#had a brutal therapy session

[heartshapedcloud]

georgias no good very bad terrible week

[nyctoheart]

deleted over 1k videos from my watch later today, most were video about our world or the internet going to shit. Going to replace them with nature and world history documentaries and videos on self improvement. because I cant fucking take it anymoreeee

[bayofwolves]

hey guys. lately i've been binge-watching the walking dead, some of it with my partner, most of it by myself. it's been a fun ride but to tell you the truth i've hit my limit. i just finished the first episode of season 7 and i think it's time for me to put the series down for a minute. that was something else.

[isak-dot-gov]

Could you please do a follow-up to Rumor Has It where R gets injured but ends up recovering in CT & lives the WAG life while on the sidelines? Thanks

Basketball WAG

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x WWE!Reader

Word count: 1070

My Masterlist :)

The injury was a nightmare. One bad landing in the ring, a snap you couldn’t ignore, and everything changed. What you thought was just a twisted knee was diagnosed as a torn ACL, a wrestling career halter for at least nine months. You’d have to take time away from the WWE, and the road to recovery would be brutal. But the worst part was knowing you couldn’t compete. The roar of the crowd, the thrill of the fight—it all slipped through your fingers as you traded the ring for physical therapy rooms and doctor visits.

Paige was by your side from the start. She’d flown out the second she heard, cutting her own trip short to be there as the doctors explained the surgery, the long rehab process, the toll it would take on your body. Her hand stayed wrapped around yours, steady and reassuring, her eyes filled with a quiet determination that somehow kept you from completely crumbling.

After the surgery, recovery became your full-time job. Paige insisted you stay with her in Connecticut while you healed. You hesitated at first, worried about disrupting her season, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I want you here,” she’d said simply, her voice steady and resolute. “Besides, Connecticut needs you in the stands.”

You’d been living in Connecticut for a few months now, trading the chaotic travel schedule of WWE for the quieter routines of campus life. Your days were filled with gruelling physical therapy sessions, carefully regimented workouts, and endless ice packs. But every evening, Paige would be there to drive you home, her infectious smile and stories from practice lighting up the end of your day.

As the season started, you embraced your new role as Paige’s personal hype squad. With your crutches, leg brace, and a collection of UConn hoodies, you became a courtside staple at her games. The cameras always found you, and you couldn’t help but grin when Paige would flash you a quick smile before tip-off, mouthing a little “love you” that never failed to make your heart race.

The fans took notice, too. The internet had already gone wild when you and Paige went public, but now the excitement only grew. Photos of you on crutches, decked out in UConn gear, became fan favourites. Someone even made a fan account called “ACL_WAG” where they posted updates of your journey alongside Paige’s highlights. They tagged every picture with #SupportiveWAG and #PowerCoupleGoals, and while you joked about it with Paige, secretly you loved every second of it.

At first, the role of “basketball WAG” felt foreign. You were used to the thrill of competition, the intensity of training, and the satisfaction of a match well-fought. But now, you were cheering from the sidelines, and though it wasn’t the same, it was special in its own way. You’d show up to her games with hand-painted signs, cheering louder than anyone else in the stands, loving every moment of seeing Paige shine.

In the quiet moments, it was just the two of you, and those were some of your favourites. You’d sit together on her apartment couch, legs tangled up as she massaged your sore knee, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the brace. Sometimes, after a particularly good practice or a win, she’d make a special dinner just for the two of you, with pasta, a glass of wine, and her cheesy playlists in the background. She even made little post-rehab care packages with her favourite snacks, motivational notes, and sometimes a little joke, just to make you laugh.

One night, after a particularly tough physical therapy session, you were sprawled on the couch with an ice pack on your knee, grumbling about the lack of progress. Paige wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as she kissed the top of your head. “You’re going to get back out there,” she said, her voice soft but fierce. “And when you do, I’ll be right there, cheering louder than anyone.”

Her confidence in you was unshakable. When the rehab exercises got too repetitive or you felt the weight of the setback, her encouragement kept you going. She’d remind you that every tiny step was progress, every painful stretch and controlled squat was bringing you closer to the day you’d step back into the ring. You’d never felt so supported.

As the season went on, Paige’s bond with her teammates only grew, and you found yourself becoming part of her world. You’d tag along for team dinners, swapping wrestling stories with her friends, or even sharing tips on training and recovery. Sometimes, the girls would rally around you after a game, giving you high fives and telling you they couldn’t wait to see you back in the ring. Paige’s coach even joked that you’d become a “good luck charm,” showing up at practice whenever the team needed a morale boost.

But the biggest surprise came one Saturday night in February. You’d hit a new milestone in your recovery—walking without crutches. Paige had been waiting for this moment, and as you limped out of your physical therapy session, she wrapped you in a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. That night, she threw you a small party with her friends, decorating the apartment with signs that read “Strong as Ever!” and “ACL Survivor.”

A few weeks later, you’d made enough progress to go without the brace. That night, Paige surprised you with a beach trip, just the two of you. As you walked along the sand together, your knee only slightly sore, you felt something shift. You were finally healing, both physically and mentally. Paige had been there for every painful, frustrating moment, and now, with the gentle ocean breeze and her hand in yours, you felt ready to take the next steps back to the life you loved.

By the end of the season, you were nearly fully recovered. You and Paige had planned a vacation to celebrate her season and your return to the ring, and this time, there was no hiding or sneaking around. The world knew you were Paige’s biggest fan, and she was yours. 

As you prepared for your comeback in the WWE, Paige made sure you knew she’d be there, cheering from the front row, the same way you’d cheered her on all season. This time, the tables would turn, but no matter what happened, you’d always be each other’s number one.

[psychabolition]

You talk about getting rid of the psychiatric system. But what do you propose should be done instead? /gen

I'm going to tell you a story . I once knew someone called Tim. When I met him he had already spent most of his life in drug addiction treatment centres, psych wards and prisons until he later ended up in a forensic psych ward. After he did LSD he 'never came down from his bad trip' and got diagnosed w schizophrenia. This diagnosis +the addict - diagnosis justified so many fucking human rights violations - it got him locked up, drugged up, strip searched, his privacy violated on a daily basis, isolated away from society and everyone he knew because apparently he needed to be 'saved from this illness in his brain that makes him do/think/feel' things he otherwise wouldnt and because he needed to be 'punished' into being a 'functioning', 'productive' (read: profit-generating) member of 'society' (read: hegemonic cultural norms & forms.) This is what psychiatry does - it doesnt help, it locks us up and tortures us. I dont need to be able to name alternatives to this lol . This is the worst possible way of treating anyone ever. It would help immensely to literally just STOP doing this. Even 'sane' people would go insane in places like these.

So the alternative to acting like an absolute asshole towards people who struggle severely and who dont have a place in society would be to 1)not isolate them away from society and 2)not torture them 🙏 . It would be to get rid off the psychologists' individual and the psychiatric systems' general saviour complex that only results in abusing people bc they act like the people who are labelled as mentally ill are (=their minds/brains) responsible for at fault for their own struggles. Instead we could show solidarity with each other and try to built a world where everyone has a place in and is valued as a person and where the suffering/madness of an individual is not seen as an incentive to literally abuse and socially ostracize them.

And @ everyone dont come at me w 'not everyone has these experiences w psychiatry' - any time you talk about systemic criticism you have to look at the most marginalized experiences. When talking about police defunding/prison abolition we also talk about police brutality that black disabled poor people face . And yes not everyone has bad experiences w every single cop , still ACAB . ALSO dont come at me with 'I know there ar GOOD psychologists who Actually want to help' ,1) fuck their savior complex 2)what individuals motives are for joining this system of oppression isnt necessarily the purpose of a system. The purpose of a system is what it does. The police isnt there to protect us, psychiatry isnt there to help us. We only have each other.

So, what you can do right now to get rid off the psychiatric system in your community? How can we stop relying on this authoritarian system that abuses and incarcerates so many of us ??

I think its important to educate each other on our rights. Because then we have the knowledge on what not to say in a therapy session so we dont get incarcerated or what to do when we are questioned by cops/psychs to see if we are 'at risk' or what to do when we or friends of us are already incarcerated so they can get out of there as fast as possible. Also educating your friends/family on psychiatric propaganda helps - a common myth is that if you dont 'look for signs' and call the cops to institutionalize a friend they might kill themselves. All while institutionalization/incarceration increases the risk of suicide extremely. This is important to know so no one in our communities calls the cops on us when we're doing really bad. Also educating each other on the biomedical model so everyone understands that we dont have an illness that we need to be 'saved from' (depression for example) or 'punished for' (aspd, drug addiction) and that we (=our minds/brains) arent to blame for our struggles Etc.

If you know that youre sometimes in extreme mental distress/pain you could also make a crisis plan with friends so you dont need to rely on the psych system - like for example the plan could be that a friend calls in sick for work/university and then stays at your place for 3-4days and is there for you/drinks tea w you, goes for a walk together w you, smokes a joint with you together until you feel better and arent acutely suicidal anymore. (Its also best to include several people in this plan bc it can get really overwhelming for 1 person). You can als include things in the plan like asking your friends to take away all knives in your apartment if you want to. Or if its a more permanent 'crisis' then a plan on how to move together with friends to get away from your nuclear family/abusive partner (just as an example).

Access to medication, knowledge on how to get off of them if you dont want to take them anymore and freedom and proper education in your decision on taking, weaning off or on staying on medication is not given in the psych system. So how do we change that? A common reason for 'crisis' is trying to wean off of psychiatric drugs (a lot of people get suicidal or psychotic bc of the withdrawal for example - depends on the meds, dosis and since how long youve been taking them though). You could plan when to do this together w friends. Theres anti psych guidelines on how to do this safely - a lot of psychiatrists tell you that you need to stay on meds no matter if you want to or not and they often dont know how to wean off of them or think youre 'at risk' and incarcerate you if you mention that you want to stop taking your meds -this highly depends on how stigmatizing your diagnosis is (=schizophrenia/bipolar are good examples for highly stigmatized ones) or if youre sb who get racialized for example (bc then psychs immediatly perceive you as more of 'a risk'). You could make a plan for example where you ask your friends to stay w you through this by living at your apartment w you for a few days, cooking meals for you and keeping your apartment clean. And then another friend of you could come by each day after work (for example) and also be there since its probably a lot for one person. Also LYING to psychiatrists is always a good idea. For example when youre trans and want to access gender affirming care its important not to mention any diagnoses in general but especially diagnoses like autism, schizophrenia, psychosis or PDs and then literally lie about yourself if necessary. You always know who you are and what you need best. Also dont blindly trust your psych on what medications go well together - look it up yourself !!! Theres a 'drug interaction checker' online where you can see if it might be dangerous to take certain meds at the same time. Also READ on what side effects are possible - make a diary for when you start your medication on how youre feeling/doing . Some changes are awful but still hard to notice bc youre thinking that it could also be a 'normal' worsening of your mental state that you think you might also have without meds. Also depending on what physical conditions you have/had you cant take some medications without it being dangerous - READ the whole instruction paper thing that always comes with your meds and/or google it !!

Also literally just sharing/collecting tips on how to cope w different struggles + harm reduction guides (suicidality, drug addiction, ...) is very helpful. There is a lot of community sourced material already out there.

I understand that the reason most people are severely struggling is because they dont have a community (=like when you only have 1 partner or 1 friend ,because youre (still) legal property of your parents, because youre stuck in a nuclear family,...) and not only because psychiatry divides our communities by blaming us for our struggles and isolating and stigmatizing us. Building community and relying on each other is the only way to get rid off the psychiatric system in the end. If we already had a real community that we could rely on, all the psych wards would be empty and therapists wouldnt exist. This is not the first step, its the solution.

Als there are already alternative institutions (that are already in practice) that are a replacement for psychiatry.

This is probably the answer that youre looking for 😂. I dont really care about these kind of anti psych concepts and practices since they seem out of my reach atm. Ik that theres an anti psych house in berlin whos guiding principles are 1)community care /peer support 2)full autonomy for everyone there and its specifically for people who are running away from psychiatric violence.

Other alternatives that I havent really looked into yet are : bethel house , peer respites, new models of therapy

[library-ghoulette]

Now There Is Nothing Between Us

Pairing: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: second person POV, established relationship, VHS and chill, their first time, my kink is being loved and wanted, crying, reference to past heartbreak, hurt/comfort, discussion of sexual fantasies, pillow princess!Reader, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, p in v sex, coming inside (please fuck responsibly), Copia being tender, Copia fucking the self-doubt right out of you

Words: 2435

Summary: Anxieties about your first time with Copia rear their head at the worst possible moment, but luckily he knows just how to ease your fears.

A/N: I wrote this because I was stressing out about writing sex scenes for the first time in a long time, and I thought it might help to have my favorite Papa sweetly talk me through it. This was supposed to just be for me, but I'm sharing it for anyone else who needs a therapy session with their smut.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

“Amore mio, what’s wrong?”

The question takes you by surprise. You were mid-kiss when Copia pulled back, his mismatched eyes searching yours with concern.

“N-nothing’s wrong,” you stammer, reaching for him again, eager to pull him back in, keep his mouth occupied, so he can ask no more questions.

But he stubbornly avoids your advances, catching your hands in his and holding them between the two of you, restrained. He settles onto the pillow beside you, face-to-face.

“You think I know you so little that you can lie to me?” he asks. “That I can’t feel it when you’re all stiff?”

He pulls his shoulders up and grimaces in a comically horrified expression that makes you smile in spite of yourself, but still you say nothing, merely look down at where he holds your hands clasped in his much larger, much stronger, ones. He runs a reassuring thumb over your knuckles.

It was supposed to be a special night. At long last, it was supposed to be the night.

The two of you had gone from stealing glances at one another in the halls of the Abbey, to sharing friendly movie nights where you sat on opposite sides of the couch, both too timid to make a move, to significantly friendlier movie nights that devolved into heated kisses long before the end credits even rolled.

Each night, there would come a moment where the kiss would break, when a heavy pause descended and there came an unspoken question that you knew you had to answer.

Every night before, the answer has been no. You would remark on the lateness of the hour and go back to your own room. And there you lay awake, burning with thoughts of all of the things you could have done if only you had stayed. All the places where Copia could kiss you, could touch you, as you touched yourself.

But not tonight. This time, when that silent question made itself known, the answer had been yes. You had stayed, followed Copia to his bed, let him lay you down with a gentleness that spoke of brutal desire barely contained. Pressed yourself against him, returned his kisses, helped him shrug out of his sweatshirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head with obvious eagerness. You had thought that you were doing well, doing it right.

Apparently, you had been wrong.

Great. Now you’re on the verge of tears. Very sexy. Definitely not a surefire way to spoil the mood.

Copia is still looking at you, his unpainted face soft, searching, utterly open. You don’t deserve his attentiveness, his care. It makes you want to hide.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He kisses your knuckles. “You are maybe having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I– I really want to do this.”

“But something is bothering you. And we’re not doing anything until you tell me what that is. Until we fix it.”

Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just let it go? 

“Tesoro, you can tell me anything. You know this.”

Copia has never given you a reason to distrust him, has never judged you or made you feel silly for any of your anxieties. Still, you struggle to put this into words. 

“I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess?”

I sound so dumb.

“It’s okay to be nervous! Is this…”--he casts about for a tactful phrasing–”your first time?”

Satanas, it just gets worse and worse.

“No, it’s not my first time. But it’s been… awhile.”

“What’s the saying? Something about riding a bicycle?”

But in truth, it’s more than just the fact that it’s been awhile. Things did not end well with the last person you chose to share yourself with. 

You’ve worked so hard to heal from that relationship, not reinventing yourself so much as peeling back layers of hurt, finding yourself again bit by bit. You’re better now. But even after all of that healing, after finding your place here with the Ministry, after the wonderful surprise of falling for Copia, the scars of the past have a way of lingering.

Maybe the deepest of those scars is the lingering suspicion that no matter what you do, no one will ever truly want you or love you again. And worse, that you can’t trust anyone who claims that they do.

“It’s just.. I’ve imagined this so many times, and I guess I’ve gotten a bit too in my head about it. Wanting it to be perfect. And I’m afraid of doing something wrong. Of not”--and here’s the heart of it, the scary, vulnerable thing that you don’t want to admit–“of not being good enough for you.”

And now you are crying, when all you wanted to do was fuck your boyfriend like a normal person.

“Oh, topina.” Copia pulls you close, rolling onto his back to nestle you snug against his chest. “How could you ever think that you’re not good enough?”

“But you could have anyone you want,” you sob.

“You flatter me,” Copia chuckles. “But say that is true. I can have anyone I want. And where am I right now?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. And who am I with?”

You sniffle. “Me?”

“Yes, you. And there is no one else I would rather be with. You are so precious to me. I feel lucky to have you in my bed.”

Your heart flutters at his tender words.

“And what I want, more than anything, is to make you feel good. To give you the pleasure that you deserve.”

Something considerably lower flutters at that.

“Copia…” 

You wriggle out of his grasp and pull yourself up onto one elbow, one hand resting lightly on his chest as you bend to kiss him again. 

When you break away, he thumbs a stray tear from your cheek and insists, “But I only want to do that if you’re comfortable. So you have to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, yes?”

You nod down at him. “Yes, Papa.”

He groans low in his throat at your cheeky use of his title, the sound stoking something low in your belly.

“You said that you have been thinking about this night for a long time, tesoro?” 

His hand, resting against your hip, grips you tighter, drawing you closer against him. When he speaks, his words resonate with a note of command. 

“Tell me what you’ve imagined. Tell me how to make this perfect for you.”

This should be mortifying. It should, more than anything else he’s said tonight, activate your urge to run away, to hide. It’s been so long since you’ve really given yourself permission to want, to desire, much less to voice those desires full-throated, absent of shame. You’re so afraid of sounding silly. Of being too much.

But you can tell how turned on he is by you, by the way that your body feels pressed against his, fuck, by the very thought of you entertaining filthy daydreams about him. He wants you. Just as much as you want him.

And so, you push past the shame you have no need to carry any longer, that you never should have been made to carry at all.

Even if you stammer at first. Even if you don’t sound as confident as you wish you did. You find your voice.

“I– I’ve thought about you touching me?”

Copia brings a hand up to caress your face, tracing a feather-light line from cheekbone to chin. “Here?” he asks.

“Lower,” you reply.

“Ah.” His hand trails lower, making you shiver as his fingers skirt along your neck, your collarbone, before finally cupping your breast through your top. “How about here?”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp when he squeezes gently, his thumb sweeping across your nipple. Almost as an afterthought he wedges one thigh between your legs. Even through fabric the contact sends a pulse straight to your core, and you can’t help but grind against him with a whimper.

“What do I do next? In your fantasies?”

“You take off my clothes.” You’re desperate to feel his skin on yours. “And– and you lay me down on the bed.”

He flips you over effortlessly and takes his time undressing you, carefully undoing each button and zipper, revealing your body bit by bit with utmost tenderness. When he hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties and pulls the silky fabric down your hips, your legs, exposing you completely, he does so with what could never be mistaken for anything but reverence.

Your legs fall open naturally and Copia kneels between them, resting his hands on your thighs, awaiting instruction.

“And now?”

You know that you can have anything you want, but only if you ask for it.

It’s everything you can do to keep your voice steady when you say, barely above a whisper, “And then you go down on me.”

“With pleasure, amore.”

Copia settles himself between your thighs and presses a hand against your mound, firm and grounding, acclimating you to his touch before spreading your lips with skilled fingers and bringing his mouth down to meet your slit. He runs the flat of his tongue up through your slick folds, lapping up your arousal. When you look down at him, he meets your gaze and flicks his tongue over your clit, smirking when you blush and cry out in pleasure.

And then he begins his work in earnest.

You had imagined that it would be good, but your daydreams left you unprepared for this level of skill, for how he would relax into the task before him with a patient eagerness, savoring you, taking the time to bring you ever closer to your peak. 

“Fingers,” you beg, barely coherent, “I need your fingers, please, please, Copia– oh!”

He finds your entrance and presses a finger inside of you, never losing the rhythm of his tongue tracing tight circles around your clit. You’re soaked, and it slides in and out with ease, and it feels so good to have any part of him inside of you, even before he pulls out and then presses back in with another digit, crooking his fingers up to find that spot deep inside of you, hitting it just so as he sucks your nub between his lips, and you’re crying out and twisting your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and–

Your orgasm overtakes you ruthlessly, wave upon wave of pleasure breaking over you, leaving you a gasping, trembling mess in its wake. Copia crawls up your body to kiss you, letting you taste your own musky sweetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking about?” he asks.

You’re unsure of your ability to speak, but you nod eagerly. You’ve never wanted to hear anything more.

“I’ve been thinking about your hands.”

“M-my hands?”

“Sì, your beautiful hands. And how good they would feel wrapped around me.”

How could you do anything in that moment but oblige, reaching down to free him from the confines of his red sweatpants. His cock springs free, what seems almost painfully hard, and you watch with satisfaction as you pump your fist up and down his thick length and pleasure nearly overtakes him. Eyes squeezed shut, he’s clearly struggling to hold back, to stop himself from rutting into your soft palm and coming right now. 

“I’ve also been thinking about your pussy, dolcezza,” he pants. “How good it would taste. How pretty you would look playing with it for me. But mostly what it would feel like to spread it open and fuck it until you come around my cock.”

“Yes, please,” you beg, feeling as though you might die if you don’t get to feel him inside you right now.

The stretch is deliciously intense, even as wet as you are, prepared by his fingers and his tongue. He works himself into you inch by careful, patient inch, until he bottoms out with a groan.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and you nod your assent, whimpering a “yes” as you wrap your legs around his soft waist, urging him on.

You open more and more with each slow, shallow thrust that becomes faster, deeper. There is no room for your self-doubt anymore, no thought to spare for anything that isn’t Copia: his weight on top of you, his mouth against the side of your neck, the scent of his cologne mingling with the salty tang of sweat, the overwhelming pressure of his cock inside of you. 

He murmurs your name with what sounds like wonder, like disbelief that you want this and that you feel so fucking good.

And then he rolls his hips just so, finding an angle that grinds his pelvis into your clit, making you cry out sharply.

“Just like that,” you beg him, breathless, “please don’t stop, please—“

And then you are coming apart again, your head thrown back and your pussy spasming beyond your control.

It’s almost too much for him. He rears back from you, gathering you more firmly in hand, tilting your hips up and gripping your ass to hold you in place as he fucks into you, hard and rough. You’re still reeling from your orgasm as his pace becomes erratic, desperate, and with a sharp snap of his hips his cock kicks inside of you, filling you utterly.

He pulls out and collapses beside you with a sated groan, forearm thrown over his eyes as he comes down, chest heaving, spent cock softening against the curve of his belly. You fold yourself in under his arm, head pillowed against his chest again in a semblance of how you lay earlier as you cried. But now all you feel is love, comfort, and the pleasant soreness creeping through your lower body.

“Well, tesoro…” He settles his arm around you, tracing lazy circles on your skin with the tip of his finger. His voice is unspeakably fond when he asks, “Was that everything you imagined?”

It wasn’t, of course. Your daydreams hadn’t started with you crying awkwardly in his arms. In your daydreams, everything had run as smoothly as a scene in a novel, you the assertive heroine who always knew exactly what to say, without any help.

But maybe, you think, if Copia is the one helping you, that’s okay. Maybe you don’t need to be anyone but yourself, sometimes awkward and insecure, but no less beloved.

And so you are telling the truth when you say, “No. It was better.”

[idontknow-andyoudonteither]

Toji the softie

What if Toji actually wasn’t so brutal in bed? What if he was tired of being a big meanie all day and just wanted some softness in his life? And you were the softest person he knew.

“Tojiiiiii! Get off I gotta pee!” You whined, as you tried to push the giant teddy bear off your lap. “Fiiine,” he groaned sitting up slowly, “but I’m cuddling you as soon as you get back!!” You giggled as you got up to go to the restroom. As you walked down the hall you could feel him pouting behind you. “I’ll be quick I promise!” you called as you pulled your pants down. You felt yourself in a good mood, soothed by the cuddle therapy session. You finished up washing your hands just as Toji started grumbling again.

He pulled back the blanket as you tucked yourself back into your little love pouch on the couch. He smiles as you wiggle into place beneath him on the couch. “I’d go crazy without you, you know that?” Toji says as he wraps himself around you and lays his head on your chest. You meet his gaze, and believe every word despite the lack of vulnerability in his eyes. “Well it’s a good thing I’ll always be here.” You say pulling him closer to you and stroking his scar softly with your fingers.

You had been doing this for three weeks now. He wouldn't come over every day, but at least half the week he was there. Cuddling up on the couch with Toji had quickly become a favorite activity for you. You had been hanging out and fell asleep during a shitty movie. Toji was so tired himself, he didn’t mind and decided to join your nap. Ever since he’d text you a couch emoji and you’d hear a knock at the door a couple minutes later. You worked from home so you didn’t mind your downstairs neighbor popping by. Sometimes you would just work and eat snacks while he laid in your lap. He loved head scratches and neck rubs. This of course made your cat jealous, until he too discovered how great Toji was to cuddle with. It was so cute seeing the big scary man cuddled up with a little kitty purring on his chest or lap.

You enjoyed your time together, and it never felt rushed. There was never any pressure to be more than what you were. Just two beings showing each other kindness. “You’re so little and warm.” Toji cooed squishing you harder. “And you’re so big and heavy” you cooed back, squeezing him tighter. Toji reaches for some grapes, and pops one in his mouth. You were watching some comedy, and they were out for a night on the town. As he chews you can feel his muscular jaw moving against your chest. He pops another grape in his mouth and leans up with it between his lips. You look at him and see the first flames of excitement burning in his eyes, as he leans closer touching the grape to your lips.

You touch your lips to his around the grape and he kisses you around it holding it place with his tongue, as his lips rub against yours. He's caught you so off guard you don't even think to reject him, lips softly molding to fit his, as they dance around the sweet grape. While you kiss him back, he pushes the grape further into your mouth, as if paying you for your affection. Once it's all the way in he lays back onto your chest, and you try and calm your heart, because it must be punching him in the head right now.

Voices carried from the TV and Toji laughed with them, but you had no clue what was even on. Toji popped another grape in his mouth and winked at you. He continued to eat, and cuddle you while your mind tried to catch up to what was going on. By the time the movie was finished the grapes were too. Toji squeezed you tight again. "Well I'll be back to bother you tomorrow, I've gotta go work out." He said as he sat up and stretched. "Of course, I'm going to the store in the morning, but afterwards I'll be here." You said as you walked him to the door. Once he left you felt so conflicted. What was that kiss about? Did he really like you? Maybe he just wanted a hook-up? Toji was too tempting for you to ever survive just a "hook- up" with him. UGHH it was only a kiss maybe he didn't even mean it? Maybe he'd never even do it again? Maybe you weren't what he thought you would be?

The next day while grocery shopping you get a text:

Hey you still out at the market?

Yeah what's up?

Grab some more of those grapes :)

Will you eat them all again?

You can have some......... if I can feed them to you.

Suddenly you realized grapes were your new favorite fruit.

*I wanted to write something cute for Toji where he isn't abusing/ assaulting someone, because he fine af and deserves love. Also I think I wanna write things that make people horny, but I don't wanna straight up write porn*

[leashybebes]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard 😘

so this is from a semi-almost-nearly complete eddie-centric fic i've been working on for a while. it's still bucktommy but the focus is queerplatonic buddie and although i have some anxiety about it because this fandom can be uhhhh a lot, i'm kinda proud of what i have so far so i'm trying to nudge myself into finishing it

context: eddie asks buck to attend a therapy session with him because he has some important things to tell him

For a moment, Eddie just sits, not sure where to start. He wishes he'd persisted a little more with Dr Lopez's suggestion to write it out first, like a letter, but it had just made him feel so stupid, his brain going faster than his hand could keep up, the words on the page ending up misspelled and clumsy. He'd gone with bullet points in the end, but maybe that was too brutal, too simplified because he can't - how can he possibly - 

He takes a breath.

"So, I guess the main thing is like, to tell you how, um. How unhappy I was. Not like - like, we could have a good shift, or hang out and I'd have a good time, and it wasn't a lie, but unhappy was just like - the core, you know? Like I'd been unhappy so long it was just - in my bones."

"Eddie. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be. You were a bright spot, man. You always are." Eddie pretends he doesn't see Buck's lip wobble, presses on. "And I guess - one of the things I've been…working on? Is that I don't, um. I'm not always good at understanding, or, or feeling my, uh. My feelings. So like I just knew that I felt bad. And I've been - " 

Eddie has to stop for a second. He didn't expect this part to be quite so difficult. Therapy is really helping this time around, but he still doesn't talk about it. The idea of telling someone - anyone other than Buck and Christopher, really - that he's working on himself and thinking about his feelings still makes him cringe, despite the blood, sweat and tears he's put into actually doing the work. Buck doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at Eddie - it's the same kind of look he gives Eddie on a scene that's hitting him hard, like Buck's this well of strength that Eddie can tap into whenever he wants. He takes another breath. Carries on.

"But what I really was, I'm realizing, was ashamed. Since the - the baseball bat, since Shannon died, since she left, since I left, since - since I was a kid, really. Just…awful and ashamed of everything about myself."

no pressure tags for @screamlet, @rcmclachlan, @sugdenlovesdingle, @peapodbond

[dolliesiu]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ꒷꒦ ๋࣭ ⭑

notes : I did not expect my previous posts to get the attention they did! Anyways, these are my headcanons for Liu! I just want to clarify that my version of Liu does NOT have DID as I don't believe it was portrayed properly in his original story. I also do not want to portray DID poorly.

★ Has heterochromia iridum. His right eye is green while his left eye is brown.

★ Spends A LOT of time watching documentaries, specifically one’s relating to psychology as it’s a huge fascination of his.

★ Very interested in journaling. He mainly writes about his feelings and thoughts as he has trouble understanding and describing them. Most of his entries include his violent and intrusive thoughts.

★ His alter ego, Sully, was an identity Liu had consciously created as a way to cope with his inner mental and emotional conflicts. He felt indifferent towards his brother. Part of him wanted to forgive him, despite almost being murdered by his own blood; The other held a massive grudge against him, actively wanting to torture him in the most brutal ways possible. As a “coping mechanism”, he resorted to lashing out at others, taking his anger out on innocent pedestrians mercilessly. He got much worse over time as it messed with his overall ability to manage his emotions. It resulted in him recognizing each one of them as overwhelming and unbearable.

★ Feels extremely guilty about his actions. He heavily regrets having taken out his own frustrations and anger on those who weren't to blame for it.

★ Originally had a lot of scars. Most of them have faded away with time, but he still has a few visible.

★ Occasionally has therapy sessions with Jack as he seems to have the most experience in the field. Most of these sessions include Liu rambling and trying his best to talk or even explain his emotions. Surprisingly, it’s helped him a bit.

★ Liu is very different from his persona, Sully. He’s soft-spoken, generally anxious, and quite sensitive. Most of the time, he’s willing to lend a helping hand when needed.

★ Liu tends to layer his clothing to hide most of these scars though, especially the large one on his neck as it hasn’t completely disappeared.

★ Often neglects his physical needs. He tends to prioritize things he considers to be more important, so he ends up forgetting most of the time.

★ Enjoys collecting a variety of items he finds that either catch his interest or is strange in general.

★ Knows how to play the violin as he used to take classes as a teen.

★ Taught himself how to sew! Whenever he’s out, he tends to accidentally rip parts of his clothing out of pure clumsiness, so he figured it’d be a useful skill to learn.

★ His height is around 5’9.

★ He has quite a distaste for horror movies, yet he’ll oddly enough find himself watching them. He especially takes in great detail of the gruesome murders happening in the films.

[oldguardleatherdog]

The Anniversary: Once More, With Feeling

This year's reflection on the 23rd Anniversary of September 11, 2001.

Now it's the 11th, the 23rd Anniversary of that day.

Each year, I approach this day with caution: I never know how it's going to affect me or in what manner it will manifest, and some years have been brutal, but the past two have seen more blessings come my way than brickbats. The passage of time has helped, as have my ongoing PTSD therapy sessions provided by the World Trade Center Health Program.

This time, I feel as if I'm controlling the event far more than it's controlling me, and I think that's due in large part to the performance art collaboration with the guys in Berlin (the queer performance collective ONCE WE WERE ISLANDS, who are now in Finland north of the Arctic Circle making amazing art and performance on the Finnish government's dime) that's been going on for more than a year, including a three-month research intensive called "Finding Animal" (https://www.oncewewereislands.com/Finding-Animal) over the winter.

Last summer, after they extended the offer of collaboration, they proposed that our work together should focus on how I returned to life and art after losing my Lower Manhattan home that day, along with my entire performance archive and any record of it - it was as if Animal J. Smith had never existed, no record that I had done or been anything at all. I was shocked at their proposal, to be honest, but their idea for collaboration was persuasive: that my story was bigger than just me, that it had resonance in a larger way about the survival and meaning of queer art and artists, about whether it's possible to recover from the worst thing in the world. So, as our work continues, I think that my being compelled to examine my long road back as both participant and observer through a performative/creative lens has synthesized much of what I had left unexamined, forgotten, buried, denied, absorbed, leading to clarity about who I am today, how it affected, shaped, changed me, and whether I have in fact "recovered" from this giant detour, this dinosaur-extinction-level meteor that got dropped on my life plan.

I don't have an answer yet, I'm still writing and making art about it, but as I mark 23 years today, I can say that sticking it out all these years has been the right thing to do, that I intend to continue waking up each day and engaging with life.

I am alive, and I am fine.

[celenawrites]

Note - This scenario contains dark content and NSFW parts.

Minors DNI.

Warning - Dark Content, Dubious Content, Stalker!Ghost and Stalker!Soap, Therapist!Reader, Nanny cams, Stalking, NSFW content,Voyeurism, Polyamory, characters may appear to be OOC (and I am sorry about that but I couldn't really resist this idea) etc.

Thinking about Simon Riley being discharged from the military after getting injured in action, and Soap taking leave in order to take care of him.

Johnny buys groceries, cooks for him, and drives him to his physical therapy sessions. Soap helps him stretch and care for his fractures, and he pretends that it's normal for his Lt. to wrap his arms around his waist as they sleep in the same bed. (Ghost's apartment is sparse at best, and Soap is lucky that he even has a bed to sleep on. If it were up to Simon, he'd probably sleep while on his legs - even when they're fractured.)

Soap who wakes up in the middle of the night to his Lieutenant reliving his mistakes on the field over and over again, the nightmare making him shake and sweat in his bed. Soap, who has to carefully wake him up and make him a hot cup of tea, knowing that after such a rough night, Riley won't be sleeping anytime soon.

Simon, who has a hard time expressing his gratitude to his Sergeant, but he can show it in more 'unconventional' ways. Simon, who needs to feel Johnny close to him in bed, in order to have a good night's sleep. Simon, who cannot help but imagine what a life with Soap would be like, if he were to retire from the military altogether. Simon, who feels his mouth dry a little, whenever he glances at even a sliver of Soap's exposed skin from his too-loose tank tops. (Summer has been brutal this time around, for some reason and Soap has been killing him with his tempting body, to be frank.)

Simon who's instructed by Price to go to therapy/get a psych eval before he re-joins the task force. Simon, who along with Soap, is forced to look through newspapers and online articles and reviews until he stumbles upon a therapist who specializes in veterans and is covered by his insurance, thank fuck.

Soap drives Simon to the therapist and even stays in the reception hall while Simon goes through a session, but by God is he distracted by how pretty his therapist is. You're just the most beautiful woman he had probably laid his eyes on in years, and he's pretty sure the filthy thoughts he has for you are totally inappropriate and only reserved for you and Soap. Simon has his dark eyes flutter shut and move around the room, trying his best not to ogle you but failing anyway as he notices your cleavage in your tight white blouse. He's aloof, and curt - if only to save you from the depravity that has consumed his brain.

He wonders how you'd react if he were to bend you over that office table of yours and fuck your brains out. You always look so stressed, you seem like you need it - need someone to take care of you the way you seem to be trying to 'take care' of him.

You're frustrated. You know that someone like Simon clearly has gone through hell, and you want to help him, but you're out of your depth regarding how to assist him. You almost refer him to a more experienced therapist, that is until Simon decides to show you a glimpse or two into his life - telling you about his mother and about Tommy, rarely would he be amenable to talking about his late father though. And you wouldn't force him to talk about things he doesn't wish to touch upon either.

He would sometimes talk about Johnny - 'a dear friend' of his who is helping him out during his recovery. He would sometimes get this almost fond look in his eyes, and you'd wonder how long it takes for Simon to realize that Johnny is more than a friend to him.

Simon talks briefly about his time in the military, almost all names and, places, and information are hidden for your safety. The first time he musters up the courage to talk about his father, he couldn't stop tapping his foot against the marble floor, his hands trembling as he recalls memories of his terrible childhood. Seeing the behemoth of a man

Simon, who finds himself falling deeper in love with Soap, and yet feels shame surrounding him at the prospect of his obsession with his sweet little therapist and her caring attitude. Simon, who wants to be happy just this once, and have the family that he so desperately craves and deserves after the shitty life he had to suffer through, decides to finally plan how to bring you and Johnny closer to him - creating a safe haven for all three of you.

You don't know that he has your phone tapped and that he has been able to track out your address (thanks to military connections). You barely pay attention to the stuffed toy on your vanity table, unaware of the nanny cam inside of it that allows Simon to spy on your every move. He's a gentleman, still. So he doesn't necessarily spy on you when you change into your clothes, or get out of the shower - wet and dripping, your soft body wrapped up in a towel. He definitely tries his best to ignore the hard boner he pops even at the slightest show of your skin.

Soap gets increasingly worried at the prospect of Simon regularly going to the therapist, and then disappearing into his study room for hours on end - barely speaking a word to him ever since he started taking therapy seriously.

On one such day, when Simon leaves for therapy on his own, he insists that Soap stays home and rests - he's been working so hard and clearly deserves to have a day to himself. In his hurry to meet you, the lieutenant leaves his study room unlocked and unguarded - and Johnny lets his curiosity get the best of him. 

Johnny spots the still-open laptop, and surfs through it all - his mind feeling a concoction of disgust, envy, and even awe as he notices how thorough Simon had been when it came to not only vetting you but also keeping eyes on you constantly through secretive means. The device has probably hundreds of hours of footage of you and to be honest, the more he snoops around, the more he can see why Ghost would go out of his way to do it. 

"She's perfect, ain't she?" Simon grumbles from behind him, and Johnny feels his heart fall to his stomach. He realizes that leaving the room unlocked was not a mistake, but rather an intentional move on his partner's behalf. 

The masked man claps his shoulder with his firm hand, egging him on to watch you relax in your office - leaning back into your leather armchair, your chest heaving as you close your eyes and relax before your next patient arrives. 

"Made for both of us", Simon goads him, and Johnny cannot find it in himself to disagree. 

Note -

I legitimately started typing this out while in class, got sick and stayed at home and finished it while I was supposed to be resting. Some of these ideas are too tempting to be left as just ideas, so I would probably try to give this one a chance. (I say this with every little blurb I pump out on my blog lol. Someone should stop me.)

[radioactive-earthshine]

top 5 bart allen moments

I had a tough time with this but these are some of the ones that just stick out to me that I think about A LOT.

1.) Bart "breaks time" looking for Kon in Young Justice 2019

Young Justice (2019) #16

2.) Bart starts a fight involving the entire school (except Preston and an assumed 10 others)

Impulse (1995) #3

3.) Bart defeats Thad with love for Max.

Impulse (1995) #66

4.) Superboy Prime finds out Bart is NOT DEAD and starts screaming in terror because he is absolutely petrified of him.

Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds #3

5.) Bart defeats Brainiac with his mind - even Brainiac with all 12 levels of his intellect cannot possibly think faster than Bart Allen.

Flashpoint: Kid Flash Lost #2

Bonus:

Any time he goes absolutely batshit feral on someone such as;

Breaking Thad's leg and then throwing him at Match. Shooting President Thawne in the head but catching the bullet before it kills him. His therapy sessions involve killing Thad in brutal ways post-his resurrection. etc etc etc.

[captainwans]

★ . . . ❛ ━━ BEN CHILWELL x FEM!READER.

( MASTERLIST! )

Liked by yoursister, masonmount and others

yourinstagram happiest birthday to the love of my life. 🤍 you make me the happiest and brightest girl on earth. i love you with all i am.

view all the comments

kennedyalexa my favorites 💕

username cutest couple ever sorry i don’t make the rules

yourbestfriend i beg to differ

benchilwell argue with the wall

yourbestfriend fight me

conorgallagher92 😯

sasha__rebecca ❤️❤️

benchilwell i love you more baby ❤️❤️

masonmount i look a little different there 🤔

joaofelix79 *more like i look different there

yourbestfriend she’s my wife back off

benchilwell stop hitting on my girlfriend 🤨

username what is felix doing here 🤨

username lmao the comment section

Liked by alexchilwell, sophiaamelia and others

yourinstagram smart sexy studious 😉🧠

view all the comments

yourbestfriend graduate already i need a therapy session asap

kennedyalexa me too

sasha__rebecca me three

username we love educated women 💕💪🏽

madelyncline smart sexy indeed 🤤

yourinstagram i love you maddie 😚

benchilwell my hardworking woman ❤️

masonmount simp

cmpulisic simp

kaihavertz29 simp

username i aspire to be like you one day ❤️

yourinstagram you’re so sweet 🥹🫶🏼

reecejames do we get a discount for therapy? 👀

ameliadimz we better 😫

Liked by yourbestfriend, benchilwell and others

yourinstagram my girls = me, myself & i 🧚🏼✨

view all the comments

sophiaamelia had the best night ever 🤍

aninemaykennedy love you doll 🫶🏼

sasha__rebecca we need to do it again 🙈💕

yourinstagram agreed 🤩

username i’m curious of who she is dating 👀

masonmount i’m curious too 😃

rlc me too

cmpulisic me three

yourbestfriend she’s dating me y’all

benchilwell i beg to differ

yourbestfriend i will boil your teeth back off chilly 😡

reecejames 😨😨

username omg she’s bens gf

yourinstagram 💕🤭

yourinstagram yourbestfriend behave

yourbestfriend tbh what do you even see in him when you can get the whole package 🤩

benchilwell the only package she’s getting is an empty box

kaihavertz29 this is so brutal me and soph are dying from reading all the comments

sophiaamelia it’s true kai’s crying on the kitchen floor 😭

laurenfryer_ how did we go from sweet comments to savage fire??

yourinstagram 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

masonmount idk but i’m joining the beef train

benchilwell 🖕🏻🖕🏻

[astrangeraccoon]

Now on tmagp Episode 2

Sam quizzing Gwen on the classification system is such a cute moment. It also give us so many insight in their relationship I wish we had that in tma

Sam is asking the right question, why is that organization system? Where did it come from?

There's something very interesting about the fact tht both Alice and Gwen refuse to answer Sam question even if their reason to refuse is different

Gwen is soooo mean (I love her)

"time isn't real" Alice is such a little shit

Now the case:

The fact that this come from a therapy session is very fucked up bc it really show how invasive the system is. Theres no way the doc or the patient gave their accord for this and I'm not even sure they knew it was recorded

I wonder if the symbol and stuff she was looking up have a link with the ones found in the magnus institute

Also alchemy, I think that's gonna be important

INK5OUL! Our first entity affiliated character!

It's a bad idea but I want a tattoo for them

Also I wonder if the filminf of the tattoo process is part of how they serve the fear

"the artist become the canvas"

I'm pretty sure the tattoo process isn't supposed to go like thzt

Okay but the change from working on ça va to working on herself is so brutal like what did she says??

The obsession with perfection, also the impact and change in the tattoo that stop her from reaching what she wanted

I wonder what the housemate saw/what was really happening when she came back

"if I wanted to clear the canvas, id ve use turpentine"

This lines go hard

[iwriteloveletters]

Rosemary (Cannibal Eren x Reader)

Hiiii!!! Cherub again, this was just a silly one shot I have though of and Eren brainrot had hit me again recently and I love writing about him, this is ofc Out Of Character so super sorry about this!! I hope if you stumble accross my inconsistently written one shot you enjoy it.

TW - BLOOD, KIDNAPPING, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, DRUGGING, MURDER, CANNIBALISM, !!!!NOT PROOF READ!!!!

WORDS - 3,453

He saw you in everything. In the air he breathed, the water he drank, even in the God he prayed to. You were the only human he saw God in.

Most importantly, he saw you in the people he ate.

Several people who matched your exact description were found with limbs missing, it appeared that they had bled out to death after having their limbs torn off brutally.

Was it wrong of you to assume that this was targeted towards you? Many individuals around your age and are in similar professions were being brutally murdered horribly and didn't receive any justice. It’s impossible to catch the murderer.

You try not to let it get to your head but your family and peers have also caught on to this resemblance, no one lets you hear the end of it. Your mother wants your location, your best friend wants you to text them when you get home safe or when you go to work, all eyes are on you and you are sick of it.

At the office you worked at it was somewhat normal about your resemblance to the recent victims, a lot of them don’t know you personally for them to want to intrude on your privacy. You coming to work was simply enough to let them know you weren’t next in this case.

Today was normal as usual, you started off with today's workload and you’re finally on your fifteen minute break.

“Oh hey (Y/N)!” One of your coworkers greeted you. It was Eren Jaeger, he’s been here longer than you and trained you actually when you started here a year ago.

“Good morning Eren.” You sighed as you took a seat in the breakroom.

He scanned your face for a moment, “are you feeling alright?”

You didn’t realize you looked tired or bad overall, maybe you’re coming down with a cold?

“Uhh, yeah? I didn’t think I looked bad today.” You shyly chuckled.

“You sure? I know it must be stressful seeing the recent news about that serial killer.” You didn’t think about it much but it was half true, all eyes were on you and you had your own fears of being next. You’re more scared than anyone around you right now because it feels like any moment now you’ll be caught in a vulnerable position no matter how hard the people that loved you tried to prevent what felt like the inevitable.

“Well… it is stressful. But I know you really don’t know me so I won’t talk your ears off on your break!” You tried to walk out of the break room till he stopped you.

“How about I take you out for a few drinks? Think of it as a therapy session at a bar!” He laughed to himself.

That didn’t sound so bad actually, you thought to yourself.

You’d have an outside perspective on the entire situation and might even receive worthwhile advice.

“Perfect! I’ll take you today afterwork!” He said before you can even respond.

“Alright!” You said without giving it any other thought.

He walked off and you had eleven minutes left to yourself.

The end of your workday eventually rolled around and you see Eren waiting in the lobby, he truly meant what he said about getting drinks after work today. That made you nervous.

You weren’t attracted to him or at least you thought so, but it felt nice seeing a guy around your age and outside of your close friend group wanting to see you and listen to you, that rarely came by. He might be a good guy.

“Are you ready? I’m getting a taxi and I know you don’t drive.”

You nodded your head as you followed him outside.

As you both walked towards the taxi he opened the door for you, he truly was a gentleman.

You guys then sat in silence while on your way to the bar he let you choose, you chose something not too far away from your home so you can still be safe and not spend an arm and a leg on the taxi home.

Eren of course opened the door for you on the way out and even held his hand out for you to grab as you exited the taxi.

“Can’t wait to see what my client needs to talk about today.” He teased as you both went to find good or decent seats.

You both ordered your drinks and continued sitting in silence. You haven’t said a word since you got in the taxi.

“A lot is going on huh?”

“You could say that,”

“Well go ahead, tell me. I’m not your peer with seniority right now, I’m some guy you’re getting a drink with and telling me your business.

“It’s a lot.” You said, you’re trying to warn him or figure out if he’s joking. Any of those answers works right now.

He waved his hand signaling that he wants to listen to his coworker talk about their weird serial killer fear.

“Ever since that serial killer has been going around letting all those people bleed out to death I’ve been stressed, I fit the description of the people murdered and my family and friends won’t let me forget about it. Every day it feels like more and more precautions set up by them, it feels like they’re expecting me to be murdered. Any day now should be my time, they think! And they want to make sure I know that too. I’m scared Eren. I don't want that to happen.” Your voice cracked.

You’re in a bar talking about your fear of being brutally murdered to your coworker and your voice cracks because you’re on the verge of tears.

He rested on your hand on your shoulder, “hey it’s okay, I know it's scary but I’m sure you won’t be next.”

“How would my family know though?”

He hummed while he thought about his answer to that. You wish there was an easy solution for all of this, you really wish that this uncaught serial killer never started their pattern of murders. Life wouldn’t be so full of fear mongering people.

“Show them you aren’t scared, stop sharing, stop letting them track you. You’re not scared anymore, you don’t wanna be scared right (Y/N)?” He broke your train of thought with the most truthful response you ever heard.

He looked at you with a passion you never thought you’d see from someone so distant such as your coworker. It was beautiful to you.

“You can’t let fear take control over you, not even people's fears. You’d spend the day you do die in fear, don’t let that be your major regret. Start off by turning off your location.” He said.

You did as he said and turned off your location and got rid of your Life-360. Your best friend Sasha and your parents no longer have access to it.

“Of course I’ll let them know that I don’t want to share my location with them and why.” You smiled, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You were freeing yourself from other people's fears.

“Anything else you feel like you need to do?”

“No I don’t think so!” You said.

This was a great start to a possible friendship.

By this point you both were on your second drink and began to feel tired. You and Eren agreed on one last drink however to end a wonderful night.

You then excused yourself to the bathroom while your drink was being made. ‘He was such a great guy’, you thought to yourself. You never expected him to be so kind especially during your first after work outing. You really want to pursue him now, in which way is what you didn’t have an answer to yet.

As you stepped forward towards your bar stools your drinks were being placed by the bartender, it was perfect timing. Soon you’d be in bed starting a new day that wasn’t plagued by fear.

“Welcome back.” He smiled as he greeted you back.

You smiled as you took a sip of your drink, then another, and another. You felt great, you were relaxed for the first time in a while. You were understood and validated.

Eren began sharing things about his personal life as well by this point and suddenly you felt drowsy, you couldn’t comprehend Eren well while he spoke and he seemed to have caught on and out an arm around you.

The last thing you heard was Eren saying that you were safe in his care and he will get you home safe. It was dark now.

You woke up and you felt cold, and as you opened your eyes it was still dark.

This didn’t feel like home at all, you were on the hard ground instead of your bed, it didn’t smell like your favorite scented candle anymore. It smelled awful actually.

You were not home.

“Eren?” You called out. You were scared. Maybe something happened to you both.

You saw the glow of a hallway light fill up a small space in the room you were in, you saw a silhouette.

“(Y/N)?” Eren said. He was the man standing over you. He really tricked you? He was so kind and genuine, how could he do this to you?

“Eren, what’s going on I’m scared.” You shook in your spot.

He moved closer to you, you cowered closer into the corner of the room, maybe he’ll back off eventually.

He brought out his hand the same exact way he did in the taxi, you feel so stupid. You even turned off your location and told them they had nothing to worry about. You were stupid and you felt like you were going to get seriously hurt.

“Come with me, angel.” He spoke in the same calm tone as earlier when you were getting worked up about your fears and stress.

You had no choice but to take his untrustworthy hand and follow him wherever he took you, maybe he’ll set you free with minimal harm.

As he helped you up he guided you out the room into what appeared to be his house, it was clean and simply decorated. You both eventually found yourselves in front of a dark wooden door. It looked different from the rest of the house, this door seemed old and had scratched on it.

“Are you going to fucking torture me or something?” Your voice trembled.

He let out a huge laugh, as if you said something so shocking and unbelievable. It felt like him kidnapping you and leading you to this door was the only thing on his list tonight.

“Why would I do that? I just got you here.” He said as his laugh finally died down.

He finally opened the door and the smell that hit you was putrid, you couldn’t even describe what it smelled like.

He shoved you into the doorway first, and you were met with stairs that led into complete darkness. He pushed you further so you had to take a step down in order to not fall down a flight of steps. The smell kept getting stronger and stronger the more you went down with him.

“You smell that?” He said as he was reaching for a light.

“Mhm.” You said while nodding your head, if you said anything else or even thought about the smell a bit more you would have thrown up.

“I can’t wait for you to see this angel.” He finally turned on the light. It was dim in the room now but you saw exactly what he wanted you to see.

The sight that was before you was terrible. There were limbs everywhere, old blood stains on the ground and walls, this was going to haunt you for the rest of your life. That was if Eren let you live long enough to be haunted by this.

He walked over to a severed hand and licked it slowly, as though he was savoring it. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the taste of old blood that has been sitting in his basement for an unknown amount of time.

“This is new, don't worry. I won’t get sick, I have to stay healthy for you.” He locked eyes with you. Dropping the now clean hand back onto the floor.

“You’re… you’re not… the murderer right?” You said, you began to slowly turn around to try and make your escape, the door that leads back upstairs was still open.

Before you could make a run for it, he caught on fast and grabbed your hair by its roots, your scalp beginning to sting and your heart beating so fast you swear he could hear it with you.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he cooed, “I did all this for you.”

You let out a grunt in response, you’re thinking and smelling too much at once. You wanted to pass out and hope this was all a nightmare but your body knew this was reality, your body wanted to run.

He turned your head back around to face the gruesome scene once again, “you’re right, I am that person. But you know, I did do all this for you.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?!” You let out a cry.

“(Y/N),” He sighed, “I’ve been in love with you for months now. You seemed so unobtainable that I had to relieve my stress of not having you somehow! But then with some help I have you all to myself.”

You felt so sick, everyone was right. You were next and he made you feel like everyone in your life was crazy for thinking that. It was only a matter of time before he licked the blood off your hands next.

“You could’ve asked me out normally!” You said.

“Were you attracted to me?”

You weren’t, but it wasn’t because he was ugly; he wasn’t. But he never caught your eye, until he did at the bar and then betrayed your trust in less than five hours.

“No.” You gave in, you don’t understand or respect his actions but you both knew you weren’t attracted to him. He was simply a coworker.

“I started with having sex with people that looked similar to you, but it wasn’t enough. I got so angry that they weren’t you and were never going to be you, so I started killing them. Then that wasn’t enough by the third person I started eating them.” He said. He frowned for a moment but then grinned, what else could be going on in his head?

“But I don’t have to do that anymore.” He said while guiding you back up stairs.

You had no choice but to follow him back up, at least you didn’t have to smell the indescribable rot in his basement anymore. Fear of what was going to happen to you next though was still there, your life was in his hands and there was no way you could fight against him. Not right now.

“I finally have you, isn’t that great?” He sounded so proud of murdering people and kidnapping you on top of that.

“No.” You said, you weren’t going to let him corner you like this, you wanted to be free. Nothing about this was great.

“What?” His voice cracked, he was now trying to hold back tears.

“Nothing about this was great for ANYONE.” You shouted. You turned to face him and his once bright green eyes were dull and empty. It felt like you were staring into the nothingness of space. But you didn’t care, he ate people and kidnapped you. He didn’t deserve sympathy.

“No but I love you, I love you so much you wouldn’t let me have you. This was my outlet (Y/N).” He trembled. He hated rejection more than anything. He then grabbed your arms and began to shake you aggressively, “You don’t get to say what isn’t good, do you understand that?”

You tried to push him off you but he was much stronger than you right now, you could feel the bruises forming on your arms. He was known to have a short temper but you didn’t expect to be the cause of him snapping right now. You knew fighting back was going to make things a lot more difficult for you so you simply stood there helplessly as he shook you like you were a doll.

He continued to shout about how his one sided love for you wasn’t fair and that he wasn’t having fun either.

But why would he continue to eat these people that slightly resemble you? To you he enjoyed this more than anything, to you he enjoyed the chase and the fighting the victims put him through.

He jolted you back to your disgusting reality after a long shouting session.

“Do you understand?”

You nodded as fast as you could, you wanted him to stop shouting and shaking you once and for all. You wanted just a bit of human decency, the decency expected from a coworker.

He walked you to a chair, the chair was light brown leather and had thick arm rests, these were chairs you’d find in hospitals. There were clear signs of old blood alongside scratches. This had to have been used on his victims. Perhaps he simply wanted to eat and murder you? He motioned you to sit and before you could begin to take a seat he forced you into the big old chair.

He crouched as he began to tie your wrists against the arm rests and your legs together to ensure you won’t try to escape.

“I won’t be rough, I promise.” He said while focused on the intricate knots he was tying.

You sat there carefully, the more you sat still there was less of a chance for him to react negatively towards you. But he barely looked at you while he was tying you to the chair.

There was a slight burning sensation but nothing that would send you into hysterics luckily. You simply had to stay still for Eren.

“There!” He exclaimed he was more than happy to be finally done with tying, the texture of the rope also made his fingertips burn too.

He took notice of your red wrists from the friction of rope and skin and kissed your wrists lightly.

His lips were soft and warm, it made him feel more human than he actually was. This man was the Devil to you however, and no amount of kisses will solve that.

“I tried real hard to make sure this didn’t hurt, you know angel?” He said, he was still crouched on the ground, right now he was below you. You knew who had the power here though.

“I practiced.” He said while still leaving small warm kisses on your irritated wrists. It felt like he wanted you to praise him for his ‘hard’ work.

“Good job, Eren.” You tried to sound happy for him but the only tone that you had was an exhausted tone. You wanted to die already.

Despite the exhausted tone you kept with him, his green eyes lit up at you. He looked like he received the highest honor; your praise.

“Thank you (Y/N).” He said, “But no matter how many times I practice with this one thing I could never make it painless.” the light in his eyes died down and he pulled a hunting knife from his pocket.

Your heart rate skyrocketed now, you thought maybe a heart attack would occur and kill you before Eren did but all it did was beat in your chest as well as inside your ears.

“Don’t be scared please.” He cooed, he spoke to you the way you’d speak to a hurt puppy.

He pressed the knife against your skin, with a long drag across your skin red beads followed. Then it became tears of blood leaking out of you.

He had such a hungry look in his eyes it disgusted you. He then pressed his lips and you felt his tongue follow the cut he left behind.

“Mmm… you taste so so good, better than I’d ever imagined.”

You shuddered, everything felt too much for you. The feeling of his mouth, the sting of the cut, the sting of his tongue against said cut. It all hurt and scared you all at once.

He began to suck on the wound for a little while longer before he lifted his head up.

“I knew you were the one for me.”

Based on his statement you knew this wasn’t over for you yet.

[tanjamikaelson]

STRANGE LOVE - CHAPTER 27

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 27: | THERAPY SESSION |

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. It was a new day, a chance for Allison to reclaim her life, but the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on her chest. She woke early, the tension in her body making sleep impossible. The night had been filled with restless dreams—memories of Rafe, the overdose, and the stark reality that she was about to face her deepest fears in a place designed to strip her down to the rawest version of herself.

She dressed in a simple outfit, choosing comfort over style, and checked her suitcase one last time. Her mother, who had been a quiet but steady presence since the hospital, was already in the kitchen, preparing a light breakfast. The aroma of toast and coffee filled the air, but Allison’s appetite was nowhere to be found. She forced down a few bites, knowing she would need her strength for the day ahead.

"It's time," her mother said softly, placing a comforting hand on Allison's shoulder. Her voice was gentle, yet firm, as if she knew that the slightest crack in her composure could unravel them both.

Allison nodded, taking a deep breath as she picked up her suitcase. Each step toward the car felt like a final farewell to the life she had known—the life she was now determined to leave behind. As they walked, the familiar surroundings of the house seemed to blur, fading into the background as the future loomed ahead.

Before getting into the car, Allison turned back for one last look at the house. The memories of the night before played like a film reel in her mind—the painful confrontation with Rafe, the tears, and the final, heartbreaking realization that they were on different paths now. She didn’t know what the future held, but she was ready to face it, no matter how uncertain it might be.

The drive to the rehab facility was a silent journey through a landscape that seemed both familiar and alien. Allison’s mother sat beside her, radiating a calm strength that Allison clung to. She wished she could draw from that strength, and let it bolster her courage, but all she felt was a swirling mix of fear, regret, and a fragile hope that she could rebuild herself from the ground up.

When the sprawling grounds of the rehab center came into view, a lump formed in Allison’s throat. The center was beautiful—serene, with gardens and walking paths that promised peace and healing—but it was also intimidating. This was where she would confront her demons, where she would strip away the layers of denial and self-destruction that had brought her to the brink of death.

Inside, the atmosphere was a mix of clinical efficiency and a warm welcome. The staff moved with purpose, but their smiles were genuine, their eyes filled with the promise that healing was possible. Allison was shown to her room, a simple yet comforting space with pale walls and soft linens. The bed was neatly made, the wardrobe empty and waiting for her belongings. This would be her sanctuary, the place where she would confront the darkest parts of herself and hopefully, begin to heal.

As she unpacked her suitcase, each item of clothing felt like a relic from a life she was leaving behind. When she pulled out Rafe’s t-shirt—she held it close, inhaling the faint scent that still clung to the fabric. It brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad, and she wasn’t sure whether to keep it or let it go. Eventually, she folded it neatly and placed it at the bottom of a drawer, a reminder of the past she wasn’t quite ready to discard.

・ • ・ • ・

The first few days at the facility were a whirlwind of introductions, group meetings, and orientation sessions. Each new face was a reminder that she wasn’t alone, that others were fighting their own battles against addiction and despair. The detox process was brutal, a physical and emotional purging that left her weak and vulnerable. Sweats, chills, nausea, and sleepless nights became her constant companions, but it was the emotional pain that cut the deepest. The memories of her overdose haunted her, vivid and terrifying reminders of how close she had come to losing everything.

And then there was Rafe—his face, his voice, his pleas for her to run away with him. He was a constant presence in her mind, a ghost she couldn’t shake. She knew she had to focus on herself, to take each moment as it came, but the past lingered like a shadow, darkening her every thought.

Therapy sessions became the cornerstone of Allison’s recovery. Her therapist, Dr. Avery, was a calm and patient woman with kind eyes that seemed to see straight into Allison’s soul. In their sessions, Allison began to untangle the web of emotions that had brought her to this point. The process was painful, each revelation a sharp reminder of the lies, the betrayals, and the fear that had driven her to self-destruction.

One day, during a particularly difficult session, Allison found herself confessing the depth of Rafe’s betrayal. “He lied to me,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her pain.

“A big lie?” Dr. Avery asked gently, her gaze steady and supportive.

Allison nodded, swallowing hard. “A massive lie.”

Dr. Avery remained silent, allowing Allison the space to continue. Allison’s heart raced as she considered how much to reveal. She wanted to protect Rafe, but she also needed to unburden herself from the secrets that were suffocating her.

“He told me everything would be okay, that we could be together,” Allison continued, her voice thick with emotion. “But it wasn’t true. I overdosed because I was so afraid of losing him forever.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t try to hold them back. The pain of betrayal, the fear of being alone—it all came rushing to the surface, overwhelming her.

Dr. Avery leaned forward slightly, her expression one of deep understanding. “It sounds like you were carrying a lot of fear and pain, Allison. It’s important to recognize those feelings and understand how they contributed to your actions.”

Allison nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief as the tears fell. She still couldn’t bring herself to tell Dr. Avery everything—about the murders, the violence, and the full extent of Rafe’s darkness. Those secrets had to stay buried, for both their sakes.

・ • ・ • ・

As the weeks passed, Allison slowly began to find a semblance of peace. Her days were structured around therapy sessions, physical activities, and lessons in coping mechanisms to manage her addiction. She formed tentative connections with others in the facility, sharing stories and supporting each other through the tough times. It wasn’t easy—every day was a battle against the cravings, the memories, the deep-seated fears that she was fighting to overcome. But she was determined to make it through, one step at a time.

During quiet moments, Allison often found herself reflecting on her relationship with Rafe. The highs and lows, the love and the lies—they all played out in her mind like a film she couldn’t turn off. Trust, honesty, and respect—those were the foundations of a healthy relationship, and those had been sorely lacking in theirs.

Rafe had been a part of her life, a constant presence, but now she was learning to live without him. It was a painful process, filled with moments of deep loneliness and regret, but it was also a journey toward rediscovering herself.

Allison knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, filled with challenges she couldn’t yet foresee. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope—a small, fragile light that promised a future beyond the darkness she had known. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she was ready to fight for her life, to build something new and beautiful out of the ashes of her past.

・ • ・ • ・

Allison stood by the window of her rehab room, gazing out at the sprawling lawns and gardens that had become so familiar over the past month. The sunlight poured in, casting a warm, golden glow that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside her. Today marked the end of her time in rehab—a place that had both challenged and protected her, where she had faced the darkest parts of herself and begun to find a way forward.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. The outside world felt like an intimidating unknown, full of the triggers and temptations she had been sheltered from during her time here. Rehab had been a sanctuary, a cocoon where she could focus on healing, but stepping out of it meant facing reality once again—a reality that she wasn’t sure she was fully prepared for.

With a heavy sigh, Allison turned away from the window and began packing her belongings. Each item she folded and placed in her suitcase felt like a small piece of her recovery journey, tangible reminders of the strength she had found and the battles she had fought. As she zipped up the suitcase, a surge of determination washed over her. She had come too far to give up now.

When Allison emerged from her room, her mother was waiting for her in the lobby. The moment their eyes met, her mother’s face lit up with a mixture of pride, and relief. Allison had seen that look before, but today it carried a deeper weight—a recognition of how far she had come, and how much they had both endured.

"Sweetheart," her mother whispered, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her. "You did it. I’m so proud of you."

Allison melted into the embrace, feeling the warmth and love she had longed for, even in her darkest moments. "Thank you, Mom," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

As they drove back to the house in the Outer Banks, the tension that had been gripping Allison’s chest slowly began to ease. The familiar sights of the winding roads, the towering trees, and the expansive water all reminded her of the life she had before addiction took hold—a life she was determined to reclaim.

The house felt like a fresh start. The rooms were filled with the belongings her mother had kept, each item a reminder of the life Allison had before drugs took over. She felt a pang of gratitude for her mother’s unwavering support and love.

But the return home was bittersweet. The joy of Allison’s recovery was tempered by a deeper sorrow that had settled over the family like a heavy fog. Her mother had stayed with her sister Anna, Kie’s mother, to support her through this devastating time. Allison’s sister, Kie, had gone missing. No one knew where she was, and the fear that she might be dead cast a long shadow over the family.

Allison and Kie had a complicated relationship. Their bond, once strong, had frayed over time, especially after Allison got involved with Rafe. Kie had warned her repeatedly about Rafe, had tried to pull her away from the toxic relationship, but Allison had been too lost in her own world to listen. Their arguments had driven them apart, and Allison hadn’t seen or spoken to Kie in what felt like an eternity. Now, the thought that Kie might be gone forever haunted her, filling her with guilt so deep it felt like a physical ache.

・ • ・ • ・

As the days passed, Allison settled back into a routine, but the shadow of Rafe loomed large in her mind. He had disappeared after that final, tumultuous night, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on her own healing. She knew that dwelling on Rafe would only hinder her progress, and she couldn’t afford to fall back into old patterns.

To keep herself on the right path, Allison continued attending group therapy sessions. The sessions provided a sense of community, a place where she could share her struggles and hear the stories of others who understood the daily battle against addiction. It was there that she met Cole.

Cole was different from anyone Allison had met before. He was a few years older, with a rugged handsomeness softened by the kindness in his blue eyes. Like Allison, he had a history of addiction and was fighting his own demons. They bonded over their shared experiences, finding comfort and strength in each other’s company.

As their friendship deepened, a new connection blossomed between them. Cole became a steady presence in Allison’s life, offering support without judgment, and a companionship that helped fill the void left by her turbulent relationship with Rafe. Their relationship wasn’t just about romance; it was about survival, about finding someone who understood the depths of her pain and the heights of her hope.

Despite the growing closeness between them, Allison was careful to set boundaries. She wasn’t ready for a serious relationship—not after everything she had been through. She needed time to focus on herself, to ensure that her recovery was solid before she could think about building something new with someone else. Cole respected her wishes, understanding that the road to recovery was one she had to walk at her own pace.

Their relationship remained a source of stability and comfort, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in her journey. For the first time in a long while, Allison felt a sense of hope—a belief that she could build a new life, one that wasn’t defined by her past mistakes but by the strength she had found in overcoming them.

But even as Allison took these steps forward, she knew the past wasn’t something she could simply leave behind. The memories of Kie’s disappearance and Rafe’s final words lingered like ghosts, reminders of the unfinished business that still haunted her.

One evening, after a particularly intense therapy session, Allison sat by the water, watching the sunset. The sky was ablaze with colors, a beautiful contrast to the turmoil inside her. As the waves lapped at the shore, she thought of Kie, hoping that wherever her sister was, she was safe. She thought of Rafe too, wondering if he had found any peace in his own troubled heart.

In that moment, Allison realized that recovery wasn’t just about staying sober—it was about making peace with the past, with the people she had hurt and the people who had hurt her. It was about finding a way to live with the memories without letting them control her.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Allison made a promise to herself. She would keep moving forward, one step at a time. She would rebuild her life, piece by piece, and she would find a way to heal, not just for herself, but for Kie, for her mother, and even for Rafe.

The road ahead was long and uncertain, but Allison was no longer afraid. She had faced her demons, and though they would always be a part of her, they no longer held her captive. With each day that passed, she grew stronger, more determined to live a life defined not by her past, but by the choices she made in the future.

TAGS: @tiaamberxx @dominicfikexoxo