#but the serotonin is flowing so maybe not

[martyryo]

I saw him in that screenshot.

[yangscowlick]

The serotonin boost when you roll a 20 tho in BG3.

[n0tamused]

hi!! i saw that your requests are open so i just wanted to ask if you could write fluffy relationship headcanons of mortefi and aalto with a gn!reader in mind? these two are just so lajdxhanflvksjahsbxjs i really like them a lot <3 (which is why mortefi pls come home pspspspsspsps)

also, i really love your writing!! it induces serotonin and dopamine in me bc 1) characters feel really accurate, 2) the flow and how you write each scene is so smooth and beautifully descriptive, and 3) dialogue feels realistic and natural!! anyways, have a good day!!

A/N: First Aalto request-! Your wish is my command, anon! And thank you so much for your sweet words, they really made my day and reassured me with my writing :) I do hope this can make you happy too, enjoy! <3 And you have a good day too!<3

Aalto:

-Let me say this first- this man has energy for both of you and Encore, he is extroverted so you can rest assured that if you’re not in the mood for much talking that he has you covered. Don’t want to talk to someone? He is talking for you. Don’t feel like running to the store to buy something? He is already getting his boots on. 

-Despite having the energy of being too open, discretion flows through his blood and he would never say anything you wouldn’t like him saying to anyone else. You could say you pushed someone down the stairs and he’d be sitting opposite of you like “oh! okay!” and then pretends he never heard of it

-On the topic of that, if you ever need any information, he is your man to turn to, and all information may be yours for the discounted price of 3 kisses, maybe more if he’s feeling cheeky.

-Loves teasing you and getting into playful banter, it’s the sweetest thing to him. Playful insults too, but if you pretend to be hurt, he comes up to you to “kiss the hurt away” and he just babies you until you break character. If he, by accident, really does hit a nerve he drops the play and apologizes quickly, and would probably feel bad about it for longer than he’d let on, but you’d know by the abundance of gifts and the fact he wants to do about everything for you 

-He also loves to get a little rough,  nothing serious but along with the verbal banter he likes a little bit of a tussle. Interlacing your fingers and pushing and pulling, laughing along with you until one of you loses your balance or yields. Loves to playfight with you in bed too, before you two go to sleep until he traps you in an embrace that you’ll have to fall asleep in

-He can be a pretty hard sleeper, so good luck trying to get out of his hold. He can be easy to wake, he has a sixth sense for danger too

-Despite his big and extroverted demeanor, sometimes he wishes for nothing more but an evening of silence with his head in your lap, sighing softly as you card your fingers through his hair, smiling if you decide to kiss his forehead

-Encore is your big bonding point. She comes with Aalto like a bonus package, and as chaotic as she can be she is really sweet and loves whoever uncle Aalto trusts enough to be his partner

-Sometimes she stays over, and a lot of times you can see her indulge in making little trinkets, some of them which are for you, some for others

-Even at her young age she has lots of stories to share, and her and Aalto make one hell of a story-teller duo

-Aalto does need to go out to business a lot, and sometimes it takes him days to get what he was sent out to do, and in all that time he misses his home (you) greatly

-He can’t guarantee to send you letters in this time period, as even a small mistake can mean doom of his mission, but he does promise to try, if only to lessen your own worries

Mortefi:

-A relationship Mortefi isn’t difficult, and it can be classified as quite the low maintenance. This does not mean he doesn’t love you or give you your due attention and love, it’s just that both of you are busy with your work and separate lives. You two just seem to never lose that spark no matter how much time you spend apart

-He never liked the idea of combining his love life and work life together into one big mess, he knows it carries its own risks and distractions, and in his field of science that is dangerous. And with this his time management between work and you is impeccable 

-He is there for you when you need him, and his love language is mainly acts of service.

-Words aren’t his forte and he can find it difficult to express his love, he still tries. Perhaps not with his own lips, but he looks for symphonies of his feelings in other songs and melodies before he shows you the one that encapsulates all he feels towards you

-He is the sort of person to send you random article links, be it about something aimed to improve your health, or links to poems or songs. Just drops them or hoards them in your chats..

-Mortefi is a bit sensitive to smells, he really doesn’t like strong odors unless it's those antiseptic chemicals that keep his lab sparkly clean. So he doesn't wear any strong colognes either. It’s the softer smells he wears, musky with woody accents mmmm

-He is a clean freak and can get a bit snappy if he finds his lab messy due to some subordinate’s negligence or if he doesn’t have time to tidy up his home

-He starts huffing and puffing like a mother hen as he stomps around throwing everything into place, tucking every corner back into its place meticulously

-He cleans his own things, and a lot of times goes to tidy your own things since he’s already at it, and really doesn’t like seeing any sort of mess, small or big

-Does gently remind you to pick up after yourself, whether you’re with him and even more so if you’re not with him

-He is an organized hoarder. He has a whole shelf for his little things, some he made and some he got or found while on field expeditions. He is more than happy to tell you about them if you’re curious about their origins or purpose

-He can sometimes spend a lot of time in the office in his home, working on little projects for the kids that would visit the lab soon, and other time he also spends working on gifts for you

-One of the ways he shows his love to you, besides little practical devices, utility belts and multi purpose watches and compasses, is to make you deserts.

-Sweet treats are his specialty but if you he hears you are craving something savory he does know a few recipes that might be to your liking

-Knows how to whip up a bomb medicinal soup btw, that thing can regrow your limbs I’m sure

-Loves to kiss your nape a lot. Especially in those quiet moments when you’re doing something at home and he just comes up behind you, kissing your nape gently and inhaling your scent

-Loves to kiss your head too. It’s just so practical but also shows how tender he can be, how careful and tender his love is. If you’re hugging him he just turns his head and plants his lips to your temple or the top of your head, sometimes he’d lean in and whisper something sweet to you too

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[loz-3]

An Unwilling Operative - Part Two

Pairing: Loki x female reader Word Count: 2,257 Warnings: strong language, forced confinement, violence, forced sedation

Tags in the comments!

Part One

Consciousness ebbed and flowed like the tide. At times, you were only aware of colours and muted sounds, but sometimes a word would swim to the front and make some form of sense to your addled mind. Nothing spoken was ever in English, so while you could recognize spoken language, the meaning was lost. Deep within, you were aware that these were Hydra agents and whatever was happening was probably terrible. Moments passed, maybe hours, even days without respite until your vision cleared and you fully woke.

"What a fucking nightmare…" You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair. Glancing around, you were at home, on the couch, still wearing your work clothes from the day prior. You looked down at your watch, noting it was almost time to get up anyways. You tried to remember what the nightmare was about, but it was gone. Last thing you could recall was bidding Loki goodnight at the end of your coffee date. Scowling to yourself, you got up, scratching absently at a raised bump on your neck. You must have been bitten by something last night.

Once showered and dressed, you made your way to the office, not bothering to stop at the café. It was too overpriced for cheap, shit coffee anyways. You arrived late, which was very atypical for you. The receptionist waved and smiled, as she usually did, but you didn't even look up nor acknowledge her presence. Her face fell as you passed her desk silently, giving you a happy boost of serotonin.

The elevator was crowded, people shuffled to allow you a spot to stand, offering up “good mornings” and other pleasantries. Your scowl deepened and they kept their distance the best they could. ‘How on earth did I put up with this shit before?’ you thought, reflecting on the major shift in your attitude, ‘Fuck this place..’

When the doors opened on your floor, you pushed out of the elevator and set up for the day. Normally, you would organize the returned items, and prep paperwork ahead of the rush, all while cheerfully humming to yourself. Today was different, you felt the shift. It was like your eyes had been opened to reveal the truth about how shit your job was, and how greedy and corrupt S.H.I.E.L.D. was. Based on the tech you had access to, they obviously weren’t spending their government funds on bettering things for agents or the team.

Your day chugged on as you slowly descended into dubitation and general mistrust. As noon rolled around, you opted to close up for lunch. You just stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind you, when you noticed Loki loitering at the corner towards the lobby. With a huge smile, you went straight for him, grabbing the front of his leathers and pulled him down into an aggressive kiss. His eyebrows scrunched together, hesitantly pulling back. "What? I am not good enough for you now?" you spoke harshly, accusatorially, pushing off your grip on him.

He raised both hands in an effort to keep the peace, "Where is this coming from, Y/N?". Concern coloured his tone but he didn't lower his hands. He had noticed something was off earlier, having chalked it up to a bad day, but now he knew for sure that something was wrong. "We were starting slow, you did not want to rush…"

"Ah, of course! It's all my fault then!" You got right up in his face, arms crossed.

Loki lowered his hands to his sides, making sure to not touch you, "I did not say that…"

“But you thought it! ‘Stupid little Midgardian, couldn’t possibly know what she wants’!”

He sighed, gently placing a hand on each of your shoulders, “Please, listen to me…I..”

You cut him off, "Maybe you should just mind your own fucking business, if you're going to be like that." You turned your back on him and threw off his hands, striding part way down the hall before rounding back, "Know what? You and your massive fucking ego can fuck right off. Don't bother with tech requests anymore, I'll just get them sent directly to your room… saves me having to look at your narcissistic fucking face."

His jaw dropped in shock at your outburst, but he quickly composed himself, "I take my leave then." His eyes were steel as he headed around the corner, jamming the elevator button with enough force to crack the plastic. Your words had cut him deeper than you knew, but true to his nature, he buried the hurt.

You continued to pace the hall, a twinge of guilt flooded into your heart. '…I've never spoken to him like that before…' You thought, shaking your head in an attempt to organize your feelings, '…no..no! That's on him for leading me on!'. You retreated back to your office, slamming the door behind you. "What a dick…" muttering to yourself, you opened the shutters to the empty hallway.

Finally your day in this hellscape of an office was over. You slammed the gate closed, swiftly locking it and the door behind you as you swept from the building. You didn't encounter anyone on your way out, nor did you hope to. The goal was home and a bucket of whatever drink you had at there. Which, if you were honest with yourself, probably wasn't much. You walked quickly down the street, pausing only to glare at the little coffee shop on the way. "What a dump," you muttered under your breath, "and what a shit date THAT was…". Shaking your head to push out the memory, you hurried along, arriving at your door shortly. You stalked up the stairs to your apartment, noting the deadbolt was unlocked but not really caring that much. "If there's someone in here, you might as well just fuck off. I'm not in the mood for this today."

A man stepped into the light from your living room, leaning against the door frame, "My, my… aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" His grin was ominous, growing more sinister as you rolled your eyes at him and flipped him off.

"I say again… you can fuck off."

"But we have an offer for you, my dear." A second man stepped out from the hall to your right, you hadn't even noticed him at first so you stepped away in shock. He made no further move, however, allowing you to relax a bit.

You turned towards the first man, shifting your hands to rest on your hips, "What kind of 'offer'?" Just as the words passed your lips, a wave of déjà vu hit. You frowned, bringing a hand up to press against your brow, confusion ringing in your head. The man in front gave the other a quick nod and he grabbed a hold of your arms, allowing the other to inject something into your neck. "What the fu…"

The chemical in the syringe doesn't knock you out completely, but makes you very easy to maneuver. The two men escort you to the couch, speaking to each other in a language you don't understand. You are plopped down hard onto the middle cushion, staring up at the men. The first, wearing a dark jacket with a Hydra insignia, crouched down and grabbed your face roughly, "I need you to listen, we are here to help you…" You tried to nod, but the grip under your chin didn't allow movement, he carried on, "дальний, обзор, иль, винить"

At the last word he uttered, you felt your confusion melt and the whisper of the memory was gone. "I just work in a office, I'm not sure what I could do for you… especially after you broke into my apartment…"

He chuckled darkly, "And we apologize for that. We're the good guys here! Your 'employer', well, they're a front corporation. Every conflict, every war in history was started by them.. for profit. You had wanted to help people, but now you sit in a tiny room, under constant surveillance, giving their living weapons all the help they need to destroy and murder." His compatriot nodded along, somehow pushing those intrusive thoughts home within your mind.

"I…did. I do!" You pulled yourself forward on the couch, urgently grabbing at the hand he had dropped from your face, "What do I need to do?"

When you return to work the next day, you are armed with a pair of tiny flash drives. The first one, once inserted into any computer at S.H.I.E.L.D, would eventually break through their security systems and install a program that essentially would open a data tunnel for Hydra. After a few hours, you'd be able to switch out the drives and the second one would transmit all data via the latent tunnel program.

You thankfully avoided meeting anyone on your route to your station. The last thing you needed was more stupid conversations with your idiot co-workers. Once you clocked in and started your day, you popped in the first of the two flash drives.

Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to you, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security system was far more advanced than Hydra had anticipated and the attempt on breaking in got flagged immediately.

"What in God's name is happening?" Nick Fury stormed around his desk to confront the agent standing in his doorway. "What do you mean, 'we have an issue'?" "Sir.." the agent began, stuttering as Fury's good eye glared down at him, "Sir, we had a breach in the digital security sector but we don't know where the anomaly is originating from, aside from within the complex on level five." "That's most definitely an issue then." "Yes sir… we've managed to lock down the floors' server access and have isolated the program, so it thinks it's working properly." The agent stepped back as Fury swept from the room and strode to the main security terminal. Every camera had been pulled up on the screen and he could easily see that there was only a few staff currently on duty on level five. 'Now we wait…' he thought. Someone would eventually make a move that gave them away. Squinting at the screen, he noted that everyone on the floor were veteran staff. Why on earth would one of them sabotage S.H.I.E.L.D.? He shook his head, not giving in to the thoughts of having a traitor in the mix.

A few hours passed. Finally the first flash drive had finished its task, the little light on it had changed from blinking red to solid blue. You gripped the drive and pulled it out of the computer, dropping it into your pocket for destruction later. Slipping the other drive out, you leant forward and gently inserted it into the USB plug. Suddenly the gate on your window slammed shut.

Shit.

Rushing to the window, you found it was locked externally. Same with the door out into the hallway and the door back into the tech storage/repair area. 'Shit shit SHIT!' You were trapped…just like the rat you were.

As if your situation couldn't get any worse, you heard the click of something engaging beyond your sight and a yellow mist slowly began to descend from the sprinkler system. You pulled your shirt over your face and covered your mouth, knowing that nothing good ever came from inhaling mystery chemicals. Huddling in the corner of the room, you tried to avoid the mist but it was no use. Soon the whole space was hazy from the gas and your vision faded to black.

Now you were…here…wherever here was.

This place…as it turned out, was a very bright, very sterile-feeling square room with a single low slung cot and an awfully flat pillow in one corner. The rest of the space was windowless, colourless, and bleak. A large door took up most of the far wall, opposite the cot, and there was a little camera above the door frame. It was also very quiet. Most definitely a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell of some sort.

When you had awoken from unconsciousness moments ago, your body was curled up on that cot, facing the bare wall. Every muscle, ever fibre of your existence hurt. It was like a truck had rammed headlong into a tree, and you were that tree. 'Ugh, what the hell…' your emotions flitted between panic, hysteria, and pure rage, 'Now, how can I get out of this place?'

Glancing down, you realized your normal clothes were gone…replaced with a horrible grey-coloured jump suit. The shoes were plain white slip-on style and no socks. Very minimalist but at least they let you wear something. Being naked would have made this little adventure of yours so much worse. You pulled on the door…it didn't budge. Slamming your fists on the metal, you growled in frustration, knowing you were in a ton of trouble.

Turning your attention to the camera, you asked aloud "Well, what the fuck do we do now?". The light on the camera flickered once, as if it was trying to reply but no voice accompanied it. You sank down to the floor, back against the wall and waited. Knowing S.H.I.E.L.D, it was only a matter of time before someone came to question you.

Notes: I'm so sorry for this portion, I had to end it on a hard note but a third part (maybe the final?) will be up early next week!

дальний, обзор, иль, винить - Russian (further, overview, il, blame)

Part Three

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xi. FEAR PLAY - jonathan crane

word count: ~700 tags: solo, fear toxin, male masturbation, pretty dark n depraved lol, medical play, restraints masterlist | ao3

shout-out @lovelybucky1 for the stellar idea!

Jonathan tightens the restraints on his legs as he lays on the examination table, leaving his arms free. It was past the busy hours at Arkham Asylum, a time when he would do some of his most fulfilling work. He had just finished tweaking his various experimental versions of his tried and true fear toxin, but he needed to be sure it was exactly as he wanted it.

He never had any qualms about testing these serums on himself– no, that wouldn’t be fair to his many less-than-willing participants if he didn’t sample the wares every now and then. That’s how Jonathan rationalized it in his head, at least.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes the syringe from the medical instrument cart, the green liquid he was oh so familiar with causing him to suddenly hesitate– Jonathan had never taken it in such a concentrated form, only using the gas on himself. However, this was something he wanted– no, needed to do, right?

Taking the syringe in his hand, forefingers on the plunger, he rids the needle of its protective cap. He sighs as he injects the serum into his median cubital vein, Jonathan had no need for a tourniquet– he wasn’t a fussy child getting his chickenpox jab. He feels the cool liquid enter his vascular system, effects only taking seconds to make themselves known.

He flings the syringe across the room, the glass shattering against the wall as the darkness inherent to nightfall creates shapes of his traumatic past. He laughs, shutting his eyes, allowing himself to feel that irresistible feeling of true terror. There was a flurry of chemicals entering and exiting his system: adrenaline, cortisol, oxytocin, serotonin… not to mention his own concoction causing all of these to mingle beautifully.

“Oh, God…”

Jonathan’s eyes opened slowly to the shapes creeping even closer to him, and he couldn’t help but feel his slacks tightening– the real reason he so desperately bid his time until the late hours at Arkham. His body is covered in goosebumps as the shadows gather at his restraints, causing him to thrash subconsciously– he only gets harder.

His hips thrust against nothing as hallucinations fill his mind as well as his sight, even coming close to auditory. Whispers of things long hidden tickle at his ears, making his hair stand on end. Jonathan leans into the unreal touch, desperate for more of these unique sensations. He reaches down to haphazardly unzip and unbutton his pants, releasing his arousal to the sterile air of the examination room.

He hisses when his fingers wrap roughly around it, the voices seeming to laugh at his taboo reaction– it only spurs him on. Jonathan sets a rough pace for himself, he didn’t want it sweet or gentle– he didn’t deserve that. He was a sick son of a bitch, getting off where he’d tortured so many people. He fucking loved it.

The lack of lubrication as he jacked himself off was painful, but it was just how he was going to do it. His eyes glaze over as bits of pre-cum lessen the harshness, making it more bearable– maybe he could last? The thought goes out the window as he sees indescribable hallucinations wrapping themselves around his legs as well as his abdomen, tendrils of pure dark digging into his skin.

They make him want to spread his legs further, as opposed to closing them shut like a normal person. He was far from that. Jonathan moans loudly as his fingers swipe over his reddened tip, the sensitivity making his back arch. He squeezes his eyes shut as his fist tightens around himself, he’s oh so close.

Jonathan’s eyes focus on a specific visual hallucination creeping into his peripheral, its glowing eyes piercing into the depths of his psyche. He watches its hand make its way to wrap around his throat, cutting off his oxygen flow– despite it not being real.

That was enough to send him flying over the edge– his movements became sloppy and uncalculated as ropes of his desire landed all over the restraints, as well as his slacks. The creature of his mind’s creation did not relent, only softening its grip enough to let him catch a tiny breath now and then. Jonathan continued to milk himself for all he’s got– not planning on stopping until the toxin was fully flushed from his system.

How long would that be– maybe an hour or so?

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

📚 🔮 🎨 i love u

Love you too!!! 😍💖🌸

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend? Aaaargh, you know that I forget any opinion I've ever held the second anyone asks me for one! There's so many incredibly talented ppl in this fandom, and so many fantastic fics, how am I to choose one??? Here's some I've read and loved recently:

hunter's moon by mourningshowers: a very intriguing werewolf AU with a cool, unique spin on pack dynamics, and stunning prose - the descriptions of ppl's scents in particular stuck with me, they're so vivid and evocative! butter, sugar, and northern mockingbirds by @thefreakandthehair: the most perfectest, soft, mushy, sweet bakery AU. If you're in need of a fic that will leave you feeling all warm and fuzzy and happy inside, this is a definite rec! Never coming down (with your hand in mine) by @eyesofshinigami: the latest instalment in their omega!Eddie series, which I adore. If you're into a/b/o and omega Eddie, give this one a read!

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

Some things that work for me, personally:

Just write! I sit myself down, set a word count (100 words, 200 words, doesn't matter, it's about getting started) and don't get up or hop on socials before I have written that word count down. Maybe I'll find my flow and keep going, maybe I'll think it's garbage and leave it for the day. I never delete what I wrote, even if I hate it. Instead, I come back a day or two later and look it over with a fresh pair of eyes. Most of the time, I'll realize that it doesn't suck as bad as I thought it did.

Write something small! If my large WIPs seem too daunting atm, I'll try a microfic or drabble - something small and relatively low effort. Those also have the added bonus that I can yeet them out immediately after they're done, and the reactions I get usually give me the serotonin boost I need and motivate me to write more. (Bc I'm an attention whore like that! XD)

Let the brain run idle! I take a walk. I craft or doodle something. I play with my kid. I watch a movie or go out with friends. The main thing is, I don't write. I try to not even think of writing. That's often when my best ideas hit me out of nowhere.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I am blessed enough to have a bunch of incredibly talented mutuals who have made so much wonderful, gorgeous, incredible art of my work. I look at it daily, it makes me feel so incredibly loved and cherished. I couldn't wish for more! That being said, if someone asked me, I'd probably pick for a scene from Someone who cares because that's my oldest fic (my baby, my firstborn, etc.) and it doesn't have any art yet.

Fic writer asks

[lunastarhawk]

The Memories He Lost

Chapter 1

Tides of Memories part 28 (WiP)

This is it, this is what the last two years have been working towards. (I mean, it's not the end of Tides, but it's the reason I started writing it in the first place). @anew-flame made me do it

Aboard their ship, their gate, where their magic is strongest, Altheia and Julian are finally able to perform the ritual that will break the Forget Me spell that Altheia cast before her death, and return Julian's memories.

AO3

Because I'm insane and excited about this I will be milking every last drop of serotonin for myself by rewriting some of my favourite scenes from the reader-insert The Memories We Lost (hence this chapter name 😌 ) as flashbacks to be Altheia/Julian specific, from Julian's pov, as his memories are returned to him, one by one.

It may potentially be quite long, and so I've decided to post it chapter by chapter, memory by memory, in the hopes that there won't be a huge gap between posting. If I'm good, WiP Wednesdays might be an actual posted chapter, who knows. C2 is nearly done actually. Maybe. I think.

So, chapter one is the first part of the ritual. I spewed this out in one session of I think five hours? after flinging some Ludovico Einaudi tracks into a playlist for the immaculate vibes. Here is that playlist

Because I've waffled on and this post got long (I'm excited okay) I'll put the excerpt below the cut:

Excerpt

The pain didn’t ease, but it settled.  All-encompassing, all-consuming, ever-present, but still.  Julian’s consciousness began to slip, not into the void of sleep, but into that place somewhere between dreams.  He felt, then, how their love, the energy of life, would rise up, and up, and overcome the agony of the restriction of their past. Because that love was their constant.  That was the stream that bound the now to the before, down which all that they were, flowed into all that they had become. The ropes that Altheia had tied, the magic they represented, secured his body and freed his mind… her magic sought the ties of her spell from before, empowered by the magic of their gate, their ship, their guiding star, by them … and it raged angrily, twisting and writhing away from her, with Julian its powerless vessel unable to fight.  But there, glimmers of the memories, flashes of her, of a smile, of a word, I love you, a dizzying dance, burning passion, laughter and tears and torment, and all that they had lived and endured together, side by side, always. Always.

The rest is up on AO3 :)

Divider from @saradika-graphics

[gazeofseer]

Being Alone and Lone.

Subjective right? Being alone is a choice being loner is state of doing. I do readings in lonely state and I chose to be alone when I am having food There are quite evident instances.

But why talking about this when it's sad and daunting? No it is not stop seeing terms as an idea of possibility see it as an experience is when you can engage well in the moment of life that you are..

Few things which makes anyone in general bitter about these experiences is what I am here to clarify today (;

Craving Touch/Intimacy/Sex

- You crave touch when you are running numb as autopilot freezing everything that comes your way as part of ignorance and being a no go everything slowly the withdrawal begins and you start to lose the sense of existing itself, to break you may have signs of intrusive thoughts and touching objects to feel something this maybe opposite where you may get annoyed if anything touches you too.

- Intimacy is not even a touch more of an experience done on a level where beyond your dopamine, serotonin and hormones it goes straight to your heart, nerves and intellect. It is rare and you crave it exactly when your heart chakra is blocked your root chakra and the sacral chakra is blocked as these are cored of nerves, and your sanity is at a loss and you feel like a total mess you want the intervention through intimacy to elevate or cut the blockages you may be feeling.

- Sexual Pleasure is very much body and mind oriented very rare of moment where soul and heart aligns imagine having a heart ache a bit and sharing a kiss it doesn't sits well right? I am not downgrading anything here except for how that moment stays, stirs into the mind as a core memory that you are prone to such experiences again but your body keeps craving all because you feel alone within all of your these mortal existence.

{ How to balance it then? To feel less alone }

Accept that you as an human existence is a alone one one ask yourself a simple question that why all these lack alignment? Are you failing to balance these within yourself or you have been anchored this in some other being ?

A person is different from the other, the other and the another so it is very important to make sure no one, no one enters your existence of being that is a choice to be alone.

Now to the doing part, Take my example with me I get darn failures when I am doing things with others but there are people if doing it alone they would face such things.

Again it's different for everyone if it takes you to cultivate, create something in a lone manner do grace that not a thought of other person can be a ruin, but when you are doing things collectively and still feel you are doing things lone then you are in a wrong setting love.

- Do touch yourself some or the other way, like keep your hand on each other or keep arms fold and legs crossed especially with fingers catch energies quick hide them in pocket this will help you address everything from a state of consciousness.

- Intimacy, Take that sword of uncomfortable and turn it wherever you feel stucked cut the vibe, walk out the room, try something absurd, blatantly curse, cook a disaster and see the flow of disappointments or grace carry forward to the flow.

- Sexual exertion is an exchange of pills that makes you believe you attained some pleasure or bliss but no rather feel sensual, go a day without wearing tight clothes like go loose take an hour of shower, play music and caress your sensitive fingers all over your body, sleep on the ground, get drenched in water sit near the fire log all this will equate and elevate you sexual to sensual in a Jiff.

- ✉️🫁☘️🦋 I hope this acts as a breather to your confusions and chaos.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

it's been over a month since you watched your last monkie kid episode and that episode was before halfway through the season have you dropped the show and completely moved on to ninjago?

Bruh a month already that's wild I hadn't even realizedhglkdjf

Short answer for conveniences sake: I don't know!

I'm Just kinda going with the flow and following the serotonin right now so hard to say if I've dropped it or not or if i'm just very distracted XD

Longer more dramatic answer I'ma slap under the cut:

I have been dealing with IRL stuff and in all honesty this new season is just really hard to watch!

I really love the first seasons of monkie kid. They've done a lot for me and for my mental health so the fact I'm not liking season 5 is kinda doing a number on me because I really really want to like it.

I want to get that same joy and excitement that I got from first seasons but it is just! Not coming at all! And that's rough cause monkie kid was a big source of my happiness for a long while.

So many people seem to be totally fine with it and even say its the best monkie kid has ever been and I just feel! Kinda awful that I'm not seeing what they're seeing! Really wish I could! But!

I find myself being really negative when I watch any of the eps in this new season or even think about them at all because of how much I dislike them. Heck, I could like make a list of all the things I'm disliking about this new season but honestly I don't enjoy being negative! I just don't really like the person I am when I watch season 5.

I feel bad for not enjoying it and letting negativity into my reaction posts regardless of whether or not that is how i truly feel or even is just my gut reaction in the moment that i process and feel differently about later. It honestly doesn't help that I'll regularly get asks after posting the reactions telling me I'm being too harsh or that they didn't see what I saw and I just! I know it's honestly lighthearted and the askers don't mean anything bad by it but. Y'know what? I'd rather do without all that. Even if most of the asks are understanding and kind and in no way attacking me (so no trashing on my anons pls i love them <3) I really hate the feeling of bringing negativity when all I felt and brought was joy before. I don't want people who followed me for good vibes to be brought down because I complained about how they write monkey king for the 1245th time.

The hard part is I still want to finish it, people have said many many times it gets better, and maybe if I managed to watch the whole thing I'd come out on the other side really liking it! In fact I REALLY hope that's the case. but all of this combined is making it REALLY hard to work up the motivation or even the desire to watch. So...

Yeah! I don't know!

I find I'm getting a lot more good vibes from Dragons Rising right now. I'm loving the animation and the handle on the characters. Ninjago's writer transfer has been a glow-up and so much fun and I can feel that positivity and love i got from monkie kid coming from ninjago right now so ofc i'ma be focusing more on that. All in all I'm having a better time thinking about funky fruit ninja rather than brick monkeys. I do miss monkie kid a lot, but I only miss it more when i watch the new eps instead of less so... yeah. I guess we'll see!

Who knows maybe I'll wake up one morning and be good to go but I have no idea when that'll be. Haven't had the best experience with the first four eps or the fandom after watching them, so :T

Sorry this got really long-winded I am simply a jumble of emotions at all times :pensive_emoji:

Thanks for the ask! I hope the answer wasn't too disappointing and I hope you have a really awesome day dude <3

[luna-writes-stuff]

Always, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, male! reader

Hurt/comfort, slight angst with hopeful ending

Word count: 3510

Tw: British Men of Letters (ew), swearing (big ol’ F-bomb), breakup angst with slight resolving. Mentions of being stood up on a date. Reader is going through some emotions.

Summary: Dean never wanted to leave you, but when the British Men of Letters threatened to come after you, he broke it off before they stood a chance. Now, weeks later, he still regrets that fateful evening. After an hour long drive, he stands in front of you motel room, trying to find some sort of closure.

Requested by @trannydean

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“This Romeo is bleeding But you can't see his blood. It's nothing but some feelings That this old dog kicked up.”

In the course of his life, Dean has made many stupid mistakes. Some mistakes more colossal than the others, but overall a big heap of stupid mistakes. But through all of the trial and error he was forced to go through, he has never regretted one more than losing you.

In all truth, it hadn’t even been a necessarily mistake. More often than not, it would be the lesser of two evils, but this was all together foolish on his side. He felt that on his side, he’d be extremely vulnerable with you around. Especially when the whole British Men of Letters debacle began to escalate.

You hadn’t been a hunter to begin with. You knew about Dean’s life and what he did - it was how you met him after all. But you never joined him and his brother with it. Occasionally, you’d help him dig up some lore, made sure motel places were safe, and had the honour to be the getaway driver every so often.

So, why did he really have to get rid of you?

“It's been raining since you left me, Now I'm drowning in the flood. You see I've always been a fighter But without you I give up.”

In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. You weren’t heavily involved in the hunting life, so you wouldn’t be missed that much. Or at least, that is what he had told you - what he had told himself. In all truth, that would have been one big lie. Maybe you didn’t decapitate vampires or burned bodies, but you didn’t need to. Not for him.

You were his moment of peace after a long hunt; a place he could run to to calm down, to rant, to break down in the rare moments of the night. Every moment he spent around you felt like pure serotonin to him. Every time he fell into a hole and had trouble digging himself out, truly believing he had hit rock bottom, you were there with a rope to pull him out. And he never realised how much you had helped him until it was too late.

It was pure irony that made him hate that dreaded day where he did everything in his power to keep you safe. In order to get you somewhere safe, you had to be away from him. You would never do that willingly. So, he pulled the stupid boyfriend part.

He hated the person who came up with the line ‘you never know what you got until it’s gone’. He hated it, because it was true.

“Now I can't sing a love song Like the way it's meant to be. Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore. But, baby, that's just me.”

It was late at night when he called you from the motel. At least he had the dignity to meet up with you. He had to minimise the chances of you running to him in fear something was wrong. This was better done face to face.

And so, in the dead of night, you pulled up your car to the nearest tank station, already seeing Dean standing there. You had run up to him with a smile, anticipating a surprise, a gift, a secret getaway. But as you stepped closer to him, you could already see the silent remorse on his face. It made you halt where you stood.

Not even ten minutes later you were back in your car, your eyes brimmed with tears, cheeks red and a building headache. You couldn’t remember how long the drive home had been, but once you got there, everything in you had told you to fling yourself onto the couch and let all your emotions flow freely.

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always. I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

That was three months ago. And aside from the short demon visit from a while back, nothing extraordinary had happened - unlike you had expected. You figured that being separated from the Winchesters would put a massive target on your back, but the opposite was proven. It had been as if you had just completely disappeared from monster radar.

Some part of you was extremely grateful for it. You were able to get back into the loop of your old life, which was something you didn’t think would be possible after four years.

Dean hadn’t checked up on you since. Sam had tried to call several times, but it always went to voicemail. You’d send him a brief message to let him know you were alright, but you were in no mood to talk to him. Not out of hatred or embarrassment, but because he would always bring Dean up. And that had started to become one of your least favourite topics

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you always.”

“Still not answering?” Sam placed his phone on the table, giving Dean an accusing look. “He never answers.” “So, why bother calling?” “Dean,” Sam objected, throwing one hand up in frustration. “It’s called simple human interest. He’ll send me a message later.” Dean frowned at his brother, confusion written on his face. “Wait, you guys are texting?”

An annoyed look passed Sam’s features as Dean’s curiosity grew. “Yes, Dean, I text with my friends.” “He doesn’t text me.” “Because you dumped him over your stupid ego.” A moment of silence passed as the older Winchester shook his head, a light scoff escaping his throat. “You want to know how the white fence life goes?” “He had a date last night.” Sam ignored the mocking tone in his brother’s voice. “I’m curious if it was a success.”

That shut Dean up really quick. He never meant to dump you - he just wanted to keep you safe. He had done his best telling Sam that the dumping was mutual and that the relationship had simply ‘run its course’. Sam, of course, was smarter than this, but hadn’t mentioned it. Be that as it may, Dean had started to not only feel, but become miserable as well. And as sad as it was in the beginning, it had begun to annoy Sam. He knew his brother and he could tell that he would be too stubborn to admit his own feelings, so the youngest had taken it upon himself to keep in touch and maybe arrange a meeting later. The news of a date, however, seemed to grasp Dean’s full attention. And though that wasn’t what Sam had intended to happen, he was slightly glad it did.

“Now your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life. Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry. One that made you have to say goodbye.”

“He’s only an hour from here now, I think.” Sam hinted subtly. “Some motel just outside of town, I believe.” “You want to discuss it over tea?” Dean interrupted, trying to act disinterested. “You’re impossible, Dean.” Sam objected, rising from his seat. “You’re miserable, you haven’t slept in days, and you tell yourself it’s okay, but it’s not!” “I’m not miserable.” Dean objected, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to let his brother’s anger wash over him.

“Face it, Dean. Ever since you broke up with him, you’ve been completely out of it. I’m not even sure if it was that mutual.” Now Dean’s head rose, giving Sam an accusing look, slightly angered by his last words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You broke up with him, because you were scared.” The youngest Winchester revealed, beyond convinced of his words. Dean’s frown intensified as he began to interrupt him. “Sam-” “You were scared.” Sam repeated frustrated. “Because you thought the British Men of Letters would run after him.” “Well, he’s safe now, isn’t he?” Dean roared, ending Sam’s words quickly, now shooting out of his seat as well.

“Yes,” Sam responded, now matching his brother’s volume. “But you’re not! I’ve never seen you so out of your loop since we lost dad. You’re not even focused on hunts anymore!” Seething silently, Dean simply stared ahead. His mind echoed a thousand thoughts as Sam’s words seemed to slip past him completely. “You fell down the stairs because a ghost spooked you. A ghost, Dean.”

“Whatever,” The oldest Winchester grunted, as stubborn as he had always been. Without sparing his brother a second look, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as his hands found the railings of the motel. His eyes observed the empty parking lot in front of him. Sam didn’t know what he was talking about.

He was in his car a handful of seconds later.

“What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair. To touch your lips, to hold you near. When you say your prayers, try to understand. I've made mistakes, I'm just a man.”

This was a terrible idea. It was an hour long drive. He could have turned around at any given moment. Nothing in him said that he should at least try. He knew it wouldn’t work. Why he let Sam get to him so much, he couldn’t tell.

But there he stood, in front of the motel Sam talked about. It was late - too late for anyone to randomly knock on doors, especially at motels. Creepy men or kidnappers could stand right on the other side. Or an ill-tempered Dean, in this case.

A deep sigh escaped him before his fist finally knocked on the door twice. The feeling drumming in his heart hadn’t been a strange one, he was more than familiar with it. Only now, it felt horrible. A bad kind of butterflies, instead of the light, comfortable feeling he had grown so accustomed to.

Yes, this was a terrible idea.

“When he holds you close, when he pulls you near. When he says the words you've been needing to hear. I'll wish I was him 'cause those words are mine. To say to you 'til the end of time.”

On the other side of the door, you had been going through the last jar of ice cream you had gotten that same morning. When you heard the knocking, your initial thought was to pretend as if you weren’t here, but you quickly abandoned that idea after realising that - whoever it was - they could see the light burning. Asking no sound would make them think you were asleep, and if it was a murderer, that would basically be an invitation.

So, hesitantly you walked up through the door, peering through the peephole.

“Absolutely not.” You called through the door, immediately walking back to your ice cream. “Wait!” Dean called, but you ignored his command. “I don’t even want to know why you’re here.” You returned, laying down on the bed as you switched the lights off, opting to eat in silence and darkness. “Sweetheart, please-“ “Sweetheart?” You repeated incredulously. “Last time I checked, we broke up.”

“Can we talk?” You ignored his question. He seemed to await your answer before he knocked again. “Come on,” He mumbled. “I can do the talking, and you’ll just listen.” “You’re doing just fine from the other side of the door.” You countered, your annoyance building up over the whirlpool of emotions in your stomach.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.”

When he knocked for a third time, you shot up out of bed, frantically wiping tears from your face which had fallen for all kinds of different reasons. Angrily unlocking the door, you swung the door open, giving Dean a look that might have killed him on the spot if he had been anyone else. “I’m not here to beg for forgiveness or-“ “Good.” You interrupted him. “So, there better be a life threatening monster in town or you can go right back to the car.”

“No, it’s-” He trailed off halfway, now properly taking a look at you. “Baby, have you been crying?” You scoffed, a faux smile showing itself briefly. “Goodbye, Dean.” As you tried to slam the door shut, Dean’s hand shot out to grab the knob, keeping it locked in place. If you had pulled just a little bit harder, you could have easily won, but that stupid question seemed to trigger frustration all again, leaving you caught up in your emotions.

“Sweetheart-“ “I travelled two states for this guy,” You revealed, not even thinking about what you were saying. You just needed to tell someone about it - a place to rant about the dude. “I genuinely thought we had a connection.” A mocking laugh escaped you as you forced the tears back, not even looking at Dean.

“Did he stand you up?” “No,” You continued. “He was there, alright. Brought his girlfriend with him and everything.” A thin-lipped frown passed Dean’s face, unsure of what to say or what to do. You only resumed your rant. “When I tried to talk to him, he pretended he didn’t even know me. Proceeded to give this chick the best date of her life.” Then, you wiped a stray tear away, silently cursing yourself that you had allowed yourself to be so open to someone you hated just two seconds ago.

“Sweetheart-“ “No, stop that, asshole!” You yelled, anger and pain evident in your voice. “You broke up with me! You don’t get to call me names!”

“If you told me to cry for you, I could. If you told me to die for you, I would.”

Again, you turned around, your hands shaking slightly, fully aware that it would be useless to try to close the door once more. You knew that if you’d ask, he’d allow you to close it, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted him do or say. Yes, you were upset with him. Enraged, some nights. But no, you just wanted some company. Even if Dean was the worst choice.

“So, I had the worst date ever, and when I am most vulnerable, world’s greatest douchebag shows up at my fucking motel room.” You finalised, running a hand through your hair in frustration. A beat of silence washed over both of you before Dean spoke up again: “We were chased.” “We’re always chased, Dean.” You returned, not quite sure what he wanted to say. You weren’t in the mood for it.

“No, I mean…” He pondered over his words for a while, before letting the truth slip. “There is a group called the British Men of Letters. You do not want to mess with them.” Your mouth fell open in an ‘ah’. Not even surprised he managed to turn the conversation around so quickly. “Was Agents of the United Kingdom already taken?” You replied, a sharp edge to your tone. “Baby, I’m serious,” The Winchester protested. “They knew everything about us before we even met. They knew things I wouldn’t have told anyone. They knew about you. They were going to come for you if I hadn’t broken it off.”

So, that is what this had been about. He wasn’t here for some monster or lethal situation, he came here to fix what he had broken all those weeks back. You could have called him names where he stood, properly express your rage, sent him away. Instead, what came out was a pitiful: “I would’ve been fine.”

“We wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Dean sighed, empathy written on his face. “There’s not a day gone by that I haven't regretted that lie I told you. I did love you. I still do.” A harmful smile grew as you shook your head at him. “It’s a little late for that.” “I’m not expecting you to take me back,” The man tried to explain. “I’m just asking for understanding.”

“Take a look at my face, There's no price I won't pay. To say these words to you.”

Whether you believed him or not, you shrugged pathetically, still extremely conflicted. “You could have told me.” “You wouldn’t have let me go.” Dean revealed, something you - though adamantly - could agree on. Had you known, you wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Maybe you’d still be together. But he broke your heart all the same. This was no simple forgive-and-forget situation for you. And he seemed to notice: “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for everything, but I had to.”

You shook your head again, crossing your arms as your eyes fell on the flickering patio light above you. “You’re an asshole for dumping all of this on me now.” “I know.” He agreed. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t break up with you because of something you did. Or something you said. You’re perfect. I just didn’t want to lose you.” However grateful you were to finally hear those words - that this was in no way your fault - you couldn't help but see the irony in it. “Well, that backfired, didn’t it?” “I’d rather have you safe and away from me, than dead on the floor.”

Your arms fell to your sides as you ran over his words. They were spoken truly, and you wanted to believe him so badly. Part of you already had. But the reasonable part of your bran had finally resurfaced. The silence was killing you. Dean was waiting for you to say something - to do something. You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. And you couldn’t suppress the sarcastic speech climbing out your throat.

“How romantic.”

“Well, there ain't no luck In these loaded dice. But, baby, if you give me just one more try. We can pack up our old dreams and our old lives. We'll find a place where the sun still shines.”

When he didn’t seem to respond to that, you sighed, nodding at him. “I understand, Dean.”

The amount of relief that swept through him upon those three words could not be described. To him, it felt as if a massive weight had just been lifted off his chest, and - though it was no forgiveness - he was grateful you knew that nothing had been wrong with you, despite what he might have said that night. “Thank you.” He nearly whispered. “But this isn’t going away like that.” You added, watching Dean’s face fall lightly. “I know.” He admitted, finally stepping away from your doorstep.

“Sam and I are at the Crescent motel an hour from here,” He tried to change the subject again, putting his hand in his coat pockets. “We just finished our case, figure we’ll be gone tomorrow at 9. Might do Sam some good to see your face again.” You understood his underlying notion, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not out of pettiness - out of self reservation. You needed some time for yourself. You were feeling enough as it is.

“He can call me.” You answered. “I’m going home first.” “Of course.” He nodded, the atmosphere now slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to sense it too, because he began to turn around.

“Bye, Dean.” You greeted, a sympathetic smile on your face, one of silent reassurance. He turned his head slightly, giving you a small smile. “Bye, sweetheart.”

As he made his way down the motel steps, you walked towards the railing, looking at him as he walked back to his car. “You know, it’s kind of hurtful you never once called me.” You called after him, watching him halt and look at you. His smile grew a tiny amount at the words, throwing that boyish look towards you: “Keep your eyes on the phone.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.” I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

As he entered the car, you waited. It wasn’t until his car disappeared from view that you walked back to your room, locking the door behind you. The sadness had lightly disappeared, a lighter, more hopeful feeling now entering your stomach. It grew even more when your phone rang.

Walking up to the device, you were quick to notice the familiar name of the caller. Unable to suppress the genuine smile climbing onto your face, you picked it up, holding the device to your ear.

There was a moment of silence, before a light laugh was heard from the other side: “You answered.” Smiling brighter at the voice, you answered him. “You called.”

A hum of agreement was heard from the other side as the motor of a car was clearly heard in the background. “Goodbye, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice called through the phone.

“Drive safe.”

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you, always.”

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 1 Canon Typical Injury

All the Pain, Chapter 1 | Read on AO3 | In this chapter (CW): Buck is trapped under rubble. | @bucktommywhumpweek

It’s the same dream. He’s been having it for weeks now, maybe longer. It's a strange dream, but not a nightmare; a nightmare in which Tommy appears is unthinkable. Buck is sitting next to Tommy, who is looking ahead intently, one hand resting relaxed on the cyclic control. He’s got this, no need to worry, and Buck doesn’t. It’s also unthinkable to worry when Tommy’s there. This seems to be a casual flight, like one of those sightseeing flights that you can book at Harbor. Except Buck’s not sitting next to just any pilot but his boyfriend.

“Hey, Tommy,” he says, and Tommy turns to him briefly and smiles.

“You good?” he asks, and Buck can't help but smile too as, before them, just above the horizon, the sun rises.

That’s it. That’s always the end of this dreamscape. It’s a nice little dream, one in which he feels safe, and when he wakes up, the smile is still on his face and he feels good.

Not today, though.

The dream may be the same as always, but Buck doesn't feel the same. Not like someone with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his stomach. Although, he does feel warm. But also… wet, and sticky. What a strange morning, Buck thinks, why are my eyes so heavy? Heavy and kind of hard to open.

Maybe he’s still dreaming. Happens sometimes, right? You slip from one image of your mind into the other, often feeling uncomfortable, mainly because the body has an urgent need. Might just be a need to pee, but somehow you’re not waking up, because melatonin, cortisol and serotonin are still in the mix.

These are odd thoughts, but it is obviously a very odd morning.

Is it morning, though? Buck can’t even remember going to sleep. In fact, he can’t remember much at all. All he knows is that something seems to be dripping on his face - maybe it’s raining? Is that why his eyes are so heavy? Finally, he manages to crack them open.

The world is a blur, at least in the beginning. It’s all very confusing, and actually, he doesn’t feel so good, but it’s hard to pinpoint what’s wrong. It feels as if all of his senses kick in one after the other, as if somebody flipped a switch. First his eyes – it's not that he can't see anything, there just doesn't seem to be anything to see. It's dark, but not so dark that Buck can't make out the flakes of dust in the air, dancing in a very gray, dull light. Then, a scent hits his nose. Strange, even the smell seems somehow gray to him. It smells of dust, he realizes, he can taste it on his tongue. Dust with a hint of a burning. Maybe somebody’s having a barbecue in the neighborhood. But which neighborhood, exactly?

Now, several sensations hit him at once. He’s on the floor. There’s a constant cracking and crunching around him. The moisture on his forehead… it’s blood, isn’t it?

Buck’s heavy eyes widen. If this isn't a dream, then what's coursing through his veins now is adrenaline. It's not because it's so dark that he can hardly see anything. That’s one reason, yes. But it’s mainly because the ceiling is only a hand's breadth away from his face. I’m lying on the floor with the ceiling in my face. How can that be? he thinks, but the answer just isn’t coming.

What is coming, though, what’s now flowing into his consciousness, roaming his neural pathways like some evil thunderstorm, is pain. That’s bad. The realization is almost as bad as the hurt. It’s overwhelming, and for a second, Buck can’t breathe. Is that how a first responder reacts, dumbass? The voice in his head is his own, because nobody can reprimand Buck like Buck himself. It helps, a little. His breath comes in gasps, but he breathes. He’s alive, he can fix this. Whatever this is. Whatever happened, and he’s absolutely got no idea what actually happened, it must have been some kind of accident. Yeah, Buck, but what kind of accident turns the ceiling upside down?

It's not the whole ceiling, of course. Dust and tiny stones or lumps of mortar trickle down on him. There's hardly any room to dodge as Buck turns his head a little – that hurts, thank you very much – to avoid breathing the stuff in. He needs to focus on what’s hurting rather than finding out what happened. Maybe it was an earthquake, happens in California. Buildings collapse all the time for other reasons, too. People get trapped under rubble. That happened to him, didn't it?

He tries to take a deep breath. It works, that’s good. It’s not his chest that’s hurting. His head, yes, but that can’t be it. Buck’s having trouble focusing, but this he knows. That's far from the whole story. What are the odds to get away with only scratches when the ceiling comes down on you? Then again, lately, Buck’s been the happiest guy on earth, right?

There’s a thought. Blinking, he tries to grasp it, hold on to it, because there’s something… there’s a name on his tongue, and it tastes good, way better than this dusty air around him. It’s still out of his reach. Wait. Buck tries to direct his confused thoughts to his hands, to move his fingers. He can’t see them, and for a very long, very frightful second he thinks they’re gone. They’re not, stupid. Buck raises a shaky hand, which can only just scrape across his stomach. It’s the same for the other one too. Not enough space to lift them higher;there’s just rubble to the right and left and above him anyway.

Two things, Buck, he thinks, a bit clearer. First, no rubble on his chest or stomach, which is good. Second, he knows the source of his pain. And that is not good. His eyes have now adjusted to the darkness, but there’s still not much to see. The ceiling above him was probably white once, but now everything is gray, as if a huge veil of dust has settled over everything. To the front, across his stomach, he can see the tons of stone above him are tapering. There seems to be more space behind his head, and if he is not mistaken a vague breeze comes from there. That's good. Conclusion, Buckaroo?

The voice in his head sounds a lot like Chimney now, and there's a reason for that, isn't there? Because Chimney could probably determine the angle at which this piece of ceiling crashed onto Buck. In any case, it didn't fall down straight, otherwise he’d be as flat as a pancake by now. It fell at an angle, suggesting that there was resistance behind Buck’s head - perhaps more rubble, a piece of furniture, something strong enough to cushion the impact a little. Enough for him to breathe. Enough to survive.

The rest of the ceiling, which is impossible to avoid thinking about any longer, is on Buck's legs. At least that’s what he’s assuming, because it might just be that his right leg is on fire, or sawed off, or no, being gnawed on by some ferocious monster. It’s no consolation that it’s not the left one, this time, because he can’t really feel that one. It’s hard to tell if it’s still there. The other one, though… Up and down, the pain comes in waves, and it will not stop as long as the masses of stone exert this force that weighs tons. He can picture it very clearly: split skin, broken bones, ruptured blood vessels. He’s spiraling, close to a panic attack. Buck knows the signs, and he can hear his frantic breaths.

He needs to think, to treat this like riding the waves of the ocean, swimming in their rhythm to master them. Where exactly was he when this ceiling came down? It seems quite unlikely to him that his loft would be destroyed this way. This is not the way to build apartment complexes in an area that’s at risk of earthquakes. Is it Maddie’s apartment? For a moment, it feels as if the stones are crushing his chest after all. If this a wave, it’s another tsunami, and it's impossible to ride.

Remember. A different voice this time. Remember, Evan.

And he remembers.

---

(this chapter was beta-read by @lavenderleahy, thank you!)

[garnetblackwater]

The Rustle of Leaves

Human female x forest guardian

Chapter 1: From The Rain Comes The Sun

Vanessa had to keep running, but it was incredibly fast and constantly gaining on her.  Maybe she’d have been fine but that fall she took was slowing her down. She could hear it behind her, consistently on her heels. Everytime it would get close it would narrowly miss her. It didn’t make sense, no one would be this lucky.

I should have been caught by now. Look around. Pay attention. Something isn’t right. It's like the thing isn’t even trying. Vanessa chanced a look around. She’d walked these woods before, this part is not familiar. “I’m being led away. Fuck!” There’s a snort behind her. Was that laughter? Is it amused, like this is a game? Vanessa’s fear turned to frustration. If this is to be my death, I plan to go out as an absolute problem. Not a toy in its game. 

That morning

The sun was already flowing into the room as Vanessa stirred from underneath her blankets. She let out a loud groan as she stretched out her limbs. It was a long night of drinking with the X-men, the cute name given to all of the history majors under their mentor, Professor Xavior Zent. 

A quick glance at the group chat showed a stream of pictures and videos. Some that will make it to social media, others that definitely wouldn't. All smiles and good times. Vanessa threw off her blankets and planted her feet on the floor. It was already past midday but she had plans. 

She checked herself over in the mirror, seeing if she looked as bad as she felt. Vanessa stood at around 5 foot 9 inches, tall and shapely. Her skin rich, russet brown barely showed past the oversized hoodie she went to sleep in. She looked at her eyes, a dark chestnut in color, in the mirror: big and round. Tired today but to be expected. She went to remove the bonnet from her head, but it fell haphazard from her crown. Hair curly, natural, and wild, roots of jet black fading to deep red. A bit of a mess, but it could be worse. Spray bottle in hand, she worked to get a hairstyle that would be reasonable for the day, landing on a half up bun. Deciding to let the rest of her curls free for the day. 

Though groggy, Vanessa was looking forward to the day. 

It was one of her favorite days in fact: hiking day. 

The sun was out again and her weekend was free so it was to the forest she went. 

Grand Sycamore National Park was only an hour's drive away. Hiking there had become a means of relieving stress for the year. Working on her masters and being a T.A. had taken up a large amount of time, but she always looked forward to these trips. Time alone in nature to just breathe and the time to decompress was very much needed.

 But first to go through the usual steps. 

Voice message to Sandy, her best friend, location and time of arrival.

“Van Van checking in to Sandy Cheeks. I have reached my destination. Over.

“Sandy Cheeks to Van Van. Starting my worry timer. Over and out.” Two hours starting now.

Check in at the rangers office, sign in and give information

There had been a warning from the park ranger at the front. It had rained this week so the ground would be slick in places. Noted.

Grab her backpack and enjoy the day.

Vanessa had a usual route she liked to take. The park map had various trails, but there was one that gave the best views during the day. She had a tendency  to go on autopilot during these hikes. Looking around, just breathing in nature. One of her favorite spots, an outcropping, was just ahead. Vanessa picked up speed, excited for the view, before coming to a sudden stop. 

Rain. 

Slippery. 

Gotta be careful. 

The view was beautiful, as it always was. She sat down to take it all in. Perfect time to rehydrate and soak in the sun as it glowed on her brown skin. Much needed serotonin. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she decided it was time to move on. She stood a bit too fast and lost her footing. She went to reach out to steady herself but the hand slipped too. 

Damn sweat! 

“Ah fuck.” Vanessa opened her eyes, body sore. Okay. Okay. You know what to do. First: Check immediate surroundings. 

Not on an edge or cliff. Nothing dangerous above. No animals. Looks like regular foliage. 

Next: Body check.  

Toes are wiggling. Fingers doing the same. Okay time to sit up. Her head swims, a wave of dizziness washes over. Along with the mild sting of pain. Multiple spots. Left shoulder, aches. Right hip, aches. Her legs seem to only have minor cuts. Lucky me. She touched her head. Shit. Blood. She pulls out her phone. Maybe she can look at how bad it might be. 

Before she can make it to the camera she notices the time. Fuck! It's been 3 hours?! Fuck! She has been out for a while. Sandy will have notified the park rangers by now. She put her phone away and slowly began to stand. At least someone will be looking for me. I shouldn't move from here, but maybe I can find a more open spot before it gets dark. The ranger’s office is west. I can still see the sun. 

So she began to walk, slowly at first, testing every step for any sign of pain. Careful not to fall a second time. Vanessa is absentmindedly pulling twigs and leaves from her hair when she hears it. There's movement coming from behind her. She had only been walking for maybe 5 minutes and she hadn't noticed anything around before. At first Vanessa believed it to be just a small animal going to its burrow, so she kept walking. But the sound didn't stop, twigs snapping, and the crunching of leaves and foliage. Whatever it was seemed to be following. As Vanessa focused she noticed more about it. It was not small and seemed to be watching her. Panic began to settle in her chest. Please not a bear or wolf.  It began to get closer so Vanessa picked up the pace. She didn’t want to run and trigger the animal into chasing her but she also couldn’t just let it attack her. 

Panic. 

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. All of the alarms in her head began to bare at once. She felt like a hapless bunny being rounded on by a lion. She dared glance in its direction. She felt the blood in her veins turn to ice and a cold sweat overtake her. It was large from what she could see of it hidden in the shadow of the brush. Its eyes large, wild, and hungry were level with hers. It crept forward, a low growl leaving its maw. Vanessa tried to step back slowly and unassuming, but fear was gripping her. Her flight instincts overwhelmed her brain, adrenaline already starting its course through her veins. The large beast lunged and barked in her direction.

Vanessa broke into a sprint. 

Must run. I have to get away!

[likesofsue]

This is another little gift and personalized piece for @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @ajokeformur-ray Today this idea popped into my head and I wanted to write it down. Maybe you'll like it and it will help a tiny bit. We all love you very much and we are here for you. Always. I hope you are taking care of yourself and that you don't forget to take a little break every now and then. Please keep Eddie and Uncle Wayne close to you.

Summary: You've been feeling pretty bad lately, and Eddie knows it. So he decides to make it his mission to pick you up from your job and make sure you get a little break

Tw: physically and mentally exhausted reader with self doubts -> but it's a fluffy comfort piece

Wc: 884

Eddie's eyes pop open. He snaps his head back and curses. Only Eddie is capable of nodding off, even though Iron Maiden is playing so loudly that the windows of his van clink in time. His heart beats wildly as he stares at his wristwatch. But it would still be a few minutes. He lets out a deep sigh of relief. He could never forgive himself for waiting so long - how long, actually? three hours? - only to nod off and miss you. No. Eddie would stay awake and wait for you and bring you home to him and his dad. Just like he secretly made it his mission after hearing how bad you've been lately. His heart hurts to see you like that and he'd be damned if he didn't try to give you at least a little relief from the weight of the world weighing on your shoulders. So he rubs his tired eyes and switches to the next song on his mixtape. It's Ozzy, and it makes him smile because he knows how much you adore him.

And in fact, it only takes a few more minutes for you to step through the door of your workplace. Slumped posture. Head lowered. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your feet hurt with every step, yet somehow they carry you on. They always do. But you are tired, more than tired. And again, it stabs Eddie right in the heart when he sees you like this. He hates it. He hates that the people at your job make you work so much overtime. He hates that uni has such a huge workload. He hates the way you look at him lately - doubt, fear, exhaustion. Eddie knows why you're doing all this, that you actually like your job and that your major is your passion. But he wishes things were easier for you. That he could take away your burdens and do more for you. And that you could see yourself the way he and Uncle Wayne see you. With nothing but pride, adoration and love.

As soon as you come in sight of his van, Eddie grabs the blankets that he put on the passenger seat and jumps out of the car. At first he tries to wave at you, but when you don't see him right away, he calls your name. And that makes you look up almost immediately, his voice has that effect on you. Your eyes widen with surprise and a small smile makes your lips curl upward. Just the sight of him gives you a boost of serotonin and makes you forget your aching feet as you almost run to him. You missed him. So much. So much that you can't hold back a little sob. But he is with you now. Finally. You feel how he first wraps the blankets and then his arms around you, holding you safe and secure. You press your face against his chest and take a deep breath, breathing in his distinctive scent that smelled like home. None of you care about the people who give you curious and sometimes disapproving looks. What do they know about love?

"Eddie, I..." You look up at him. Your voice sounds weak. Your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as you try to find the right words to express how endlessly grateful you are to him. That he is here for you, that he never leaves you alone. You cry and it is okay. It is okay to let feelings flow.

Eddie hushes you and wipes away your tears with the rough but soft pad of his thumb. His other hand soothingly moves up and down your back. He looks at you and his big brown eyes are so full of love and worry that it makes your own heart squeeze in your chest. "You don't have to say anything, sweet thing. I understand. Please just let me help you, 'kay?"

You rub your wet, tired eyes and nod. Then you lean closer and kiss his cheek, something that makes Eddie chuckle and grin broadly. He opens the passenger door and picks you up to sit you down on the seat, buckling you in. "Your coachman will now take you to your castle, m'lady."

It's the first time in so long that Eddie hears you giggling - he missed it so much - and it makes him feel bats fluttering in his stomach. He strokes your cheek before he jogs to the other side of the van and he finally plops down behind the wheel. Eddie's presence and Ozzy's voice slowly calm you down. You blink at him tiredly and put a hand on his thigh, making him smile as he drives through the streets at a slightly less breakneck speed than usual. It takes a while for you to reach the Munson trailer, so you allow yourself to close your eyes and rest. You know you are safe with Eddie. Even if you sometimes feel too small for the world, you are never alone. Eddie and Uncle Wayne are there for you when you need them. Always. Every step of the way, no matter how difficult the way may be. Because they are nothing but proud of you. They love you so much.

[shraqsmuses]

You have Luvia's favorite pink girls, Junko and Baiken!!

She loves her pinkette's rough and crude~~

"What in the… I don't know who this Luvia girl is but what is she calling me 'rough and crude' for? I haven't been THAT brutish in a while! Does she think I'm gonna whip her the moment I look at her? That's nearly insulting!

"Nay. I plan for the downfall of my cohorts. Do you believe the Killing School Life was exclusively planned through the whimsical cacophony that rattled my mind in days that are a worthwhile distance away from the one in which we stand? I had to learn more about all of my classmates. Their motivations, talents, personalities, relationships amongst themselves, preferences, the things they abhor… All of this was taken into consideration as I devised what was ultimately a drama meant to appeal to my amusement.

"Then again… That got too boring for me. The thought of knowing everything that was gonna happen was going to put me in a really bad mood. I could already feel the tears swelling up to my eyes, engulfing my vision as the first case proceeded without any deviation from my plan. It made me realize just how empty my chest felt at that moment. I had to fill it with something that would give it the energy to keep the blood in my body flowing through its many vessels or there was a probable chance I might've just become catatonic… That's why I had to kill my sister. I had to fight through the remorse to keep myself alive. The woe of such a betrayal was what my heart demanded in order to convince my heart to keep my heart. She probably still hates me for that right now. Realistically, anyone would. I don't even know how I could make it up to her. Should I? She probably doesn't even want to see me again for the rest of her life.

"Does that make me rough and crude? Maybe. I wouldn't fight against the idea of being a vulgar woman. I can be crass if people want me to, even if I would rather be more personable. I think that's what I want to be right now."

"… I was plannin' on saying something back to that 'Luvia' gal but I don't really know if it would feel right after all that. I wasn't expecting her to spout all o… Wait.

"Hrmph!"

Baiken's arm arose from her white, loose sleeve and her feet lunged her body to the side before her fingers clasped onto Junko's pale arm. Her eyes peered at Junko's free arm, watching its fingers briefly wiggle in rapid waves before she took a step back and pulled her ensnared arm upward, causing the former to jolt in place and her foot to slide forward in a few milliseconds. Baiken's black coat swung forward along with her tattered sleeve while Junko's strawberry twintails blew behind her, her light blue eyes violently vibrating in place before they locked onto the ronin's lone, pink eye and eyepatch.

"I had a feelin' you still had some stress inside you despite that spiel you went on. There a reason why you threw your hands at me?"

"As my hypothalamus is currently distributing an abundance of cortisol to my nervous system as a result of my psyche remembering my distressing and complicated memories of my sister, I desire an apparatus I can compress so I can reduce the amount of it and possibly counteract it with the production of serotonin. If I were to allow myself to continue remembering these thoughts, there's a possibility my lacrimal glands will produce an excess of tears. I believe it imperative for me to compress a preferably pliable apparatus in order to aid in diminishing these distressing memories. I may resort to pleading in desperation should you choo--"

"ShhhRRSH! Errgh. I figured that's what you were aiming for. I usually don't have anything to say to people like you but given everything you just said…"

Baiken's wide thighs flexed and stretched her toeless greaves into the ground while her grip onto Junko's arm tightened before it swung it down and tossed it away from her. Just as she saw Junko's face and shoulders twist in her peripheral vision, Baiken launched her right shoulder forward and slammed it into the back of her cardigan, sending her blubber into a wobbling fit, loosening a few buttons and pulling down her black, spotted bra far enough to have her chest's fat plunge further away from her clothes.

"Don't try to 'squeeze' out any stress you're feeling if it's severely bothering you. It's better to face it straight on and acknowledge why it bothers you so much. Know what's distressing you and see if you have any way to fix it. That's all I have to say to you for now. Try using me as a stress toy again and the soil's gonna know the way you taste really well."

"Wh… I… Wait. Come back. No. B--But…

"PLEAAAASE come BAAAAAACK! Don't let my thoughts about my sister make me feel worse! I couldn't even do the cool counter I wanted to do against you! Waaaaaaaaaaaaahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

[butmakeitgayblog]

As a writer, do you find it annoying when readers comment asking for chapters? Because as a reader, I've always wondered how I could correctly phrase that I'm looking forward to reading more so that it doesn't come off as pestering and pressuring the author. Sometimes, when stories that stick with me hasn't been updated in months, I find myself back in the comments section thinking, I wanna leave something nice for author letting them know that I'm here and I love their story. Is there any particular do's and don't's we should be aware of?

Honestly? Completely honest?

Yes it's annoying when people ask for updates 😬 BECAUSE, and I can't stress this enough, no one on earth wants that story to be updated more than the writer. No one. That un-updated story haunts their dreams and taunts their waking days. We want it to be finished too, and we're painfully, excruciatingly, cripplingly aware of how long it's been since it was updated. Authors want to update their stories, so if they haven't, there's a reason why. And asking for updates only does 1 of 2 things (or usually both): makes writers feel even worse than they already do about not updating, or straight up piss them off because if they could update, they would. Because in the end all asking for updates really is is pressuring someone, whether the commentor means to or not. It's fantastic to know someone loves the story and wants to read more of it, and we DOOOO wanna know you're excited about the story and want more. So while we absolutely want to hear from you, here's 3 better ways to convey that than asking for an update:

Just tell the author you like the story! Doesn't have to be complex, just say "I love this story! I've reread it X times and enjoy it every time 😌" Boom, instant shot of serotonin for the author

Paste a line or lines of dialogue you loved. Maybe a specific scene that spoke to you or made you laugh or cry or you thought was hot. Authors love having their words thrown back at them because then we know which parts work the best, and which are reaching the audience and leaving an impression. It actually helps sometimes moving forward in the story knowing what parts readers felt were the strongest. Yes we write stories for ourselves, but we also want you guys to like them too. And feedback helps us grow.

Say how the story makes you feel. Do you like it reading it before bed as lil comfort story that helps you wind down? Maybe it's something that when you're sad you pull out of your bookmarks cuz it brightens your day even just a little bit. Maybe you like it because it hurts in the best ways, it gets emotions flowing that you can connect with and commiserate. Do you wanna squish those little dope's faces together for being too cute, or boop them on the nose with a newspaper for being dumbasses. We wanna know! Authors put their heart into these stories, so hearing what emotions they bring out in readers is like winning the fucking jackpot

Understand this isn't me saying if you've ever asked for an update I think you're a bad person or you should feel bad. What I'm saying is that it's not conveying what you may be meaning to convey, and at worst you might be actually thwarting any motivation the author had managed to gather to update.

[icanbeyourgenie]

“ I want it to stop, please make it stop! ” – a hurt Achilles to Anastasia, because his memories are all over the place

The room was a mess. Achilles clearly went into clastic crisis mode. His forearms were bleeding and Anastasia couldn't tell if he accidentally hurt himself with his tools, or if he did it on purpose to appease the pain of having so many memories from so many years and different lives crashing together. It didn't matter at this moment. She ran to him and held his head in her hands.

“Hey, look at me!” He tried, but he couldn't really see her right now. “Just breathe. Follow my lead, okay?”

She slowed down her breathing and he tried as best as he could to copy her. And as she whispered soothing things to him, she used her powers to slowly decrease the stress hormones in his body and to increase the soothing ones. Less cortisol, more endorphine and serotonin. It was a rare power given by Aphrodite to her favorite children only. Basically, love, sex, pleasure - all of that was just a chemical reaction in the body. And right now, Nastya could use this to appease Achilles.

It usually was sufficient, but not this time. The man was significantly more calm, he could breathe a bit better and he was definitely seeing her now. But his gaze was still panicked, and he was shaking like a leaf. So she put her forehead against his.

“Give some to me.”

“What?” He asked, his voice broken.

“Do it. I can handle it.”

“Tya, it hurts. It will hurt you and I don't-”

“Hurt me, I don't care. We share every burden. We promised. Right?”

Maybe if he was in a better state, he would've complained. But Anastasia's voice was firm and he was very weak. So he touched her temples with his shaky hands, and the next second a flow of information was flowing into Anastasia's brain.

She had to hold still to him to not fall, and she knew he only gave her a little bit. But he was right. It did hurt. She struggled to still work her magic on the emotional manipulation, to appease them both. But it was hard.

After a minute, it stopped hurting. They were both breathing heavily, holding on to each other. Anastasia had a headache so strong she thought she would faint, and she assumed Achilles must feel the same.

“I'm so sorry.” He said. “I shouldn't have-”

She cut him by kissing him. Multiple times. She wouldn't hear this apology. She meant it when she said they'd share the burden - if it was his, it was hers too.

“Come on.” She finally said. “Let's get to bed, I think we're both tired.”