

- You were hot to the touch, and for Ace that’s the real worry given he doesn’t feel most normal heat

- Luckily you were at a port on a fairly calm island, restocking and in your case scrounging up dangerous chemicals

- Ace was distraught, shouting and choking up as he tried to wake you

- When that didn’t work, he rushed you to the nearest doctor, throwing berry at anyone who could help you

- The doctors were helpful but not very sympathetic, clicking their tongues when they mentioned how it had to have been intentional to consume so much of the drug, it’s taste enough to put most off using it more than necessary

- Ace was fuming, steam pouring from every orifice as he held himself back from swinging at the doctor

- One fiery glare and they left you alone, set up in bed and stable

- “Please please please don’t leave me….please Y/N I need you more than anything… I love you so much….”

- He curled into your prone side and whispered through the night, chanting his love like a prayer in your ear

- Anyone that needed him - including Whitebeard himself - was told to piss off, you needed him more and he wouldn’t leave you alone again

- Expect Ace to be glued to your side for the foreseeable future

- Wants to show you everything worth living for - dates under the stars, more books and art than you thought possible, new islands, new people, the fun parts of his job

- And you best believe everyone else is doing the same - no one had seen Ace cry before and they didn’t ever want to see their commander like that again

- So you ended up with multiple crews looking out for you, singing and joking and doing everything possible to make you happy again

Usopp

- A sobbing blubbering mess when he finds you

- Rushes you to Chopper, scrambling across the deck with you shaking in his arms

- Won’t stop crying, begging on his knees for you to be okay

- Sits on the floor by your bed for hours, napping against the side when he can’t keep his eyes open any longer

- And when he feels your hand brush over his head from above, short breaths leaving your mouth, Usopp breathes the biggest sigh of relief

- Once you’re recovering and able to move around you find yourself tied to Usopp like a toddler, never far from your new bodyguard

- He gets insanely angry, shouting and screaming about how worried he was, how he wouldn’t know what to do without you

- It ended with Usopp on his knees before you, snot and tears in every direction as he hugs your hips and holds on as tight as possible

- “I can’t do any of this without you”

Chopper

- momentary panic when he finds you on the floor of his room, pill bottles strewn around you like a morbid halo

- Chopper screams with all his might, drawing the attention of both Robin and Luffy nearby

- Surprisingly very quickly composes himself and gets into doctor mode

- Orders around the crew like a drill sergeant, pumping your stomach and getting you set up with an IV of fluids quicker than anyone had seen Chopper work before

- He wastes no time in getting things ready for you - more than aware of how debilitating someone’s mental health can become

- Reads up on therapy techniques and overcoming trauma, spends hours pouring over books about depression and anxiety, ropes Robin into helping research rehabilitation (not that she minds in the slightest - they’d all do anything for you)

- Creates a rota of who’s going to be with you, makes sure you have Nami or Robin at least once a day for any bathing/washing etc, otherwise it’s all hands on deck to make sure you’re not alone until you feel secure and safe again

- Creates a whole meal plan for Sanji to make for you, full of nutritious healing meals and comfort foods

- Has Brook play you music, Zoro gym with you, Luffy play board games, Usopp teach you to shoot - any hobbies or soothing interests that might help you feel better

[ma1dita]

truth be told

can be read as a standalone, but part one can be found here: liar, liar

this was a request! here

words: 3k

summary: After everything, only the truth remains. A continuation of your life with Sirius. Loosely follows the events of the books. Sirius Black x fem!reader

warnings: one use of y/n, ANGST guys if i cried writing this you will too, non-descript smut for the plot, ending open to interpretation, Sirius deserved a better life. star-crossed lovers strike again!

a/n: it has been months but i wanted to get this right. Saddest shit I’ve written in a while, hope you enjoy! Let’s rant about how the Blacks have the saddest character arcs…. And this has an open ending, tell me what you think happened!! Tunes attached at the end for your reading pleasure.

(posted: 12/18/23)

—

There’s always a proper explanation for drastic life changes. Surely, there’s a reason this keeps happening to you.

At the very least, this time around you feel as if you owe it to your dead friends. You’d never thought you’d be the one to outlive all of them, with how much the world has gone to spite you, but then, you heard about Harry Potter. It was never fair, the way he lost loved ones that you loved too. Perhaps it was sympathy or your ongoing savior complex, but 12 years gives you a lot of time to ponder past transgressions.

So when Remus sent you an urgent letter about Peter being found alive, arranging your international portkey to meet them at Hogwarts immediately was a no-brainer.

Professor Remus, who is so eloquent with words, just casually had to omit the fact that your ex was also back in the picture. And that he was the most wanted wizard in Britain. Truthfully, your life has been much quieter since him. There’s truth in these details…

Now, as you follow Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack under the guise of catching your ex red-handed, something about this scene feels familiar.

The seed of doubt that was planted back then still lingers as a big and scary thing, all twisted and it rips open old scars for those involved. It makes you stop in your tracks at the entrance of the base of the Whomping Willow and you can't help but be struck by the thought of how much things have changed since that fateful night all those years ago. And yet, somehow, it is all the same.

A pang of guilt stabs at you. The night was supposed to be about catching the big bad Sirius Black, but you couldn't help but be reminded of how important he had been to you back then, and how you loved him. Love him. It was almost as if you were playing the part of the traitor rather than looking for one...

You’re 33 now, after all. What else could go wrong?

—

You hesitate outside the entryway, listening to voices from your past and present intermingle, and the thundering in your heart drowns out the sound of your heavy breathing. Godric, and they said Harry has his life threatened every year? Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place on Earth?

As Severus raises his wand to attack Sirius, you step into the light and wordlessly stupefy your colleague, his body dropping to the floor like a bag of rocks. Multiple pairs of eyes meet, some in fear and confusion, but you are immediately drawn to him, his presence calling something within your soul as it did 12 years prior. Sirius Black, your lost love, all covered in grime and more suffering than man. He has that look on his face, the one he’d get when he was about to make a point— and it irritates you so quickly that it’s almost debilitating.

The rush of emotions as you see him again floods you with a memory of a time like this long ago. It hits you like a tide that washes over your senses, the way one breathes in saltwater, all nostalgia and raging hurt, and as you gulp in oxygen, breathing heavily. For a second, the shadows in this dark room look like the friends you lost on a night this, one you no longer talk about.

Guilt, anger, and love all vie for your attention but your mind goes numb as Sirius steps closer, his face twisted in a wry smile as he meets your gaze.

"Hello, wife." He whispers, his voice tinged with affection and regret. He’s different now, older… starved. Sirius steps closer to you blinking slowly, hand grazing your wrist like he’s afraid you’re a figment of his imagination again. He’s spent a lot of time over the years imagining you. But then the anger comes back to the forefront of your brain before he can do anything about it.

You sock him hard in the jaw, and he crumples to the ground like paper. What a scene— Severus lying unconscious behind you, Sirius keeled over holding his jaw, and the Golden Trio stares at you with open mouths.

“Who even are you?” A ginger boy holding a ball of fur almost howls in disbelief. Is that…

“Good to have you back, love,” Remus says with a knowing grin, and then all you can hear is Sirius’s laughter. Despite the blood dripping from his lips he laughs, so filled with enjoyment that he hasn't felt in years.

“Someone’s gotta keep you two in line,” you huff, looking around quickly as you point your wand at the damn rat of a man hiding in the grasp of these children.

“Put him down so I can hurt him,” You spit, and Peter Pettigrew, ever the petty little man launches himself at you going down in a flurry of multicolored sparks and misfired spells.

“Kill him, baby, kill him! You knew it wasn’t me, didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for this… 12 years of it! In Azkaban!” Sirius chortles, almost rocking on the floor in glee, finding this hilarious.

“Quiet you git, or I’ll make sure you’re next!”

A low growl comes out of Remus, and you realize revenge will have to wait once more, pushing the Trio out of the shack. One thing is clear in your mind as you run for your life.

You have got to stop testing fate.

—

Tomorrow, you turn 34. What better way to celebrate than to pay a visit to your ex-boyfriend after he escaped from Azkaban? Clearly, Remus Lupin thinks it’s his best idea yet.

“He’s not doing so well, (Y/N). Can’t seem to adjust at Grimmauld Place and find a new normal…” Remus mutters over the floo network late at night.

“I don’t think normal and that place could ever belong in the same sentence,” you say with a furrowed brow. From one prison to another, you think.

“I just… I thought I’d floo you because I’m running out of ideas. You know… you knew him best.” The fireplace illuminates your face in the small apartment you’ve been residing in for the past month since your return.

“Does it matter? We’re strangers again, just bound together by hazy memories. I wouldn’t know what to do…”

“But I think you do, and he wants you there. Just doesn’t know how to say it. For some of us, memories are all we have.” The image of Remus’s head was getting licked at by the hot flames, and the idea of being in front of Sirius again, not for Order business, but to be even a friend, after everything…

You felt like you were on fire too.

“Isn’t it ironic that the happy memories hurt more than the sad ones, Rem?” Silence greets you from the other end of the fire, both of you knowing that it’s the truth

Sirius sees you approaching the house in the early morning as he watches out the window after another sleepless night. His body jerks up from his hunched position at the bay window, wiping at the corners of his eyes. You came. You’re here. For him.

He meets you downstairs, daybreak peeking in rays of blue and purple behind you, the frame of the doorway separating the two of you along with the realization that you’ve missed each other for longer than you’ve known one another.

You step back into his space, and he takes your coat quietly, scared to make another mistake, scared to push you away like he has many times before.

Something akin to grief holds you there in the foyer, staring at each other in a new light, faces changed by the life you should have lived together. For right now, there’s nothing more to hide, nothing less than the simple truth that you are two different bodies with the same souls. There is no struggle in the way your hand reaches out for his chest, to feel the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a while, you both feel alive.

“Sirius…” you whisper. No nicknames, because what do you call him after all that? The man who left that night with hushed promises and left you to handle the wreckage.

The world keeps moving and he’s still stuck there in that cell. In this house. Sirius can’t seem to walk away from what haunts him, but at the sound of your voice saying his name he smiles.

No one’s said his name that kindly to him in years. Not in the way that you do.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

—

You’re 35 now, and you’ve realized that it takes time. Time is all you have when your love is in hiding. You’re caught again between the blurry lines of friends and something more, but the work that has to be done comes first before anything.

And it is driving Remus mad.

You moved into one of the many spare rooms at Grimmauld Place when Remus did, to keep Sirius company and organize affairs for the Order. But to watch you two dance around each other awkwardly makes him want to claw at his skin more than he already has.

“Friends stick together. We help each other out,” you say nonchalantly and Sirius’ head bobs as he helps you put the groceries away one day. Remus is not as amused.

There are a lot of things to fix here, with the house swarming with dark magic and cursed artifacts. You all spent weeks researching the combination of anti-sticking charms to tear down the family tapestry.

Wretched Walburga’s painting was almost one with the foundation of the building, so you found a way to magic it shut forever. To take down the bad memories brick by brick, hurt and shame—if that’s what he wanted, you and Remus made sure it was what he would get. It’s what he deserved. When you finally showed Sirius the closed-off wall, without the invidious glare of his birthgiver, he thought he could kiss you with the happiness it brought him. You have a way of doing that, so intentional with your words, and how you’ve been caring for him, giving him the room he’s learning to occupy again…

So he did.

Hesitantly, then desperately drinking you in like a man left starved, and he had years of a fill to catch up on. He could drown in you if you’d let him.

And you did.

You kissed in the middle of the living room he was once damned in, legs hoisted over his hips as you fall onto the sofa. Frantic movements, kisses conveying words left unsaid, and at one point you both cry in pleasure and relief at being in each other’s arms again. If everything’s gone wrong in life, dear Circe, was this finally right.

His thrusts are slow as he gazes at you from above, hair moved out of your face to properly see you. Calloused hands roam your body that he wishes to reacquaint himself with from the inside out, from your skin to your bones.

“It’s okay,” you sigh as you touch his jaw, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared to ruin this. To ruin you.”

Your hips slow as you reach around to hug him. Sirius had long come to terms with the fact that he ruins everything he touches, and you’re not an exception in a long line of proof. You gently pull his body down before rolling over him, placing kisses everywhere you could reach. The crease in his forehead, his sunken in collarbones, the lean of his chest until your eyes and lips fall upon the dark etch of your name on his ribcage, under his heart. It joins the many other tattoos that grace his slender body, but it’s the only one in bright, devastating red. Your eyes meet again.

“I…they kept trying to take the necklace away. I had to remember you somehow. I’m sorry,” he says bashfully, eyes flickering to the ceiling in timidity, and the apology slips out from his lips. It makes you smile at how far he is from the arrogant man you once knew.

“Then ruin me then. Again. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your approval stokes the fire in him, hands grabbing for dear life to feel you more underneath his fingertips and with the movements he makes from under you, striking hard like he has something he needs to prove. As you sigh into his neck and hold tightly onto his hand, you think of how loving him has always been red. Necklace or not, that has always been the truth.

Naked underneath a throw blanket that might scar Remus’ senses when he gets back from his mission and surrounded by the construction job of a house he once hated, Sirius breathes easily with you resting upon his chest. He hasn’t dreamed in a long while, but here, he can conjure images of finally marrying you and making this house a home.

“What are you thinking about? Tell me the truth,” you whisper, and he stops breathing, thinking you’re already asleep. Your fingers rub a mark on his neck lovingly.

“I want you to call me anything else. Baby, sweetness, darling…” he muses with a crackly voice.

“I don’t like my name. You’ve always known that. I don’t think it’s ever been mine. But I have always been yours, even when I didn’t know it. Even if you don’t want me.”

You press yourself closer to him, if that’s even humanly possible, gripping onto his soul.

“Husband it is then.”

—

At 36, you didn’t think you’d be having this fight with him again.

It wouldn’t be Sirius if he didn’t put up a fight. The man who’s spent his entire life fighting to get everything he wants or even a fraction of what he felt he needed. So why would loving him be any more simple?

He won’t easily admit that he’s never experienced life the way he wanted to unless he was with you, the only constant, his only calm. But there’s no way in hell you’re letting him rush out into the night again to never be seen.

“Harry needs me, my love. I need to protect him! You need to stay here,” Sirius bites back at the desperation writhing through his being, needing for you to understand that he wants you safe too.

“I’m tired of fighting you, babe, I can’t…” Your hands slam onto the dining table as he paces around it, running away from you again as he grabs things he needs. The lack of air in your lungs is making everything rush to your head, anxiety making you spiral as you chase him again, reaching out for him like trying to grapple with smoke.

“I can’t do this. I’m not letting you leave without me again,” you wail, and he’s not listening, hyperfocused on saving one of the few people he has left to live for. He laces his boots haphazardly, keys being thrown into his jacket pocket, and it all boils over.

“SIRIUS!” you scream. He stops in his tracks and looks at you in the moonlight, face illuminated by the kitchen window. You’re crying, shaking, with your hand still outstretched for him to hold. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead with all the love he can muster.

“I...can’t lose you again. Could it be easy this once? I’m not the enemy here. Please don’t fight me on this,” you heave between soft sobs, hands crinkling his shirt to keep you grounded.

“You’re coming.” he surrenders, and you nod, both of you knowing it’s the truth. The blue light of a refashioned heart necklace lights the space between you. Fear fills the air again, and he silently grabs your jacket, zipping it up and tucking the pendant underneath your shirt. His thumb brushes over your jaw in an unhurried moment as he looks at you long enough that you wish to stay here forever.

“I love you.”

“I know, husband. I love you.”

Your hand grips onto his and you apparate to the Department of Mysteries.

—

The quiet tragedy of your love will never truly leave your ribcage, and Sirius’s quite literally etched in the skin and bones of him, under his heart.

One moment, he’s fighting for his life with you beside him, and the next, he’s falling. The love never disappeared, though it appeared differently the second time around. You couldn’t love each other the same way twice, with everything that’s changed since the beginning of it, but the love was there. It evolved with you. It endures.

You’re the only family he needs, and this point is further solidified when his cousin sends a killing curse his way, and his saving grace is you letting go of his hand to to blast her into oblivion. He trips backward to the Veil all the same.

“Wife…” he breathes out, being pulled in by nothingness. Your body turns slowly and your eyes meet, his hand out his hand stretches to reach yours. His eyes reflect the red glow of the pendant on your chest, and then you know what to do.

“Husband!” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face and he shuts his eyes not needing to know how this will end because you’re here, and barely a breath away.

There wasn’t even a second thought to grab his hand, and the both of you are falling, falling again. Hands intertwined, both ringless, yet all the more secure and true. This is how it was meant to be.

—

“I can’t decide if time

Is my enemy

Or my friend

Time takes the pain away

But time takes you away too.”

-Whitney Hanson

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue

love me some tunes! I listened to these three songs while I wrote: cedar by gracie abrams, adam's ribs by jensen mcrae, the alcott by the national (ft. taylor swift)

[sunshineandspencer]

Playing nurse (End)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

A/N: I have a chronic fear of things ending. I've had this written for like two weeks but I hate the idea of it being over. Sorry, and thank you for everyone who enjoyed my first story on tumblr <33

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: He takes care of her until she’s finally cleared by the Doctor and he can make good on his promise

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kissing (ew), slightly suggestive at the end but nothing described

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt8, Pt9, Pt10

be added to the taglist!!

While he had been overbearingly sweet and protective while she recovered, and was let out of the hospital, her pretty new boyfriend still hasn’t kissed her.

Not for a lack of trying either.

Every chance she got, she would try and subtly drag him closer, but he always caught on. Giving her a chiding look and turning them back to whatever they had been doing. She’d wear her prettiest lip gloss and do stupid things to try and convince him. 

But his mind was set, until she got cleared by the doctor, no smooching.

Besides, despite his gleaming teasing, she wasn’t desperate. After waiting months and assuming he hated her, she can last a few more weeks. For the stitches to heal and the pain to finally stop without meds.

Spencer, true to his word, didn’t leave her side. Helping her get back and settle into her apartment, at which he lamented no longer living in ‘their’ house.

That, at least, got him to suck in a painful breath and press a kiss to her hair.

God did he miss that too.

Sure, he’d stayed in the guest room and given her free reign of that master bedroom, but that had been enough - he hadn’t needed to sleep in the same bedroom as her to feel close. The whole thing had only three days together but it felt like a lifetime.

Eating every meal together, doing stupid tasks like cleaning and shopping, watching crap reality television and getting strangely into it. He missed being able to casually touch her as his ‘wife’, but girlfriend is an excellent place for them to start again together after everything they’d gone through.

The fear of losing her had been debilitating, and looking after her now, staying in her spare room, was what he needed.

To see her every day and be reminded that she’s completely fine.

His damn woman wasn’t making it easy in trying to stop her from pulling her stitches or injuring herself further. Those first couple of days, with her constantly trying to sneak a kiss in, she was being impossible. But he won’t - he can’t - not until she’s cleared.

Thankfully his incentive worked and after a while - well, after she had a breakdown in the kitchen and he’d had to hold her and make sure he knows that he wants to but he’s worried about her recovery - and was finally patient.

Thanks to her newfound patience, they fell into a routine; he would wake up in her spare room and go to wake her up with painkillers and new bandages, check on her stitches, and then spend the day together. The two of them are definitely in the honeymoon phase - as Garcia gleefully tells her in every facetime.

Yes, they love each other, but they’re also so used to having their own space, which they’ll probably love after all this is over. Needing some alone time doesn’t mean they don’t still completely love each other - but they’d lived as individuals so long it would take some time to adjust.

The honeymoon phase was saving their ass - and their relationship. Everyday spent together is bliss.

Learning, properly, about each other. She talked about her family, normal in some remote town, and his decidedly less normal childhood. He finally told her about Maeve and why he had been so harsh, which she understood but still called him daft. Honestly they talked about anything and everything. Until Spencer was fairly certain he’d be able to identify her blind, just from the breath she takes before she speaks.

Thanks to his diligence, and her eventual co-operation, it was only two weeks until she could finally get the bandage and stitches removed. With no incidents since she left the hospital.

Once she’s cleared for duty, and the Doctor begins to send the paperwork through to prove it to Emily, they leave.

Their hands laced together and swinging between them, Maeve chatting excitedly about going back to work. All the way from the office, in the elevator and through the main entrance to the parking lot.

“Oh I can’t wait to see Penelope. Facetiming just isn’t the same.. I want a hug. Plus I miss the smell of stale coffee and the patriarchy.” Giving him a grin as they get closer to her mini, the keys swinging in his other hand. “Is it weird that I miss the serial killers?”

“You don’t miss serial killers, angel. We’ve talked about this.”

But he was smiling all the same, causing her to laugh and lean into his side.

Once again, he’s impressed with his ability to hold any kind of conversation with her when his brain is melting under the constant ‘God please I just want to kiss her’. Just like he’d been struggling against for the past two weeks while taking care of her.

Somehow, Maeve had seemingly forgotten their promise as she was still talking, and he’s not a strong man when it comes to her.

“--I might see if I can babysit for JJ and Will, their kids are adorable. Or maybe finally have that girl’s night, we were meaning to go for one before all this and I miss drinking. Or--”

They got to the car and he turned to hold her against the passenger door, giving her a teasing smile. Smoothing the hair from her face and moving his hands down to her upper arms to hold her still.

“Or, you could spend time with your boyfriend?”

Laughing, she rested her hands softly over his forearms, that teasing look not dropping from her face, and subsequently making his brain melt even further.

He’s not sure how he lasted two weeks like this.

“My boyfriend who I spent every day of the last two weeks with?”

“Well-”

“Spence, if you.. monopolise any more of my time, Penelope might just--”

Incredulous, a laugh left him and he cut her off. Leaning down to kiss her as desperately as he’d wanted for the past two weeks. One hand sliding up to her hair, gripping gently to tilt her head back until it hits the roof of the mini, slanting his lips a little harder against hers.

Right here, he knew he’d never get enough of her ever again. Her taste, her lips, the feel of her, her reactions. 

God, her reactions.

At first she’d tensed, not quite believing he was finally kissing her. Once it sunk it, she relaxed against him, easing her grip where she’d started to leave marks and letting her eyes fall shut. 

Then, once he’d tilted her head back and pushed her a little more insistently against the car, she had actually whimpered against his lips, and he was desperate to chase that little noise as far as she would let him. Her hands moved from his arms to fist in the front of his shirt and dragged him closer.

Until they were all but making out in the hospital parking lot.

When he finally pulled back - dreading his need for air - he kept close. Their foreheads are near but not quite touching, still wanting to be able to look down at her properly. Giving them both a moment to breathe as two weeks, probably longer, washed over them.

Opening his eyes to just look down at her, loving the flushed cheeks and laboured breaths. Loving her.

“Angel.” She hums. “Do you want to know why I wouldn’t kiss you while you were recovering?”

It took her a little while to respond, cracking her eyes open to finally meet his again. Sure that he legs would’ve given out if it wasn’t for him holding her up against the car. Not quite trusting her voice yet, she shook her head, the hand not in her hair wrapping around her waist.

And Jesus, but he finds her so pretty like this, glossy eyed and smiling.

“Because you are perfect sweetheart, and if I’d kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop at just one.. or two.. or three.” Punctuating each number with a peck to her lips, which just made her pretty and pliant under his palm. “And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Swallowing thickly, she let go of the front of his shirt from the death-grip she’d gotten on it, smoothing down the wrinkles she’d made as she cleared her throat from where her heart had blocked it.

Looking back up to meet his gaze as she continued to smooth away the wrinkles she’d left.

“I’m uh.. I’m alright now.”

“Yes, you are.”

With a smug grin, which looks far too good on his face, she leant in to brush their noses together. A tender action that’s completely at odds with the heat in his gaze.

That hand around her waist slipped to her lower back, pulling her fully against him and revelling in the way a soft squeak left her lips, and her eyes darted down to his own as if expecting him to kiss her. Quickly darting back up, indignant, when he started to talk instead.

“So, angel, would you like to call Penelope for a girl’s night? Or would you like to go home with your boyfriend?”

Making a face, and trying to ignore the blush high on her cheeks, she tugged him back down for another quick kiss, which he happily gave her. Trying to act very nonchalant, despite her own obvious excitement.

“Let’s go home, please.”

Finally letting go of her, he reached around to pull on the door handle. Opening up the passenger door for her and ushering her inside.

Leaning his forearm on the roof to lean in and give her another kiss.

“Alright sweetheart, home it is. What should we do? Watch a movie?”

She scowled at him, a sight he loved so damn much now it aches. Which is why it brings him so much glee to shut the door in her scowling face and walk around to the driver’s side, slow as he likes.

Impressed that he’s been able to resist the urge to sprint round and get in the car like he absolutely wants to do. His need to tease her is the only thing stronger than his need to kiss her.

Once he finally got in, she prodded his side, still glaring at him as he belted up.

“If you don’t kiss me some more when we get home, I will be going out with Penelope.”

“Don’t worry angel, I plan to thoroughly make up for the last two weeks.”

That got her to shut up, scowl falling away into something far more bashful, a pretty smile settling onto her face as she got comfortable for the drive back to her apartment.

With a happy sigh, he reached to turn the radio on, and then let his hand fall to her thigh, squeezing gently to get her attention - as if she was able to think of anything besides him when his entire presence fills the car and her head and her chest.

Rubbing firm circles to the top of her thigh as that smug grin climbed back onto his face.

“You won’t need to call Penelope, or anyone else, just yet. I told them that your appointment isn’t until tomorrow, so I have you all to myself for the next twenty-four hours.”

Want more?! Good!

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[chronicallyaunline]

Neurodiversity in Star Trek TNG S3 E20: “Tin Man”

Tam Elbrun: It worries you that I can’t read your mind?

Data: Perhaps there is nothing to read. Nothing more than mechanisms and algorithmic responses.

Tam Elbrun: Perhaps you’re just different. It’s not a sin, you know, though you may have heard otherwise.

Many autistic Star Trek enthusiasts see themselves in Lt Cdr Data, an android who was designed without the ability to experience emotion (though there is plenty of context to suggest that he merely experiences emotion differently from other people). While Data and certain other characters are widely considered to be neurodivergent by fans, the earlier series are rarely so explicit about neurodivergence as in the TNG episode “Tin Man.” This episode introduced Tam Elbrun, a Betazoid who is unusually proficient in negotiation with sentient non-humanoid organisms. It is made abundantly clear that Elbrun is considered neurodivergent among Betazoids, as he possesses a telepathic ability that is so powerful it becomes debilitating.

Counsellor Troi states that Betazoids normally come into their telepathic abilities in adolescence, but a small minority are born with their abilities. Troi also says that those children require early diagnosis and intervention so that they can be taught to manage the overwhelming experience of being aware of the minds of others before their own brains are capable of handling it. At least in the case of Elbrun, that power seems to continue to grow with age. By the time we meet an adult Elbrun, he experiences the emotions and thoughts of others so powerfully that he is disabled by being in the presence of large numbers of sentient minds. The one exception is Data, as Elbrun is unable to read his unique mind.

Data and Elbrun have opposite experiences of emotion. Data cannot feel emotion in a traditional capacity, and Elbrun cannot stop experiencing it. Neither one is capable of experiencing normal social bonds because of the intensity of their differences, yet they find some companionship through their similarities. Ironically their opposite experiences are both representative of autism. Autistic people tend to experience much lower or much higher empathy than the average person, both of which can prevent us from socializing normatively with others. To me, the most important part of this episode is that it is so ahead of its time in how it approaches people with unusual brains. Difference is not wrong, and it does not cancel out your basic humanity. Star Trek TNG aired years before I was born, but there are plenty of modern shows that would do well to treat their characters more like this.

[sussyscurryscorpio]

Random Astrology Observations Part-6

(This picture does not belong to me at all) (Please take only what resonates)

~I've seen a lot of Lilith in ascendant (1st house) women getting sexualised not just by men in general, but men who already are in a relationship. This placement is like a flame to the moths, the moths being men already being taken by someone.

I have this placement and god do I not attract my friends' bfs' attention all the damn time. The same guy who didn't pay much heed to me, after starting dating my friend, started being super touchy to me.

Also, people who feel they aren't sexualised while having this placement, might have the desire to be sexualised. Like, they want to be sexualised but then when they do, they start regretting it and yada yada.

~I feel like Saturn in 5th people are the least likely to be in an open relationship or doing anything particularly "hip" OR they can only be in an open relationship. No in between.

~You resemble your sibling's chart in many ways. Especially the 3rd and 11th houses, since they signify your younger and elder siblings respectively.

I am a Scorpio Sun, Moon and Mercury. I checked my sister's chart a few days back (she's younger to me) and guess what I saw. She has a Taurus Sun and Mercury in 11th house, (Taurus being the sister sign of Scorpio), AND an Aquarius Moon in 8th house. (the original house of Scorpio)

ALSO, surprisingly, she and I even have a great Venus placement. My Venus is in its own sign of Libra, while her Venus is in the sign of Pisces. (exalted)

AND, our Jupiters are not in a great sign. Mine is in Virgo while hers is in Gemini. Ehh.

~Pisces Venus are sooo picky. (IN A GOOD WAY) Like dude, you put my Libra Venus to shame. Like no offence but Pisces Venus especially 25° has so many issues at staying satisfied with their choices. Might even leave their person soon too. They feel like they could've done much better but ehh. I mean since y'all are so beautiful, who are we to even blame you for thinking you deserve better. We get you Pisces Venus! My sister's has this too so I'm bias ig lol.

~Is it a Gemini Rising thing that whenever they like someone or whenever they have a mild crush on somebody (their words, not mine), they'll just want it to be something more and start imagining scenarios with them.

BUT, as soon as they hear something bad or negative about that person, they'll drop them as quick as a "moment of weakness".

OR, if they find out that person likes them back, they'll just be like, "Huh? What feelings, bruh?"

I guess it was all about the chase, innit mate?

~Okay. I gotta have to say it out loud. Exalted Placements are Overrated. And, before 75% of you readers go Mars on me, hear me out.

Aries Sun- too aggressive/impatient Taurus Moon- too sensitive/stubborn Virgo Mercury- perfectionist tendencies Pisces Venus- too picky Capricorn Mars- too disciplined/ inflexible Cancer Jupiter- too engrossed in other worldly knowledge Libra Saturn- careless with money

Now, every placement has their own ups and downs. The benefits of a planet is never solely dependent on the planet sign. It is also affected by the house and the aspects of other planets to it. You need to stop believing the myth that Exalted Planets will always give you splendid results only. That is certainly not the case. Needless to say, I'm not saying debilitation is better. It has it's own ups and downs.

But nothing in this world is black or white. They are all different shades of grey.

[laylaysdelusions]

Waiting room

Paige Bueckers x reader

Plot: the breakup. (Heartbreaking angst)

It’s painful, so fucking painful. 

Paige had left you in the heat of August, to fight for yourself. I mean it wasn’t her fault, it was for the best. You had attachment problems and you were fully aware of that. It was just something you did, you didn’t mean to.

“I’m not good for you honey” she told you as she sat on the end of your floral bed sheets. You knew all six of those words were true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Days passed and you couldn’t get your bones to move out of their permanent position. It was like time didn’t exist. The wall seemed to the most interesting thing the world had to offer. 

You’d wake up with tears streaming down your face and you’d fall asleep in the same manner. Eventually months began to pass but you still couldn’t function normally. Of course you had to return to work and classes but the world was still black and white. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the pink bear that laid directly in-front of your bed. Paige had gotten you the bear from the Minnesota State Fair and you remembered every painful detail about that day. It was lovely, truly perfect. When did things change? How does time do that? 

It made the light in your eyes die and your heart beat slower. Maybe you were already dead you just weren’t fully conscious of it yet. 

One day in mid October you trembled in the cold as you walked to your psychology class, that’s when you spotted her. 

Paige had her tongue intertwined with a curly headed girl on a campus bench. Right then and there your heart stopped beating. Your mouth went dry and you swear the air stopped circulating through your body. She’s moved on. The sudden realization made you run as fast as you possibly could to class. How you did it? You still have no idea. It was like your existence was nothing but absence. Every noise was just in the background. You couldn’t feel anything but the pounding in your ears. “This is a nightmare you need to wake up.” You told yourself. This can’t be real life, right? Oh but it was. This is something you are going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. 

The next week passes by without a single text message you received being handed a reply. You know your loved ones were very concerned but life had no point without Paige Bueckers. That right there is why Paige left you. Toxic attachment. Everyone that looked at you two could see how the debilitating love was making you worse. Which is more damaging and dangerous, having Paige and being so clingy it would rot away at you or not having her and every step you take being hell?

The consistent cycle of waking up, not caring, crying, putting your AirPods in, going back to sleep, and doing it all over again was the definition of your life. You were merely a shell of the girl you used to be. Nothing more than a zombie trying to hold it together. 

The winter comes faster than you can imagine. Snow falls down at UConn and you have an even stronger reason to cry. It’s down right freezing. 

You have started incorporating your friends back into your life however it’s a tedious process. You still have what feels like an inhalable heartbreak. At least your friends know why now. 

One day you’re sitting in the library with your friend Ariana when you look up to someone clearing their throat. Oh no. 

Paige bueckers stands infront of you.

It all rushes back intensely and you feel your legs go weak. No matter what she’s about to say you’re still gonna love her like a sick puppy loves its owner.

:(

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy Prologue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You find a new therapist who is more than willing to help you overcome your fears.

Warnings | 18+, talks about fear of being raped, talks about fear of being pregnant and giving birth, pretty much just a content warning for their conversation, the real bad stuff is in pt. 1

Words | 700

Notes | You don’t technically have to read this chapter, it just provides some more background for part 1.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You anxiously sat down on the small couch, picking at your cuticles as you waited. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, giving you a calming smile. 

“A little. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.” 

“It’s completely normal to be nervous during the first session, especially if you’ve never done anything like this before.” That calmed your nerves a little. “Let’s start simple. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.” 

“Um… The fears that I have are getting a little out of control and affecting my everyday life, so I was hoping you could help me get over them. At least a little bit.” 

“Knowing you need help and taking the initiative to seek that help is already a really good start.” You gave him a shy smile at the praise, not sure how to respond. “Since this is a consultation, I’d like to know what fears you need help overcoming so I can figure out the best treatment for you. Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, of course. There are two main ones. Um… being- being raped and being pregnant or giving birth.” He scribbled quickly as you spoke and you waited anxiously for him to respond. 

“I want to better understand you. Is it alright if I ask some questions?” He asked, crossing his hands and resting them on the notebook in his lap. 

“Yes.” 

“Is there any past trauma that might’ve caused these fears?” You shook your head. “Let’s just focus on the first one for now. What do you think might be the cause?” 

“I guess just knowing how common it is? I feel like I’m living every single day just waiting to become part of the statistic.” 

“That must be pretty debilitating feeling that way. Is that stopping you from doing a lot of the things your peers do?” You just nodded in response. “And what about the other one? How is that affecting your everyday life?” 

“Um…” You bit your lip as your cheeks grew warm, realizing what you would have to explain to answer his question. “It’s- I don’t…” Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m here to help you, but you have to help me understand before I can do that.” You nodded in agreement, trying to force yourself to just say it. 

“I'm on birth control, but I still don’t feel like I can rely on that completely. And when boyfriends or whatever find out, they usually want to- to…”

“Not use a condom?” 

“Yes.” 

“But you don’t feel safe doing that?” You shook your head as you bit your bottom lip. “So it’s affecting your relationships. Is it affecting you individually as well?” 

“Well I mean, I… want to do that with them too.” 

“You have a breeding kink?” You stared at him with wide eyes, floundering for a response. He was unfazed by the inappropriate question though. 

“I wasn’t going to say it like that, but yeah.” 

“Kinks can often be coping mechanisms. Do you have any other that could be related?” 

“…Cnc?”  

“Is it easier to partake in that one because there’s no real risk?” 

“Yeah I guess so.” This time when he started writing, he took a little longer than the past few times. When he finally looked back up, he gave you a small smile. 

“I think I’m going to be able to help you, I already have a few treatments in mind. Thank you for being so open with me, I know it’s not easy talking about something so personal.” You nodded, not sure what to say. “We can start regular therapy but in the meantime I can prescribe you some medication for the anxiety.”

“Oh I don’t- I don’t know if I want to take medication.” He passed the pen over the paper in one stroke, striking something out. 

“The old fashion way then.” He smiled and you chuckled awkwardly, wondering if you messed up by saying that. It didn’t seem like you did? Maybe you should just agree since he thinks it’ll help? He cut off your over thinking before you had the chance to say you changed your mind. “Do you think once a week will be a good start?” 

“That sounds perfect.” 

Part 1

[good-griief]

Time ; Acceptance

third and final chap of my "time" series! i really hope yall enjoyed it cus angst is one of my fave things to write. i didn't want to drag it out too much but i was thinking of doing one-shots and some au's of this idea, so if ur interested in that, i'd be glad to know!

warnings ambiguous relationship between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part two

part three on ao3

Ellie looked over the pictures she took from Leah as she and Dina sat in the theater, pausing at the sight of someone she didn’t recognize. “Who’s this?” She asked, picking up the photo. California was written beneath the picture of a girl and a younger-looking Abby, clearly candid as they leaned against one another by a bonfire. She flipped over the picture. Soon, was written with a heart next to it. 

“Dunno.” Dina swiped a few pictures over to her girlfriend. “There are a few of her.” 

Ellie looked them over, seeing Leah had written and scratched out Santa Barbara on one before scribbling hearts on others. Finally, there was a recent one. Your name was under the picture of you two together, and on the back was a small note. Finally back home was all she read before she stopped, realizing how personal it was and tossing it aside. It had nothing to do with her, and she refused to feel bad about anything pertaining to these people. 

Abby found the pictures in the theater after finding Mel and Owen, taking them and stashing them in her bag. 

She knew you’d seen Leah. She had the pictured proof of it, but she was hoping that night you would tell her why; tell her why, and tell her why, again, you didn’t stay. 

“Just fucking stay here, then!” Your squad member had yelled at you, already being scared that you were so injured and now scared that you’d be leaving, when you debated whether or not to go and speak to your old friends. There was a tightness in your chest, stomach twisting as your heart raced to the point that it felt like one continuous, loud beat. This was all so familiar, but you weren’t going to leave this time. “Go back, see if they’ll take you in, but don’t come crawling back to us.”

You didn’t even have the option. 

“What’s the verdict?” You asked one of the other medics back on the island after he looked over your recovering injuries; still having a severe pain in your stomach and hip that made you nauseous, flaring up to the point that it was debilitating at times. 

It scared you; not being able to do your tasks. What if there was no use for you? Where would you be then? Alone?

And again by your own design. 

He gave you a look. “You’ve got some pretty bad damage.” There was a big, splotched bruise on your stomach that hadn’t left in the days you’d been recovering. “Could be internal… We can’t have you over-exerting yourself. You’re our best medic.” You scoffed at that, nodding. “No more patrols, alright? At least, not until we can do something about this.” 

It’d been months of this now, and you still weren’t better. You had a feeling walking around was making it persist, but you couldn’t just stop working. You refused. Even if it was killing you to do so— figuratively, of course. 

Because of how distracted you were by that, you hadn’t noticed Abby’s distancing. You would set out a pouch of anti-poisons and poultice ingredients for her each time she went on patrol, but you hadn’t noticed she wasn’t taking them until they began to pile up. 

You sighed, putting them in a basket to take to her. You hadn’t realized how heavy these were, as you’d been loading them up just for her, but you went ahead and began walking toward her and Lev’s home. 

You hadn’t realized how far it was, but by the time you got there, you were feeling sick. 

You knocked weakly, Abby not even realizing someone was knocking until you did again. She came to the door, surprised to see you. She couldn’t help the small smile that came to her face. You smiled back, but it faltered almost immediately. “Come in.” Abby stepped aside. “Are you alright?”

You sat down on her couch, setting the basket on the coffee table as you exhaled and held your hip. “Fine,” you forced. “You haven’t been picking up your pouches, so I thought I’d drop them off.”

Abby shut the door, coming over to you and kneeling. “Let me see it.”

“It’s just a cramp—“ 

Abby pushed you to lie back on the cushions, moving your hands and frowning at the clammy feeling. “Do you have a fever?” She asked, making you put your forearm to your head. You shook your head, but she lifted her arm to your head anyway. “God,” she muttered, moving to lift your shirt. The bruising was still there, still red, purple, and unfading. “What happened?” Her hands went to the cramping muscles in your abdomen, massaging to help break up the bruising and making you cringe in pain. “I’m sorry. It’ll help.”

“I know,” you sighed. “It happened back in Washington; your leader questioned me with some… weapon,” you said vaguely. “It’s just muscle bruising.”

“This looks like internal bleeding.“

“It was.” You sighed. “But it’s been like this for months. I’d be dead if it were internal bleeding,” you laughed out, though Abby didn’t find it funny. “The bleeding stopped before we left Washington. That’s why we stayed a few days longer; when I saw Leah.” Abby nodded along, her hand now resting on your stomach in a comforting hold, thumb running slowly over your skin. “That feels nice,” you mumbled, making her look down at her hand. 

“Does it?” She was holding where the deepest part of the bruising was, right above your hip, your sentiment concerning her more than it should. “Did you hurt your hip?”

“Maybe on the trip back. Overexursion.” You nodded. “Sprain, or something.” 

She frowned. “You should’ve just come back. Mel would’ve treated you.”

“They wouldn’t have waited for me.” You shook your head. “I didn’t want to have to go back alone— and don’t say I could’ve stayed. Not there.”

“I could’ve gone back with you.”

You didn’t realize that was something she might’ve wanted, making you pause and look down at her. “Would you have?”

“We all would’ve.” She pulled down your shirt, standing and getting you a bag of ice. “And even if they didn’t… I would’ve. If you asked, I’d go.”

“No you wouldn’t,” you huffed, laughing slightly. She sat next to you, holding the ice against your hip and pressing down to aid in compressing. She scoffed at you, shaking her head. “What? You would’ve just left?”

“For you? Of course.”

You grimaced, swallowing harshly. “Don’t say that.”

“What?”

You shook your head. “You have no idea what kind of guilt would burden you after doing something like that.”

There was a beat of silence. “I know how you felt,” she started, letting you hold the ice now that you were in less pain and seemed to be able to move. “Or feel. Even if you won’t tell me, I heard you say it… And I’ll be honest, I was angry that you left; that you were alive. We all were. But not at you. Never at you.” She kept her eyes away from yours, staring into the dead fireplace across from the two of you. “Just that… you couldn’t speak to us— And after what we did—“

“What you did?” You frowned over at her, shaking your head and objecting before she could continue. “I left—“

“The things we said—“

“No, Abby,” your voice was firm, wavering, but firm. “I left. That was my choice. When my friends needed me— when my family needed me, I wasn’t there because I left you. What I did,” you enforced with a tone she’d never heard directed at her from you before. “That is why I couldn’t speak to you.”

There was a long silence, Abby’s breath shaky as you sat back with a wince. She knew you shouldn’t be having this conversation right now, but it seemed like this was the only conversation the two of you could have.

And she just wanted to speak to you. 

“I still would’ve left,” she concluded; a complete dismissal that made you scoff out a dry laugh. “I don’t care what you say; what stories you come up with to blame yourself.” You shook your head at her stubborn attitude. “I still would’ve left for you… And the only thing I’d feel guilty for, is caring about you more than I ever cared about anyone else.” You stayed quiet, letting her know she’d gotten your attention. “And I’m not asking you to feel the same—“

“Don’t do that—“

“—Or to change how you feel…” She spoke over you like you hadn’t even opened your mouth. “But I am asking you to understand me.” You knew she was choosing a time when you were vulnerable to come clean on purpose, making you grimace as you reluctantly listened to her try to get you to do the same. “Because you do know me, and you know that I would leave for you, even if you wouldn’t do the same for me.”

“Fuck you, Abby.” At your quiet voice, she knew she’d gotten through to you. Past your false passiveness and down to what you tried to hide from everyone. But you couldn’t hide from her. “I left for you.”

And she couldn’t from you. 

“Don’t go there.”

“No, really.” You forced yourself to sit up and face her. “If this is what you want to talk about, then fine. We need to, anyway. No placating, no pacifying, nothing. Let’s talk.”

She took in a deep breath, turning to face you as she pushed herself to the other end of the couch. “Well?” Was all she said. 

“Tell me the truth.” She immediately rolled her eyes; immediately got defensive. “That night, you wanted me to leave. Didn’t you?” You spoke slowly, meeting her eyes. “That’s why you feel so guilty; why you won’t let me. Because you wanted me to leave, and I knew that, and actually left.”

She was quiet, staring you down. “I thought you were going to leave.”

“Abby—“

“How many times do I have to say it—?”

“I know you. That’s what you just said.” Your tone became hostile quicker than she could process, making her look away. You knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “So I know you wanted me to leave. I shouldn’t have, but that’s why I left, and you know that, and you regret it…” You spoke firmly, words clear and cutting into her with every pause you took to emphasize them. “So just tell me the truth. Please.”

She was quiet for a moment, chest tightening as she grimaced. “If you were going to leave, I wanted to be the one to decide that we wouldn’t see each other. I already told you that.” She tip-toed around the question, earning nothing from you and making her more on edge. “So, yes, I wanted you to leave. I wanted you gone for suggesting you go.” When you let out a breath of satisfaction, she continued over you. “But then tell me the truth. You weren’t planning on us going with you. Were you? You were suggesting to go alone.”

“You know me so well,” your tone was dry, mocking and almost demeaning. It was a blow to the chest, making her bite her tongue. “There was no point in suggesting you go, but I was. Even though I knew you wouldn't have gone. All you wanted to do was find him—“

“I would’ve gone in the middle of the fucking night and left eveyone else if you asked.” Clearly, the demeaning tone of your voice was too much for her, her tone biting without a second thought as you continued to push her to get the full truth before you opened up, too; why she wouldn’t just let you take the blame for something that was so clearly your fault.  

“No you wouldn’t.” You were pushing for an argument now, tone lazed and grating on her nerves. 

She always let things slip when she was irritated. 

“You didn’t fucking ask. How would you know?” She was quick to say, feeding off your dismissive tone. 

“You would’ve left Owen. Really?”

“For you?” She laughed at your naivety. “I’d do fucking anything.” She shook her head. “But you wouldn’t ask me to—”

“And Joel?” She shook her head, shrugging. You did the same, shaking your head at her. “You wouldn’t have left them— him? No fucking way.“

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You scoffed. “I would’ve left as soon as you brought it up, and I would’ve made everyone go with us, if that meant you wouldn’t fucking leave—”

“Oh, and you’re not angry at me—?”

“Fuck you.” 

You laughed in response, shrugging. “You’re the one that wanted me gone—”

“And everyone blamed me for it!” You shut your mouth at her exasperated response, looking over her flushed face and glossed eyes. “They all knew if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have left… And they all knew you wanted to leave, so they blamed me for letting you.” She paused, a thick swallow bobbing in her throat. Now, you were getting somewhere. “That night; when you looked at me… I just wanted to give you the choice.” She blinked rapidly, but couldn’t control the way her voice broke, “I wasn’t telling you to go.” She spoke over you when you went to comfort her, “I would’ve told you to stay if I knew you’d already decided,” she got out quickly, shaking her head at herself when she felt her eyes burn.

Somehow, you always got her this way. Even if she thought the conversation could go her way, you always found a way to get to her. 

“If you hadn’t fucking said anything—!” Jordan pointed an accusatory finger at Abby. 

Just as they’d flipped on you, they were doing the same to her. They’d all been on her side last night, but suddenly she was at fault. 

“Fuck off, Jordan,” Owen huffed out. “You were being an asshole.”

“And you weren’t?”

“Why don’t we just stop arguing and go find her?” Abby suggested, exasperated. 

“Like she’d come back,” Leah scoffed. “Just let her go.” She was flippant, shocking everyone. “What if we find a body? What are we going to do then?”

“What the fuck, Leah?” Nora scoffed at her. 

“I’m not the one that said anything to make her leave in the first place,” she bit back, though she wasn’t immediately blaming Abby and instead looked between Nora and Mel. “And now you wanna go find her?” She then looked at Abby, scoffing at her avoiding her gaze. “Go fuck yourselves.”

“You’re not any better,” Mel said. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah? And what did you say, huh? Just go if you want to? What the fuck did you think—?”

“That’s enough, guys,” Owen spoke up, stopping them before they said anything else they’d regret. “She wanted to leave, so she left. It’s not anyone’s fault. It was a choice. Clearly, she decided to leave before she even brought it up.” Leah rolled her eyes. “I say we just go. We don’t know where she went, and we can’t track her.”

Abby could understand why Leah was the one you could speak to. How you could open up to her, and admit to her what you wouldn’t to the rest of them. She understood, but she still wished it was her. 

She wished she could get to the gentle, comfortable part of the conversation without arguing first. 

But that would never happen until you were honest with each other. 

And that always took a fight. 

The conversation had taken up so much emotional energy that you were in physical pain by the end of it; it continued on past Abby’s admission until she heard you tell her exactly how you felt. Just admitting it to her got you choked up, and seeing you that way did the same, but now you were holding the ice pack to your stomach as you curled up on her couch. 

“Fuck, let me help.” Abby quickly got up and blinked away the feelings you’d just brought up, reaching out as she sat next to you and pulling you into her. There was really nothing she could do to help, but she told herself she was warming you up by holding you— helping tense muscles relax. “Try to relax.” She took the ice from you, setting it aside and pulling you closer. 

You tried to even your breathing as she rubbed your back, but it only made you more upset. “I shouldn’t have started an argument. I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“I think this one was necessary,” she laughed, soothing you as you pressed your ear to her chest. “Even if you hate arguing, you were right. We needed to talk about it, and we never would’ve gotten here peacefully.” You laughed at that, wincing as you did. “But that doesn’t matter… What can I do?”

“Just…” You sighed, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Lie with me? You’re warm, so it… helps the muscle relax.” It was true enough, but Abby knew better. She knew you got scared when you were injured, and she knew being held helped. 

Despite how you mocked her for one wrong judgment, she did know you. Even now. Still. 

What she didn’t realize was how her embrace felt as comforting as it did when you were younger, not like the first time you hugged her— when you hardly recognized her touch. Even if you recognized her then, you recognized her touch even more now. The work she’d done to regain her strength brought feeling back to it. A lively, gentle feeling. 

“You think you can walk to my room?” She asked tentatively, grabbing the ice pack as she stood and helped you up. You nodded, and despite her not believing you, she kept her arm around your waist and walked with you. 

You looked down the hallway, huffing at the impossible length of it and forcing yourself to keep going until you faltered. Abby caught you quickly, scooping under your legs despite your protesting of “I’m fine” and carrying you the rest of the way. 

She lied you down on her bed, making you lie flat to help the muscle stretch before lying with you and opening her arm for you as she set the ice aside. 

“Now that you’re being all nice to me,” you said after a moment, earning an eye roll. 

“I wasn’t being mean,” she countered. 

“Why would you leave for me?” You asked as if she hadn't spoken. “Help me understand that.”

“I wanted to be with you. I told you that—“

“But why?”

She didn’t respond for some time, staring up at the ceiling. “You know why.”

“Abby,” you sighed, defeated. “Just tell me.”

She looked down at you with a frown. “Why do you need me to tell you?”

“Because, it doesn’t make any sense?” You scoffed at her, moving to sit up, but she held you down before you could cause yourself anymore pain. “I know how you felt about Owen, and I know how you feel about me. It’s not the same.”

“So you understand why he broke up with me then.” She laughed at that, as if it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. You frowned. She hadn’t even told you that yet. “In the end, after seeing you that day, he wanted to come to Santa Barbara and find you too, but I guess he couldn’t understand why I held on all those years.” 

“What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips, pushing herself up and going to her closet. She supposed it was her turn to show you all her keepsakes now, as she’d finally gotten them all back from the boat. 

She emptied her backpack onto the bed, Leah’s polaroids and her old photos falling out. Books and folded up maps, too. Even an old journal. 

You grabbed Leah’s pictures first, a smile coming to your face when you saw the one you took together. 

“I know it’s a weird question, but can we take one together?” She’d asked after giving you pictures of your friends, to which you gladly agreed to before she had to leave. 

You flipped it over, seeing the note she wrote and swallowing hard. 

Finally back home

Again, I wish you’d stay, but I know why you can’t. 

I don’t want to either. I don’t want to keep fighting. 

I’m afraid that I’ll be gone before I get to see you again, but I’m glad we got this. Whatever it was. 

Who would’ve thought that a few hours makes up for a few years apart?

You set it aside, lips pursed as you looked through the rest of them, all with notes just as feeling as that, some even sounding angry at the rest of your friends. 

You looked to the maps, unfolding one and finding a small picture of you and Abby taped to it. Dots littered the paper, connected in a pattern that led to a circle around the picture, taped over central California. The next map was the same, towns being written out  with information beneath them. The handwriting changed with each of the maps, getting clearer and clearer as Abby got older. 

The last one was empty, only a picture taped to it. 

The books had passages underlined, some annotated to show to you, or that you’d like them. 

The last was her journal, binding cracked and worn but not because it was old. Because she’d written in it so much that the pages were worn, even teared with how hard she pressed into them, emotion sinking into the ink and through the pages. 

You opened it to the middle, another photo falling out; one Abby had taken with Leah’s camera. Just of you. 

There were entries upon entries, letters upon letters, and this one was the one you just had to open to. 

It spanned for pages; pages, and pages of just one letter to you. One letter, pouring her heart out to someone who couldn’t— no, wouldn’t even reciprocate. 

Your conversation, the one you turned into an argument for no reason other than to prove yourself right, replayed in your mind. 

“I would’ve left.” For you. 

“I’d do anything.” For you. 

“If you’d ask me.” 

“You wouldn’t ask me to.”

“If you asked, I’d go.”

You stared down at the book, her words repeating and repeating and making your vision blur as you finally took them in. “I’m not asking you to change how you feel.” That brought you closer to understanding, brows knitting together. 

Even if you’d mocked her for it, she knew you well. 

She knew you well enough to know you were finally letting yourself understand. She took the book from you, replacing it with her hands so she could pull you close, holding you to her chest just as her words sunk into your heart. 

A blow to the chest. 

I’m not asking you to feel the same. 

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Charles and Jean never speak of the presence they heard, at least not verbally. They just silently agree to look for them and hope that they can find them. (And hope they are who they think they are)

But the presence left the house after that night. All the scratching and crying stops, along with the nice favors ( much to the Logan's chagrin, he was getting used to someone making his coffee for him in the morning.)

Charles and Jean are worried for a bit, until it becomes very, very obvious that it's in the woods surrounding the school.

Kurt and Rogue found it. A dead spot. Literally dead. Dead trees, dead grass, dead air, dead animals. The whole place looks like it's been dead for decades rather than a few days.

It's a bit of a walk from the school, taking almost all day to get there. Bloody, thick footprints, and handprints are all over the area, successfully scaring the two of them away. That's when they find out the weirdest part of the area. Mutations hurt there. Literally. Kurt teleported them back to the manor and passed out from the pain.

Charles and Jean make the connection and go under the guise of training. It dark by the time they get there, and at first, they think they wind is howling. But if they focus, they realize it's crying.

That kind, clumsy, painful pressure comes back. A little less painful, but still debilitating. Until Jean finally hears that voice she hasn't heard in forever. It's both in her head and whispered right in her ear. The voice is in pain, scratchy, and haunted, but it sounds so sweetly familiar.

"Please sis, you can't keep looking. It hurts but it's not safe for you. I'm not safe. Please, I don't wanna hurt you."

The wailing is strong, an alien cry amongst the cove of rotted trees and shriveled grass. The wind grows fiercer here, near impossible to hear over. But it's not wind, is it? It's the painful, shrieking howls of someone they thought was dead...

The air seems to pulse with pain, sending Jean and the Professor into migraines... The weight of it crushes everything in its grasp, begging someone someone take it away, to end it, to make it stop stOp SToP-!

Between her and the Professor, they're able to contain it, bubbling it with a popping sound, and the wailing is muted, the air breathable again, the shrieks growwing numb... And suspended in that sphere of darkness, pulsing with black and red and purple, sobbing amd crying and broken in mind and spirit, is Reader...

It's hard, seeing them like this.

The scars and oozing wounds that litter their skin... The burnt patches of flesh... The sharpened fingers, more claws than nail and bone... The way their shoulders shake and heave with each ragged, gasping sob... And their eyes, burning bright and glowing in the darkness, broken and begging for it all to end...

It doesn't take but a heartbeat to overwhelm them, just for a minute, that's all it takes-

Then Reader is slumped over, the bubble popping, and their form falling to the ground, tired and broken like a doll. Jean and the Professor are quick to collect them, alerting the others they found someone they'll want to see-

And then they're off, dragging their marred sibling and child along with them, mindful of the shards of thought that cry out, carefully pushing them under where they won't wake...

They're going to have to be very, very gentle with how they handle this... No one outside of them, their team, their family, can see Reader like this, this vulnerable and hurting... And sadly, they can't let Reader go, now that they have them back... Hank and Logan and Scott will hopefully have some ideas on how to sedate the fearful side of Reader, while hopefully the other teens can help smooth over any lost memories or feelings of loneliness.

It's all going to be okay now... They have Reader back, and they'll piece them back together, no matter what it takes...

(Hahaha! Now we're getting to the platonic yandere goodness, @sugar-soda!)