#god i hate insomnia i hate knowing there's nothing i can do about it i hate knowing it makes going to work dangerous

[july-19th-club]

guess who's ~awake and hating it~ can someone please come to my house and smash me in the head with a comically large mallet knocking me unconscious instantly

[laudthingcat]

JJK// Your top lifts up while you sleep pt.2

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo

Tags: nsfw content, somnophilia, cnc

Part 2 of the series!! I really loved how the first part turned out so i want to continue it 💕 You can read part one here ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Note: it’s been over a year since i posted this and i am growing tired of all the comments from blank blogs and blogs that belong to minors attacking me for making a fictional character fuck another fictional character in their sleep in a fictional story. Grow the fuck up and learn not to fucking read a story if you dont like the tags?? To everyone else who knows how to differentiate fiction from reality, i love you pookies <3

Masterlist

Gojo: After another week away from you because of his work, he was finally excited to get back home to you. It was past midnight when he entered the apartment so he tried his best to be as quiet as possible since he was absolutely sure you were already asleep, and he was right. Entering the bedroom he saw you peacefully sleeping while hugging his pillow. He smiled to himself knowing that you missed him as much as he missed you. Making his way towards the bed, he could see you better, easily noticing this time that your top was almost completely rolled up and that you were not wearing any shorts at all. His face lit up since he really missed all of you. Taking a seat on the bed next to you, he leaned in and started leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulder, slowly moving lower and lower, until he reached your thighs. God, he loved your thighs. Everything about them was perfect. Giving them a soft bite, he chuckled the moment you squeezed your thighs together. It was always a sign that you were getting horny and he knew it.

He had to check it so he slightly moved your panties aside, just enough for his hand to make its way inside of them. Using his middle finger he caressed your pussy before inserting it and a second one inside of you. Just as he thought, you were already wet and ready for a good pounding. So not wasting any more time, he got rid of his clothes and placed himself on top of you. After stroking his already erect cock a couple times, he lined it under your pussy. Grabbing a hold of your hip, he started moving. In between soft whimpers, he quietly laughed because he knew you’d get angry at him if you were awake since you absolutely hate being teased. You took him by surprise when you squeezed your thighs together once more, making him almost cum on the spot. Embarrassed, he cursed the fact that he was so excited, so he quickened the pace, knowing for sure that he won’t last for much longer. Not much longer after, he entered your pussy and pushing as far in as possible, he came inside of you.

Leaning in once more, he placed a tired kiss on your forehead. "A little warm surprise for tomorrow morning"

Choso: Waking up in the middle of the night isn't something uncommon for Choso. He's been struggling with insomnia since he can remember. What he'd usually do is stay in bed and watch you sleep while waiting for the morning to come. This particular night tho it was a bit different. When he woke up you were no longer in his arms. You were sleeping on your back, with your legs conveniently opened and your top no longer covering your abdomen and chest. The sight made him hard on the spot and there was nothing he wanted to do more than touch you. He hesitated at first, thinking that it wouldn't be ok for him to do so, even tho, as he clearly remembers, you did talk about this before, and you ensured him that you are absolutely fine and actually looking forward to that happening at some point. Making up his mind, he changed his position, now sitting next to you instead of laying down.

Being sure that you want that as much as he does, he went straight for your chest. Still very careful with his touches so that you wouldn't wake up, he cupped one of your tits and started squeezing and playing with it while devouring the other one with his mouth, all while rubbing his knee against your clothed pussy. Your tits were so soft, he could never get enough of them. But there was something he was even more excited about. The thought of filling you up with his cum from coming inside of you as many times and he wants without you even knowing was getting him on a whole different level of excitement.

He did just as he said. He came inside of you until you were full. He made you come multiple times too. He even managed to fall back asleep, too exhausted to actually stay awake as usual. When you woke up you were very excited to tell him about the dream you had, to which he paid full attention. He's found something else to do from now on when his insomnia kicks in.

Note: I haven't wrote anything in over a year so i dunno if i still have it but oh well what never stopped was me being horny so i hope you enjoy it ��🏻

[coff33andb00ks]

3am - LN & OP

lando norris x oscar piastri

summary: look at the stars, look how they shine for you warnings: angst, pining, not proofread songs: yellow and fix you by coldplay coldplay is landoscar coded wordcount: 1.3k a.n.: writing this in the hopes landoscar get out of my brain… shout out to the four moots that encouraged this. also not tagging anyone because it's 2:30am and I'm exhausted.

He can't sleep. It isn't unusual, his insomnia tend to rear its ugly head when he least needs it. He only wishes he could prepare in advance, that it was a cycle that he could predict and plan for, like his sisters with their apps that are set to warn the entire family when their PMS is approaching.

Dragging a hand over his face, he glares at the ceiling. Great. Now he's thinking about his sisters' cycles.

There's nothing for it but to just get up. No use fighting it and tossing and turning, that only leads to—

A husky moan. Teeth sinking into the lip he'd just sucked. Jaw carved from the gods' finest marble clenching.

"Lan…"

Cinnamon and mint.

Dreams that will never come true.

He presses his hands to his face, hunching over on the side of the bed. The hotel room is too small, too warm, too—

Lonely.

"Fuck this," he hisses, on his feet and snatching up his hoodie.

Torture. He willingly submits to it, knowing it will only leave him feeling hollow and alone when he returns to his room. But it's all he has. All he can cling to on a night like this, when the voices and thoughts won't stop, when the butterflies and bees are swarming inside him.

When the doubts and the worries rise over the shoddy façade of outgoing and joyful, there's only one thing that can quell them.

One person.

He's pinned his hopes all on someone who can never fully know the truth. The one person who understands him best, who knows him better than he does himself, whose name he proudly wears on his wrist.

The last person he wants to lie to, but shields the truth from.

The truth. The tiny, glowing ember of good sentiment that has somehow been crafted among the ruins of his fractured existence. He holds it closer to his heart than his very soul, fearful of it dying if revealed to a cruel world. Or, worse, an uninterested recipient.

He stares at the door. It's – he pulls his cracked phone from his pocket – almost three in the morning. Horrible friend, waking him this time of night.

A muffled sound. A footstep or a chair sliding under a table. His rounded shoulders straighten, his lowered head lifts.

He knocks. Just twice, like he always does when it's just him. If someone was with him it would be incessant. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock— fucking hell, what?!

The door opens and he breathes in shampoo and lingering steam.

The universe hates him sometimes.

"Lando?"

One day, the sound of his name in that voice won't make his heart do that weird flippy thing. One day, it won't make his lip quirk up into a half smile. One day, he won't sigh.

Not today. Not tonight.

"Osco."

Osco. Osc. Os. Oscar looks at him with that confused pinched brow that immediately relaxes.

What's it like, to really be seen?

Heartbreaking.

Oscar steps back without a word and weak legs carry him into the mirror of his room. The bed is messy and it makes his stomach clench.

Dreams.

"Sor—"

He quiets with a look. He ducks his head, picking at his fingers. He wants to apologize again, for apologizing to begin with, and he wants to apologize once more for always needing to apologize, for being such a fucking mess that he is standing here in Oscar's hotel room at 3am instead of sleeping peacefully in his own.

"Tell me about it?"

Not what's wrong. Not why are you here. Never leave me alone.

Always tell me about it. Share your worries, lean on me, I'm your friend and your teammate, you're not doing this alone.

"I don't…" Wanna talk about it. Just let me stand here. Bask in the calming glow of your star until I can pretend to be a human again. "I don't… Why are you up?"

Oscar shrugs. His smile is faint. "Had a feeling."

"Oh." Oh. Because he hears the unspoken words, feels the unspoken sentiment.

Had a feeling you'd need me, so I waited up for you.

He wants to cry because no one else cares enough to wait up for him.

"Oh."

His face looks haunted, his eyes like they may produce tears at any second.

Heart in his throat, he sits on the bed. He knows better than to prod, knows all too well that the golden man standing by his suitcase will snarl and bite when provoked. So he waits.

Watching.

He's tense, his deceptively lean frame giving off waves of stress and worry and—

"Can't sleep," Lando whispers.

Exhaustion.

He nods, even though Lando isn't looking at him. Except he is, he can see his reflection in the mirror. Stormy green eyes are watching him, as though he holds all the answers to the world's problems.

Or, if not the world's, Lando's.

Same thing.

"I'm worried about tomorrow." A humorless, breathy exhalation that passes for a chuckle. "Today."

He's been worried since Austria. His insecurities are rising after simmering since Miami when the world's stage witnessed his greatness.

If I don't keep winning how can I prove I'm worthy?

If I don't glow for the world how can anyone love me?

"I hate Silverstone," he breathes.

Not the PR lie, about how special his home track is, the memories he has of it as a child, how the crowd gives him an indescribable energy. He hates it for the expectation. It's his home race so he has to perform well. His car has to be the fastest, the strats have to be impeccable, because he can't let the people that believe in him down.

Worse, he can't let himself down, as he's been doing for two months.

Oscar's heart splinters. No one will ever be as hard on Lando as Lando. No one takes on the blame for an entire team, an entire grid, like the man turning and sinking onto the bed.

Not the golden man the fans and media see, but the shy boy Oscar knows better than he knows himself. The perfectly imperfect extroverted introvert with a heart as pure as the twinkling stars in a night sky. The favorite child still terrified of disappointing his parents, the favorite brother that cries when has to miss an important milestone.

There's a space between them and before the billions of reasons he shouldn't come to mind Oscar closes it. The stars are there, twinkling still, shielded behind a cloud. Their arms touch and he wishes he could exhale and send the clouds away. He can't though, so he sits and waits, umbrella at the ready, an open ear and a sturdy shoulder.

It's a small percentage of what he's willing to give.

It's all that's wanted.

"Tell me I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His shoulder's round and he's staring at his hands. Picking at his fingers. Knee bouncing.

Pure frenetic energy.

Oscar watches the knee and the fingers. Sees his own hand reach out.

Cool fingers, warm hand. Pale over gold.

Chins lift, heads swivel.

Mint eyes. Worry and heartbreak spill over and his own name is a whispered prayer.

Osco.

"You're not stupid," he says. The floodgate opens. "You don't have to believe that. I'll believe it for you until you're ready. I'll believe in you when you can't. I'll stay up 'til 3 so you can rest. And I'll provide the words you pretend to not remember."

That you started doing to make me feel needed. It worked. And now I know you do need me but more importantly I need you.

Golden fingers spread, slotting between his.

The clouds thin and the stars shine brighter than ever.

[hotchswifey]

insomnia - dean winchester x reader

(this is the first thing i have written in about 2 years 😭😭😭😭

it kinda sucks but i like it

warnings: insomnia (i am aware that any sleep disorders cannot be cured by another person and i do not mean to take away from people who suffer from these conditions, this was just a cute little idea i had), a little angst?? (just about how much deans life sucks.), fluff, cuddling, overthinking, thinking badly about yourself (ur thoughts can be mean but ur lovely and brilliant <3333)

also i have a hc that dean goes really silent when he's tired, except he can't go silent around most people bc then they start to think something is really wrong™, but actually he is just too exhausted to try to talk (self-projection? maybe.)

word count: 2373)

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You rubbed at your tired eyes, walking into the bunker’s kitchen, your eyes adjusting to the light that definitely shouldn’t have been on - considering it was 3.32am. Your eyes fell on Dean, who was hunched over the island counter eating cereal. ‘Should’ve figured it was him who couldn’t sleep, too’, you thought. As bad as your sleeping habits had gotten, you always marvelled at Dean’s capability to be a functioning human with so little sleep.

He had noticed you as soon as you stepped foot in the room, but he did nothing to acknowledge your presence. Figures. You reasoned that the poor guy’s probably slept twice in the last week. You didn’t address him either; whether it was sleep deprivation or knowing he wanted to be left alone, you didn’t know. You just went to grab yourself a bowl of cereal. 

It was quiet (except for the sound of pouring milk and Dean’s chewing), but it was comfortable. It gave you some peace knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep - something so simple yet far out of your reach. You didn’t know when it happened (your inability to sleep), but ‘it comes with the life,’ you supposed. You grabbed your bowl and left Dean to ponder on his own.

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

You rubbed at your tired eyes again. The same routine - lay in bed for hours, eventually get up because you’re hungry, head to the kitchen and find the light on. Again and again, this happened - Dean always sat there. It had become a funny thing kind of (in an unhealthy, oh-my-god-i-just-want-to-sleep-but-i-guess-it’s-nice-to-see-dean type of way). 

He didn’t acknowledge you, you didn’t acknowledge him, you poured your cereal to the sound of Dean chewing and went back to your room to eat. You wished he would invite you to sit down, even if you both ate silently. It was nice not to be alone at night, overthinking every gruesome and terrible thing to come. But you knew it was Dean, and he definitely needed some peace, quiet, and alone time (and this was the most alone time he willingly gave himself). 

You ate back in your room, not sleeping for yet another night.

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You and the boys had just got back from a vamp hunt. Sore, tired and, frankly, pissed off. The hunt was fine, you all supposed. But, god, it takes a lot to completely decapitate somebody. Your energy was all drained, and the only thing you wanted to do was sleep - but could you? No. Of course, you couldn’t. Why? A thunderstorm? Fireworks? Gunshots? No. Because your brain hates you. God forbid you get an ounce of sleep.

Your routine ensued again, more sluggish this time and certainly more pissed. All you wanted to do was behead a few vamps and sleep it off, but no. Of course not. Try to sleep, fail to sleep, get up and haul your ass to the kitchen, pour cereal, eat cereal. How did your life become so dull?

The lights are on again. You think, ‘There is no way in all hell Dean is awake. That boy put himself through more physical torment you could ever even dream of (not that you’d want to)’. You weren’t too shocked when, even after today, you saw Dean sitting there.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean Winchester (saviour of the world, the perfect killer) was still awake, even after killing eight vamps single-handedly (but from how he was sitting, you were sure he’d hurt his back on the hunt). Dean. Again. In the kitchen. Not sleeping.

You didn’t know why, but it pissed you off more than it should have. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked, walking past the island to the cereal cupboard. No response. Of course. You rolled your eyes, fishing out the box of lucky charms you reserved for awful days. You caught Dean’s eye as you turned around to get a bowl. 

He might’ve been the strongest man you knew physically and mentally, but he looked so tired. More tired than you had ever seen him. More tired now than after ending the apocalypse or returning from purgatory. How could he look so exhausted after one vamp hunt? You thought about it for a second, only now realising how many times you had gotten up and he had been in the kitchen. Every time you got up, he was in the kitchen. What are the chances that when you can’t sleep, neither can he? Or was it more likely he wasn’t sleeping at all?

If you were being truthful, the strongest man you knew looked like hell. He looked like a little boy who couldn’t sleep because he had a nightmare and wanted his mom. Except he wasn’t a little boy, he was living through the nightmare and had no one to turn to when things got bad.

You had felt pity for Dean before (how could you not, the man has quite literally been to hell and back), but this was a different kind of pity. This was the kind of pity that only came when things were terrible. When you realise this was how it had to be, how it would be, forever. The kind of pity that came when you realised you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt useless looking at him in his dressing gown, hunched over the counter.

He was the world’s saviour, and you had to assume that came with consequences - like not sleeping.

You didn’t say anything. Your anger had dissipated into sadness - sadness for being unable to help your friend. There was nothing you could say or do. There was nothing at all. You stared at him, and he stared back, and that was it. You went about your night - pour the cereal, return to your room, and not sleep.

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Another day. Another hunt. Another sleepless night.

You considered buying the strongest sleeping pills and calling it a day. But you knew you couldn’t. Dean would haul your ass out for another hunt tomorrow, and he’d be pissed if you were fast asleep.

‘He should take some sleeping pills’, you thought. Maybe he would actually be remotely okay then.

Not fall asleep, get up, walk to the kitchen, see Dean, not acknowledge each other, get your cereal and leave. Again and again. You may have liked it, though. Just that little bit of routine in your hectic lives. Even if it was a bad routine.

You poured your cereal, your back to Dean, in complete silence. It was nice. Comfortable.

You picked up your spoon, ready to head back to bed, and turned around to find Dean already looking at you. You paused on the spot, unsure as to why he was staring. He didn’t stop when you noticed him. He looked as tired as ever. The sight of him, looking exhausted, with a bowl of cereal and beer, was heartbreaking. It physically hurts to look at.

He looked at you, and you looked back. Silent. Again. You wish you knew what to say, but what could you say? ‘Hey, Dean. You look like shit.’ You were sure you looked just as bad.

The sudden eye contact didn’t end. You both are not blinking, not moving, simply just looking. It was like you were communicating telepathically, just understanding each other and the hell you were both going through. This life was bad enough with sleep.

He didn’t say anything when you moved to sit down next to him, he didn’t say anything when you began to eat your (soggy) cereal, and he didn’t say anything when you finished eating. He just drank his beer and ate his cereal wordlessly. He said nothing when you sat there for 5… 10… 15… 20 minutes. Not one word.

You wanted to know what was going on in his head so badly. You wanted to know how you could help if you could help. But Dean doesn’t share his problems. You knew that, Sam knew that Cas knew that- everybody in the damn world knew that.

You sat and sat and sat silently. Half an hour passed, then an hour, then two… before you knew it, Sam was walking in- tired and grumpy. The sun had risen (not that you could see it), and a new day had started.

“You look like shit, dude”, Dean said to Sam, who promptly rolled his eyes.

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This time, when you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t go to the kitchen. You just laid there. Unmoving. You’re sleep-deprived mind was overthinking everything- what if you fucked up on that hunt 3 years ago, and Sam and Dean still hate you to this day? What if Sam hates you? What if Dean hates you? What if Dean is so fucking sick of you interrupting his nightly cereal time? You were a victim of your mind- your thoughts and inability to sleep. 

Ugh. You were so hungry. But, right now, your brain was convincing you you were single-handedly Dean’s biggest annoyance right now (if Dean could read your thoughts right now, he would be calling you his biggest idiot).

A knock on your door startled you more than it should’ve (considering you had been hunting for quite a while at this point).

A knock. At (you looked over to your alarm clock) 3:34am. ‘Why is Sam awake at this time? Why’s he knocking on my door?’ you thought. ‘It can’t be Dean. I’ve done nothing but piss him off for the last month. You squint your eyes preemptively as you reach over to turn on the lamp by your bed and get up. The floor was cold under your feet, and your body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. You reached towards the doorknob, preparing to see Sam. 

Sam. Who was definitely not at the door. Because Dean was standing there, in boxers and a white t-shirt, holding 2 bowls of cereal, looking as tired as you felt. Huh.

He looked at you silently, extending one bowl towards yourself. You took it hesitantly, staring at him, confused. He didn’t react. He didn’t say a word. Just lifted his bowl to eat his cereal. You moved to give Dean the option to come in. It was like a silent agreement had happened between you. Cereal and silence.

He walked in and sat on your bed; you closed your door and joined him. Wordless. Silent.

Maybe, you weren’t annoying him. Perhaps, he enjoyed this as much as you did. Maybe. Maybe.

Ten minutes passed, and you finished your cereal and leaned over to put it on the mahogany desk. ‘The Men of Letters enjoyed a frivolous life, huh. Who needs a mahogany desk?’ You thought, trying to distract yourself from your overactive mind. Dean moved over to do the same, leaning into you whilst he did. 

He didn’t seem to lean away from you after that. He didn’t seem to move at all. He just sat close as you both stared at the wall, unblinking. God, you were tired. You just wanted to sleep. You felt like your body was going to shut down any day now.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean’s groggy voice came out of nowhere. It surprised you, him actually talking. 

“Yeah, I’m trying,” you replied. Hell, you were trying. You were trying so hard, you just needed to-. Dean moved before you could finish your thought, standing up and moving to the top of the bed, pulling back the dishevelled sheets. He laid down in the bed, propping his head onto his hands.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

You moved to join him in the tiny twin bed. He pulled back the covers to let you in. You weren’t too sure what to do with yourself, then. You sat there with your knees to your chin, shoulders hunched. He had invited himself into your bed, and you felt like you were invading HIS space. Why were you still overthinking this? Why were you still thinking he didn’t want you here? Obviously, he did! 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders before you could think anymore. You looked over at him, his green eyes reflective in the lamplight, and he looked back at you. Wordless. You gave him a small smile and moved to lie down. He joined you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You debated whether you should lean against his chest but decided not to overthink it and just do it. You were sick of overthinking every little thing.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, yours wrapped around his. This was good. He was good. Nothing was exchanged between you; there wasn’t a need for words. You both knew this was what you two needed- each other. Dean had never really been alone (whether it was Sam, Cas, or Benny), and he needed somebody there to remind him that everything was okay. You were okay- sleep-deprived and needing a new career, but okay. 

Your eyes were shutting before you could help it. Dean’s steady heartbeat in your ear and arms around your body calmed you. It was almost funny how quickly you were falling asleep now. Months and months of sleepless nights, and all it took was Dean to be here, holding you. You wished you could enjoy it more (not knowing if this would happen again), but you were so goddamn tired. 

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You awoke the following day to repeated knocks on your door and Sam’s voice shouting your name. Damnit Sam. He opened your door before you even had the chance to fully wake up.

“Have you seen Dea- oh.”

The man in question was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around you, your legs tangled together. You looked towards Sam as he mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and left hurriedly. You were surprised it didn’t wake Dean. A pin drop could wake him up. You looked over at him, admiring how peaceful he looked. It was simple. Simple and nice and sort of domestic. Or as domestic as a hunter’s life can be.

You leaned against his chest, his arms tightening around you, falling back asleep.

You two had a different routine from then on- if either couldn’t sleep, you would find each other.

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 159 spoilers and thoughts below the cut yep just the usual

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JAVIERS FACE LMFAO "wow. these people are so weird. thank god im the only normal person here" jesus christ this entire estate is insane /aff

also i think im required to inform that i sent this panel to some of my irls because they're also civil engineers, and i asked if they recognized any of this and they said "oh god yeah"

so we can pleasantly confirm that the adaptor/artist are still referencing real civil engineering stuff!

while we're still here at the start of the ep/my thoughts i do wanna say, the whole "ugly" gag is getting. a little too well worn

it is really well drawn! the artist is very skilled at drawing exaggerated expressions and its always fun to see, but i think this is like the third or fourth time now that this has been used, and i think my brain is just tired of the repeated schtick. i dont hate it, but the funny has moved on for me

i really hope that in this next arc we see a return of a devilish or conniving lloyd, rather than silly "ugly" expressions; its funny when he looks stupid but id like a better balance, which means i want more instances of him looking cool and smart as hell!!!

of course these words will. probably fall on deaf ears its not like i can message the artist/adaptor directly lmfao but yknow its the thought that counts i guess. actually i might be using that phrase wrong not sure

ANYWAY ANYWAY verkis looks so pretty here,, i like that he confirmed lloyds intentions w the jewel of truth . truly a man who wants to do Nothing thats so real of him me too bud

AND THENNN my personal favorite peak of the episode THE SWORDMASTER SYNDROME KICKING IN AAAAAHHH AAAAHHHH

IT MAKES SENSE THAT LLOYD PUSHING HIS MANACIRCLES TO THE LIMIT WOULD BE THE LAST PUSH HE NEEDS TO BECOME A HIGH LEVEL SWORD EXPERT and now hes suffering the consequence of not dealing with this earlier </3 get overstim'd idiot shouldve taken a break before this happened bozo!!! /j

i really really REALLY love how the text and the effects were drawn in these panels and the following ones (thats three reallys!!!)!! the visual echo and then the sudden sharp jaggedness, it really shows how much OUCH and impact it has and i really really love it YEAHHHH PUT LLOYD THROUGH THE WRINGER YEAHHH YEAHHH

AND THEN JAVIER KEEPS LOOKING SO FUCKING HAPPY THROUGHOUT THIS EPISODE PLEASSEEJ LKAJDFLKSJDFLKJSDFLK JHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH he's having a grand ol time lmfao now his noble can experience what he had to go through!!!

ALSO ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THE VERY FIRST THING THAT LLOYD LOOKS AT WITH HIS NEW HEIGHTENED VISION IS JAVIERS FACE AND HOW PERFECT IT IS HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO you could have looked at anything else and yet the first thing you narrow in on is javiers face IM SHAKING YOU LLOYD

no seriously wow he's so pretty ALSO THE FUCKING. HAND POSE IM CRYING

also its really really fluffy nice that javier helped lloyd with getting used to his senses! though they couldnt really do anything abt his insomnia

i had heard that some really cute moments got cut from the novel in this little timeskip here which is like awww i wish we got to see it like, that short bit with the "ugly" gag could have been replaced with the moments from the novel and itd still fit the episode length! at least i think

(like i was told that lloyd gets called "good boy" by javier. like. WHAT. WHAT. GOOD BOY??? GOOD BOY??? AND THAT GOT CUT?????? GOOD BOY!?!?!?!? i told my irls abt this and we collectively had a stroke i wish it made it in bc javiers face when saying that and lloyds reaction wouldve been PRICELESSSS)

oh but also back to talking about javier helping lloyd out, i think its really really cute,,, i know its not explicitly said or shown but i want to think that javier is able to repay the lullaby in a sense by doing this. i really like that javier not only depends on lloyd, but lloyd depends on javier too, and they can rely on each other. thinking about that makes my heart warm and my feet kick and then i start giggling like a maniac

anyway few month timeskip and lloyd u look tired as hell im so sorry buddy

though honestly i really like how he looks in this panel for some reason HAHAHAHA idk him just looking grumpy and tired is fun bc u dont really see it that often u usually see him being silly or evil more so this is a nice panel to have heehee

disgruntled tired sleep deprived engineer now aint that the realest STEM experience ever,,, shaking ur hand lloyd i get u i understand

AND THEN THE END OF THE EP HI RAPHAEL the angel arc!! i guess!! idk the names of these arcs

i wonder how he'll try to enforce this,,, and i wonder how lloyd will get out of it,,, like did tkobai ever go over the angels and what they do? does lloyd know about them?

i did see pics of what he looks like from the novel and we were SO robbed of very pretty long wavy hair, it seems the artist just chopped it all off,,, uueueueueuee

i posted abt this on twitter already but my singular cope is that we actually just havent seen the rest of his hair and its just in a ponytail and its like really really thin and we'll see the rest of his hair soon trust <- copium pumping

and a bonus little illustration, happy chuseok!!!

thats all from me!!!!!!! IM REALLY EXCITED TO SEE WHERE THIS ANGEL ARC GOES and whether or not lupellan and wrot,,,, whatever his name was are going to interfere also,,, triple clash!!! also if he'll ever overcome his insomnia,,,

see yall next week :3

[lokisivy]

Enchanted - Klaus Mikealson

Anonymous asked:

You can do headcanons about being pregnant with Hope Mikaelson (the reader is her birth mother) and Klaus Mikaelson starting to fall for you and getting jealous whenever Elijah is around you

AN; i was already gonna put it in my story but I'll give you one.

disclaimer: Angst, mentions of abortion

...

I woke up feeling very sore from my night being pregnant is literally the worst thing but yet the best.

the sickness, mood swings and cravings.

but the worst of them all is the insomnia, these sleepless nights get very hectic. I would be very tired but cant seem to sleep.

being pregnant with a Mikealson baby removes every joy of having a baby. Klaus controlling me and Elijah trying to convince him that he might find love with the baby.

I can't deny at some point I wanted to abort so I can be out of this but when Klaus found out he was furious.

...

"What were you doing in the french quarter you know it's dangerous!" Klaus yells at me.

I stayed silent scared to answer

"Answer me!"

"I was buying wolfsbane so I can kill the baby that you hate! you can convince me that you actually don't want it to go!" I yelled back out of frustration

"No I don't," he said sternly hurt scattered on his face for a second

"Then why do you do all this? You showed me nothing but hatred for me and my baby."

"So might as well just kill it."

That is when I knew how much that baby meant to him he was so much he vamp sped and slammed me against the wall. that's when Rebekah got involved

...

I enter the kitchen desperate for coffee I search for it and as I was pouring myself a cup I was interrupted by a voice.

"Caffeine isn't good for pregnancy."

"Jesus Elijah you scared me."

"How about I make you tea."

"No, I need this I didn't sleep all night." I reach out for the cup he took from me.

"you are pregnant go sleep whenever you can, use it as a form of excuse."

I smile at him he is very polite and sweet.

and god how good he looks in a suit.

now that is the Mikealson I should've fallen for.

"Well, yesterday I got kidnapped in my afternoon nap." I giggle leaning with my back against the countertop. he gives me my cup of tea and I place it on the counter. he reaches out to me grabbing my hands.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you but you give you my word nothing will happen to you and your baby." his eyes linger on my lips

"Rise and shine darling come on let us go give you a tour of the french quarter." Klaus enters the kitchen causing me and Elijah Separating quickly.

"I don't feel like going out." I turn facing the counter taking a sip of my tea.

"Come on love there is no reason for you to be locked up like a princess. we can go for lunch after," he said with a big bright smile.

"I guess we can go after my afternoon nap," I say

It was evident that Klaus saw Y/n and Elijah getting comfortable he was feeling like he was doing something wrong that made you feel unloved. it was true though when Elijah was being friendly and caring to you. so you took whatever felt nice.

you went out with your tea to the main room where Elijah and Klaus were reading books

"You guys are nerds like hello tv exists."

"Nerd?." Elijah said in question "Im not familiar with that term."

"Brother, it means engaging or discussing a technical field obsessively, we obsessively read books," Klaus explains

"Well doesn't that make you a nerd for tv?" you giggled at how clueless.

"No silly being a nerd is when you are a knowledge geek, watching tv isn't that... unless you're on the national geographic channel," you explain

"Im familiar with that channel" he responds

Klaus was starting to feel this very weird feeling like he didn't want you near Elijah like he was jealous and he didn't know why.

you and Klaus didn't really have the best relationship the time you guys hooked up were very weird he didn't have feelings for you but he loved that you gave him.

but right now it's completely different he wants to hold you when you are in pain and tell you it is going to be fine, and god helps whoever hurt you because he will not let them go easily.

He doesn't know what is it that makes you special may be it's because you are carrying his child or he loves the way you guys are familiar with your mental scars. it's like every time he talks to you, he falls in love more.

"How about I watch one of these funny shows you like?" Elijah suggests

"Why the sudden interest?"

"I don't want you to feel alone." he closes his book placing it on the coffee table."

Klaus was going to lose it but he didn't wanna show that he is jealous you always knew he was one proud son of a bitch he couldn't admit to anything that showed emotion. Like the time you heard him say to you and the baby when he found out. but Klaus sucked it up and left you guys be.

as both, you and Elijah Were laughing in the other room Klaus was boiling with jealousy.

it was 3 pm and you were starting to feel tired so you let go and fell asleep on the couch.

Elijah turned the tv off slowly carrying your body to your room.

"Brother Im just going to take y/n to her bed then join you again."

Klaus couldn't take it anymore he stood up leaving the book in his hand probably losing the place he stopped reading in

"It's fine I'll take her she is carrying me, child, after all."

he stood taking you away from him carrying you like you weighed nothing.

he tucked you into bed and opened the AC knowing you hated sleeping in the hot weather. he closed the curtains so you can enjoy your nap without any interruption from the sun.

"Sweet dreams Angel."

...

It was almost 6 your nap was long today since you didn't sleep well at night. you Usually didn't nap but ever since you got pregnant you have always been tired.

you woke up and got dressed since Klaus was gonna take you.

the house was always quiet unless Elijah and Klaus were bickering.

you wore a short floral dress with white converse. it was the only thing that could fit you since your bump was starting to show.

you went out of your room searching for Klaus but the house was dim and very silent.

"Hello? anyone home?" you announced

"Klaus?"

you heard rustling from the house "I have a knife you don't wanna mess with me." you lied hoping the person would go.

until someone grabbed you from behind covering your mouth from screaming

God, please let it be Klaus you said to yourself.

"Shhh someone is here I need you to go to your room and stay there." Klaus whispered in your ears.

you nodded making him let go.

you ran to your room staying there. Not long after you heard crashing glass and people screaming in pain.

"I'll kill that whore and your devil child." You heard muffled yelling

"Yeah, id like to see you try to touch one hair of her head," Klausg said.

soon enough Klaus came back to your room covered in blood.

You were shivering terrified.

"My Angel are you okay?" he asked you hugging you

"Yes Im." it was a lie and he knew

"It's alright no one will hurt you not on my watch."

he garbed my face gently causing me to look at him.

"I don't feel like going out can't we just order food," I suggest

"I would love to but the scene is horrific we need to leave until I find someone to clean it." He said

his gaze was piercing through my soul. my face started to get closer to him.

"Niklaus..." i whisper

"Y/n..."

Our lips collided with passion making the both of us grip each other tightly. Klaus didn't stop even though I needed to know why. Eventually, we pulled away.

"Why?" you asked

you needed to know why he did that

"What-"

"Why did you kiss me?"

Klaus was debating whether he should say he was in love with you or he should just lie and break your heart because he isn't good enough for you.

"Tell me Nik the truth."

"I love you," he said as if it to all the power he had to say it. To Klaus having feelings is for the weak it was a lot for him to say that he loves you.

you were shocked you didn't think he would confess this easily. you were so flustered.

"Wow I didn't expect you to say it, is that why you always give death glares to Elijah you were jealo-" he interrupted you with another kiss.

"I love you too," you replied after pulling away

AN: Hello guys I hope whoever requested this likes it slay besties. All the love -Ivy

[star-girl69]

Ember in Your Hands

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: thank you all so much for voting on my previous post!! as you can tell, “Ember in Your Hands” was the winner. i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: nightmares, grief, mentions of death, mentions of kissing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Two- Restless

—-

When you died, switched bodies, born again — the first and last thing you felt was touch.

The last thing you felt when you were dying was Neytiri’s lips pressing against your eyes, and the first thing you felt was her hand over your chest, waiting for a heartbeat or a heartbreak.

Touch has been important to you since then, feeling, knowing. You can’t dispute touch. It is either there or it isn’t, and you have already either lost too much touch or never known it.

Maybe Jake and Neytiri hate sleeping like this, with your head over Jake’s chest, your hand over Neytiri’s heart. Or maybe they like it too. But they never complain, they only climb into bed and make sure you can still reach them.

Your ear to his chest, your hand to her heart.

It’s the only way you can fall asleep now, ever since everything that happened.

You remember, after Neytiri and before Jake, you remember sleepless nights. Too old to crawl into Grace’s bed, too young to simply push it aside. You were just a teenager then, missing your best friend and replaying every embarrassing moment of your life over and over again.

You remember insomnia, counting sheep, wishing to fall asleep so deeply you wouldn’t even dream.

The sleepless nights after taking a life is nothing compared to that. Glass shattering haunts your dreams, screams and shouts but this time you don’t have to be alone. You can restless with them.

The first few months after were hard, and with Neytiri being such a light sleeper, you caused your mates’ with just as many sleepless nights as you.

But, it got easier. Now, you fall asleep and fall asleep good — to the point where you never dream, or when you do, it’s only about them.

You dream about the life you want to live with them, the life you do live.

When you awake on this night, it’s because something is wrong. You fell asleep with your head on Jake’s chest, heartbeat thrumming in your ears, arm across his chest to press at Neytiri’s heartbeat.

When you wake, Jake isn’t there. You shoot up in bed, look around your kelku — but there is only Neytiri stirring at all of your movement, the hammock beneath you, there is not Jake.

“Y/N?” Neytiri asks, voice raspy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is wrong, yawne?”

Waking up without him makes you think too much of when you knew nothing but restlessness, and the early months when death hung around you like cobwebs.

“Jake is gone,” you gasp, and Neytiri blinks as she looks around the room. She puts her arm around your neck.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, pulling herself up to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What-?” you say, pulling away from her. She seems a little more awake now, but still confused. “He’s gone, Neytiri. We-”

“He is probably just getting some water, Y/N.” She brushes your hair behind your ear. “Why do you always think the worst?”

You want to speak, but you love her so much, so you don’t.

She presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“There is no more bad, my love,” she whispers. “There is only our family.”

You want to scream. She doesn’t deal with it like you do, she doesn’t rely so much on touch and heartbeats. She doesn’t need that crutch to lean on, to live on. She doesn’t heal like you do.

Footsteps echo on the woven rug covering the floor. You crane your head, and Jake stands in the open flap of our kelku, light from the moon and starts pouring around him and making him look like some god.

“Jake,” you say, but it is a sigh of relief, barely his name.

He frowns and steps closer, the flap closing behind him, darkness taking up the kelku again.

Neytiri runs a hand down your arm.

“She was scared,” she explains, and you feel young and stupid. “Tell her she doesn’t have to, not anymore.”

Some sort of physical tension in his shoulders fades, the fear from seeing the two of you wide awake so late falling away. It must be a human thing to assume the worst.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her murmurs, crossing the room, but you keep your eyes fixed on a barely visible spot on the floor. He sits on the other side of you, so they both cage you in. You don’t feel trapped.

He’s silent, for another second.

“‘M sorry for leaving. I just wanted some water.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, tearing your eyes away from the spot you were staring at. “Sorry for being stupid.” You stare at his chest, next, not ready to meet his eyes.

“You’re not stupid for healing,” Neytiri whispers, hooking her head over your shoulder. “You’re not stupid.”

Jake doesn’t try to get you to look at him. He just places his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, with some lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s smiling. “I died with you, and choose to live with you.”

Your eyes meet his, because you love him so much is breaks you and builds you up again and again, day by day. The cycle isn’t tiring. It’s just how you live.

Loving him and loving her is like breathing. It’s so hard on you, sometimes makes you sick, but it keeps you alive.

“If you are restless,” Neytiri hums, tracing a pattern on your arm with her finger, “then we are restless too.”

Touch has always been the most important sense in your life, ever since you died. It’s easy to forget that you are so different from that girl before, from that human girl and that human body born to die.

If you are restless, then they are restless. If they are restless, then you are restless.

“We are mates,” Jake whispers, and it’s so true that you kiss him.

—-

taglist:

@eywas-heir @mjesecevo-dijete @ok-boke @tsukicores @neteyamforlife @itsyoboysparkel @tejas-kris @noname2246 @skxawngsworld @itsemy01 @littlexscarletxwitch @ara-a-bird @ghoulbli @ssc7514 @kitkat1690 @hai-kbai @disaster-in-waiting @milf-lover-23 @hot15936

everything taglist:

@monsterwasstolen @fanboyluvr @artologia-blog1 @tulipatheticee @elvyshiarieko @fluffisalliwant @fluffi19 @jeizllz @myheartfollower @fy-fy-world @minkyungseokie @ivy-plays @blueberryfailureclinic @cryingwhilereading @thatratprincessforever @dumb-fawkin-bitch @sillyblues @buttercup-beeee @smollangrycat @n7cje @eternallyvenus @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap

[irondad-defensesquad]

A/N: touch starvation strikes again!!!!!! Blame my insomnia.

I'm so sorry for being unoriginal, lmao.

EDIT: now posted on AO3!

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

“H-Hey, Mr. Stark, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey, kid.”

Tony is working on Iron Man. He doesn’t completely ignore Peter, but the latter isn’t the focus right now, clearly.

Peter pretends his eyes aren’t tearing up.

He feels so childish or it.

What was he expecting? That Tony would hug him to welcome him back in the workshop? Or at least pat his shoulder? Anything physical?

They’re not there yet.

Peter rushes to the most distant counter in the lab, so Tony doesn’t realize how upset he is. Maybe Peter just needs to focus on homework right now.

His skin feels odd. It feels itchy. But not like mosquito bites or allergies. It’s asking for something, and he doesn’t know what it is. Peter has tried to hug himself several times lately and it never works. His shoulders and back are tense, and his leg is shaking but moving it or walking doesn’t make it stop.

Tony is still there working, apparently not noticing that Peter is far away.

And Peter hates that. Even though he wanted to sit there to avoid questions.

What does he want, then? For Tony to notice? Shouldn’t he just ask him? No, no that would be too obvious, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of his mentor’s work.

Peter just feels like weeping pathetically. He couldn’t sleep well last night, wanting someone there with him. Aunt May got home too late, and he knew she needed all the time to rest before starting another day.

Then Ned didn’t go to school today because he got sick. MJ wasn’t around either, but Peter has no idea why. She never talks to him.

The arachnid stares at the blank homework paper. Peter can’t think straight.

Gulping, he stands up and quickly tries to come up with an excuse.

“I’ll, uh… g-get something to drink…” Peter says it rather lowly. So, obviously, Tony doesn’t quite mind it. The man hums, but it could be at the Iron Man projection in front of him.

Peter tries to silence the childish urge to run away to his room to cry. He just walks away miserably to the kitchen.

He opens the huge fridge. There’s literally everything there. Water, juice, soda, wine (probably Pepper’s), and then in the freezer there’s ice cream. Tony mostly buys them for Peter, but the man might eat them every now and then.

Once again, he stands there frozen.

Staring at everything but seeing nothing that could soothe him.

Peter takes a can of soda, but once he opens it, it spills all over the floor because of the gas.

“No, no, NO- goddammit!” He curses. He has to clean that.

But he can’t, either.

Peter just starts crying because of some stupid soda. He tries holding it in, to no avail.

Come on, I have to clean this and go back to the lab, he thinks. But Mr. Stark is too busy for me. He doesn’t want to hug me. Why would he? He’s just my…

… What is Tony to him, really?

“Peter? Where are you—”

Someone freezes.

“Oh my god, Peter, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony rushes to him, expecting the worst.

“N-No, I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Tony reassures him, seeing that it’s just spilled drink on the floor that can easily be handled. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Come on, get up, let’s sit for a bit.”

Peter might flinch at the hands rubbing his shoulders like it’s a small massage. Tony stops and Peter hates him for it.

Either way, he obeys Tony, and he sits on the nearest chair. The latter takes less than five minutes to clean the soda off the floor. Then, he sits in front of Peter.

“You can talk to me, bud. Is it school? Patrol? Something else?”

“N-No, you don’t have to worry about it…”

“Well, I do. I’m not gonna let you suffer like this.”

Peter clutches his own sleeves.

“… You didn’t even notice me when I arrived.”

“What?”

Oh, shit. Now what?

“Y-You didn’t even look at me or- or- I dunno!” Peter keeps talking without much filter. “Like me being there wouldn’t have made a difference. But like… y-you don’t have to pay attention to me 24/7, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry I got mad about that, it’s just, something is wrong with me, I didn’t sleep well last night, school has been bad but it was worse today, I haven’t actually talked to anyone in… days? I think? But not just that, I…”

Peter sheds tears again, the anger being more towards himself, not Tony.

“I thought you’d at least… welcome me.” Hug me. Hug me after a horrible day. After so many bad days. “B-But- it’s not your fault, I’m just being stupid.”

“Oh, kiddo… I’m so sorry.” Tony looks so guilty.

Peter regrets saying anything. “No, you don’t have to—”

“No, you’re right, I didn’t pay attention to you. I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, but dang it, I should’ve asked. I should’ve noticed something at least.”

“Maybe I should’ve said something, too. But I was scared you’d get annoyed.”

“See, I didn’t mean for you to think that way. You’re not going to annoy me. Sorry I didn’t make that clear to you.”

Peter would’ve protested, but they might be here forever, so he sighs in defeat. “Okay.”

He’s staring at his own lap, his jeans stained with several teardrops.

In the meantime, Tony looks at him. Maybe trying to figure out what Peter needs right now.

It doesn’t take long, really.

Tony stands up and offers a hand. Peter expects him to just help him get on his feet again.

Only for Tony to immediately pull him in his arms.

And he says nothing else.

Just breathes with Peter.

The boy is frozen for a good time before he returns the hug with some desperation. Please, don’t let go, don’t let go.

Tony automatically squeezes him in response. I’ve got you, you’re safe.

Yeah, Tony makes him feel safe. Whether in the armor or not… he’s a hero.

He keeps rubbing Peter’s back, trying to relax his tense muscles. It always makes Peter flinch inside, which is, weirdly… soothing. The itching is dispersing, calming down.

He might cry again, but it’s out of relief.

The teen pretty much lies down on the other. Tony might be smiling. Soon, he nuzzles Peter’s head.

“Kid?” He calls.

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re adorable, right?”

“Shhhut up…” Peter whines.

Tony snorts. He hasn’t released Peter even if he might have loosened his grip a bit.

“Come on,” the man instructs. Peter almost thinks they’re going back in the lab, but they’re going the other way.

At first, Peter thinks it’s his room. And he doesn’t want Tony to leave him alone in there. Not yet. But Tony knows, so they go to the latter’s room instead. To Tony’s huge bed.

“Wait… what about your work, Mr. Stark?” Peter remembers.

“It can wait. You’re my top priority right now.”

Peter blushes. “Oh.”

Tony’s bed feels like paradise. It’s so comfortable.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course, Peter.”

This last morning was so cold and lonely. The whole apartment was empty and depressing to be in. And now, Peter is warm again.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

…

“I love you…”

Peter is rather sleepy, so he doesn’t have to worry about these words until later.

He does faintly get to hear the response.

“I love you too, buddy.”

And just that is enough for Peter to fall asleep in peace.

[seresinsbabe]

Just Pretend

Pairing: Rooster x fem!reader

Synopsis: After getting home from a really bad mission, Bradley can't cope with the loss and ends up taking it out on you. Inspired by the song Just Pretend by Bad Omens

Warnings: Character death, mild verbal abuse, mentions of insomnia and not eating, angst, very mild fluff at the end.

Just Pretend

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

« « « « « « « « « « « « « » » » » » » » » » » » »

I’m not afraid of the war you’ve come to wage against my sins

I’m not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend

Rooster had fucked up. God he knew he’d fucked up. You’d always been so patient, so understanding. He had trauma, growing up without a father, losing his mother at a young age and all the things he’d seen as a pilot. He had almost convinced himself that he was too hard for anyone to ever actually love him. 

Then you came along. 

With your sweet smile, your comforting voice. It was like you knew how to handle each and everyone of his mood swings. When he woke up in a cold sweat from a particularly nasty dream it was you who comforted him. Pulling him down into your arms, holding him while you softly sang. On days when he was angry at the world it was you who always knew how to make him smile. 

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

This time was different, though. 

Bradley hadn’t just had a bad dream or a bad day. 

He’d had a particularly bad mission. 

Going into the full details of it wasn’t something he’d done or could really do with you. And you’d always understood that. In fact you were okay with not knowing. Seeing the way some of the shit he’d seen affected him, you were more than okay with not knowing. He always ended up telling you, at some point. Even if he spared you the worst of the details.

Nothing had gone as bad as this one had.

It was a risky mission to begin with. When he’d briefed on the mission he was told it was more than likely someone wasn’t going to be returning. Rooster knew it was bound to happen to him eventually. He was bound to lose a wingman in this career at some point.

Maybe it would have been easier if was someone he didn’t know. A pilot that he’d never crossed paths with. One that he hadn’t spent more than a handful of nights at the Hard Deck sharing a pitcher or two of beer around the pool table.

It sounded awful to think about it like that, but it was true. Bradley couldn’t help but think that if it wasn’t Bob that died he wouldn’t be as upset.

That he wouldn’t have pulled away from you. Or said those awful words when all you’d been trying to do was be there for him. To love him in a way that only you could.

I can wait for you at the bottom.

I can stay away if you want me to.

I can wait for years if I gotta.

Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.

It was hard enough dealing with the fact that he hadn’t been able to save one of his closest friends. Now that he had to do it knowing your spot in bed was empty. Untouched because he couldn’t bear to sleep in the bed without you. Fuck, he could barely sleep as it was. Every time he closed his he was met with the image of Bob’s lifeless body being carted off on a stretcher. Or, just as bad, the image of your tear filled eyes as you left without saying a fucking word. 

No screaming. No ‘fuck you’. No ‘I hate you’. Not a single. Fucking. Word. Just pain in those pretty eyes.

I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face.

And not a day goes by that I don’t think I feel the same.

“You don’t fucking understand!” You felt your lip quiver. Never in the entirety of your relationship had Rooster ever talked to you like this. “Just stop trying to act like you know what the fuck I’m going through. You’ve never lost anyone. You can’t come close to fucking understanding.” 

He had only told you bits and pieces of what happened, enough for you to know that Bob was dead and that Rooster felt like it was his fault. 

From the beginning of your relationship he’d warned you that he had been through a lot. But that had never deterred you, because he’d never let things spill over like this. Rooster had always been good at not letting outside forces affect his relationship with you. He’d always caught himself before it got to this point.

Hearing the anger in his voice as he raised it at you for the first time ever stung. You hadn’t even been trying to understand, you were just trying to comfort him like you always had.

“Roos…I-I’m no-” he cut you off.

“Just stop. Okay. I can’t take being around you right now. A hug and a kiss isn’t going to fucking fix this, alright Y/N. You’re not a fucking therapist. You’re just a fucking secretary.” A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to his words. Whoever the man that stood before you was – it wasn’t the man you’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t the man who’d proposed to you just weeks before the mission.

No more words were spoken as you packed a bag. You looked at him with teary eyes one last time, hoping he would say something, anything. Nothing ever came and you left for your sisters.

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

It was finally the day of the funeral. Rooster showed up in his full service dress. His eyes were dark and sunken in from lack of sleep and bloodshot from the tears he’d cried alone.

The second you arrived he could feel it. Like a change in the fucking wind he knew you were here. Of course you were here. Bob was just as much your friend as he was Roosters.

You looked worse for the wear, but no matter what you’d always be beautiful in Brad’s eyes. As if you could sense him looking at you, and you probably could, you met his gaze. Even from this distance he could see the pain in your eyes. It killed him to know he was partially to blame for the pain. 

Something he’d promised both himself and you that he would never do. 

Brad knew he had to apologize to you. He’d been thinking about it since the door clicked shut. So many times he’d typed out a message just to erase the whole thing. He could never think of the right thing to say and eventually he realized it would have to be in person. An apology over a fucking text message wasn’t going to cut it. Not when he’d hurt you so bad.

I can wait for you at the bottom.

I can stay away if you want me to.

I can wait for years if I gotta.

Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.

You so badly wanted to talk to him. You needed Rooster in a way you’d never needed anyone before. Since you’d shown up at your sister’s she’d done nothing but dog on him. So much that at some point you just told her to shut up and walk away.

She was convinced he was finally showing his true colors, but you felt like you knew better.

When you got ready for the funeral that day you couldn’t stop hoping that he would talk to you. Of course there was alway the worry that your sister was right. That even if he did talk to you it was going to be much of what it had been when you’d left that night. 

Brad looked like shit. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. That he’d been crying and hell possibly not even eating. He tended to lose his appetite when he was stressed like this. It made your heart clench, knowing that he was suffering. You didn’t want that, you wanted to fix it.

We’ll try again

When we’re not so different

We will make amends

Till then I’ll just pretend

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your throat constricted and you watched Bradley’s Adam's apple bob. In a split second he was pulling you into his arms. You felt the choked out sobs before you heard them and your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he finally got out. Rooster pulled away, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and wipe away the tears that had started spilling from your own eyes. “I-I should have never said that shit to you.” The pain in his voice was loud. “I just- I couldn’t handle it and you were in the crossfire but fuck-” he choked out another sob and it was all you could do to fall against his chest.

This was the man you had fallen in love with. 

You pulled back to look up at him, wiping a stray tear away with the soft pad of your thumb. Brad never let himself be vulnerable with anyone but you. He always put on a front, even today it took you pulling him into an empty room at Phoenix’s house for him to have this breakdown.

“You were hurting,” it wasn’t really an excuse but it was the reasoning behind why he’d said what he said. You were sure if your sister heard you right now she’d roll her eyes and call you an idiot. “Doesn’t mean I’m not hurt by what you said, I just wish I’d been able to help before it got to that point.” Bradley nodded dejectedly, sure that you were going to tell him it was over between the two of you.

Sighing softly you pulled him to sit down on the bed. “I love you, Roos, but if that’s going to happen again I don���t know that I can come back.” It was painful to tell him that and you could see that it was just as painful for him to hear it. Even if you knew it was mostly untrue.

Bradley’s eyes went wide at the idea of losing you completely. “It won’t happen again baby, I promise.” He sounded desperate, pulling your hands into his large ones. “I-I called a therapist.” You blinked as you processed the words. It had been something you’d brought up in passing before, but he always insisted he wasn’t that far gone to actually need it. “Baby please don’t leave. I can’t lose you, too.” He was crying again.

This time you climbed in his lap, cupping his face in your hands and kissing away the tears. “I’m not leaving baby,” you promised and you knew it was true. Even when you left you knew you were going to come back to him. “I love you way too much.”

Rooster finally started to calm down and his hands came up to lay over yours. It was then that he felt the engagement ring still on your finger. “You didn’t take it off?”

You shook your head, smiling weakly at him. “Somehow I just knew if I took it off I’d be putting it right back on.” You gave him a weak smile and he returned it. “You’re worth it Bradley Bradshaw.”

He pulled your face down and connected your lips. A sigh of relief pushing through as you kissed. 

“Good, because heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.”

Weigh down on me

Stay till morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy?

[alexander-23]

Just Rest Honey (I’m Here)

A/N: I wrote this because i used to have such bad days like this because of my insomnia and honestly didn’t get to properly rest until i got meds and was at such piece. I don’t know if anyone else needs it, but here it is. Enjoy!

Warning: None? Sleep deprived reader? Insomnia?

Word Count: 784

Other Tags: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft Larissa Weems

I’m sitting at my desk while students sit on their own. I’ve tried countless times to get them to stop shouting and pay attention, but with the festival coming up, they are all so rambunctious. I hold my head in my hands with a pounding migraine making its way behind my eyes. The pain is awful and the fluorescent lights are no help. As some students talk about the games they will play, the door to my classroom opens and in walks a fellow teacher and Larissa. They look at the state of the classroom until their eyes land on me. Larissa comes to stand beside me, placing her hand on my arm.

“Dear, come with me. Mr. Beliro will watch over your class”

I look up at her as I stand from my seat and am unable to gauge her mood, though with the state of my classroom, I can’t imagine she’s very happy with me. I follow behind her out of my room and I can hear Mr. Berilo taking control of the room. We walk in silence which only gives my mind time to think the worst case possible and run through what might happen. 

Will she yell at me? WILL I BE FIRED?! Oh god, I’m going to lose my job and Larissa will hate me!

I get so lost in thought, I don’t notice we are already approaching her office. I mindlessly follow her in, living in the worst case scenario. I feel her hands wrap around me and she guides me over to the couch she has by the fireplace and sits me down, but she doesn’t sit with me. Something warm and soft lays Over my shoulders and then Larissa is kneeling in front of me. 

“Dear, when was the last time you slept?”

All I see is the concern on her face with such soft eyes and eyebrows somewhat knitted together. I simply shrug instead of speaking and look down. Her delicate hands cup my cheeks and lift my gaze to look into my eyes, and the only thing I can do is let go of a sob. I’m so exhausted and I’d do anything for everything to go away. 

“Oh Y/N, honey,” she moves to sit beside me and pulls me into her arms, “I’ve got you darling, let it out”. I clutch to her as I cry, my tears staining her dress, but she doesn’t seem like she cares about that. She whispers encouraging words and rubs my back until my breathing evens out and my sobs become little whimpers. I feel so safe with her like nothing can hurt me, and all I want is to stay in this for a little while longer. Larissa pulls away slightly to look down at me, “why don’t we make you some tea to help you sleep?” I nod my head and let go, standing with her, and then she takes my hand. 

She leads me into her private quarters to the kitchenette and lets me lean against her. She insists I go rest, but I can’t help but feel I need to be with her. She leans against the counter and holds me in her arms, playing with my hair. It’s been a while since I felt this relaxed and cared for. Her nails lightly scratch against my scalp and her body heat envelopes me. 

“Someone seems comfortable” she lets out a little chuckle, however for me, it triggers my anxiety. I’m being too much, and I instinctively start to pull away. “Oh no no no dear, I'm sorry, I was only teasing. Come here little one” She opens her arms back to me, far too inviting for me not to shuffle my way back into her embrace. 

The kettle begins to whistle, but instead of letting go of my, she works with one hand pouring my cup. She adds sugar and stirs it before lifting it to hand to me. I sip on my tea as she continues to comfort me, whispering reassuring words. Only when I'm done with my tea does she guide me towards the bed. I honestly thought she would send me to my room, I mean, she's done more than anyone else already. She helps me take off my shoes and then covers me with the blankets and duvet before walking around the bed to climb in herself. She shimmies closer until she can wrap her arm around me. I turn in her arms until we are facing each other, a sleepy smile on my face. 

“Thank you” I whisper, the last thing I feel is her pulling me closer to her and a kiss placed on my forehead.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Ok what is the softest pack!lino has ever been? Like has he cuddled with the reader when she was cramping during her period? Did he help Jisung with a dance rourine and even when he was getting frustrated, he took the time to compliment what he got right? HAS HE KISSED CHAN ON THE FOREHEAD WHEN HE WAS ASLEEP AT HIS DESK AND GENTLY GUIDE HIM TO BED SO HE WOULDNT HURT IN THE MORNING AND DENY IT WHEN HE WOKE UP AND SAID IT WAS FELIX??? Sorry that got out of hand, anyway. Soft pack!lino but also tsundere soft pack!lino

Hey, remember when Tumblr had an ask character limit? Yeah, me neither.

"Oh my god." Hyunjin rubs his hands together gleefully. "We get to talk about all of hyung's sappy moments? This is the best day of my life."

"Hwang Hyunjin." Minho fixes the omega with a long stare. "Think this through carefully."

Hyunjin balks a little bit, but straightens up quickly. "You can't do anything to me for spilling your secrets, hyung. Not this time. Not when it's for the sake of the readers and their questions."

Jisung whistles. "Damn. He's right."

Minho looks murderous, but he doesn't say anything else, letting the omega continue.

"I wanna go first, can I go first?" Jeongin exclaims excitedly, bouncing on the couch next to Felix now that he knows Minho can't do anything in retaliation.

Minho sighs. "God, I hate this."

"We know." You grin at him, and he flips you off. You blow him a kiss in response.

"Okay, one time-" Jeongin is practically giddy, not able to hold still as he talks. "-Minho-hyung found a stray kitten outside the dance department. And it was cold and wet, but we couldn't have pets in the dorms, obviously, so he snuck it inside, and spent all night getting it warmed up and calling people he knew who could possibly give it a home."

"God, I really hate this." Minho groans, and Jeongin gives him a bright, affectionate grin.

"His eomma ended up driving down the next day to the take the kitten to live with her at hyung's childhood home. Said since he was an only child, it would be like having him home again."

"I totally remember that." Felix giggles, glancing fondly at Minho, who is stoically not looking at them. "I came over to see the kitten, and hyung had her wrapped up like a baby-burrito style-in a soft pink blanket. He wouldn't put her down for the rest of the night."

"Once, I had a really bad stomach flu and couldn't get out of bed." Changbin starts, glancing at Minho, who rolls his eyes, though the tips of his ears are pink, giving him away. "Couldn't keep anything down, not even water. And hyung insisted on coming over and making me all sorts of soups and broths and teas, until he finally found something I could manage to keep in my stomach." Changbin offers him a smile, arching a brow. "I was worried you would get sick too, but you didn't even listen to my protests. Just told me 'Seo Changbin, I'm coming over whether you like it or not. So either unlock your door or I'll break it down.'"

"God, you really are nothing but a big sap." Jisung says, entirely too fond, and Minho promptly fixes him with another venomous glare.

"Take that back."

"Never."

"I don't sleep well." Chan admits, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, as he makes eye contact with Minho, before he looks away, neither of them good with direct feelings. He clears his throat. "Everybody here already knows that, but on nights where I can't sleep, when the insomnia is particularly bad, I usually stay up in the living room to work on my current compositions. Eventually, I'll fall asleep on the couch, with my headphones on and my laptop open."

Chan meets Minho's gaze once more, and this time his lips curve into the start of a soft smile.

"I usually wake up in the morning with a blanket tucked around me and my laptop and headphones neatly put away, a pillow slid beneath my head. He'd never admit it, but he cares an incredible amount, it's just usually shown in the quietest, smallest ways, which are actually huge to those of us who love and know him."

"Okay, you being sappy is literally the worst thing that could happen to me." Minho remarks with despair, his brow furrowed in disgust. "What happened to stoicism, Christopher? Tsunderes for life?"

"Hyung knows I like how he smells. A lot." Felix goes next, cuddling in against Minho and grinning up at him, even as said alpha makes a show of pushing him off of him. "So he always wears a hoodie 24/7 on the weekends, and when the week rolls around again, somehow, that exact hoodie always ends up folded neatly on the edge of my bed, ready for my nest."

"Weird." Minho mumbles, ignoring the omega and partially failing as Felix attaches to his side again. "Wonder how that happens, because it definitely isn't me."

"Okay, hyung." Felix giggles, burying his nose into the sleeve of the alpha's sweatshirt.

"One time, he knew I was struggling with a painting." Hyunjin remarks, not glancing at Minho, staring at Jisung's hand in his lap, dutifully playing with his fingers. "It was for an end of year art display on campus and I just couldn't seem to get it right. I kept adding things and taking them away, and I never felt like it was finished, or even worth finishing."

Minho has gone quiet, staring at the head omega intently, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Hyunjin meets his eyes, his lips parted softly, his voice gentle, his usually sharp, intense gaze fuzzy with fondness around the edges.

"Minho-hyung sat me down and told me that my painting was good, great even, and that I didn't need to worry. Told me that I was more talented than I knew and if I was worried about making you all proud, that I shouldn't be, because you were proud of me just for existing, just for being me."

"I also told you if you ever repeated that, I'd immediately kill you." Minho states, but there's a slight mist to his gaze, and he swallows hard after the threatening statement.

Hyunjin shrugs. "It had to be done."

"I'm anxious." Jisung admits softly, chewing on his bottom lip, a nervous habit he's always had. "A lot of the time, actually. It's bad, and sometimes, when I feel out of control, or like I'm going to panic, hyung notices and calms me down."

Hyunjin silently reaches out and swipes his thumb across Jisung's mouth, freeing the beta's lip from between his teeth. Jisung gives him a small, grateful smile.

"Especially in social situations. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, and I feel like I can't breathe, and like the walls are closing in and there's too many people I don't know in my space. Once, when we went to an end of year party for my department, I started to feel anxious, and Minho-hyung noticed the way I was scratching at my pants while sitting down, and he pulled me into the hall and did breathing exercises with me until I felt like I could function again."

Minho's gaze softens slightly as he regards the beta.

"Breathing exercises aren't that big of a deal, Jisungie."

"They are to me." Jisung looks him dead in the eye and holds his gaze seriously, sitting up straighter now. "The ways you manage my anxiety? That's huge to me, hyung."

Hyunjin reaches over and takes the beta's hand, and Jisung squeezes it with a soft smile.

"Hyung's never soft with me." Seungmin deadpans, his expression blank, and Minho fixes him with a dagger like stare.

"That's right. And don't you forget it."

"Lies. All of it." Jisung scoffs, and Seungmin turns to him with glaring betrayal. "You two are literally the softest duo ever, even if neither of you will admit it."

"Like artisan bread-" Felix grins and wiggles his eyebrows playfully at Seungmin. "-hard and crusty on the outside, soft and gooey on the inside."

"Fine." Seungmin sighs with exasperation. "I guess Minho-hyung came to my end of semester presentation and award ceremony when the rest of you couldn't make it because you were out of town, but that was one time."

"Ahh." Jeongin coos, patting Minho on the thigh with a gleefully wicked look. "What a good dad."

"Yang Jeongin. I will murder you."

Seungmin settles back into the couch and tries to ignore Jisung's triumphant grin from beside him.

"Shortly after we all got together, I had to have surgery." You say, taking in a deep breath, as everyone turns their eyes on you, Minho included. You smile ruefully, kicking your toe along the carpet. "I'm sure everyone remembers, it wasn't like a big deal or anything, just my appendix getting taken out, but I was flat on my back for the first couple of days of recovery."

"I couldn't get up to shower or take care of myself, so when the dressing finally came off on the third day, I was determined to get myself cleaned up." You shake your head slightly. "I'm stubborn, so I didn't ask for help, and I literally got to the side of the bed before it hurt so bad I stopped."

"I resigned myself to being disgusting and hairy and greasy forever, and that's when Min showed up." You glance fondly at the other alpha. "I don't know how you knew."

"Please." Minho rolls his eyes. "I have a radar for my packmates doing stupid, stubborn things they shouldn't be. It's a necessity when living with all of you."

"Anyway." You grin and continue. "He showed up, didn't say a word, just helped me up out of the bed, to the bathroom, and ran me a bath. He sat beside the tub and helped me scrub my hair and my skin and then he shaved my legs for me, taking time to let me adjust to more comfortable positions when it pulled my incision a little too much."

"All of this without a word, because he knew I'd feel stupid and embarrassed. And then he helped me dry off and get dressed and get back to bed."

"Ahhh." Jisung coos, looking at the alpha with literal heart eyes now. "Hyung, you never told me that."

"Because if I did, I'd have to kill you." Minho replies dangerously.

The tips of his ears are now more than a little pink, giving him away.

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

Ten lines, ten people

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway.

Nobody tagged me I just saw one of those people who said “anybody who sees this ur tagged” and I love doing these things so fuck it I’m doing it❤️ most of these are unpublished tho lmao

1. Without You: For the first time in in his life, Sirius Black was not excited by change. If this were a normal day, and he were a normal boy, he’d be thrilled at the idea of embarking on such a journey. A ship bound for America, four days spent on the open ocean in a state of the art vessel? It sounded like an adventure he’d have only dreamed of as a child.

2. Afterglow: Regulus propped his elbows up on the railing, leaning forward to look over the edge at the water rushing below.

3. Scars Of A Gold Moon: Remus Lupin had never thought that falling in love would mean he would actually fall. Yet here he is, plummeting through open air, reaching out a hand in slow motion as if another will come to catch him before he hits the ground. He doesn’t know why he expects it. He’s done nothing, less than nothing, to deserve it.

4. I Thought So (Under The Willow): Regulus Black met James Potter for thé first time when he was eleven years old. He liked to tell people he hated the boy the first moment they met. It certainly made him feel better about himself.

5. The Antidote To Exiled Memories: In all his life, Remus doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so colossally, royally, completely fucked.

6. only one night: Remus hated being a werewolf.

7. Insomnia’s a bitch: Remus didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t know why he was up at 2am on what felt like Tuesday night but in reality was Wednesday morning. He didn’t know why he was sat on his bed with his computer open again, not even absorbing the text on the screen.

8. How Could You: Jaren Vallentis was a dead man. Or, at least, he felt like one. He’d certainly never felt less alive than he did now. Not in the bowels of Zalindov. Not when his mother gave him those scars. The closest feeling he could bring to mind was the empty-headed panic he’d felt at seeing Kiva fall fifty feet from the top of the guard tower. Or watching her go under the ice-cold water and not come back up, her foot tied to a bouder. Kiva… Gods, how had this happened?

9. 🐺✨BATB (still doesn’t have a real title lmao) Once upon a time, in a faraway land locked somewhere between winter and spring, there lived a king and queen in a golden cage.

10. Go save the world, I’ll be around: Remus hated three things with every fiber of his being: Tardiness, clumsiness, and obliviousness. Sadly, the thing he loved the very most was all three.

Imma cop out and say whoever sees this can do it too lmao

[envihellbender]

Victor is the devil come to destroy a small southern town, Oswald is the sole priest who can either save the town that’s never been kind to him, or tame this demon and walk backwards into Hell with him

Fandom: Gotham, Southern Gothic Devil Victor and Priest Oswald AU

Characters: Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz

Oswald couldn’t explain quite what woke him up. All he knew is his eyes snapped open and he felt nothing but empty, quiet darkness through out his body. He sat up suddenly in his small, creaking bed, his hands slamming down either side of him as he looked up in shock and terror. His hazel eyes wide and jaw slack and open. In front of him, in his doorway was an intruder - one who he could see perfectly despite the lights being off. The stranger grinned as he stared at him. His head was shaved and his skin pale, his green eyes gleamed at him - impossibly bright.

“Mother-” Oswald began to call. The young man laughed and took a few steps forward.

“She can’t hear you, Oswald,” the young man said. “It’s just you and me for a little while.” Oswald knew he wasn’t lying, his mother’s insomnia would keep her awake at all hours. Her pacing made the entire house creek and the sounds of the crackling television poured throughout the rooms at night. Their old bungalow had the thinnest walls and his Mother did everything loudly. Right now however, the house was completely silent.

“What- what are you?” Oswald stammered, curling up in his small single bed and holding his knees close to his chest.

“What do you think I am?” He teased. “I’ve been going by Victor recently, I’m fond of it. Let’s hope it rings true.”

“I- Victor? You seem more like-” Oswald swallowed and screwed his eyes shut. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord-”

“How cute, that won’t help you now,” Victor interrupted. He sat down on the side of the bed. “Hey, handsome. Look at me.” Oswald’s eyes cracked open as he anxiously curled in on himself trying to block everything about this creature out of his mind. “What has your Church and your Lord god ever given you?”

“I- I’m-” Oswald felt ashamed that he couldn’t come up with an answer immediately. Did he even deserve to be a priest? Then it dawned on him. “Certainty. It’s given me certainty. Hope. Faith. I know God will one day reward me-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Victor said as he rolled his eyes. “But right now. What have they given you?”

“I don’t-”

“They’ve forced you to live as a girl, they mocked your affliction, beat you, they exorcised your as a child, they do nothing but demean your sermons and speak of you like an exhibit of a freak show. Would a kind and loving god do that? After you gave him such devotion? Such kindness?” Victor’s voice had a smooth, warmth to it. Oswald knew he was being manipulated but he found it hard to disagree with the handsome stranger who used his true name without question and made him feel more accepted in minutes than he had in his whole life.

“What are you?” Oswald asked, his voice growing more steady.

“I have many names.” Victor shrugged and his eyes glinted in the moonlight as if his body exceeded night sky in power and importance. “Samael. Satan. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Devil… but you can call me Victor.”

“You- no. Leave. Leave me-”

“Listen to me, Oswald,” Victor said. He reached out and cupped Oswald’s cheek with his thin pale hand. “I came to destroy this repulsive, pathetic, pious little town. Then I saw you. I saw potential. I wanted to protect you. Does that sound like the Devil your Church teaches against?”

“I- no. It does not,” Oswald admitted quietly, his cheeks growing wet.

“You’re like me. An abandoned son who’s home showed him nothing but pain. Why do you think I ran to hell?” Victor’s smile became sympathetic, and Oswald hated how much sense it made.

“That- I don’t-” He tried to protest.

“You’re tempted. I can tell. You understand me, more than you’ve ever understood anyone.” There was a powerful simplicity to what Victor said that burned into Oswald’s chest.

“I- perhaps, yes. But I don’t intend to-”

“Think about it. I’ll give you three days. I’ll come to you here, and you can tell me your decision. Either you fight me to try and save your town, you die with them, or you come with me back to hell as my new prince of darkness. The choice is yours.” Before Oswald could speak, Victor clicked his fingers in front of his eyes, and the room returned to blackness.

[that-is-just-so-typically-me]

I’m feeling so torn. After about a year of occasional text conversations with my ex, I think I’m recognizing a pattern where for a while afterwards, all the hurt and angry and afraid parts of me seem to come creeping so close to the surface of my skin at all times, and it becomes harder for me to walk around my life accessing the default calm, settled, generally kind reactions I tend to have first. My inner peace just gets incredibly disturbed. I’m uncertain if this means that actually I have barely processed or managed anything in a meaningful way, and it’s not healthy or possible to be in contact with her as long as I continue to grieve our dreams and plans together, being together for the rest of lives. I feel like I hold my anger and fear and despair at the same time as I hold my forgiveness and love and hope. I don’t want to shut her out now that a part of my exists that welcomes it - because I can’t possibly not care for her, and there are parts of me that know I am generally okay enough, the parts that function which have gotten me moving my life along this whole time. It feels artificially angry and aggressive to ask for no contact. Like, the angry parts of me exist parallel to the parts that understand everyone is flawed and complicated, and that traumatized people traumatize people, and we’re all doing our best. And god, I miss her. Even this small, apparently too painful interaction fills a tiny bit of glue in the rip that runs through everything. And maybe how good and right it feels is the entire reason why it’s so dangerous for me. And there’s the way that every time I see her name in my notifications and begin subconsciously anticipating a response, my mind flashes back to memories, which usually ends up with my mind playing back the most painful and traumatic moments like the worst home-movie I keep rewinding and reliving. And then it turns into the nightmares about her and her girlfriend (always accompanied by other stressful but unrelated nightmare plot points, to add insult to the injury). The nightmares snowballed when I got home from my recent trip, and now I’m fighting the most intense perseverations about what happened. And there’s the way I know I begin to expect a response in a certain time - just based on her texting habits and patterns - and it is so unsafe for my nervous system to subconsciously expect anything from her, after how worthless I ended up feeling when she chose her other partner over me in so many small and big situations. Literally obviously she owes me nothing, but of course I am aware that she is living her life with her partner so I’m in those instants of realizing I haven’t heard back when I guessed I might, I of course think “Oh it’s a Saturday, they’re on a date” which of course triggers the thought of not being the one she goes on Saturday adventure with anymore, and someone else is in the place I was doing those things with her instead. And building a whole life with her instead. And I know that and mostly I can hold that jagged truth in my bleeding hand and I’m so used to it and I get by and can even smile at times. But the constant, jarring, unexpected reminders that feed into these weeks of flashbacks and insomnia and nightmares. It’s derailing and negativity impacting my life in a tangible way.

I’ve started struggling with restricting my eating again, which hasn’t happened since the pandemic hit when I was isolated at home with my parents, and was going through an emotional hell realizing they were isolating together, and getting together. I used rationing food as my excuse to punish my body for her no longer loving me. It feels like that again, and I guess it’s just an even bigger trigger for my already constantly triggered body image. It’s not good. I know I can’t keep going on in a pattern like this.

It’s all so incredibly embarrassing. I was doing pretty well with all of this, all things considered, before I got the text last month. I just hate that I still feel this way after so long. I’m so frustrated that I have been pouring my blood, sweat, and tears, harder than ever, harder than I have worked for anything else in my life (except perhaps my degree) into all of this healing work, but something like this still affects me so badly.

It feels wrong to cut off all contact with her. I really want to be healed enough to still have at least a casual acquaintanceship. I hope I can get a grip and not subconsciously spiral out every time I hear from her, but I don’t know if I can. I’m having to face the humbling possibility that I am still way too damaged to do it. And if I am still this damaged, why is it that the work I’ve been doing hasn’t been healing me? And what else can I try instead to actually reach this anger and fear and pain and release it? I want to heal so badly. I know that there is nothing for me here, stuck staring at a moment for the rest of my life. She chose to leave me. She chose to be with someone else. I respect that and I can stay here scraping myself raw against this truth and nothing is ever going to change it. I can’t go back to the past. But what I can do is keep moving forward into the future in spite of all of its terrible and beautiful uncertainties, if I can just keep going and not keep tripping when I stop turning to stare back at the past, if I can just start glancing instead of staring. My heart is so raw and scared and feel so fragile, like a new and ugly bird (hopefully kind of cute, still), but it’s it’s out there in the open and I am so ready for something good to happen again, to someday feel the irons fall from my soul and float again in the reckless trust and love and fearlessness I once I had. If I can just figure out how to do it, I would do anything to get the freedom of the soul back, to get all of myself back, no longer bleeding, but warm and safe and loved - by me and all the hearts I cherish.

I’m seeing my therapist on Thursday. I can make it.

[weirdunclegamer]

I hate this situation I'm stuck in right now so fucking much

I'm unemployed and technically have all the time in the world, all the time of each day to do shit, but because its due to being unemployed when I am in fact the person who pays my bills... well guess what! I don't have the mental or emotional energy to get myself to stick to almost any fucking activity whatsoever.

I'm a hobbiest streamer, nobody shows up and I have no energy for it I'm a hobbiest let's player, nobody watches the videos and I have no energy to edit I play fucking video games... or I used to, I can barely get myself to play anything for more then fifteen minutes because I have no energy and I fall apart at the slightest frustrations I play card games but I need other people to do that I build model kits but they're all built and I can't spend money on more right now

If I had any capacity whatsoever to actually do anything, I could use all this free time inbetween job hunting to do all these things I have just sitting around here in my apartment that I could just be fucking DOING and I CanT fucking DO ANY OF IT because my brain feels like sludge and my whole body is always shakey from anxiety and I fucking hate it here so goddamn much

I hate it

And sometimes I hate myself too

I hate all these fucking things wrong with me, the anger issues that I've only dealt with by essentially making myself scared of anger, the anxiety that makes me dread doing anything that takes effort both for fear of failure and fear of my own anger, the depression sludge that eats up all my energy all the time, the fucking god damn migraines all the goddamn fucking time, getting treated like I'm either lying about the migraines or they're somehow all my fault and I just needta SUCK IT UP and DEAL WITH IT, the fucking adhd that makes it feel like I keep skipping days of my life, sometimes I forget my friends' names while I'm fucking TALKING TO THEM, the fucking insomnia, which is very likely one of the root causes of EVERYTHING ELSE, but NOTHING has helped me with it my entire fucking life and I just cant turn my fucking brain off, its just an endless train of thoughts perpetually crashing into itself, somehow on fire and still rolling at the same time I wish the world in my head could just get turned the fuck OFF

I don't know what to do and nothing I try works and I'm fucking scared of everything at this point and I hate it so fucking much

And I hate this too, I hate writing this stupid post, I hate social media, I fucking hate talking into a big stupid void on the internet, I want to talk to fucking PEOPLE and I want to make fucking FRIENDS and not just be some random stupid name and acquaintance I want knowing people to MEAN something

And sometimes, sometimes, SOMETIMES there are good days and it doesn't all suck shit and I see a real friend and I laugh and eat food and shit but right now it hurts so fucking much and I wish there was anything I could do about it that I could even get myself TO do about it

FUCK

[terrania]

insomnia hour zero point five: wait why am i not sleeping. why dont i even feel tired what the fuck. cmon ive got social obligations in the morning insomnia hour one: oh my god i hate everything fuck this fuck all of this let me sleep fuck fuck insomnia hour one point five: reality is fundamentally hostile and i am what it leaves in its wake. i want to be awake and i want to be asleep. neither will be a healthy pursuit, you know that? still, I find myself without impetus to get up. insomnia hour two: im conscious im unconscious im conscious im unconscious. not unconscious as in passed out just like... moments where im perceiving the world and moments where i am. not. thats probably where i *should* b able to sleep and fucking yet insomnia hour two point five: fuck everything im staying awake out of willpower now. fuck the night and fuck the day im not even gonna try to sleep. im literally going to play computer games or write or whatever i dont care insomia hour three: wait hang on a second. im normal now. idk why but i can do things now. like not terribly, i dont feel tired again? im feeling less.... rational holding onto this feeling, but it's not unwelcome insomnia hour three point five: heh this staying up at night shit is easy. im getting so good at my computer activities and its only getting easier and easier. im flawless basically insomnia hour four: reality is a set of intricately placed barriers, keys, and locks. a lesser woman could never find the right combination of movements, but with the right give, you can bend the very fabric of being. i am a perfectly tuned machine. insomnia hour four point five: this is great but its not gonna last. my sanitys kinda returning to me, its like im riding a high out weirdly. i'm slaying pussy but somethings coming and im pretty sure that something's the consequences of my actions insomnia hour five: oh god. oh god. oh god. oh god. the dawn will come. i can feel it. i can feel my movements growing more erratic, less purposeful. my trance is ending. fuck, i'm stumbling, im falling, oh god, oh god insomina hour five point five: the dawn is coming in earnest now. birds awaken across the dew-soaked neighborhood, heralding the day as I, something trapped in the night, stand beside them. the world around me is all either dormant and awakening or the trash it discards. I am not meant to be here. I am primed to be discarded. what a beautiful symphony the birds weave with the crickets. neither will take me. insomnia hour six: oh god and as the sun shines upon me it shines deep into every mistake I made to make it here from the terrible decision that lead me to this (didnt take melatonin) to the horrible choice of meeting it. i am nothing and i am not ready for this world. the worst is yet to come though it turns out i also have to experience *this* day's events, as well as the last, and the night's, with no break, while still being nothing and nothing and nothing at all. this is truly the deepest horror, that life continues after the decent, that no line of locks and keys can stop the sun. i am about to pass out