#but then had a mental breakdown. and dropped out before even moving there (thank god) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

berryhobii · 1 year

Note

Hi there! First of all, I wanted to say how much I like your work!! As a black woman myself, its is so nice to see other women creating work that represents us and is so well written!

I saw you are accepting requests, and I wanted to ask if you could write about how the LateForWork!Couple met. Like how everything progressed and they fell in love with each other.

Thank you in advance and keep up with the amazing work beautiful <3

Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words!🤧it makes me feel so good knowing that black women are feeling represented in works of fiction. I’ll continue to do my best to represent every black woman out there.

And thanks for the request! I think the LFW couple would meet kind of through Taehyung/Jimin at a company meal. Jungkook’s more of an introvert here with reader/OC being naturally flirty and knowing exactly what they want.

I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it!

Jungkook didn’t know how he kept letting Taehyung drag him to these meet ups. He didn’t know any of Taehyung’s coworkers or other friends outside of Jimin so he felt really awkward sitting at this table. He’d much rather be at home right now, maybe live streaming Little Nightmares 2 or cracking open the new Resident Evil game he had just received through pre order.

All Taehyung had to do was bribe him with promises of expensive beef and fancy desserts for him to leave the comfort of his home. Taehyung even managed to force him into a loose button up shirt just as Jungkook was about to throw on his signature hoodie. Goodness, that man was strong when he had a goal. At least Jungkook would get some free food today and maybe a sweet to take home so tonight wouldn’t be a total waste.

His face was practically glued to his phone, focus on clearing all of the jelly on this level of Candy Crush. He was down to 1 move and one more jelly square but there were no moves in that area that could help him! Urgh! And he didn’t want to uselessly use any of his power ups. Should he just lose his streak?

Just as he was about to move the candy, a hand came out of nowhere and did it for him. That move created a power up that triggered itself thus clearing the jelly and causing him to win the level. When the happy music played along with that little girl popping up to tell him he won, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

Then he realized that he didn’t make that move. Turning around, he was expecting to see Taehyung or Jimin but his mouth dropped at the sight of the person.

You were……what words could he use?

Beautiful? Gorgeous? Majestic? Attractive? Stunning? All of the above?

Your skin was dewy and effervescent, even the lights that lit up the restaurant paled in comparison to your glistening and dark skin. You looked like earth personified—graceful and cool and he just knew you sparkled when the sun hit you.

Your hair was in a half up half down style, claw clip holding it up, 2 locks of hair framed your face and were curled at the end. Your lashes were long and your full lips were shiny with gloss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, it was hard to look away when such a gem was standing before him. Could someone even be that exquisite in real life?

And when you smiled, he swore he heard angels singing in his ears.

“I hate when there’s only one move left yet nothing around it. I just know my FBI agent sees me throw a fit over it every day.”

His brain short circuited for a moment. Were you initiating conversation with him? About a game? Willingly? Oh god, is he getting pranked right now? He thought Ashton Kutcher was dead. Is he?

Stop thinking about possibly dead actors! There’s a pretty girl in front of you!

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. They must be concerned I’m having a mental breakdown because they advertised a therapist to me.” He actually shocked himself a little from how easily those words flowed out. Small talk with a stranger was not a specialty of his.

Your laugh was loud and a little goofy but so endearing, it made him chuckle as well.

“Candy Crush will do that to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if the creators opened a rehab for us.”

“It’ll just be us having group discussions on how bringing hazelnuts to the bottom has been affecting our ability to form positive relationships.”

He couldn’t believe how easy conversation was flowing between you two. For some reason, he didn’t feel pressured or nervous speaking to you. You just seemed so open and kind.

Who were you?

“Jungkook! I see you met one of my coworkers. She’s super hot, isn’t she? I told her to let me make her a model but she insists on staying in PR. Boring.” Jimin appeared out of nowhere like a jump scare, draping an arm over your shoulders. Jungkook’s face faltered a little. Jimin was the biggest flirt known to mankind. He could probably charm the pants off a dead person if he wanted to. If you knew him, and more importantly if you worked with him, you must have been on the opposite side of his flirting. Was it a possibility that you two were closer than coworkers?

But instead, you just rolled your eyes, moving his arm off of you.

“Save that talk for your next spread, Park. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still haven’t submitted your portfolio.”

Jimin’s smile never dropped despite your slightly cold attitude. He could tell you were just poking fun at him.

“Anyway, Jungkook, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jungkook.”

“I can introduce myself, thank you.” You said before pulling out the chair next to Jungkook and sitting down. That movement caused your perfume to flutter all around him—it was light but sweet like some kind of dessert.

Once you were settled, you turned your body to Jungkook, propping your elbow on the table to lean your cheek against it.

And the way your hooded eyes stared at him sent a harsh shiver from the top of his head all the way to his toes. He didn’t even notice Jimin’s smirk or how the man tip toed away to gossip to his favorite buddy.

“I’m y/n.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He didn’t know why his throat felt dry all of a sudden.

Oh great, he could chat with you about mobile games and FBI agents but getting his name out was difficult?

Clearing his throat, he forced out his name, voice cracking a little at the end. Embarrassment rushed through his body, heat rising to his ears and he was grateful his hair was long enough to cover them.

You must think he was a dork now.

You giggled, your eyelashes fluttering and making his heart weak.

“Nice to meet you.”

He shyly nodded. “You too.”

“Sorry about Jimin. He’s like that at work too.”

Jungkook pushed his hair back with one hand, not noticing how your eyes followed the motion. “At least you only have to work with him. Imagine knowing him since childhood.”

You pressed your hand against your chest in faux distress. “How awful. I could only imagine the pain you endure daily.”

Wow. You were so easy to talk to. He had completely forgotten about his phone, tucking it into his pocket to finally have a rest.

Eventually, food and drinks began flowing. Taehyung and Jimin joined you two at the table but not even they could pop the bubble that you’ve formed.

Jungkook could barely focus on his food. You had his full attention, holding onto every word and laugh that fell from your lips. He found you to be witty but also humble, not afraid to poke a little fun at Taehyung and Jimin who just laughed right along with you.

You were mesmerizing. He almost hated blinking if it meant your beautiful face left his sight.

And when you would turn your attention back to him, not realizing that you’ve never left his, you’d send him a flirty wink and coy smile that would send his blood pressure through the roof from how his heart would stutter and race. If a doctor was listening with a stethoscope right now, they’d think the organ was giving out on him.

“So how’d you end up here?” You asked after taking a sip of your drink.

He sighed, eyes going over to the other side of the table where Taehyung was showing Jimin something on his phone but the man was so drunk that he was holding it upside down. And Jimin probably didn’t even notice, laughing as if he could understand the upside down photo. “Taehyung dragged me here. Said I need to start getting out more and I can’t waste my youth playing games all day. He keeps pushing me to date but I’m not that interested right now.”

Well, that was before. Now, however, he was starting to change that view.

You hummed, using your chopsticks to eat a piece of meat, chewing carefully and swallowing before speaking again.

“Does it make you happy?”

That was a question he didn’t hear people ask him often. Well, in a genuine way. He’d normally hear it rhetorically. He’s heard it come from his parents more times than he could count, followed by a lecture that he’d drown out.

He blinked a few times. Gaming did make him happy. He appreciated the hard work creators put into each frame, the adrenaline he got from jump scares, and the accomplishment from completing one. “Yeah….it does.”

“Then that’s what matters. Who cares if someone else feels like you’re wasting your life? It’s yours. You can’t be focused too much on what others want for you. You’ll only neglect your own self.”

Wow.

“Then again, we should thank Taehyung from forcing you out tonight.”

He tilted his head. He would absolutely never do that but he was intrigued by your suggestion. “Really? Why?”

You didn’t say anything, just gazed at him with those captivating eyes and he knew exactly what you meant.

Maybe he should thank Taehyung.

As the night came to a close, he helped escort Taehyung to his car. Jimin had left a little earlier with a person you identified as one of the newest members of management. Apparently, they were kind of resistant to Jimin’s flirting at first but had crumbled after about 4 months of Jimin trying and trying. Jungkook recalls Jimin speaking about this person, claiming he was in love with them and would respectfully shoot his shot whenever possible.

That left Jungkook with a drunk Taehyung and you were helping your coworker who lived in the same apartment building as you.

Jungkook didn’t just want to see you walk away. Who knows if he’d ever see you again? And he refused to ask Jimin or Taehyung for your number. The teasing would never end.

“Hey…..wait.” He called out to you after practically dumping Taehyung in the back seat. You had parked right in front of his car and were buckling your roommate’s seatbelt who was slumped over asleep.

You turned to him after closing the passenger door, your eyes locking in with his.

There was that nervousness again but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t chicken out now! Not when you’d been getting along so well this evening.

“Um…..look, if you don’t mind, could I have your number? Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

You eyed him up and down but not in a checking him out kind of way. It was like you were analyzing him, finding every little crack in his personality that you could.

He honestly felt a little vulnerable. Why weren’t you speaking? Hadn’t tonight gone well? Was he just trying his luck and you’re already dating someone? Oh god, were you just being nice and he took it as you flirting with him?! Assumptions really were dangerous.

He was about to apologize and roll under his car to stay there until the end of time before you finally spoke.

“I’m not a maybe type of woman, Jungkook.” You spoke bluntly.

His mouth dropped a little in shock. Not necessarily because of your blunt tone but because you were just his fucking type. You knew what you wanted and that was his cup of tea.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, rounding your car to open the driver’s side. He just watched you with doe eyes and a funny feeling swirling in his tummy.

However, before you got in, you said,

“I don’t wait around.”

And on his drive home with a snoring Taehyung in the back, he thought one thing….

When you arrived at work Monday morning, it was to a bunch of people surrounding your desk. That wasn’t really out of the ordinary since people often got their assignments of the day from you.

What was out the ordinary though?

The huge bouquet of flowers that sat just in the middle of your desk, the colors vivid and the arrangement looking larger than your desk.

Your coworkers chatted excitedly about the flowers as you approached but you ignored them. Instead, you reached for the little card on a plastic stand just nestled between the blooms.

You had to bite your lip to fight your smile but you couldn’t fight the feeling that was rising in your chest.

I don’t either.

#askberryhobii #bts #bts requests #jungkook #jungkook smut

75 notes · View notes

moon-lv3r · 2 months

Text

my blood is on my hands °.*ೃ✧˚.

�� category: angst, hurt/comfort

🦋 characters: fugo, giorno, trish, mista, sheila e, mentioned narancia, abbacchio, bucciarati

🦋 summary: in which fugo finally begins to slowly heal and move on from his past, with the help of his surviving comrades. but as he would soon learn, nothing is ever easy. maybe he should just give up?

part 1 - acceptance

part 2 - relapse

part 3 - denial

part 4 - healing

🦋 warnings: mentioned SA, abuse, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self harm

🦋 notes: this is totally not the author trauma dumping, i am going through it again

disagree with my fugo mentally ill hcs? click out then !!!!!

i am an emotional train wreck #timetodieeeeee

Pannacotta Fugo was a boy who grew up without love. What does he know about it? Was he deserving of one?

What was love?

Was it as great as people proclaimed it to be?

How does one enjoy being themselves?

Did he deserve to be loved?

How does one be deserving of such a thing?

How does it come by?

He wondered…

Questions that haunted him as silence slowly drowned him, peace was never granted to him. Every time when he was alone, his mind would wonder, venture into corners he wished never existed.

He felt as though he was being suffocated by an invisible force, made by fragments of his memories… His memories forming into blades, lingering at various parts of his skin, he watched as each blade sliced into his skin, the layers coming apart, warm maroon flowing down, staining the carpets below. He remained expressionless as the scarlet underneath became exposed… a cut so deep that white could be seen. The flesh below the skin showed through, exposing themselves to the surroundings as the stinging pain shot through his entire body. The blades showed his pathetic reflection, the face of a boy who simply could not forget the pain, forget the feeling.

Each drop slowly left his wrist, his life slowly dripping out of him. The smell of the metallic liquid reached into his nose as his eyes tried to remain open. He was so tired. His mind and feelings seemed to haunt him, his own body hated him. He hated his own body too. The new cut confirmed that. He was slowly dying, the blade of his emotions and thoughts had sliced him to the brink of death. Each and every small cut had led to this very final moment…

“Fugo?!” One of Mista’s pistols shouted, happening upon the scene.

Fugo’s eyes bore on a lifeless look, was he in the middle of a breakdown?

Everything was a blur, as the door busted open to reveal both Giorno and Mista, did they have a look of worry? Concern? Or was it anger? He couldn’t remember.

The next thing he knew, he was in a foreign room, laying on a bed he had never seen before… yet he knew where he was. The damn hospital. Of course he was there. His arms all bandaged up… Concerned faces surrounded him…

Who would be the first to visit him? He wondered… Will his parents ever pay him a visit? What did they even look like? He couldn’t remember. It has been a good few years.

“Fugo, you’re awake,” Giorno’s calm voice was the first he had heard. Standing beside him was Guido Mista, his expression one of relief.

“Thank god you’re awake you idiot!” Mista began loudly before realising that foreign eyes seemed to lay upon his figure. “We were so worried,” he whispered.

Fugo’s eyes attempted to adjust itself to the blinding light that emitted from the hospital. “Yeah… I’m… uh alright.”

His body said otherwise. The freshly bandaged up wounds he had painfully gifted himself. The bloodsoaked carpet back home had another story to tell. His mind has another story to tell. His scar ridden body had many, many different tales.

Everything proved otherwise. Why did he lie? What was the point?

“Do you need anything?” Giorno asked, placing a hand on Fugo’s shoulder, his eyes filled with worry. “Just say it and we-”

Fugo moved Giorno’s hand away from his shoulder, his gaze as dead as his mind, his voice as hopeless as one can get. “It’s alright,” was all he managed to say.

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone if he couldn’t get better. He didn’t want to feel like he was just wasting their time, their effort. He was afraid that no amount of help could ever fix him completely. He didn’t care about suffering alone, so long as nobody followed him down the path of destruction.

Was he really worth the effort? Worth it to try? Even if no improvement was to be seen? He was afraid of the future, though he held no certainty of what the future could hold for him. He was afraid of something that might not even happen.

Should he just let go of his fears?

He tried to, he really did. But it seemed to plague his mind, the intention of letting go remained hidden. What was he supposed to do?

He was afraid. What if it doesn’t work? Does he even deserve it? Why…

So many thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind, barely giving him a break. What was he supposed to do?

How does one even know where to start? How to start? How will he even know if it was working?

So, so many things he was wrecking his head over. He might have been a genius when it came to academics, but nobody had ever taught him that emotions needed to be learned and understood too.

All of the undeserving treatments had led to the boy to believe that he was undeserving as well. Maybe that was why it was so hard…

He had spent his days staring at the walls around him, laying down on a foreign mattress, having unfamiliar faces tend to him. One thing was not a stranger to him however.

It was the never ending questions of whether he needed help or was he alright. Everyone asked that, without fail… one way or another, people were bound to ask the same thing. He couldn’t give the answer that they wanted. He didn’t know what to say.

He was just a boy forced to stay alive.

Why was he still alive?

What was he supposed to live for?

He knew he swore to serve Giorno but that can’t be the only thing he does for the rest of his life.

What was his purpose?

The purpose purely made for himself and not about anyone else. Solely made just for Pannacotta Fugo.

What was it? How should he find it?

Why did the thought of finally being content with himself scare him so much? Had he been in misery for so long that he didn’t even have it in him to be happy? What was going on in his mind? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to figure himself out.

Even while he was discharged, his thoughts left the hospital with him, it followed him everywhere. Not much had changed in the boy. He was still as uncertain as he always had been.

Giorno was the one who drove him back to their accommodation. The ride was silent, with Fugo looking out the window, looking at the scenery that had presented themselves before him, passing by. For some reason, his mind felt oddly at peace, no thoughts ran through as his eyes took in the sight.

It was one of the few moments where Fugo could really enjoy himself. One of the few times his mind was silent, freeing him of the burdens of his life.

Was this what peace felt like?

He’d love to have it.

But did he deserve it?

It was a simple yes or no answer, yet he found himself struggling. He wanted it, but he dreaded it. Being in hell for so long, it almost felt like home to him. Yet he yearned for escape… What did he truly want?

He was so used to the mental torment that living without it sounded strange. The torment was his normal, despite his hatred for it all. Now he has to live without it? Will he manage? It felt wrong, to live without something that kept him company for so long, even though it was the source for all of his agony. He grew up with it, he was familiarised with it, to the point where it almost felt… comforting? To have something stay by your side for so long… To have that one constant thing in his life.

It was something he grew up with…

What if he got better and nobody believed that he was ever struggling because all of it was gone now? Every single trace of his mental scars, gone. The thought made him… want to get worse. To prove that he was indeed a troubled boy. He wanted horrible things to happen to him, maybe then people would believe his struggles.

But he yearned to have peace.

What should he do then?

When both gave his mind hell… shouldn’t he pick one he was already used to? What difference would it make? It would be like reliving the same thing over and over… Wasn’t he already doing that? Being better sounded like such a struggle, he didn’t know what he should do…

What would people want him to do?

What would Bruno Bucciarati help him do?

What would Bruno Bucciarati say to him?

Tell him to face everything? What did Bucciarati do when they first met? What did he say?

“In the end, you only can rely on yourself. Don’t let yourself down, do what you feel, and know is right. If you have to throw away your morales, do it.”

It was not the first thing Bucciarati had ever said to Fugo, but it was one of the first few things that he had said. Fugo wondered, what had Bucciarati gone through to make him say such words?

Fugo always felt as though there were something more behind those words. Like Bucciarati was speaking from experience.

What did Fugo know and feel was right?

Getting better…

But would anyone believe that he had once struggled if he healed? Scars… memories… pain… What if people thought he was making it all up? What if people assumed he lied about everything just because he seemed alright now?

But he also did not want the struggles living in his mind anymore. He was tired. Tired of being a boy ruined by the actions of his family. Tired of being the consequences that the culprits never had to face. Tired of shouldering everything that no young boy should have ever held onto.

Would that leap of faith really be worth it? For him?

Fugo decided to climb out of his window and onto the roof for one night. The stars shone unexpectedly bright that night. A mesmerising sight, one that made the boy temporarily forget his struggles.

“Fugo?” Giorno’s voice came from behind. The younger boy climbed his way up and sat beside Fugo.

“You’re up too…” Fugo responded.

“The night is one of the few times I can ever catch a good break from the mafia work,” Giorno replied. His blonde hair flowed with the night breeze. Fugo had never seen Giorno with his hair down before.

“I see…” Fugo answered. Something in his gut told him that there was more to Giorno’s nightly intentions.

Silence slipped by them, seconds ticking away like nobody’s business. The lack of an exchange felt as though there was only one person up on the roof the entire time. The peace felt oddly comforting, something Fugo hadn’t felt in awhile.

“What’s on your mind?” Giorno asked. “I know something has been weighing on your mind for a while.”

Fugo was stunned. How did Giorno know? How could he tell?

“You seem quieter ever since you left the hospital. Mista might not be as suspicious, but you’re not fooling me,” Giorno continued.

“GioGio, I-” Fugo tried to speak, but words seemed to lose their way to his mouth. His feelings failed to form into words, the unbearable silence lingered.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to say,” Giorno added. “Just, know that you can come to us anytime.”

Giorno left after that, leaving Fugo all alone with his feelings and realisation. What was he supposed to do now?

Suddenly he felt a wave of pressure. Everyone wanted him to be alright. The forced feeling to be alright, not for him, for others. That wasn’t right…. was it? He should want to be better for the sake of himself, not for others. He knew it was not Giorno’s intention to force anything. It was all in Fugo’s head. It was all up there.

He wished Bucciarati was still around, maybe he’d be able to help. He missed his saviour. Sometimes Fugo wondered if things would have turned out differently if he had followed. Would Abbacchio die? Would Narancia have died? He will never know, but he would have to let those things go.

Maybe Fugo just has to take it slow. Little by little. Maybe he’d be fine then, he hoped.

Does he really deserve to be better?

Bucciarati would tell him that yes, he did deserve it. He would encourage Fugo to try. He would tell him that everyone in the group would have his back. He wouldn’t say it lovingly, but rather in a boss like manner, he always does. Fugo looked up to him.

Fugo missed Bucciarati, a little.

Just a little bit…

He was like the father figure that Fugo never had. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t left the gang. So many what ifs haunted him.

Every,

Damn,

Night.

Maybe he should actually start seeking help. He clearly can’t do this alone.

He wasn’t alone either.

Giorno, Mista, Sheila…

Was he going to disappoint more people? Let them down? They all saw something in him, like Bucciarati. They were still alive.

Should he really share this burden that he was carrying on his shoulders? Will they be willing to carry it with him?

They had seen his ugly side, but still, they stayed, wasn’t that telling enough? Wasn’t that the answer that he needed? That they would stay with him?

He already had all of his answers, he just wasn’t making the actions.

He procrastinated long enough, the time has always been in front of him. He just did not want to take it. Why? He was afraid. Of everything. He always had been.

Giorno offered to help Fugo find a therapist, which he gladly accepted. Slowly, Fugo began to talk. It was scary. He refused to say everything, his therapist barely knew anything about him. His therapist had to do her own research into the poor boy, be careful with her words so that she would not end up triggering him. It was a once in a week session. Mista was the one to drive Fugo for every session, he would often start up small, casual chats with the younger boy. It almost felt like the old times…

Just without Narancia.

The lack of Narancia brought a more mature side out of Mista. The usual laughter seemed to have diminished. Fugo never knew how Narancia died, he could only hope that the boy once so full of joy died a painless death, though a part of him knew the chances were low.

The therapist had Fugo going to a psychiatrist for a while, for diagnosis. He came back with borderline personality disorder, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, and other potential ones that remained unconfirmed for the time being. He was not surprised. That explained the way he felt towards Bucciarati, he was Fugo’s ‘favourite person’. He used to idolise him, viewing his opinions as everything. When Giorno joined and Bucciarati seemed to favour the newcomer, Fugo was jealous. Everything changed.

The betrayal was the turning point for Fugo. Everything shattered that very moment. He felt anger, betrayal, sadness. He felt as though Giorno replaced him. He spiralled. Negativity was all he knew at the time. Thoughts of hunting them down and killing them crossed his mind, but he never got round to it. The next thing he knew, he was suicidal and Giorno became the new boss.

The therapist Giorno had found was a Stand user, so she could understand almost everything there was to know. She was the one who told Fugo how his Stand reflected him as a person. How Purple Haze seemed to be close range and violent because Fugo aggressively had his professor beaten up when he violated his personal space. It was Fugo’s need for space, peace. How Purple Haze was so deadly with its poisonous outbursts that could harm Fugo himself because Fugo could not stop himself whenever anger takes over, how his violence spreads to everyone, and inevitably harms himself as well. How his Stand was just like him, Purple Haze wants to protect Fugo but violence was all they knew, which often backfires.

It was knowing all of these that would allow for Fugo to slowly accept his flaws and work on them. To slowly bring himself to a mental space in which he could finally be content with. To finally accept and move on.

Fugo had started taking medication for his various illnesses as well. He was trying. He could see the smile on everyone’s faces as Fugo slowly improved. It made his heart feel warm for some reason, he wondered why.

Trish often came over for dinner whenever she was free. He was never close with her. Things seem to be awkward between them as well. They did not hold any malice towards each other, perhaps it was other reasons that they were not able to befriend each other. But Trish seemed to be glad for Fugo’s improvement as well. At least they were civil with each other.

He saw how Sheila and Trish often exchanged laughter with each other, having their usual girl talk. For some odd reason, he was reminded of Narancia, back when he, Narancia and Mista would often get into trouble. The days when Narancia enjoyed annoying Abbacchio.

They were both gone.

Stones with their names to pay respects.

Fugo missed disrespecting them.

Acceptance was not going to be so easy. Of course not.

Even his therapist reminded him to not let small setbacks hold him back. How he should keep up his good work, because everyone would be proud of him.

One day, Fugo found himself standing in front of Bucciarati’s grave. He did not know why, or how. He was just… there. The name and date made something in him ache. It was his first time visiting ever since any of their deaths. His therapist recommended him to visit whenever he felt ready, because it might help him out.

Tears formed in his eyes as he kneeled down. He did not know why, he just felt like doing so. Everything that he held back, just came out that very moment. The guilt, anger, sadness, frustration… it all rushed out.

He was learning to deal with change, yet he still missed when things remained untouched. He wanted to blame Giorno for everything for the longest time, but Giorno was the one who pulled him out of the void. He felt shame for even wanting to blame what Bucciarati did on Giorno, as if Bucciarati was not a grown man capable of making decisions on his own.

In the end, it was nobody’s fault. Not even Fugo’s.

It took him a while to arrive at that conclusion, but here he was.

Facing Bucciarati, a burden off his shoulders.

Space gave him the answers, and he received peace.

He could only hope for things to remain the same.

Seeing himself happy, it felt strange. But he was slowly coming to terms with it. Slowly letting things come to him. He wondered if Bucciarati would be proud of him. He wondered if Narancia would be happy for him. He wondered if Abbacchio would congratulate him.

It has been almost a year ever since Fugo began his therapy sessions. Everyone could tell that Fugo had finally found himself at a position he was comfortable in.

That was until a familiar face greeted him, shattering every progress the poor boy built for himself.

Fugo was getting some snacks for a horror movie night with Mista. It was when he came face to face with the professor. The very source of his trauma.

“Long time no see,” His twisted smile haunted Fugo.

Fugo wanted to die.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #pannacotta fugo #vento aureo #golden wind #fic writing #angst #jjba angst #fugo angst #fugio can be interpreted as romantic or platonic #mentioned sa #mentioned abuse #this is kinda dark #hmm #hehe #silly me hehe #let me cope #jjba

9 notes · View notes

theclaravoyant · 4 months

Text

Crash

AN ~ For Anon who prompted "Eddie + Bobby + Angst" !!! 7x08 gave me so much inspiration fuel I went back and watched some favourite eps and have been blasting Happy - Pink on repeat. Eddie Diaz breakdown fic lets GO.

**Please note this fic contains references to alcoholism, mental illness and self harming behaviours compatible with show canon.** And Catholicism. Because EddieBobby. No Christophers were harmed in the making of this fic.

Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Written after 7x08. Set near-future, no further spoilers.

Read on AO3 (~2000wd)

Crash

“... and she's been dropping hints about that new laptop she wants,” Bobby scrolls through his phone, frowning at the differences between some of May's options. Does he understand what RAM means? Because he thought he did, but he's starting to think he really doesn't. “Whatever happened to cars? Classic graduation gift.”

“She bought herself her own car, with her dispatch money,” Athena points out. “Albeit with a bit of help. No child of mine is driving anything without a hundred points and every airbag known to man. Drivers are animals. I always learnt; drive like everyone else on the road is an idiot, and I tell you, it hasn't steered me wrong yet.”

She rolls her eyes, as – right on cue - they turn the corner and are enveloped in a crush of traffic and honking and nonsense typical of looky-loos rubber-necking an accident. She glances around too – she's only human. It seems small at least; only one or two civilian vehicles have pulled off the side of the road.

“Maybe a fender bender?” Bobby posits, but he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Athena feels it too.

Then they see the accident. Well. The back half of the front portion of it. A big grey truck has swerved and plummeted down the road shoulder and buried itself in a tree. And it's smoking. And the truck looks familiar.

“Isn't that--?”

“Pull over.”

Athena's already doing it before Bobby even moves. He can hardly get his seatbelt off and the door open fast enough, and leaves Athena to manage the scene as he all but throws himself over the remaining railing and down through the brush. He tries to get a look in the back windows. It's tough with the vegetation and the angle of the setting sun, but he clears the vehicle of passengers. It's just the driver. A portly civilian has been knocking and waving on the drivers side door, clearly trying to get the occupant's attention; he turns when he hears Bobby coming, and backs away immediately, relieved at the sight of someone who clearly knows what they're doing.

“It's just one guy in there,” he says. “He's hit his head something fierce. I think he's hurt.”

Bobby nods. I think he's hurt, I think he's hurt. He clenches his jaw, fighting terror as he wrenches the damaged door open against its will.

“Eddie!” he cries. “Can you hear me?”

He battles the airbag out of the way. Notices a smear of blood on it, and more on the glass of the windshield. The air stinks of burning rubber. But Eddie's breathing. His heart is beating – his pulse is strong as anything, and Bobby thanks God for this mercy as his own heart decides to stay in his chest after all.

Eddie moans, and blinks drowsily, and after a long moment he turns ever so slightly toward the sound of Bobby's voice.

“Hey, Cap.”

–

After diagnosing Eddie with the concussion from hell and fortunately, very little else, they pack into Athena's car, and pass the rest of the trip in silence back to the Grant-Nash house. With his ankle in a splint and a cold press for his pounding head, Eddie lingers as the knot of metal that remains of his car limps up the driveway behind them. The tow truck drops it like a marionette with cut strings and his gut twists. He's seen enough cars that look like this to be grateful that he'd had the presence of mind to pick something with a decent crush zone, but he can still hear the screech of the brakes. Numbly, he thinks: Shannon was hit by a car.

“Eddie?” Bobby calls. “Still with us?”

“I could have killed someone.”

“You could have died.”

“But I didn't.”

“No. You didn't.”

Eddie turns to catch his quiet, concerned eyes. Eyes that know what it's like – to implode, and take everybody else down with you.

“Want some help?” Bobby asks, and Eddie's so grateful he doesn't have to ask that he could just about cry then and there. He lets Bobby pull him close, tuck him against his side and help him into the house and up the stairs. His ankle's actually not doing too badly, all things considered, but the shock is starting to wear off and he can feel himself shaking. Bobby pretends for a moment, not to notice The Other Thing.

“Buck's on his way to your place,” he advises as they slowly climb. “He's going to make sure Christopher knows what's happened and gets to school and everything tomorrow. Be prepared for several hundred messages if your phone decides to rejoin the living.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He clenches his jaw. The fact that Christopher is safe at home right now – “I have to call him.”

“In a minute,” Bobby promises.

Eddie frowns, but he's not in a position to argue. His knees all but fail as he slumps from Bobby's shoulder to the bed. The room is spinning. He can hardly stand up on his own, or keep his eyes open – forget getting screens involved. Let alone how he's going to explain what just happened. He must look like Hell. “Guess I'll just. Sleep it off for a minute then.”

“I'll get you some Tylenol.”

“Thanks.”

But Bobby doesn't leave.

Eddie leans over his knees and pinches his nose. Hard. As if doing so will help clear his vision and relieve some of the pressure that's screaming inside. Bobby's voice, his eyes are so damn gentle and concerned it hurts – partly because of the whole head shaken around like a paint can thing but mostly because it reminds him that it didn't have to come to this. He didn't have to have the waves of grief and guilt and the clamping it down and turning the music up too loud just to drown out the thoughts and he put his foot down and SCREECH -

“Eddie. What happened?”

He could have just had this.

He swallows.

“I didn't do it on purpose, Bobby, I swear. I was just being stupid. I was speeding, I wasn't paying attention.”

I was crying so hard I couldn't see.

“How fast were you going?”

“I don't know. Eighty?”

“There? Why?”

“I don't know.”

He clenches a fist, as if that will help dislodge the lump that's been sitting on his chest for as long as he can remember. The thing inside him that's never felt normal.

“Were you drunk?”

“No.”

“Did you take anything?”

“No.”

“Are you fighting again?”

“Jesus, no, Bobby.” The lump rises up in his chest, pressing on his attention harder the more he tries to quell it. He bites back. “I don't have a death wish.”

I was crying so hard I couldn't see.

Music too loud, music I don't even like. I couldn't hear the horn until it was too late.

Bobby can see through him like glass. The man doesn't even flinch; he just takes a seat on the bed, an arm's reach away. Eddie bristles instinctively. Bobby has this capacity in moments like these to exude zen somehow and it's infuriating... but it's effective.

“I really don't,” Eddie promises, as earnestly as he can muster. A few stray tears sting the cuts on his face. “At least, I didn't think so 'til tonight. I've actually been doing really good. But then it's like – d'you ever feel like the happier you get, the more you know there's something wrong with you? And the thing that's wrong with you, it just – it can't let go? It has to be wrong. It just – it grabs you and jumps out of your chest and makes you want to blow up your entire life?”

“Actually, I do,” Bobby replies. His voice is steady; nowhere near as tortured as it has every right to be. “Did I ever tell you about my first relapse here in LA? It was before your time, back when I'd just moved out here. Almost made it to my first year sober. I was one day off. One day.”

“And you had a bad one?”

“No. A good one.”

Bobby waits a beat, for the surprise to pass over Eddie's face. Surprise, and then understanding. The happier you are...

“Things were starting to gel – with me, with work. Believe it or not these guys made me prove my mettle back in the day. And I was doing it. And I was going to my meetings and talking to my sponsor and everything and that day I'd really started to believe that things were good. I was getting better.” Bobby shakes his head. Sure, it's a learning experience, but he still feels the sting. “I used to tell myself I just wanted to celebrate and overestimated myself, but...”

It jumps out of your chest, and makes you want to blow up your entire life.

Eddie nods his understanding as the feeling lands. “You sabotaged yourself. You didn't feel like you deserved it.”

Bobby, curse him and bless him, makes a subtle little noise at the way Eddie has chosen to word it. If it were anyone but Bobby, it'd send him running for the hills. Talking about deserts? Prime Manchurian Catholic material.

“And here I thought you were 'lapsed.'” For a moment, there's just the lightest, gentlest tease to Bobby's voice. He knows how fragile this is. He takes a deep breath, and Eddie winces. He knows what's coming.

“What about you, Eddie? Do you think you deserve happiness?”

Yes. No.

Maybe.

It's a trick question.

“I... think,” he manages. “I think I don't know what that even means.”

“Let's start there, then,” Bobby advises. “Do you know what cognitive dissonance is?”

“Holding two beliefs at the same time. Contradicting yourself. Like... if everyone deserves happiness but I'm the exception to the rule.”

“Close,” Bobby says. “In this context I think it's more like, you know, deep in your heart, at a fundamental level, that you – Eddie - are deserving. But you also know, with the exact same amount of conviction, depending on the day, that you – Eddie – are not. There's no exception to the rule. It's just both.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“It doesn't, does it?” Bobby points out, sympathetic. “And sometimes, feeling that way can make us do things that don't seem to make any sense either, depending which side is winning in the moment.”

Eddie runs his hand over his face, hissing against the pain. He closes his eyes, and imagines smelling that candle. It's like it put him under some kind of spell. It was so nice, to give in to that ocean breeze. Happiness. Sabotage. And he just knows that's what that first sip must have tasted like after 364 days sober. Maybe that's why Bobby can apparently read his mind.

“How did you make it stop?”

“I didn't.”

“Great.”

“I mean,” Bobby corrects, “I stopped trying. I stopped grappling with the question of if I deserve happiness, or punishment, or any of those things. Now, I just try and remember that even flawed as I am, I am worthy of grace. And joy is part of that.”

Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and the tears are coming stronger now.

“You are such a damn Catholic,” he says, and shakes his head. “You're really telling me to trust in the Lord and not my own understanding, huh?”

Bobby laughs a little too, but he puts a firm hand on Eddie's shoulder; making sure he can feel the weight of what he's really trying to say.

“I'm telling you that you are worthy, Eddie. Even if you are a bad friend, a bad father, a bad person – which is not true, by the way. But even then. You are worthy of grace.”

“Mhmm.” Part of Eddie wants to push him away. But he doesn't. “Okay.”

Because it's sinking in and it's funny. Not ha-ha funny. But funny because he's grown up around words like faith and grace and deserving all his life and it feels like he's never quite understood it until this moment. Because when his parents taught him about grace, it and forgiveness were the same thing. It and deserving were the same thing. But here, under Bobby's gaze, he understands. Grace is unconditional. Even if he's not strong, even if he's not faithful. And he's neither right now. But worthy?

A sob breaks out of his chest. It shakes his head and it hurts and he howls in pain and self pity and then he can't stop.

Bobby pulls Eddie into his embrace, and lets him cry.

#eddie diaz #bobby nash #eddiebobby #tv: 911 #911 fic #clara's fic tag #prompt me stuff

9 notes · View notes

lovebvni · 10 months

Text

the truth is this

the universe will never leave you half way. sure, they may test you but they would never just leave you in a ditch. they leave to go get equipment, supplies to help you.

yes, this may be a long time waiting. sure, you may lose hope that they’ll come back for you eventually.

prophecies are an example of this.

being told, or even knowing, that something is about to happen and then it not happening immediately is discouraging. personally, a while ago i was told two specific things will happen before me and nile shift. the first being someone i know getting into a fight at school, the second being nile meeting their new man (im so serious, bro) so, the first one already happened.

two of my school friends got into a fight, and they resolved it quite well with my help. this happened about two weeks ago, i want to say. nile and i were told about this through a cartomancy reading in late october. to be honest, i was really shocked and i thought the fight was going to be between me and three other girls 🤷 thank god it wasn’t!!

lmao, anyways now we’re just waiting on nile’s end to happen. and yeah, personally i have been getting discouraged and worried about it. i have thought “maybe this isn’t going to happen” but then why the hell would he get this far? why would only half of what we’re promised happened? it doesn’t make any sense does it?

it’s like a teacher saying “we’re going to learn unit one and then unit two” why would they back up on their word to teach unit two? it doesn’t make sense. if a human being will keep their word (going from 1 -> 2) why the hell would the universe do anything less? if not more!

and let’s be real here, sometimes teachers take longer for a unit than expected. but they’ll still move onto the next unit! i mean it’s required for them to teach and for us to learn.

overall, after all that rambling and talking about school compared to the universe, what i’m saying is the end goal is promised. if you’re told something will happen from the universe, or from some sort of guide/medium, you better believe it. even if it’s just a teeny tiny bit of belief and hope, that’s all you need.

Matthew 17:20-21 — “For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”

big things can happen with little faith. i’m an example of this. i’m a child of an alcoholic father and a neurodivergent mother — who has had a few mental breakdowns with me and my sister. the odds are stacked against me. i’ve been doxxed, i’ve been threatened, im supposed to be a drug addicted and drop out right now. but here i am — im still in school, ive vowed not to drink (become an alcoholic), i live safely in my home. i have a lot going for me right now.

anyways, all im saying is that all you need is a little bit of faith, a little bit of hope to reach your goal. you will get to your goal, and listen to your intuition. you’re going to get there

damn this was more of a ramble than a motivation post 💀 my bad

17 notes · View notes

crystalsamethyst · 2 months

Text

D!N!D! Jumping straight into battle with some weretigers!

I fricken forgot the dangers of fighting were-creatures because the last time I fought them, I was one and didn't have to worry about being transformed! But there are definitely worse things to be than a weretiger. I love them.

In related news: I got bit. I resisted! But I got pounced on and bit. That's my move as a preferred feline shapeshifter come on! Rude.

Oooooohohoooo looks like Hershel may be a cleric-paladin multiclass??

---

Hooooooooly shit I critted against this one guy and got max fuckin damage woooooah!

Our bardlock is wrestling with another weretiger and resisted! Harper is happy but my husband is kind of like awww. Totally get it, I'm the same way lol.

It was a rough start but also we're like hahah heck nah, and there's one left, and we're almost laughing at them. They tried. They tried. But come on, we're allll magical. And my druid got the killing blow on all of them... I shared the starbursts. Teamwork makes the dream work!

---

Hershel had been mostly put in this group to make canonical comments like 'emotional daamage!' and we love him for it.

Ohhhh my god he's a cleric of Mystra again lmao my friend just loves that. Our wizard asked him to help train her with a staff since she's out of shape.

Hershel: I mean, sure, but I'm pretty sure your druid friend over there knows her way around a staff too

My druid: *Twirling staff with fingers and then drops it* fuck.

Hershel: ... On the other hand, maybe I could be helpful here.

Druid: I feel dumber in this world, at least you guys have it easy trying to get your strength back-

Hershel: Oh, I can help with that! You can probably study a little bit with these: *pulls out manga series Fullmetal Alchemist* They literally talk about all the chemical compositions of everything they're doing in here!

Druid: ... Alright. Gimme.

---

Aw mannnnn we're getting close to the undead, the plant surroundings are dying, and the necromancy magic is surrounding the magicules again even worse than before.

I momentarily forgot part of my character's backstory is that the cult she's chasing/is chasing her that when they make a kill, they forcibly warp their body into partial animals. FMA with the dog and little girl thing... My druid is crying while Hershel is busy badly cooking dinner, and we're choking on it.

Wizard: How much salt did you add?

Hershel: ... I'm out of salt.

Companions tell Hershel why my druid is having a bit of a mental breakdown, he instead offers My Hero Academia and I just say to the DM: Nomus?

Fuck xD

He laid out all the popular shonen manga series for my druid to pick from and we're questioning how much room he's got in his bag.

Also my druid just dropped she used to do a bit of gang informant stuff and everyone at the table was like wait what?!?!

Urchins do what they gotta do, come on.

---

Oh shit stuff is happening through the night. Our wizard's life force is being drained in her sleep. There is a skeletal figure over her and somehow slipped past a really good perception check from our bardlock.

We are surrounded by zombies oh my god. There are 6 around us. At least we've got a cleric that can turn the undead. 3 failed the save so at least we're thinning the fight for now. The fact one was able to drain from the max hp of our wizard...

Oh it was a wight. Ohkay. No thanks. At least the two of them were turned... Probably a fight for later but we're all up now.

As a side note, our DM has been rolling so many nat 20s tonight for both enemies and Hershel so it's just. Wow.

We had to restart the long rest and then continued on. The area we get to eventually lacks sunlight, there's like a cloud covering, and all the plants of the forest are dead.

Our wizard got a point of exhaustion from not being able to handle breathing in such horrible air and we're getting war flashbacks.

We finally made it to the ocean... But it's dark and gloomy and horrible. Even though the sea wasn't her favourite part of her adventures, my druid does miss the oceans of her own world.

The wizard, who is a pirate, is even more devastated since she was really looking forward to seeing the ocean. There is a sus looking mountain range to the north and a huge zombie hoard to the south... And that's where we leave off for the evening!

#am plays dnd #dnd #start and end

0 notes

mangooolassi · 2 years

Text

Adulting and Changes - womanhood sucks

I can't believe that the last time I've posted something here was last year 2022 and those was my film pictures and not an actual post where I'm vomiting my feelings out on a social page in hopes some stranger would have a profound interest in my very boring life who am I kidding ? If I actually wanted someone to be interested I would put more effort in being more active but I am not. Also are blogs still it ?

To start off, I just want to talk about 2022. It was such a weird year for me. I actually started the year with a bang and a lot of laughter and happiness full with motivation after the whole shebang of me having to drop out of school because of financially issues (one day surely Grace you will fulfil this dream too but anyways) Biggest mistake I did was going back to a job I knew wouldn't be fulfilling my personal goal as an adult but I was scared to venture out of my comfort zone, I stuck with the bare minimum and then I think became a drag to everyone around me because I was that friend, that partner who kept complaining about her problems but doing nothing to fix it. Many months passed and I was still engulf, still loathing in self pity from the ones around me. Truly I felt so awful as a person now looking bad at the situation and how I could go around better at handling it. But it serves it purpose cause I've learned thing or two, which is STOP being a whiny ass bitch cause other people are facing things in their lives too and more importantly is to just go for it. So in November I packed up 20kgs of my clothes and whatever I had on my name and moved to another city for a job that I've no experience in but said yes too. I didn't even know where I'd be staying after the first week of crashing at my friend's place but I eventually found a place after and thank god I found a place and lucky for me its close to work. I ate great in December and the weight is still stuck with me even as I'm typing this post in mid February. Now, I'm just another 25 year old girl in a big city trying to navigate life and it honestly isn't as easy as I made it sound on Instagram but its alright. Adjusting isn't a problem but navigating especially in a field where I've never stepped foot before with so many big guns it feels overwhelming at times, and I do still allow myself to have a mental breakdown here and there (it works for me so) You know I actually miss 16-18 year old Grace cause she could have handle this better. She was stronger, she was filled with so much passion and drive those young blooded bullshit they talk about on TV ? Yeah, she had that and she knew what she wanted to do. But damn, 25 year old Grace isn't sure what is her purpose anymore. She's just going with the flow and so much inshallah . I guess the transition from girlhood to womanhood is realising that the world can crush you in so many ways but you just have to move forward and keep going even when the path looks foggy. Learning to trust the process and also internally having monologues when times get hard cause you are your only cheerleader. X

0 notes

raubacam · 2 years

Text

"This is fucking Bangkok"

Picture this, you’re going on hr 37 of travel… with only three 2 hr naps under your belt.. a terrible headache from the screeching children (I must reiterate… 18 hrs of screeching) and approx. 40 lbs of luggage on your back (and front). Now you have to navigate a train system in a foreign country and find your hotel.. without killing your husband, in rush hour. This is how we arrived to Bangkok. Tensions were high. My “window of tolerance,” as Liz and Rach put it, is non existent. I don’t even feel alive. We basically run through BKK airport to get as far away from those children as possible.. who are still screaming btw. We follow the signs for the train, as I read this is the cheapest and fastest way to travel to the city center during rush hour in Bangkok. We go to purchase tickets - won’t accept Visa, only cash, so we go to the exchange counter, pull out enough to get on the train, purchase our train tokens (after several trial and errors) and hop on the train. We tried exchanging some of the USD that we brought but apparently they don't accept any dollar bill that has even the slightest flaw, or "looks old." **So pro travel tip: Don't bring American paper money, they most likely won't accept it. Just pay the atm fee and pull out a large quantity at once to make it worth it!** After about 15 mins and a partial mental breakdown, we finally have enough cash to catch the next two trains.

We made it.. barely.. but we made it. All we need is a bed. Three trains and several mistakes later, we are about a 5 min walk from the hotel. Our backs and asses are KILLING us. I can’t even talk. Scott is trying to keep the mood up but I am out. We walk through the streets like zombies with tuk tuks and taxis and so many motorbikes zooming and whirling around us like crazy. We turn a corner and see a line of Thailand’s infamous street food. There is SO MANY THINGS to look at. We are seeing some crazy shit but can barely absorb it. One thing that was definitely shocking was there was a man, laying right in the middle of the sidewalk, on his stomach, with what looked like a VERY broken leg, with a cup in his hand. Everyone was JUST BARELY not stepping on him, like he didn’t even exist. It was bizarre, a little scary, and shocking, to say the least. Then we see it. Our hotel. Thank GOD. We check in, head over to the elevator, make it to the 11th floor, and finally enter our room. We did it. We're in Bangkok. Our bags drop to the ground and I immediately take off my clothes and get in the bed. I tell Scott to turn out the lights. I can't take anything else. I put a pillow over my head, and there is silence. For the first time since we left our house. SILENCE. I was so soo grateful. The original plan was to go to Chinatown for dinner. That was never going to happen. I don’t think I even moved once I got under the covers. I couldn’t even lift my head. I don’t know when I fell asleep but I fell asleep HARD. Seven hours later we wake up, and the honeymoon can begin.

We slowly come out of the death sleep hole we were in and talk about how crazy all of that was. It still doesn’t feel real. It was about 2 a.m. when we woke up, so not much to do, but we decide to go for a walk. Talk about a massive difference. The streets were empty, quiet and peaceful. The shops are all closed up and all of the stalls are empty. We want a snack so we go in the 7/11 (open 24 hrs) and grab some 'grilled seafood w/ spicy sauce' and 'Japanese curry' flavored chips (why not??). We walk around and see some other fancy hotels I had my eye on before deciding on ours, walk to the river to look at the water, and see some stray dogs and kitties. We are actually absorbing Bangkok now, and starting to get the hang of it. We head back to the hotel and Scott naps while I do some logistical things, like check in for our next flights, fill our entry requirement paperwork, etc. (I know…. We are going on ANOTHER flight, to another country… in two days. Lol.... I’m an insane person.) Then we start our first day of exploring!! But first… breakfast.

It didn’t seem like street food was going to be an option for breakfast, so we opted for the hotel buffet breakfast and DAMN were we impressed. The view was incredible, the food was fantastic and the GUAVA juice… MMMMMM. I cannot talk highly enough about it. Fresh fruit, coffee, tea, salad, omelettes, bacon & sausage, pad Thai, fish & eggplant, miso soup, steamed buns, croquettes. All as we watch the sun rise over the city. So yummy, perfect way to start the day.

Today we are visiting the most famous temples in Bangkok. All the blogs said to get there early to beat the heat and crowds, so we head out around 6:45. There is a certain dress code you must follow to be allowed entry. No shoulders or knees showing. I wear a long dress with a wrap for my shoulders, Scott wears shorts and a t shirt, with the plan to buy some elephant pants before we go in. The taxi was cheap and fast to get there. We hop out and start walking to the Grand Palace. We have realized that there isn’t many places to buy pants for him, and we still haven’t taken out more cash, which is needed for entry (and to buy pants.) There is one lady on the corner selling some, ask how much, grab some cash from the ATM, and go buy them from her. Now we need to find a place for him to change into them. The city is just waking up, so there isn’t anything open. I tell him to find an alleyway and I’ll use my wrap to block anyone from seeing him. He changes real quick, and we are ready to go. We walk into the entrance and immediately get stopped because apparently my wrap isn’t good enough and I need to buy something that goes all the way around my shoulders. Great. I’m already sweating and starting to chafe. I’m watching the crowds dump in, exactly what I was trying to avoid and now we have to turn around and go buy more shit. We leave and see a shop has juts opened up right across the street. Perfect. I find pants and a top I like well enough, and take them back in to the Grand Palace entryway where there are changing rooms. 😂 Woulda been nice to know that ahead of time. (The one good thing about trying to find an alleyway is we found the boat taxi entry point, so we knew exactly where to go when we were done exploring the palace.) Ok.. we are changed, we have money, we are finally ready to go in!

Even from the outside this place is beautiful. It’s architecture is like nothing else I’ve ever seen. Even more beautiful in person. There is so many intricate details and tiny little stones and glimmering mosaic walls and GOLD. Incredible. So many pictures were taken as every single thing was so picture worthy. We walk through the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, the Grand Palace, and so many little beautiful buildings, just taking it all in. If you’re in Bangkok, this is an absolute must. It has been there for thousands of years and it is meticulously clean. We accidentally missed Wat Pho with the Reclining Buddha, but we will be back, so no worries.

Next temple is Wat Arun, so we grab a boat taxi and head up the river.

We don’t really have anything else specifically on the list of things to do today, but we still have a lot of time and energy, so Scott suggested we go to ICONSIAM, a shopping Mecca across the river and back towards our hotel. I wanted to buy a new purse and new sandals, so I say ok, and off we went to grab another boat taxi!

In total on this day we got on 3 boat taxis. All three entirely different experiences. I don’t understand the boat taxi system at all, but we kept asking random Thai’s if we are doing the right thing and they lead us in the right direction every time, so it’s all working out. The first boat taxi was the Hop on/Hop off boat, it was the most expensive, but we didn’t know that or care honestly, it was so cheap anyway at $3. The second was more authentic (pictured) with a Thai lady yelling at everyone for different things, that one was 50 cents. The third was a large, air conditioned boat, and was free! So we hop on the boat and to ICONSIAM we go! From the outside, ICONSIAM looking stunning and massive. Then you go inside. Stunning and massive is the understatement of the century. It’s like a whole new Avatar like world in there. I will never be able to truly describe it in words, but I will do my best to convey the amazingness in pictures!

SO. MUCH. FOOD. So much food. So many places to go, EIGHT FLOORS of shopping!!! Everything from H&M to Gucci and like a million other places I’ve never seen. Art galleries, grocery stores, fitness centers, a movie theater, literally every type of entertainment. We barely scratched the surface. You could spend several days in there and not see it all. We spend most of our time on the bottom floor, where you enter into the foodcourt. But it’s not just a food court. It’s like everything around you is art. The texture on the walls, the light fixtures, the benches.. everything was SO cool. There was a sign overhead that said “Sook Sook” and it looked cool, so we went in. Holy fuck. This place. It’s wild. The smells, the stall after stall of incredible looking food. We didn’t know where to start. We just walk around in absolute amazement. We got our eye on a few stalls that are popping and look fantastic, saved for later. Overstimulation is the theme here, and I love it. There was a Thai section, the largest, a Japanese section, and a Chinese section. We walked around for at least 2 hours, loving every moment.

We are in the mood to celebrate our first day exploring with a drink, so we sit down at a bar and meet the sweetest, coolest guy from Myanmar, named Min. He moved two Thailand 5 months ago and is working to save money to come to the states. His English was great so we were able to talk a lot and became friends. He was our first friend in Thailand. ☺️ We followed each other on Instagram and said our goodbyes, we may hit him up when we get back to Bangkok at the end of our trip. As we left the bar he even joked to Scott and said "My hair cut's cooler than yours!" 😂😂 Too funny... Once we were finally hungry we decided on some Kaya toast, crab and bacon fried rice, some crispy chicken and some Chang beers.

Easily one of the best meals of my life. The flavors are so unique, everything tastes different, in the best way. Scott and I are BUZZZING. This place was one of the coolest places we've ever seen in our whole lives. We can't wait to go back, if we get to on this trip, who knows. But if we ever come back to Thailand we will absolutely come here again.

**DISCLAIMER** There is weed smoking ahead, so stop reading now if you're not a fan 😂

Now we're full and happy, and the day has been long, so we decide to go back to the hotel. We want to stop at a dispensary and grab a small amount of weed, just enough for a night, because we leave for Singapore tomorrow morning and weed is super illegal there, so we can't take it with us. We google nearby dispensaries to our hotel and found one called "No Man's Land." Has some decent reviews, its super close by and we head there. We see the sign for it on the street, but don't see an entrance and are very confused. Scott finds this random door, not really near the sign, and we go in, fingers crossed. This could be the right place, or it could also be a place for transgender surgeries. 😂 Turns out both were correct. Bottom floor was for trans surgeries and upper floors were No Man's Land. We head up and are warmly greeted by some young, super chill Thai guys. There's a couple selections for weed on the counter, but this place is so much more than that. It's like a hole in the wall absolute GEM of a place, that seemed like a place only locals know about. It has a bar, some food options, (including brunch!), a stage for live music, and a rooftop outdoor patio. The music vibes are immaculate, the art is super trippy and right up our alley. We found the spot. We thought we were going to buy a joint and go home, but this turned out to be such a special place. We get a gram, he gives us all the things we need to smoke it and he tells us to go to the rooftop and enjoy ourselves. We happily oblige. The stair way up is super creepy and tiny, with water in weird spots, but it was all in good fun. The view is super cool, the breeze helps so much with the hot, humid air that you feel inevitably on the street. One of the guys working comes up and starts setting up all of the lounge chairs and tables. We shoot the shit with him for a bit. He thinks it's super cool that Scott is a chef. We both partake and are feeling realllll fine. 😎 "This is fucking Bangkok," Scott says as we soak up the vibes. We enjoyed their company so much we also started following the head guy on insta.. his name is Nine and it turns out he is a Muay Thai fighter and a rapper. Very cool dude. He takes our picture for the wall of fame and we are forever grateful to them for this core memory. We are relaxed, happy as clams, and are ready to go to bed.

Back to the hotel we go, the sunset was stunning, we were feeling good, just laughing and enjoying every moment. We were frolicking naked around our room and heard some fireworks outside - anyone who knows Scott knows he is obsessed so we run out to watch them. A few moments later we realize our neighbors were outside watching them as well, most likely seeing our fully naked bodies 😂 We run back inside giggling.. oh well haha. This was a really fantastic day. Our bodies are tired. Our hearts are full. Time to sleep, as we head to Singapore tomorrow! Thank you Bangkok, thank you No Man's Land, thank you Centre Point, we'll never forget it. ❤️

0 notes

prettybillycore · 2 years

Text

You Are Not a Burden, Billy Hargrove || Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Universe: Stranger Things

Summary: After moving in with you, Billy has good days and bad days with his mental health. You were there for him in one of his darkest moments.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Neil Hargrove is his own warning, Billy's Anger issues, Mental Health Breakdown (Billy's), swearing, Police

Read it on ao3 (or on this Tumblr post below the cut)

Part of your deal with Billy was that he had to work on bettering himself. You told him from the beginning of your blossoming relationship– be nice to me and the kids and Steve or our relationship can’t continue. I know you’re still learning and I can see that you are trying, but respect is one of the most important things in relationships like this.

Billy had never been in a relationship; this fact surprised you at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. It broke your heart a little inside knowing that he had never been shown gentle kindness and love. You were willing to give him the safe space he needed to heal and he knew that too. You said as long as he was trying to get better you would be there to support him and that was more than anyone else had ever done for him. I’ll do my best, Doll. I promise. I know I’ll have bad days, but I’m gonna do everything I can to get the anger out in better ways.

You brushed your hand across his cheek and smiled up at him. He had never seen someone look at him with so much pure adoration. It made him feel fragile. All I ask for is that you’re trying. I love you, Billy Hargrove.

He set his hands lightly on your hips. I love you too.

| < ♥️ > |

Billy had more good days than bad this summer and you were so thankful for that. You loved him dearly– he was protective of you, always brought you flowers on date night, and wouldn’t let you open or close your own car door. He essentially worshipped the ground you walked on most days and you felt so loved. The party and your friends were all starting to accept that Billy was treating you like a god(dess). They didn’t always love that he was hanging around, but they respected your relationship. It was enough for you to feel comfortable. Billy was making progress on being generally nicer to the soon-to-be freshman and he treated Steve was respect every time he saw him. It made your heart swell.

There were still bad times, though. Mostly now they consisted of panic more than rage. Billy was staying at your house all the time and Max stayed in your guestroom whenever she felt like she needed to get out of the Hargrove-Mayfield household. Billy would receive angry and threatening calls from his father sometimes. He would scream into the phone until you gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he hung up the phone. You two would curl up on his bed and you would let him sob into the crook of your neck. He held onto you like nothing you had ever experienced before; like if he let you go, you would evaporate. You would hum simple songs and play with his hair until you both fell asleep.

This bad day wasn’t like those bad days, unfortunately. You walked into the house after dropping the Party off at the Wheelers’ place, and Billy was fuming. Much like Steve’s parents, your parents weren’t around much. Billy was just alone, just pacing around and mumbling to himself. You could see how angry he was in his body language. You closed the door behind you, “Billy, Love, are you alright?”

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t stop pacing. “Do I look fucking alright to you, y/n?”

You kept your temperament even and you were so glad that Max was off at the mall with the Party right now. “What happened?”

“Fucking Neil! Ugly bastard called the cops on me.”

“What? Did the cops come here?” You had only been gone for like an hour; you picked up all the members of the Party and drove them to Starcourt.

“Just Hopper, thank fuck. He said he recognized your name from when Neil called the station. He came to check on everything and told me he would handle Neil, but fuck! Why can’t he just leave me alone? I’m completely fucking moved out at this point. I live here with you and I’m not a fuckin’ burden to him anymore,” he seethed. His teeth were clenched together so tightly you were worried they would break.

“I’m so sorry, Billy. You handled it well; let’s get you a drink and sit down for a minute. I’m worried about you,” you said. You started to reach your hand out toward him, but he pulled back and glared at you.

“Don’t treat me like a child. I know I’m a burden to you too. You don’t have to pretend to care about me.”

You were dumbfounded. “What? Billy, you are not a burden to me. You never have been and never will be. Your brain is just saying that because you’re raging. You’ll be okay, I promise you’re safe here.” It was the first time those words had ever come out of his mouth. You couldn’t bare the thought of him considering himself a burden to you. “Honey Love, you are the most important person in my life. Your mental health doesn’t make you a burden, it makes you human.”

Normally, when you said things like that, he would go soft. He would fall into your arms and you will hold him until he was ready to talk about what was going on in his brain. Again, today was different than usual. He had really gotten into his own head while you were gone. “Stop lying to me, you fucking bitch! You don’t care about me! No one–”

“God I hate you sometimes. I hate your brain sometimes, fuck!” You cut him off with your cursing. His near-constant pacing stopped as you put your hands over your eyes. “I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could take your trauma and lock it away and throw the key into the fucking ocean, but I can’t! I don’t know how to help you when your rage transfers to me. I know you aren’t really mad at me, but fuck it hurts…” Your hands were becoming damp with your own tears.

“Baby…” Billy mumbled. His raging monster inside had been shut up with those sentences. The guilt was crawling up his spine and made him feel like he was going to be sick. He wanted to talk to you about feeling burdensome, but not like this. This broke everything in him. His one promise to himself was to not hurt you; he never wanted to hurt you. You told him that was unrealistic because he’s human and we are all capable of hurting people, but he still told himself not to hurt you. He couldn’t believe that he had let those words come out of his mouth. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’m pissed at Neil, not you. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You pulled your hands away from your face and he was standing still a little ways away from you. He looked absolutely horrified and you were sure that he was thinking all kinds of self-hating thoughts right now. You wiped your eyes and walked over to him with open arms. He hugged you back quickly and tightly. “I know, Love. You’re still going through things with Neil and there are still going to be bad days.”

“I never want to make you upset though… Fuck…” His face was hidden in your hair. You could feel him trembling. “I don’t want you to leave me, but I understand if you want to.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Absolutely fucking not. Even when things happen and we fight or you slip up, I know you’re trying to get through your pain. You’re starting to heal and I’m not going anywhere. You are not a burden, Billy Hargrove; not to me or anyone else. You are a human who’s got some growing to do... And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did either.”

“It's alright... I love you… so fuckin’ much,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Billy.”

977 notes · View notes

sciencelings-writes · 3 years

Text

To Kill What’s Already Dead

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, Wild has some fucked up thoughts about death, also there’s a lot of stuff about Twilights possible death.

AO3 Link

Set after sunset part 7.

Wild didn’t know how long he had gone without blinking. He must’ve looked like he was having another memory with how still and blank he was. Once he had calmed down after his… outburst, he had been practically dragged to an empty room at the inn, being forbidden from seeing Twilight. Who, as far as anyone could tell, was dying. And Wild was banned from seeing him. All of his burning rage had long since died out, leaving only emptiness and ash.

Wild knew death, probably more than any of the others. Dear Hylia, He had experienced it himself! He was eternally surrounded by it, a ghost had been the first thing he had spoken to after he woke up in his own tomb. He had lost almost everyone to death. Because he failed them really.

Now he was stuck in this room, in his mind, completely helpless. Again someone he cared about was dying, again there was nothing he could do about it, but this time it wasn’t hazy from being in the depths of his memories, this time it was raw and real and Wild knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it.

Not for the first time he wished for it to be him in Twilights place, he would gladly die if his brother would be allowed to live. With everyone mad at him he doubted they would mourn him much anyway. He was supposed to be long dead in any case. He was probably nothing more than a reanimated puppet whose purpose had already been achieved. Dead, dead, dead, he was already dead, maybe that’s why it couldn’t be him. His life didn’t matter if he didn’t have one to begin with. At least if he was the one dying, there wouldn’t be many people left to miss him. He wasn’t even afraid of dying anymore, one could only die so many times before it lost its edge.

Unfortunately, there were no gods to bargain with to switch places with Twilight. No amount of Wild’s blood would save him, no more shadowy monsters he could fight that would magically heal his mentor. He was useless and hopeless and completely empty.

Outside of his swarming thoughts, he could distantly hear voices. The voices of the people who weren’t broken pathetic excuses for heroes like he was. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on their words, they were probably only reminding him of the low chances of Twilights survival or scolding him for disobeying orders, or for confronting Four. He couldn’t hear it. It didn’t matter anyway, it wasn’t as if their words could bring him lower than he already was.

By the time his mind was too tired to continue its downward spiral, it was late into the night. The other bed that he was not sitting on was occupied. It wasn’t hard to tell who was in it, only lit by a dying candle was the one person Wild dreaded seeing the most. Time was sitting up at the headboard of the bed writing in a notebook. It was too dim to see his face, which Wild was thankful for. He felt like a single disappointed look from the old man would be enough to break the dam that was keeping Wild from succumbing to wet ugly sobbing. Now that he wasn’t trapped in his head he could feel the sore burning agony behind his eyes and in his throat from holding back tears. Who’s idea was it for sadness to hurt physically, wasn’t the mental anguish enough?

For the first time in likely several hours, Wild moved. His neck was stiff from staring straight forward for so long, so he dropped it, forcing him to look at his feet. He also refused to look at Time, who he could tell noticed the sudden movement even before he said anything.

“You back Champion?” He asked softly.

“I never left,” Wild replied hoarsely. Goddesses, he hated how pathetic he sounded. He hated how much it hurt to simply talk. Time was closer to Twilight than he was and he wasn’t having a breakdown. “Did you get stuck babysitting me?”

“The others thought you could be dealing with a memory, Twilight’s told me how to deal with them just in case one comes back while he’s not around.” Time explained, “Would you prefer it if I left you alone?”

“Yeah…” Wild hesitated to explain but was too tired and out of it to fully filter his words. “But I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” It could’ve been the sudden seriousness in his tone or the intense apathy, but Time’s blood went cold. This wasn’t a distraught kid who didn’t want to be alone, it was a warning. Almost blatantly admitting that he shouldn’t be left alone for his own safety.

Time was already barely keeping himself together, and even then, it was just for his boys. If he broke, everyone would be able to fully realize how serious the situation was. He had been doing well so far but he quickly realized that his silence about what was going on wasn’t helping. He was just allowing the others to suffer alone.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of a muffled sob, Wild had gone from clawing at the blanket on the bed as the only thing he could reach to covering his mouth with one of his hands in a pitiful attempt to trap the unstoppable agony that rose in his throat. He was too tired and too fractured to hold it back now, it would almost be a relief if it didn’t happen right in front of Time who definitely had it worse. He and Twi were actually related, it likely felt like losing a son and he was forced to watch over Wild like a naughty child rather than stay at his successor's bedside.

Without noticing a single footstep, Wild was slightly startled by how close Time suddenly was. The man had resorted to kneeling in front of the boy in the effort to catch Wild’s distracted downturned gaze. From beneath the curtain of ruffled blonde bangs, wide red-rimmed eyes met a single soft empathetic blue one.

“I don’t think either of us deserves to be alone right now,” Time rumbled as he gently guided Wild’s trembling hand away from his face. “It’ll only hurt more if you hold it in.” The man advised once he realized Wild was still trying his hardest to keep from dissolving into tears.

Surprising both of them, Time went for the hug first. With Wild slouching so much on the bed and Time on his knees, they were approximately the same height when normally Time would be towering above the other hero.

His embrace wasn’t weak, it was firm and tight and safe. Which was probably what crumbled the rest of Wild’s resolve. He practically went limp in the Old Man’s arms, rigid muscles finally relaxing after being held in the same place for so long. The champion's arms automatically wrapping underneath Time’s, subtly gripping the fabric of his tunic like a lifeline. His head fell into place leaning heavily on Time’s shoulder, and without anything left to hold them back, painful sobs erupted, shaking his entire body.

Wild's grip automatically tightened when he noticed Time’s trembling breaths. Neither of them said anything, what was there to say? Neither of them would believe any reassurances, they didn’t know that everything would be fine, in fact, it was very unlikely. There weren’t words that would make them feel better, or if there were, they couldn’t think of them.

So instead they were quiet, only being able to offer each other physical assurances, tightly holding each other as tears spilled. One of Time’s hands subconsciously started combing through Wild’s hair, it was still tangled from being in fights and running through the woods and he obviously hadn’t been in the right mind to brush it like he normally would before turning in.

Eventually, Wild pulled back, wiping his damp cheeks with his wrist. Although he had heard Time’s shaking breaths and quiet sniffles, he was still a little shocked to see the tears in the old man’s eye. Though curiously, only from his normal eye.

Time wasn’t one to often be emotionally vulnerable, constantly convincing himself that he had to be the strong one out of all of them. Seeing him cry was a little surprising sure, but in some sick way, it was a comfort. Perhaps a reassurance that Wild wasn’t overreacting and that his grief wasn’t exclusive to him. That even the strongest men can break and cry but that didn’t make them any less. Maybe Time needed the hug just as much as he did, even if he was better at hiding his anguish, he was still feeling it and he felt safe enough around Wild to let go of the facade for just a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Wild croaked weakly, he couldn’t convey all that he was sorry for with how vigorously his throat ached but he hoped Time would understand anyway. He was sorry that Time had to go through this, that he had to deal with Wild and his erratic reactions. He was sorry that he couldn’t help and that he was stealing his attention away from the person who really needed it, he was sorry that he wasn’t better.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Time replied with a fierce amount of surety, even though it wasn’t completely true. He had made wrong choices but Time could understand why he would make every single one of them. He couldn’t blame him for his rage or his carelessness. He couldn’t blame him for being afraid or having some of his deepest trauma triggered. In many ways, Wild was still a child who had been through some of the worst things someone can go through. He couldn’t always be expected to be calm and levelheaded.

Time knew that the kid had been trying, he still struggled with working as a team and that led to hiding injuries and distraction on the battlefield but he had been getting better. They adjusted to his strengths and weaknesses, just like they did for the rest of them. He was trying and it was hard but Time would never blame him for not adjusting quickly enough.

For now, all they could do was wait. Just in case Hyrule’s spell would start to work or someone could find out a better solution. They would wait for one of the others to come in to tell them if Twilight was awake or if it was too late. Maybe then they would let Wild see him if they were certain his last words were approaching. Maybe they would let him see his mentor when he was already gone, having nothing left but a corpse in the place of the person he cared about most.

But it was more than likely that he would perish in the night, in his sleep. It had been so long since Wild had seen him and while the desperate need to just catch a glimpse was still persisting, the deeply rooted hopelessness kept him frozen in place. He would just be stopped again and he wasn’t strong enough to fight it this time.

He was just so fucking close now, but all Wild could see was the last moment he had seen Twilight, in his wolf form, limp on the ground covered in his own blood. He knew that the image would haunt him for the rest of his life even if everything miraculously turned out fine. The only thing that would be worse would be in the morning when he would finally be led into Twilights room to be met with someone too still and pale to be his mentor.

For now, all they would do was hope, even if there wasn’t much of it to hold onto. Side by side, the two closest people to Twilight stayed in a silent vigil, hoping that staying awake would prevent any hesitation if one of the others came in with urgent news.

From the slightly ajar window came a gentle breeze in an unknown town at an unknown time, making the dying candle flicker and go out. Leaving them only with the eerie light of the full moon to keep them from succumbing to complete darkness. It was funny, neither the Hero of Time nor the Hero of the Wild liked the moon that much, and yet that was all they were left with.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fic #linked universe wild #linked universe time #lu wild #lu fic #lu time

94 notes · View notes

deborahmessingsfingers · 3 years

Text

I’m Tired

pairings: bo burnham x reader

word count: 3283

tags/warnings: explicit language, mental health issues, mental breakdown, angst, hurt/comfort, sad Bo, gender neutral reader

also on ao3

Bo had been off for a while. He’d only been working on the special for a few months when you noticed the first sign. He started to talk a little less, which at first glance, you weren’t too worried about. He often became quite reclusive and introspective when it came to his writing process, channeling all of his energy into planning and drafting.

It’d happened before, when he was in the early stages of producing Eighth Grade. Conversation grew thin and infrequent, all of his time and energy was spent planning, writing and ruminating, though as the process progressed from writing to filming, his sparkle returned and you could see the life and excitement dancing around in his eyes once more.

Since he started Inside, you were lucky if you got to see his eyes at all.

At first, he’d come bouncing back from the guest house each evening, excited to discuss his latest ideas and concepts, eager to receive your feedback and the fresh perspective you gave.

This routine was quick to disappear.

Every day, he’d come back from the guest house a little later and a little more deflated until your interactions were limited to a kiss good morning and a kiss good night.

Eventually he stopped coming to bed all together. You never went into the guest house so as not to disturb his flow, but you assumed he’d taken to sleeping on the fold-out couch. You’d hoped he was sleeping at least, for the sake of his well being.

You missed him. God, you missed him, more than you ever thought possible. Despite the fact that he was a mere few feet away from your front door, you felt more distanced from him now than the times he’d been on the other side of the country, touring, performing, and seeing the world.

He’d always been like that. Limitations in physical proximity could only wedge such a divide between you two, it was always the inner demons and anxieties that caused the rifts.

You attempted to rip the bandaid off after a month of the same, silent routine. You anxiously approached the guest house with the best olive branch you had available; a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee. Your free hand knocked on the door of the guest house tentatively, not wanting to disturb him in the middle of something.

No answer.

You knocked again, still quietly, but with more intention.

No answer.

You shakily grasped the doorknob and twisted, your mind flicking through every dreadful outcome. Opening the door, you see one outcome you didn’t quite anticipate.

The room was dark and humid, the space overwhelmingly cluttered with miscellaneous cords, lights and stands.

And in the middle of all of the chaos, he was just… sitting there.

Hunched over the keyboard in the corner of the room. He just sat and stared at the keys, his white-knuckled fists resting on his thighs. You immediately noticed just how long his hair had grown, long enough to cover his eyes, the rest of his face hidden in it’s shadows. He appeared completely immersed in his own world, clearly missing all your attempts at grabbing his attention.

“Bosey,” you said, your tone just short of a whisper, head cocking to the side to see him a little better from the doorway. Bo inhaled sharply as his head turned to face you, seemingly pulled from his thoughts. His brow was quick to furrow.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, not unlike how it sounded first thing in the morning. It reminded you so much of all the mornings spent waking up next to him, often in his arms, spending hours upon hours talking until noon about anything and everything, at least until you were cast out of your cloud of bliss by your worldly responsibilities. God, how you missed those moments.

“I thought I’d just come check on you. Didn’t think you’d eaten anything in a while so,” you paused, setting the peace offering down with a quiet clink, “thought I’d make myself useful.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and his thanks was expressed simply by mirroring your unconvincing grin. He tutted, running his hands through his hair, as he often did when nervous. You could tell he was exhausted; the bags under his eyes were so dark and he could hardly make conversation with the one person who knew him best.

The air was thick with tension, the awkwardness quickly made you both uncomfortable and your head was reeling with anxieties on how you wound up feeling like this; like an unwelcome stranger in your own guest house.

“You been sleeping okay?” you asked, hand gently gesturing to the fold-out couch behind him as you lent against the doorframe. You felt slight comfort at the sight of tangled bedsheets, though the relief was quickly expunged as you lost count of the wires and equipment covering the mattress.

“Y-Yeah, i’ve been... It’s fine,” he sighed, his large hand wrapping around his jaw to scratch the sides of his beard, “I’m just a little busy right now honey, I-I gotta get back to it.”

His hands slapped his thighs matter-of-factly before he stood up, shuffling towards the back of the room. He began to fiddle with equipment, pointlessly messing around with a tangle of cords he’d picked up from the kitchen bench.

Your eyes instinctively closed shut as you felt a wave of dizziness hit you. His avoidant nature and impatience all but confirmed it; he was not doing well.

You felt incredibly and painfully torn. You knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, but if there was one thing you were both unsure of, it was how to handle situations like these. Pressing any harder would only prove to make him snap, though leaving him to his own devices would only further encourage his bad habits.

You could ruminate on this dilemma for the rest of your life to no avail, but an instinct deep within you pushed you to query just a little more, to try and reach out as gently as you could.

“Have you thought about, um…” you faltered, scrambling to find the right words, “taking a break soon, honey? Even just a little one? I know how important this is to you, but I know in the past you’ve burnt yourself out, and maybe even if you just came inside for a shower, just to reset and maybe just-”

“I said I’m fine.” he interjected harshly. You were caught off guard, now feeling sheepish and bewildered, truly feeling like an intruder. You kicked yourself inwardly for pushing too far, you knew this would happen. You opened your mouth to try and apologise, to take back the supposed infringement, but his voice came through when your own refused.

“I’m about to start filming. Could you…” he asked, hoping you’d get the message and leave without having to ask you explicitly. You were too befuddled to push any further, already regretting the attempts you’d made.

“Of course, sorry honey.” you replied, shaking your head. Your lips pressed together in a tight, forced smile until you left and shut the door behind you. The slam was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You shook your head to try and clear it, trying with all your might to move on from the incident and figure out a plan moving forward.

He said he was fine.

You knew he wasn’t.

There were a few times you thought it was all going to be okay. Shortly after the guest house dispute, you were surprised by the sound of the back door being opened. He greeted you with a tired smile and you quickly snaked your arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, telling yourself you’d never let go again.

He sat with you in the kitchen, peacefully watching you cook. You could tell he missed your company just by the soft smile on his face, the first one you had seen in a long time, and you beamed at the very sight of him sitting contently with Bruce on his lap. There wasn’t much conversation over dinner, though compared to earlier, the awkwardness was nonexistent. Until dessert.

You wanted to pull out all the stops, utilising every second of this rare quality time to enjoy his company and to show him how much difference a few hours of luxury and relaxation can make.

You left him lounging on the couch to make his favourite dessert - sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream. You were so relieved you could scream at just the simple thought of him zoning out in front of the television with the dogs, truly letting himself just be, for the first time in a long time.

When the pudding was ready however, your cheesy grin quickly dropped as you realised you were presenting dessert to an empty room. The dogs were quick to start barking, running back and forth between yourself and the back door, and you nearly dropped the plates at the sound of that heinous shed door closing once more. You couldn’t believe it. Just when you thought things were starting to look up, he waltzes straight back towards the problem itself.

Not thinking for a second, you set the plates down and marched over to the guest house. You didn’t bother to knock this time, instead assertively opening the door to see him already settled with a keyboard on his lap. His head flew up at the sound of your entrance, mouth flying open with silent questions. You stopped for a moment - both of you did, a little surprised at your bold entry. Coming to your senses, your gait quickly softened, hands clasped loosely in front of you so as not to alarm him.

“I-I made dessert. Your favourite.” you explained meekly, watching him from the doorway once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, filling you with a sense of dread. You knew what would happen if you pushed it, but here you were. You were so desperate at this point, missing the man you fell in love with and frightened of the shell he’d become. Even more so than that, you were frightened for him.

Bo had always had trouble accepting help, and the idea of him asking for it was inconceivable. He’d opened up to you over time about a lot of things, but every time it got a little more serious he’d close up like a clam, refusing entry into his world until the situation simply dissipated.

“I can’t, I’m busy.” he deadpanned, fiddling around with the microphone stand. You could feel the wave of disappointment wash over you once more. For a few hours, you really thought things had taken a turn for the better, for a few hours your hopes had been lifted, all for it to just come crumbling back down tenfold. The adrenaline quickly hijacked your brain, talking on your subconscious’ behalf before you had a moment to strategize.

“You’re always busy.” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t that loud, but you knew he could hear it shake, months of anxiety and concern finally bubbling over. Your fear only grew when you saw a glint of rage flicker behind his eyes.

“It’s my job.” he rebutted with a swift, disapproving shake of his head.

“But you always push yourself too far, Bo. I know you’re just so passionate about what you do, but you always end up so burnt out and I-”

“Stop saying that!” he bellowed, finally placing the keyboard aside and standing up to face you. His height has never intimidated you, but the way in which he towered over you made you feel so small and powerless.

“You keep saying that when I'm not, it’s like you want me to be, like you want me to stop working.” he explained sternly. You felt your words get trapped in your throat, hyper-aware and petrified of digging this hole any deeper.

“I don’t want you to be burnt out, Robert,” you explained, using his full name in hopes it would better emphasize your sincerity, “I just care about you. I’ve seen this happen to you before, when you just go and go and go until you can’t anymore, you stop eating, you stop sleeping and you never talk to anyone about it, you just bottle it all up and let it eat you alive. And I mean, I miss you. God, I miss you so much, but more importantly than that right now, I’m worried about you.” you blurted.

You could feel your body tremble, your veins flooding simultaneously with relief and pure fear after finally airing the grievances you’ve fostered for months.

You watched as he processed your words. You might have just been projecting, but for a moment, you swore you saw his face soften, a part of him wanting so desperately to give in, to surrender and let you help. Lamentably, he huffed out a tired, contemptuous laugh.

After all you said, he simply turned his back to you, picked up his keyboard and continued on like you hadn’t said a peep. For a moment, you stood there, truly gobsmacked, but the piercing screeches of his synthesizer were enough to usher you out the door and back to the house, not stopping until you were in bed and crying into your pillow.

Your mind wouldn’t let up, over-processing every word he spoke, every breath he took, looking for illusory warning signs that this was it. All the years you’d spent together, all the hard work and love and dedication you’d poured into the relationship, all of the sacrifices, all of the rewards, it was all now null and void because you’d pushed him too far.

At some point, your mind had crossed over into the world of paranoia, manipulating every once-pleasant memory of the evening to fit your new narrative, that this was the end.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the slightly-damp pillow was enough to indicate that it happened pretty fast. Your brain soon caught up with your body, picking up the very noise that woke you up - the shower.

You rose from your bed with a furrowed brow and made your way down the stairs as quietly as you could, as if your presence would scare him off like a fly. You made it face to face with the door of the guest bathroom, the shower was undoubtedly on, and from the excited state of the dogs, Bo was undoubtedly in there. You gently rested your hand against the door, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, you backed up and took refuge on the couch, allowing him space to wash away the day and hopefully clear his mind.

Ten minutes passed, you sat patiently, silently on the couch as you waited for the shower to stop.

Another ten minutes later and you hadn’t moved from your spot, save a few adjustments for Bruce who had curled up under your arm.

It had been half an hour since you sat and your nerves were multiplying by the second. You were using every fibre of your being to hold yourself back from going in there, no longer trusting that gut instinct that, once again, reared it’s ugly head. You could hear it’s faint screams echoing in the back of your head;

‘Push’.

The impulse grew more enticing with every passing second until it had been forty five minutes since you awoke and you could no longer wait.

Pacing up to the door, the hesitation that stopped you from going in last time revealed itself once more. The hesitation was quickly silenced, however, by the sound of muffled sobs.

Your heart was in your throat, your stomach twisting and churning itself into impossible knots in response to the muted lamentations. Your body turned to jelly as you dubiously opened the door, wincing at the creak of it’s hinges. You could feel your heart drop to the floor and shatter at the sight before you.

Bo was curled up in the corner of the bathtub, arms around his knees as his hair completely concealed his face. He was seemingly unbothered by the harsh, hot stream of water hammering against his head, and you could only just make out the shaking of his shoulders through the steam.

Without a moment of hesitation, you stepped out of your shoes, well beyond caring about the clothes you were wearing, and stepped into the bathtub fully clothed to sit behind him. Your legs splayed out on either side of him, and your arms quickly wrapped around to sit atop his own.

You could truly feel him crying now as he leant into your touch, too exhausted to fight any more. You could feel his laboured breathing, you could hear his wordless whispers as he tried and failed to speak. So you spoke for him.

“I’ve got you, Bo.” you said quietly, beginning to rock him back and forth and softly kissing his head. Finally, he managed to squeak out a few words,

“I’m so fucking tired.”

It was punctuated with a sob, and you had to muster every ounce of strength you had not to cry yourself. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d seen him stressed, you’d seen him deflated, you’d seen him tired, overworked and depressed. But never quite this broken.

“I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired, please” he continued, repeating his mantra over and over again,

‘I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired’

You couldn’t imagine how much he must have to say, and neither of you knew quite where to start. But after all these years, he’d finally hit the breaking point.

You continued to slowly rock him back and forth, gently kissing his hair as the both of you sat under the scalding hot stream of the shower.

He tensed up for a moment in your grip, his demons seemingly coming back to remind him he isn’t worthy of help. A vague suggestion of ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ was muttered under his breath, but this time when you pushed back, he let you. Your hold on him endured, soothingly rubbing small circles on his arm with your thumb until he settled once more.

“I’ve got you.” you reassured him once more, hoping to god that this time you got through. And as you felt his shoulders start to shake once more, you think you just might have.

“Why am I doing this?” Bo asked, voice raised to compete against the strong pelt of the shower. You stayed silent and let him continue.

“What’s the fucking point? I can’t even tell what I'm doing anymore. It’s all I can think about, all I can do is just work on it but I hate everything I come up with, it just makes me so fucking miserable. And sometimes I just wanna stop, for the night, and get into bed with you, and the girls, and just forget about everything for a few hours but I can’t switch my fucking brain off and I’m just stuck in this fucking endless feedback loop in my head and I’m just so tired” he cried, gasping in a loud breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, pulling him a little closer to you, “you don’t have to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Bo didn’t know how to say it, he didn’t know where he’d begin, but he was so thankful that you persevered, that you were still there with him, that you were right there holding him through this.

#bo burnham x reader #bo burnham oneshot #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x gender neutral reader #z’s writing

225 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses

#yes i wrote timari parenting dami #for no reason #while in the middle of a completely different fic #but listen #... its cute??#yeah no i have no excuse #i just wanted to write cute things ;-;#into the unkown #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug

164 notes · View notes

yesihyperfixate · 2 years

Text

Ok so this is a WIP and it’s not the greatest it’ll get better I promise, but here’s just a little preview of it

————————————

Brad found himself running into the coders office space ( they were all at lunch thank god) with Troy not too far behind him.

“Abed wait!” Brad winced at troys mention of his old name, along with the pleading tone that laced the words. Brad turned around quickly facing him

“Don’t call me that” at that troy stumbled the harsh words and the coldness of his friends voice had frozen him to the spot. They stood there for a moment both breathing heavily at the awkward silence that had taken over, troy opened his mouth to break it but the soft spoken words stopped him

“ six years” he looked at abed brad to see the man looking at the ground avoiding eye contact, “you were gone for six years” his voice broke a little at the end but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Troy spoke up a look of understanding on his face “ I know buddy” he took a step forward and tried to place a hand on Abeds Brads shoulder but He quickly jerked away and finally looked up to face Troy “no you don’t”

Troys heart dropped at the sight of his friend, his face was blotchy and there were tears running down his face but the worst part were his eyes, the dark brown orbs once filled with innocence and wonder now seemed dull and sad. With hatred looming in them. Hatred at him.

“You don’t understand shit!” Brad knew he was reveal too much he knew his facade was breaking, the walls he carefully built up to create brad were falling and the broken man that was once abed was starting to peak through “you left me! You did the one thing you promised you wouldn’t do! I called you! I texted you! Fuck I even emailed you, anyway I could reach you I tried, but you didn’t pick up” he was starting to pace, he could feel his face get wet with tears but he couldn’t stop “then I finally get over you because I realized you weren’t coming back. And I was alone. Again.”

Troy tried to step up “you weren’t alone! You had the study group! They stayed with you didn’t they?!” A little anger had seeped into his voice but desperation had overtaken it, was this really how he made his best friend feel?

“NO I didn’t” brad yelled “they left too, after you left everyone started spinning of- leaving. They started leaving and they couldn’t handle me without you, one by one they stopped talking to me, stoped answering my calls and I was completely alone!” Troy was shocked. The group stopped talking to him? He didn’t have time to process because Abed Brad had started speaking again.

“so I moved here I changed my name, got a job here and changed myself so this wouldn’t happen to me again” brad chose to leave out all the mental breakdowns that lead up to the decision, he was already revealing too much “then you fucking show up again! And expect me to forgive you?! You didn’t even try to look for me! This was just a happy accident wasn’t it?!” He was getting hysterical, he knew it but god damnit he’s been hold this shot in for years

Troy tried think of something to say, but he couldn’t. Abed Brad was right. He didn’t look.

“I was doing fine without you. I don’t need you now” and with that brad turned to leave before a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks

“You’re lying”

Brad turned around to look at troy “what?”. Troy put on a brave face “you’re lying, you’re not fine and I know it, so tell me the truth”

Brad scoffed “and why should I talk to you about anything”

Troy could feel his eyes misting up “because friends don’t lie” his voice cracked from him holding back his tears. He could see it in Abeds Brads eyes. He wasn’t fine, something had happened to him. And troy wanted to fix it. He wanted his inspector. He needed abed to be ok.

Brads face turned to stone, his mask carefully placed back on he looked troy in the eyes. His gaze cold an calculating, lacking of any warmth, innocence. Everything that made abed abed was gone.

“You’re not my friend, you stopped being anything to me the moment you stepped on that fucking boat”

And with that troys heart broke.

————————————

Alright that’s a little teaser for ya, let me know what you guys think, I’m very open to constructive criticism. I just want this to be good ya know?

#brad bakshi #mythic quest #danny pudi #nbc community #i tried my best

34 notes · View notes

cleverhyuck · 3 years

Text

warnings: controller fucking, mutual masturbation, praise kink, jaemin has questions

wc : around 1k

“i’m sorry you did WHAT with my WHAT?!” roommate!yangyang asks. it all started at a small gathering you had with friends. one thing led to the other and you found yourself playing spin the bottle/truth or dare.

landing on you, jaemin asks the question. “what’s the oddest thing you’ve masterbated to?” and everyone around the circle sends their “oohs” and “ahhs”. you laugh with them until they calm down. “well..” you begin to say. “well what?” yangyang asks, sitting next you you after grabbing a beer.

“a ps4 controller.”

and the crowd goes wild.

roars and screams erupt from the living room sending everyone shocked. yangyang looks at you with a questionable look but takes a sip from his beer to stop any oncoming thoughts.

jaemin tells everyone to quiet down and then asks “whose controller??” to which you shake your head and say “spin the fucking bottle na.”

and so here you are, sitting in yangyang’s bed while he has a mental breakdown over you shoving his controller up yourself. he paces around the room and thinks. he then stops and points a finger at you. you tilt your head to the side in question.

“can i see you masterbate with my controller? now it’s time for your jaw to drop. “WHAT?!” you shout at him. you grab a pillow, ready to throw or smack but he grabs your arms and leans real close to you.

you notice his eyelashes, nice lips, strict gaze and gulp. “you’ve done it before, now you just have an audience of one. how hard can it be?” he questions. you drop the pillow and question if this is really worth it. you decide to fuck it and stick your hand out, palm facing up.

“whyd you do that?” he asks. “give me the goddamn controller. and lock the door too.” you say sternly. he takes a second to breathe it in. “now before i change my mind yang.” and he grins moving toward the door. “ay ay captain.”

you take off your shorts while he gets the controller (not forgetting to clean it with a baby wipe * ty person in the notes*) “for safety purposes” he smiles at you. you take it and grin, “thanks”

you’re now in your underwear before taking that off and laying comfortably on his bed. you always liked his queen size mattress. you drop the controller to your side before taking two fingers and rubbing around your slit, collecting your wetness.

from your peripheral, yangyang is already starting to palm is semi-hard cock. you grin at his hormones and soon dip a finger in. you let a tight breath before adding another with a whimper.

trying to put on a show, you spread your legs even wider and let out porn star moans. you then take the controller, looking up at him. right when he meets your eyes, you lick up one of the vibration monitors (the handles). his eyes go wide and his cock perks up.

rubbing the edge around yourself you moan out his name. yangyang’s name. then you push it in. “mmhms” and “ahhs” fill the room while you push it in and out of you, slowly. you take your other hand and start rubbing your clit, seeming to send him over.

he takes his sweats off and openly pumps himself to which you smile inside. your back arches once you start moving faster. he watches how your insides clench around his controller. how you take it so perfectly, your wetness making the controller handle shine.

you never stop moaning his name. and he starts to whimper yours. soon you feel yourself getting closer. “i’m close, daddy-mmhm” you say, vigorously pushing the handle in and out of you. he pumps faster and says, “let’s cum together princess, god you look so hot.”

your legs want to squeeze shut but it takes all your willpower to hold them down. he notices your “ahs” are getting louder and louder and right when you scream his name, you both cum.

him on his shirt and lower stomach, while you clench and spill over his ps4 controller.

he walks over and slowly pulls it out, watching the string of your juices connect to it. once you hear it’s on the floor, your legs try and shut together but are blocked by yangyang’s arms.

“how about we try the real deal, princess?”

inspired by 🧩 !!

#cleverhyuck #yangyang #yangyang smut #nct #wayv

146 notes · View notes

milkacchan · 4 years

Text

Request for anon: Can I have Present mic, Aizawa, and all might where they learn their young student is fatherless? Like... their father walked out/went to prison when they were young. I'm sorry if this is time consuming, but I can't stop sobbing over my father.

I'm the situation baby but remember it wasn't your fault

I changed it up a little bit with Mics- I hope you don't mind

Present Mic:

• from the getgo something was wrong

• The moment you walked into class he could tell

• You looked like shit

• Dark bags under your eyes, hair messily brushed, just to get it out if your face, and your eyes were a light red.

• You didn't look particularly happy to be there either

• something turns in his stomach, a gut feeling that something really had went down

• And he hated seeing his students upset

• but he was relatively close to you to begin with, his felt different

• He felt like he had to do something

• Everyone settled into their seats as the bull rung but his eyes remained on you

• You honestly didn't pay attention during the lesson

• He could tell as much

• class finishes and the bell rings but you sit still, and it's not until most of the students have trickled out of the room do you start packing up

• He walks over and kneels in front of the desk "You okay there? You don't look so good," he looks concerned and his heart drops when he sees your lip start to quiver

• It takes you 0.27 seconds to break and you're frantically wiping your eyes as sobs wrack your body

• He's got his arms wrapped around you in seconds and you're leaning into his shoulder.

• He isn't sure exactly how long you're crying for but eventually you calm down enough to get out a coherent sentence

• "My-My dad was arrested Friday night. He won't tell me why- he won't let anyone else tell me why and I don't know what else to do," you cry, "I miss him so much and its only been a few days- I don't- I don't have anyone else, Mr. Hazashi,"

• And you're crying again.

• He has you take the rest of the day off, in fact he takes the day with you

• He calls in a sub (you don't know what strings he had to pull for that but you don't ask, at this point you don't care) and you two dip

• He takes you to get food, real food, that'll make you feel better

• He knows that'll help a little

• and after that he takes you to get something sweet- that tends to help mood and blood pressure and anxiety

• So he does his best with you

• He nutures you the best way he knows how

• if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING this man has you covered

• He does his best to step up in any way he can

• first off he extends his assignment deadlines and cancels two tests. Who needs them anyway.

• And you eat lunch in his classroom because he can well tell you don't want to talk to anyone else right now

• He closes it off (seemingly) so in reality its just you and him

• He'll probably tell Aizawa too but on the downlow (just so he knows)

• When holidays roll around, the dorms close.

• In this case- he let's you stay with him. He has an extra bedroom. He doesn't want you to stay in an empty house.

• You also get his phone number (which you gladly use) for anything really

• Bored? He'll deliver some shitty puns.

• Confused about homework? Text him.

• having a mental breakdown? He's got you covered.

• You got memes? Please for the love of God send them to him.

• The dynamic eventually shifts to a VERY father daughter relationship.

• He knows he'll never replace your dad. He understands that wholeheartedly, but he wants you to have someone

• He actually gets a letter from your dad, thanking him for taking care of you

• but he really doesn't mind

Aizawa:

• He had a feeling that there was something going on at home. Or rather, a lack of something.

• He's dealt with it in the oast- with himself and with past students and current ones

• Shinsou

• I mean, aside from that fact whenever parents were mentioned, you'd either stiffen up or wrinkle your nose

• You didn't really like the subject of parents

• There was an essay prompt about parents (nothing too personal) nd you ended up writing it on the extinction of dinosaurs and why God fucked up instead

"It'd be absolutely stellar to see huge lizards roaming the earth and occasionally stepping on people, you know? Jurassic park was onto something."

• Man's couldn't even fail you on it because it was written v well

• Anyway, he doesn't pry too much. He just silently figures it out by process if elimination and pattern.

• He doesn't really care too much

• In the sense if it doesn't define you and he doesn't help you because he pities you

• he helps you because he seems potential

• He takes you under his wing with shinsou

• Yall spend a whole summer training

• And that's when it all came out

• It was an accident really.

• Shinsou was tired, exhausted really

• and when people get tired- that tired- sometimes they spout random shot they wouldn't usually say

• and thats what he did

• he went on about his home life

• and if he could, you could too right?? You could trust them.

• "My dad walked out when I was a kid. Little, like 3. I have a few pictures of him holding me, but I guess it wasn't enough. I don't have any desire to meet him. Not anymore. But it left me feeling like I did something wrong? I guess? Which I suppose is why I train. Because then I feel strong. Which is a good difference from how it usually feels."

• He knew it.

• He called it.

• He was right again.

• He reassures you that you are good enough, strong enough, and his decision to leave had nothing to do with you

• and when he saw you give him a soft smile, he warmed.

• I mean really, it only goes up from there

• he'll deny it, or grumble under his breath, but he seems you two as his own

• Like these aren't my kids but they are my kids

• When dorms close on holiday yall get to stay because that's where he lives too

• Like if you chose too

• he's not gonna force you to stay but if you don't want to go home, you don't have too

• He has that power

• He will buy you food

• all you gotta do is ask

• and he'll roll his eyes and grumble something he doesn't really mean, just secretly happy that you feel comfortable enough around him to ask for something

• lmao family group chat

S: 'Hey Mr. Aizawa I found this cat. Hold on lemme send a pic'

A: 'Dont need a pic. Bring him home'

Y: 'What if he's ugly??'

A: 'gremlin. Bring him home.'

Y: 'Hey I saw this tweet that said 'kids be like watch this and do a half roundhouse spin kick clap and waste my fucking time' and it make me think of you.'

S: @ mr. Aizawa when he has to watch deku do sumn

Y: Lmaoooo like when he threw the baseball

S: LMAOO

A: Me watching you too try to figure out how to beat me in training

Y: Yikes bro

S: That was a rough one

• Does he regret giving you and shinsou his number??

• Maybe

• Not really

• Lmao super secret lunch movie days

• Every week on wendesday yall watch a movie. Usually it takes 2 or 3 days to watch the movie since lunch is only 70 minutes

• @ you accidently calling him dad one day and shinsou snickering but it stuck

• dadzawa lmaoo

Allmight:

• Man's has 2 underlings.

• You and Deku.

• Picked you up when he started teaching at UA

• Ion know let's say one day you popped off bc he said some dumb shit and you were like no sir that's clearly wrong

• schooled him in his own damn subject

• the other kids were like 😳

• what the fuck

• Anyway

• He see's you have potential

• And though he's not the best teacher, you seem to respond better to the way HE was taught

• So tbh its easier to teach you

• 'okay, now I want you to beat the shot out if that wall,'

'Okay lmao bet'

• Midoriya is like, hey mayhaps we should analyze the situation

• N ur like noe

• You just don't give a fuck

• about anything really

• other than moving up the ranks

• But even then- its not a super super big deal, you're just gonna do your best but you aren't gonna stress

• However he noticed a pattern w you (even before Midoryia brought it up to him)

• You don't let anyone in

• Midoryia knows a bit more than the other students but that's really only because he's always with you

• a good majority of the week he's w you

• but its not really a deep connection

• you don't rely on either of them

• You do your best to do things on your own.

• He knows midoryias life story

• he knows why he acts the way he does

• but he doesn't know why you do

• he has a gut feeling it could be the same as midoryia

• I mean he already had one kid who's dad dipped

• he'll surely be able to figure out you too??

• So he makes himself a promise that he'll figure it out and he'll become someone you trust

• And he does just that

• When you tell him about your nightmare of a family history he's like mm, makes sense

• but he's happy that you trust him!!!

• He's a BIG suckered for movie nights

• he's got popcorn, snacks, candy, chocolate, soda- he's prepared

• list of movies lined out all ready

• I lowkey feel like he'd be into lord of the rings or fast n furious

• fast n furious at LEAST

• He's really into American action movies

• and he has no problem sharing those movies with you

• he doesn't have a whole ton of money, like he's not rich, but if you or midoryia need something he's definitely there to get it for you

• even if ur like fam no you don't need too

• he'll buy yell food a lot

• a l o t

• and cards

• when you and midoryia get him a father's day card he thinks he's gonna cry

• You guys also have a group chat

• 'da faemilee'

• Y: "Hey dad do you have milk?"

A: "???? Do I have milk????"

Y: "ya I'm looking in your fridge n ion see any???"

A: "How'd you even get in????"

Y: "Izuku."

I: "lmaoo"

Y: Izuku you dumb bitch I left for ONE day

Y: And you got into a fight with Bakugou

I: He wanted to throw hands. I just did what you would do.

A: He's got you there

A: What do you guys want for dinner

I: Sushi

Y: Chicfila

Y: Izu square up

I: K

Y: Izu is fighting kacchow again

A: Beat his ass young midoriya

Y: Lmaoooooo

#hizashi x daughter reader #hizashi x reader #aizawa x hizashi #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #present mic #present mic x reader #aizawa x child reader #aizawa x daughter reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #all might #all might x reader #mha toshinori

2K notes · View notes